#historical significance has to count for something surely

[gardenschedule]

is there a plaque on the wall where the f1 guys first met though?

Best RPF Ship - Round 1 Match 20

Propaganda under cut

Brocedes Propaganda

it's unlikely childhood best friends to teammates to rivals to bitter enemies to ... whatever they are now (lewis avoids saying nico's name like it's an incantation to cause the end of the world; nico constantly praises lewis and has semi-recently gone on record as saying that in his heart, they're still best friends).

there is a wikipedia page dedicated specifically to their rivalry. they slept in the same hotel rooms as teenage teammates in go-karting. they knew each other better than anyone else did (as one f1 commentator put it, live on air speaking to nico himself, "everything bar lovers.") and their team principal has said there were things between them nobody else could ever understand.

(i started typing out more propaganda but really i was basically just putting in their entire life histories. anyway they live in the same building and don't talk but lewis sends christmas presents to nico's daughters. these men had their teenage codependent homoerotic friendship blow up on live sports tv and it's the most fascinating thing in the world.)

[eeechooo]

She Gets Me

Fandom : Lockwood & Co

Pairing : Reader x George Karim

Request : @thestrangerblog

George has a pen pal (Reader) with whom he feels a deep connection, sharing similar interests and ways of thinking. They decide to finally meet in person for a casual picnic. As George gets ready in his usual casual clothes, Lockwood and Holly question his outfit, suggesting he should dress to impress. George firmly replies, "That’s how I am. Take it or leave it."

You’d been counting down the days. After months of exchanging letters filled with theories about ghostly phenomena, discussions on obscure historical facts, and shared frustrations about the peacock types in your respective fields, you were finally going to meet George in person. The picnic was your idea—a casual, no-pressure setting where you could both be yourselves. You had carefully chosen a spot in the park, a place with a mix of sun and shade, where the two of you could talk for hours without interruption.

Meanwhile, at 35 Portland Row, George was in his room, staring at his open wardrobe. He rifled through his clothes, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Should he go for something a bit more polished? Maybe a shirt without holes? No, he decided, shaking his head. He pulled out his favourite band T-shirt, one that had seen countless adventures and cases. It was soft, comfortable, and familiar—much like how he hoped the meeting with you would feel. He paired it with his trusty worn jeans, the ones that fit just right.

As he glanced at himself in the mirror, he ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to tame it but ultimately giving up. It sprang back to its usual dishevelled state. George nodded to himself, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. This was him, and he wanted you to meet the real George.

Downstairs, Lockwood and Holly were waiting, their curiosity barely contained. Lockwood, with his usual impeccable style, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow as George descended the stairs.

‘You’re going like this?’ Lockwood asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

George paused on the last step, looking down at his outfit, then back up at Lockwood. ‘Yeah, why not?’ he replied, shrugging. ‘It’s a picnic, not a gala.’

Holly, always the picture of grace and fashion, tilted her head and scanned George’s attire critically. ‘A picnic, George? Don’t you want to make a good impression?’

George rolled his eyes, feeling a mix of irritation and amusement. ‘I’m meeting someone who already knows me, Holly. They’ve read my letters, they know my thoughts. If they don’t like me for who I am, then what’s the point?’

Lockwood and Holly exchanged a glance. Lockwood’s stern expression softened slightly. ‘Just make sure you bring back some good stories,’ he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Holly sighed but smiled warmly. ‘Fine, but at least comb your hair a bit more.’

George laughed, running his fingers through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to neaten it. ‘Happy now?’ he asked with a grin.

‘Close enough,’ Holly replied with a chuckle.

As George walked out the door, he felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He was about to meet someone who had become a significant part of his life through letters. Someone who understood his passions and frustrations. He hoped the reality would match the connection they had built on paper. Who understood him.

You arrived at the park a little early, your heart racing with anticipation. You chose a spot under a large oak tree, spreading out the picnic blanket and arranging the food with meticulous care. The sun bathed everything in a warm glow, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, creating a peaceful atmosphere.

As you adjusted the layout, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. You wondered if George would be the same in person as he was in his letters—thoughtful, engaging, and deeply passionate about the supernatural.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up and saw George, exactly as you had imagined him: dishevelled hair, casual clothes, and a warm, genuine smile.

‘Hey,’ he greeted, his voice as familiar as his written words.

‘George!’ you exclaimed, standing up to meet him. ‘It’s so great to finally meet you in person.’

He smiled back, a bit shyly. ‘You too.’

You both settled down on the blanket, and the initial awkwardness quickly dissolved as you began to talk. The conversation flowed naturally, just like in your letters. You discussed the latest happenings in your agencies, shared your most recent discoveries, and vented about the superficial people you had to deal with in your line of work.

‘I can’t stand those types at Rotwell,’ you said, rolling your eyes. ‘You know, the ones who think a charming smile and a nice suit make them experts.’

George laughed heartily, nodding in agreement. ‘Tell me about it. They’re more interested in networking than actual research. It’s infuriating. Holly used to work with them, the lunatic.’

You felt a deep sense of camaraderie. Here was someone who truly understood your frustrations and shared your passion for uncovering the truth about the supernatural. That's exactly what you needed and wanted.

As the afternoon wore on, George began to talk about his latest project—a discovery he had made about the origins of a particularly aggressive Type Two. His eyes lit up with excitement as he described the breakthrough, his hands animatedly sketching out the details on a napkin.

‘And the best part?’ he said, leaning in closer. ‘It ties back to an old Persian legend my grandmother used to tell me. I’ve been researching it for months, and I finally made the connection.’

You listened intently, captivated by his enthusiasm and depth of knowledge. It was clear how much he loved what he did, and it made you appreciate him even more.

As the conversation shifted, George started talking about his passion for cooking, particularly Persian dishes. He recounted stories of his grandmother’s recipes, describing the rich, aromatic flavours with a reverence that made your mouth water. You remembered him writing about it, but now you could smell the faint scent of saffron on him, making it real.

‘You’ll have to try my tahdig sometime,’ he said with a grin. ‘It’s a crispy rice dish, and I’ve perfected the recipe over the years.’

You smiled, feeling a warm connection with him. ‘I’d love that. It sounds delicious.’

The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park. You both fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. The fading light painted a serene picture around you, enhancing the sense of intimacy between you—a shared understanding and mutual respect that went beyond words.

George glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. ‘This has been really great,’ he said quietly.

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth. ‘It really has.’

As the sky turned shades of orange and pink, you knew that this meeting was just the beginning. There was so much more to explore together—more conversations, more shared moments, and perhaps even more Persian dishes to taste.

Back at 35 Portland Row, Lockwood and Holly were waiting eagerly for George’s return. They sat in the cosy library, Holly flipping through a book while Lockwood sipped on a cup of tea, both stealing glances at the clock every few minutes.

Finally, they heard the door open and George’s footsteps approaching. Lockwood set down his cup, his expression curious yet guarded. Holly closed her book gently, her eyes bright with anticipation.

‘Well?’ Lockwood prompted as George entered the room, a contented smile playing on his lips.

George grinned, the glow of satisfaction evident in his eyes. ‘It was amazing,’ he began, his voice filled with excitement. ‘We talked for hours. She’s exactly as I imagined—smart, funny, and so easy to talk to. We just clicked.’

Lockwood raised an eyebrow, his demeanour cautious. ‘And did you discuss any sensitive matters?’

George’s smile faltered slightly. He knew exactly what Lockwood was referring to—Joplin, the painful reminder of the dangers of revealing too much to those outside the agency. Too much, about the Problem, about him.

‘Nothing too sensitive,’ George assured him quickly, his tone earnest. ‘Just general discussions about work, our interests... you know.’

Holly’s eyes softened with understanding as she exchanged a glance with Lockwood. They both knew how cautious they had to be, especially after what happened with Pamela. Lockwood leaned forward in his chair, his expression serious yet supportive.

‘We’re glad to hear it went well,’ Lockwood said genuinely, reaching out to give George a pat on the back.

‘Yeah,’ Holly agreed, her voice gentle. ‘Sounds like you found someone who appreciates the real you.’

George nodded, feeling a sense of contentment settle over him. ‘I think I have,’ he replied softly, grateful for their concern yet eager to protect this new connection he had forged.

He knew he had to tread carefully, to not let his guard down completely. But in that moment, surrounded by his trusted friends who had become like family, George felt a rare sense of hope—that maybe, just maybe, this time things could be different.

After the first picnic with George, you returned home feeling a mixture of exhilaration and contentment. As you stepped into your shared apartment, your roommate greeted you with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling mischievously over the rim of her teacup.

‘Well, well, well,’ she teased playfully. ‘How was your date?’

You chuckled, setting down your bag and joining her at the kitchen table. ‘It wasn’t a date,’ you clarified with a grin. ‘Just a picnic. But it was amazing. George is exactly as I imagined him—smart, funny, and so easy to talk to.’

Your roommate raised an eyebrow knowingly. ‘Sounds like a date to me,’ she quipped, taking another sip of her tea.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. ‘Okay, maybe it felt a little bit like a date,’ you admitted, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks.

She leaned forward, curiosity evident in her expression. ‘So, are you going to see him again?’

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. ‘I hope so. We really clicked.’

She grinned, setting her teacup down with a satisfied nod. ‘I’m happy for you. It’s about time you met someone who gets you.’

You felt a rush of warmth at her words. It was comforting to have someone who understood you so well, who supported your happiness without hesitation.

‘Yeah,’ you replied softly, gratitude filling your voice. ‘Me too.’

As you recounted the highlights of the picnic—George’s stories, his passion for the supernatural, and even his talent for cooking—your roommate listened attentively, sharing in your excitement and offering words of encouragement.

By the end of the conversation, you couldn't help but feel even more certain about the connection you had with George. And as you settled into bed that night, thoughts of future picnics and conversations danced through your mind, filling you with anticipation for what was to come.

Days turned into weeks, and George found himself eagerly anticipating each interaction with you. Whether it was meeting for coffee after work or exchanging late-night messages about the latest supernatural phenomena, every moment spent together deepened your connection.

Lockwood and Holly watched with cautious optimism as George navigated this new friendship. They could see how much George valued you, how your presence brought a new lightness to his demeanour. And while they remained vigilant, they couldn’t deny the genuine joy they saw in George’s eyes. After a month of bright eyes from their coworker and best friend with your name always on his lips, Lucy, Lockwood, and Holly decided that, perhaps, they could trust you.

As weeks passed, the bond between you and George continued to grow stronger. Every meeting brought new conversations, shared laughter, and a deepening understanding of each other's passions and quirks. Lockwood, Lucy, and Holly observed with cautious optimism, seeing how much joy you brought into George's life and how well you fit there, with him.

One evening, George received a rather unexpected invitation from Lockwood. ‘How about dinner at 35 Portland Row tomorrow night?’ Lockwood suggested "casually". ‘I thought it would be nice for all of us to spend some time together.’

George, surprised yet pleased, agreed. He relayed the invitation to you, and you gladly accepted, feeling both nervous and excited at the prospect of spending more time with George outside of your usual hangouts.

The next evening, you arrived at 35 Portland Row, the unfamiliar house exuding an air of mystery and warmth. You opted for a casual outfit—a comfortable jumper and jeans—but as soon as you stepped inside, Holly and Lucy greeted you with laughter.

‘Oh, you look absolutely adorable!’ Holly exclaimed, her eyes twinkling without an ounce of malice.

Lucy smiled warmly. ‘It's nice to see someone not dressed to impress for once.’

You chuckled, feeling immediately at ease with their playful banter. Lockwood appeared from the study, a gracious smile on his face as he welcomed you.

‘Welcome, please make yourself at home,’ Lockwood said, gesturing towards the dining room where the table was set for dinner.

The evening flowed smoothly as everyone settled in. Lockwood proved to be a gracious host, regaling you with stories of their recent cases and engaging you in lively discussions about supernatural phenomena. You found yourself drawn into the conversation, sharing your own insights and experiences, feeling a sense of belonging among George's friends.

During dinner, you found yourself seated next to George. He smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting the same joy and comfort you felt. As you talked, you realised how much you shared in common—not just your interests in the supernatural, but your values and perspectives on life itself.

‘I'm glad you're here,’ George whispered to you softly as you savoured his exquisite cooking.

‘Me too,’ you replied with a genuine smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your heart.

Lockwood and Lucy watched the interaction with subtle approval, exchanging knowing glances. After dinner, as you helped clear the table, Lockwood approached George discreetly.

‘I trust your judgment, George,’ Lockwood murmured, his voice low but earnest. ‘Both in your work and in your... friendships.’

George met Lockwood's gaze, a sense of gratitude and responsibility settling over him. ‘Thank you, Lockwood,’ he replied quietly. ‘I appreciate that.’

Lockwood nodded, his expression serious yet supportive. ‘You've both earned it,’ he added before returning to help Holly and Lucy with the dishes.

As you said your goodbyes later that evening, you felt a renewed sense of connection with George and his friends. And as you walked away from 35 Portland Row, you knew that you were becoming a part of something special, something that felt like home.

I AM SO LATE LMAODOSO HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY!!! I hope it was good, my laptop has been annoying the whole time I couldn't really get IN you know.

I love how george is just being like yes I'm gonna meet her and it's either she likes me or she can go home

I'm trying to get back to writing, the exams killed me but it's okay I'll fight back SO IF YOU WANT TO MAKE ANY REQUEST IT'S OPEN

Taglist :

@cielooci @neewtmas @35-portlandxrow

[seoafin]

dog days are over | chapter three

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): beginnings of a panic attack, mentions of implied dissociation and depression, slight nsfw word count: ~7.7k

fic masterlist read on ao3

There’s a wedding.

You know this because Satoru is holding a pristine white invitation with elaborately floral borders and calligraphy so curled it’s difficult for you to read it when for all intents and purposes, you are used to handling and deciphering historical accounts and journals.

That’s not the only thing.

The invitation had been addressed to both Satoru and Suguru.

The two of them are getting invitations sent as one. It means something. It’s an acknowledgement. Unspoken, but palpable. 

Satoru flicked the invitation open, indifferently scanned the contents, and threw it on the nearest surface (the desk in front of him) with a lazy flick of his wrist. In his words: a higher up’s daughter was getting married to some big shot young politician. Their honored presences was humbly requested. They’d be delighted to have the strongest in attendance for the joyous occasion.

You picked up the invitation and scanned the date. Next month, on the sixteenth. A Friday. You have off on that Friday. You know that because there is an exhibit one of your professors is curating at the Tokyo National Museum you had planned on asking Satoru and Suguru to.

Satoru doesn't really respond well to invitations. You could still ask him—

“Friday’s going to be a real pain.” Satoru texts away on his phone. You watch as Suguru replies in real time. You wonder if the two of them have resolved all of their problems if they’re texting normally. 

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “You’re going?”

Satoru’s gaze momentarily flicks up at you, holding your gaze for a few seconds, before returning to the screen. “Might as well.” The words come out begrudgingly. Satoru makes a face at his phone, presumably one of Suguru’s texts, and types out a long response.

You suppose that means that they have plans already. You don’t mind. You had been intending on going alone anyway.

Your own phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s a message from Shoko.

Ieiri Shoko

[4:31] there’s a wedding

[4:32] i have been invited to a wedding

[4:33] Satoru and Suguru too. Satoru said he’s going. Suguru too. Probably.

[4:33] ? Those two? lolololololol 

[4:34] I didn’t think Satoru was going to go. 

[4:36] your guess is as good as mine.

[4:36] how about you come with me? be my plus one

[4:36] say yes

You stare at Shoko’s text. Come…with her? To the wedding? You hadn’t expected to be invited. Either as a person or a plus one. You wouldn’t know anybody. The thought of being surrounded by people somewhere clearly didn’t belong makes you nervous. You won’t be able to rely on Satoru or Suguru or even Shoko’s presence. They’d be busy, too busy for you. You’d stand in a corner and stay quiet, and people would brush over you, a nameless person of little importance and significance.

If you’re being honest, it doesn’t sound like a good time. If Shoko really needed you it’d be one thing. But you’re sure your presence wouldn’t be missed. 

You’d let her down gently. 

You press out of the chat just as Satoru stands up to peer down your head and squint at your phone. You wonder what has him so curious, and shut your phone off and look up. 

“We should go meet up with Shoko and Suguru, shouldn’t we?”

Satoru only sighs, rubbing at his neck with a faintly irritated look on his face. That’s not good.

He takes your hand and leads you out the door.

----

Dinner is fraught with tension. You look from Satoru to Suguru who are pointedly refusing to look at each other, which is difficult, considering they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder in a crammed yakitori restaurant. 

You’re…unsure what exactly is going on. You thought your worries about Satoru and Suguru were a worry for the past, but now, it’s impossible to ignore the pointed silence, Suguru’s cool silence, or even Satoru’s increasing agitation. Without the usual sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, it’s even easier to tell Satoru's patience is running thin.

You look to Shoko, whose head rests on your shoulder as she idly scans the menu, unbothered.

“We should share the chicken meatballs,” she says. “And the squid. I’ll order two draft beers, and maybe some plum wine…”

You make noncommittal noise. Then look back to Satoru and Suguru, wondering what you can say to dissolve the tension and make them look at each other again.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Excited for the wedding?”

You smile encouragingly when they look at you.

“No,” Satoru says, unhappily. “Not really.”

You wonder why he’s even going in the first place. Is it because of Suguru? Are they fighting over attending the wedding? That sounds wrong. Satoru doesn’t like to put up with troublesome things, but for Suguru, a four hour wedding was nothing.

“Only children think the world bends to their whims,” Suguru remarks pleasantly, despite the sharp edge of his words. “Adults should know better. Even Mimiko and Nanako know better. Tsumiki and Megumi—”

If there’s one thing Satoru can’t handle, it’s a lecture from Suguru. That hasn’t changed since high school.

“Yeah?” There’s a dangerous challenge on Satoru’s tongue as his eyes narrow in accusation. “I know what I want. If that makes me a child, then fine. At least one of us does.”

“Shoko,” you whisper to her. “Something’s wrong.”

Contrary to your own panic, Shoko’s watches the two, amused. “The only thing wrong here is that I don’t have a beer.” She waves a waitress over just as Satoru and Suguru fall into stony faced silence.

A young, fresh faced waitress with her hair tied up in a ponytail bounds up to the table. Shoko lists half the menu, ordering for the table. Then she orders drinks. Alcohol for you and her, a melon soda for Satoru, water for Suguru.

“Make that three,” Suguru interjects. “I’ll have a beer too.”

She flushes prettily when Suguru gives her a polite smile, slyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. Satoru’s face darkens.

“How is medical school?” You ask Shoko. “You’re taking care of yourself, right?” You hope she’s taking breaks in between her studies and her work at the school, eating well, and sleeping a good seven hours every night. 

She faces you, cheek flattened on her open palm. “I should be asking you that. Do you even remember to eat if I don’t remind you?” She pokes your nose.

“I eat,” you say, a touch defensively, but you already know Shoko knows better. Sometimes, you forget to eat. Sometimes it’s too much of a bother. You're fine though. Healthy enough.

“Hmmm.” She turns her attention to Satoru and Suguru. “This wedding is going to be awfully awkward if you two don't kiss and make up soon.”

“Everything’s fine,” Suguru says civilly. He softens at your concerned look. “It’s fine.”

You don’t believe him.

Satoru’s gaze is flinty. “Who says we’re even going together?” 

“You’re free to go by yourself,” Suguru replies, serenely unbothered.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll go with Shoko.”

“Absolutely not,” she says immediately. “I’ve already got a plus one.”

Your stomach drops, put on the spot. You hadn’t had the time to think of an adequate excuse to avoid the wedding as Shoko’s date. It’s too late for excuses if Shoko’s already told them you’re going. You can’t let her look the fool by backing out now!

They look at you. Your lips curl in an automatic smile.

There’s the beginnings of a playful grin on her face. “We’re picking out dresses tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Yeah…”

Well, if any good came out of this wedding, it would have to be getting to go dress shopping with Shoko and helping her pick out a formal dress. You’d like that. You always thought she looked good in bold colors, and if the occasion warrants it, she’ll wear her bright red lipstick. You already feel lighter, excited at the prospect of seeing her in all different types of dresses. You’d take the job seriously, make sure you help her pick the best—

“Kimono,” Satoru states.

“Dress,” Suguru asserts.

You blink. Their gazes clash, and you can feel a chill come over you. What are they fighting over now? This might even be worse than the several occasions they fought in high school. Never had they fought about anything that couldn’t be settled with a good fistfight. Something tells you this runs deeper. It’s more than a trivial burst of high tempers, more than juvenile attitudes at work.

“What?”

A lazy smile hangs from Shoko's lips. She is thoroughly amused, taking everything in as if she’s at the theater. “I asked them whether or not I should put you in a kimono or a dress for the big event.”

You didn’t even think about what you’d wear to the wedding. You assumed Shoko would give you something. And if not, you could just go shopping. If Shoko was too busy to come, then Ijichi usually had a good eye for silhouette and fashion. You worry about your kouhai once more. He really is too competent for his own good. You hope you won't be troubling him too much in the future.

You are discomfited. You don’t want the hypotheticals of something as inconsequential as what you plan to wear to an event to be another point of contention between them.

“That’s…I don’t really care what I wear.”

“Whatever you want to wear,” Suguru says reassuringly. “I’m sure you’ll look perfect regardless.”

You warm at Suguru’s words, unexpectedly abashed as you lower your gaze to your lap. It’s hard to think of yourself as perfect, especially in terms of appearances when you’re anything but. You determinedly meet Shoko’s eyes. “I’ll do my best not to embarass you,” you say deathly serious.

You’ll do your best to be sociable, speak when spoken to, and try not to let yourself get caught up in all the important people you’re sure are going to be in attendance. You figure if anything this could be practice. Making new friends. Although all you’ve known for the last years of your life is Satoru and Suguru and Shoko. Occasionally Utahime when she visits down from Kyoto. Mei Mei too, even. You can’t rely on them forever, you know this. It’s easy to forget the monotony of the days before you entered high school. Days passing while in a trance, food tasting bland, the perpetual buzzing in your ears. You slept and slept and slept. You spent more days asleep than awake until you were inevitably needed for another mission.

You don’t think you had known what it meant to live, in those days. You didn’t know that the salty breeze of the ocean was a sensation in your nose that felt akin to the seconds before a sneeze. You didn’t know that the colored disco lights in a small karaoke room could bring you so much joy. You didn’t know that hot summer days could be idle, that eating a popsicle with friends could be a momentous occasion. All of these moments, engraved on your heart. You’d take them to the grave, and you’d be content.

You still occasionally experience these fits of sadness so encompassing you drown in it. Especially around certain times in the year. Sometimes, you find it difficult to wake up. There’s a boulder in your chest, pressing on your lungs and weighing you down. You sleep for days. Wake up to remind yourself that you still exist, and close your eyes. Other days, you feel your body move on auto pilot, from one destination to another, cursory smiles and words. You don’t remember much of anything. Just that when you wake up, you feel yourself again. And if you don’t, you sleep and repeat until you do.

It’s a troubling matter to articulate. Something you’ve never quite put into words. If it’s an inconvenience to you, it’d be an annoyance to others. So you keep quiet, and hope it stays a secret, where it won’t bother anyone.

“As if that matters,” she sighs, eyeing you warmly. “ You’re not that one that needs to worry about embarrassing me.”

She side eyes the two men seated across from you, and sighs. "Hopeless.” She flings the word at them. 

Your waitress returns with skewers of meats and vegetables and more. Shoko gratefully takes her drinks, and downs half of it down. Then she takes a chicken skewer.

The rest of your meal continues in either silence or short lived conversation. Suguru asks about your thesis. About Shoko soldiering through medical school. Shoko orders more alcohol. You ask him and Satoru about Kyoto, since the two of them have been spending more and more time at Kyoto tech for one thing or another. Meetings, clan visits, Satoru visiting members of the Gojo clan, etc. You stick to safe topics of discussion, and decide that any talk about matchmaking ceremonies or arranged marriages is dangerous.

It’s only so often that the four of you can meet up like this. Adult responsibilities and all. You hope Satoru and Suguru make up soon. To you, this time is precious. And even with Satoru and Suguru refusing conversation with each other, you’re happy to be with them.

The night goes by in a blink of an eye. Shoko orders another round of drinks. Soon it’s twelve in the morning, and Shoko calls for the check. You’re getting ready to leave when your waitress approaches apprehensively.

“Excuse me,” she says, fingers curled around a piece of paper. You watch eagerly, excited at being able to watch a confession unfold. But the storminess in Satoru’s expression creeps back in and you sweat. She hesitates, gaze flicking from Satoru, back to Suguru, and draws back with a shake of her head. The scrap of paper clenches in her hand. “I’m sorry, I thought—” 

“Oh, I am,” Suguru smiles. “Single.”

Shoko chokes on her laughter. Satoru doesn’t look amused in the slightest, jealousy as palpable as a strike of lightning and the aftermath smell of burnt grass. You stare down at your lap, willing yourself to be as small as possible, discomfort prickling at your chest.

“Oh…Oh! Then I—” she flushes, looking back at the gaggle of other waitresses towards the cash register, two of whom give her a thumbs up. She extends her arms, bowing her head, piece of paper tucked between her fingers. It looks like an offering. An offering of Valentine’s day chocolate. “I wanted you to have this! Just—just in consideration of me!”

It’s undoubtedly endearing. You’ve never been in love. You wonder if you were normal, if it’d come more naturally to you. If you were a normal girl without the occasional bouts of terror and sadness and the all consuming exhaustion. Without the need to hide away every once in a while. Someone who could lead a happy and guiltless life. You wonder if you had ever had a chance. A possibility for you to be loved. Or if it had been the inevitable circumstances of your birth that had condemned you to a lonely, forgotten existence.

Shoko takes you by the arm, excusing the two of you for fresh air, before you can hear or see Suguru’s response. 

Outside, snow is beginning to fall. You stare at it as it lazily floats onto buildings, Shoko’s head, the ground. You brush the white off her head as she lights a cigarette and inhales with a gusto.

“I needed this!” She rests against the brick of the restaurant and exhales. “Those two love to make their business everyone’s problem, huh.”

Your lips twitch, despite the gravity of the situation. “I’m worried about them.”

“They’ll be fine,” she briefly stares at the lit end of her cigarette, the ashes flickering to the floor, before meeting your gaze. “They always are, aren’t they?”

----

You immediately feel out of place as you and step into the hotel’s banquet hall for the wedding reception. It’s beautiful, decorated with flowers, vines that hang from the ceiling and down the columns, and ice sculptures set up around the floor. Round tables with designated seating and personalized name cards set atop the plates fill the venue while leaving the middle of the room, the dance floor, open. Not a single yen wasted.

You scan the crowd of faces for Shoko, or even Satoru or Suguru. There’s not a single recognizable face. You swallow down your growing unease, adjust the silk skirt of your dress, and try your best to inspire confidence in yourself. 

You slowly take in the rest of the grand room, take a glass of champagne offered, and then realize you’re too nervous to drink. There seems to be an unusual amount of people concentrated around the main entrance. Your skin prickles uncomfortably. Years later, you still don’t do well around consistent crowds of people. Sometimes, it feels like if you’re slowly suffocating, boxed in where the walls are slowly closing in on you.

It’s not a pleasant feeling. You walk in the opposite direction and try to tune it out, careful not to grip the champagne glass too tightly. You hadn’t been invited to the actual wedding procession. You wouldn’t be invited to the Shinto ceremony either. That was reserved only for a special group of guests. You’re glad for it. You don’t know if you can survive in close quarters with people important enough to run the country of Japan.

“There you are,” a familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts, a hand on your shoulder.

You turn, brightening. “Shoko!”

She looks stunning in the dark crimson gown she picked out when the two of you had gone dress shopping, and you can already see a few interested glances in her direction. Her hair is braided up, exposing her slender neck, and you can smell the cypress of her favorite perfume. You catch yourself staring at the red lining her lips, a few shades lighter than dress. If anything, you think being able to see Shoko like this is worth all the troubles of pretending to be… somebody.  

“How was the wedding?” You hand her your own untouched champagne. She lifts it to her lips and it’s gone.

That gets a grin out of her. “Interesting.”

She tells you that it had been an arranged marriage, and the bride had staunchly resisted the match, to the last second, which explained the closed, intimate ceremony. Furthermore, the bride refused to write and recite her vows, which had made for an entertaining scene on the altar. And that when the groom had leaned down to kiss her, she had angled her face away, so that his lips had collided with her cheek instead of lips.

The story is entertaining. Though you can’t help but feel bad for the bride, forced into a marriage by forces outside her control. What if she was already in love with somebody else? What if she had no interest in marriage? What is she didn't want a husband?

Shoko draws back a step, looking you up and down with a nod of approval. She smooths out the neckline of your dress. “I thought you’d look good in this one. It makes me want to show you off.”

You glance down at the silk dress adorned on you, so soft it ripples with every movement. It’s a pretty dress, although you’re sure you don’t do it justice.

“How are Satoru and Suguru?” You ask hesitantly.

Shoko tilts her head towards the main entrance. “How about you ask them yourself?”

Upon closer inspection, you realize the crowd of people around the entrance had been gathered around Satoru and Suguru. Huh. You didn’t originally notice them. You must have been too caught up in your head.

“No thanks,” you say, not wanting to intrude, but you take the time to watch them for a little longer.

Suguru’s face is animated with a bright smile as he converses with several other older guests, head slightly inclined in a politely deferential stance. They’re both in Kimonos. Matching colors. That brings a smile to your face. Still united in some way even if they may be in the midst of a long standing argument.

Satoru’s face is shaded with sunglasses, a suspiciously blank expression in the indifferent set of his lips. You aren’t sure you’ve caught his eye, but he perks in your direction, and when you raise your hand in a slight wave, he straightens.

Shoko weaves her arm through yours. “Alright, let’s get more drinks!”

You catch the frown forming on his lips just as Shoko tugs you away.

Shoko manages to get an entire bottle of champagne. Then she leads you to the largest table in the room, towards the front of the banquet hall, and gestures to your seat next to hers before taking a seat and filling her glass back up.

“I healed the bride’s father a while back,” she says, taking a sip of the champagne. “Stage 4 kidney cancer.” She makes a face. “I hate making house calls, but the higher ups insisted. I’m not trying to become a private doctor.”

“He must have been grateful.”

“He was,” she snorts. “He tried to buy me into his employ.” She leans back into her seat, looking at the banquet hall. “The man certainly has the money.”

“You like it at jujutsu tech,” you say with a bright smile. “You’d never leave us.” You’d like to think she’d never leave you.  

“I wouldn’t leave you,” she says, matter of factly. “How could I leave you with those two insensitive jerks?"

You’re so pleased you don’t think your smile can contain it all. She said she wouldn’t leave you. The champagne you took one sip of sits bubbly in your stomach. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad. Less work, more money…” you shrug. “If it made you happy, I wouldn’t mind.” Jujustu tech would probably fall apart without Shoko, so you leave that part out. You just want her to be happy.

She exhales. “I’m happy where I am right now.”

The two of you share a smile.

Shoko’s bottle inevitably runs empty while she recounts a funny incident in medical school involving a cadaver, and you offer to get her another one.

When you come back, there’s a man you don’t recognize in your seat, conversing with Shoko. You wonder what they’re talking about, for Shoko to look so unusually engaged. You’ve observed her in all her varying degrees of disinterest and moods to be able to read her well. You don’t want to disturb her. So you drop the bottle on the nearby counter of the open bar and turn on your heels to do another lap around the room. Once again, you spot Suguru and Satoru, who have relocated to underneath one of the glass stained windows running the length of the wall of the room.

Satoru is with the groom, a tall man with handsome features dressed in a tailored black suit. The rising star politician, you assume. Next to him, his sullen bride stands, surly disposition visible all the way from your place in the room. A stunning emerald dress is draped across her figure, ending at her ankles. Her arms are crossed. Satoru’s lips move in response.

Next to him, a couple feet away, Suguru is talking to a woman dressed in a silver colored heavy furisode, the two of them deep in conversation. Your interest is piqued. You can’t quite see her face, her back towards you, but you think she may be Suguru’s matchmaking attendee. 

You should give them privacy. Well. You shouldn’t be gawking at them. You turn just as someone else steps behind you, colliding into them. The ensuing collision has you precariously teetering back. Before you can regain your balance, a strong hand wraps around your upper arm, another around your waist, steadying you at once.

“You alright?”

The man you bumped into you gives you a dirty look, before continuing on his way. You look at the man. There’s something familiar about the set of his cheekbones, the curl of his lips in an easy smile, his dark green gaze, like the clearing of a forest. You’ve had this thought before, long ago. When the green of a boy’s eyes made you remember there was color in the world.

“Yes,” you reply slowly, waiting for him to let you go. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I’ve been watching you.”

You stare at him, unsure of how to take his comment. Watching…you…? You hope you haven’t done anything embarrassing. “Excuse me…?”

He promptly drops his arms and steps away. You slowly move to take a step back. Maybe you could pretend someone was calling you over—

“Wait a minute! That made me sound—” he shakes his head. “Wait.” He extends his hand, a wide grin on his face. “Let's start over! Shirokami Hideo.”

It clicks. Oh. You know this man. Well, you knew the boy. You don’t remember much from your time at the Kamo compound. It’s a series of blurred faces and muffled voices. Long stretches of darkness. You slept a lot back then too, you think, because the only thing you do remember in clarity is the sandalwood scent of your comforter, and your preference for sleeping on futons. 

“Hideo-kun,” you say, as you remember a shallow brook deep in the forest, and the boy who had taught you to catch fireflies with his hands. You wonder how and why you had forgotten in the first place. You left the Kamo compound, and forgot it all in the monotony of the ensuing years. His voice is deeper, and he’s grown into his face, but if nothing else, his eyes are the same. “I remember you.”

He beams. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Do you still like stargazing?”

---

The surprise must be evident on your face because he sheepishly scratches his face. “The first time you talked to me, it was to tell me that I was looking at the Canis Major, not the Crow.”

You don’t remember it, but it touches you just the same. To think that someone remembered you, even when you didn’t. You had left a piece of yourself in someone.

You take a bite of your lobster, nodding. “I do. I try to go when I can. But I’ve been so busy lately…” You’ve also been meaning to take the kids with you one night. When the weather warms up, you’ll bring them to the mountains. They’d like that. You know Tsumiki was delighted when you gave her a book that illustrated the constellations. You had bought it for her with Megumi on one of your outings.

Hideo nods in sympathy. “It’s tough being a jujutsu sorcerer. Trust me, I’m taking advantage of the low season to take time off to relax!”

The two of you sit at a table tucked away in the far corner. Hideo’s table. There had been an empty seat which he offered. You gratefully accepted, especially when you managed to catch a glimpse of your original table. You had seen Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru. Along with the bride, groom, and a couple other distinguished people seated at the table. You’re glad to escape from the scrutiny. You do much better in obscurity. 

You spent the last hour catching up. Hideo was mainly located in Kyoto, with his clan, a Kamo branch family, but he had been preparing to move to Tokyo for a change in scenery.

You knew him for a brief three months, before his return to his clan for his mother’s funeral. He regretted not being able to leave you a note, or tell you that he was leaving. He tried to contact you after, but nobody knew your whereabouts, especially since you moved back to Tokyo and was subsequently lost in the system.

Currently, with his father on bedrest, he was preparing to take over the clan from Tokyo. The move to Tokyo is an effort to bridge the gap and relationship between the Tokyo and Kyoto jujtusu societies.

In return, you offered your own mundane and uneventful recollection of your life up to this point. Compared to Hideo’s, you didn’t have much to offer. You moved to Tokyo after studying the katana at the Kamo compound. Undertook missions as expected of you, and lived alone up until high school. Then you enrolled in jujutsu tech. Now you’re in school for your masters, and then hopefully, a PHD.

It feels odd to talk to someone other than Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru. You don’t know Hideo nearly as well, despite a brief history together. Where you can search for familiarity in the softness of Suguru’s smile, the mischievous curl of Shoko’s lips, Satoru’s straightforward demeanor, there’s nothing here to cling to. You don’t remember what it ever meant to be without them. It’s alarming. It’s frightening.

But you think this is what it means to start anew.

The room quiets as a spoon taps glass. Attention gathers towards the table in the middle of the room where an older man in a tuxedo stands. It’s a five minute speech that you don’t really give much thought to, your thoughts with the bride who looks precariously close to storming out of the room.

Hideo tilts his head towards you, his lips in your ear. “She doesn’t look too happy, huh.”

You have to agree.

There are three more speeches. You don’t recognize anybody. Soon after, conversation fills the room once more.

During a lull in a conversation, you excuse yourself to the restroom for a few minutes to yourself. Upon entering the brightly lit room, your gaze is directed towards a woman seated on one of the loveseats in front of a large, wall length mirror, fixing her makeup. You recognize her silver kimono immediately, and when the small, compact mirror slips from her hand and onto the floor by your feet, you bend down to hand it to her. There’s a lotus engraved onto the back of the mirror. 

“Thank you,” she says delicately, fingers brushing yours as she takes back her mirror. Up close, you take in her full appearance. The delicate contours of her light makeup to her exceptionally beautiful hazel eyes. Her brown hair is shoulder length, brushing her shoulders, bangs immaculately cut across her forehead. She looks like a doll, even more so when she gives you an inquisitive look, a polite smile curling her lips.

“Is something the matter?” 

You realize you’ve been staring. Your face burns. “I’m sorry,” you say, voice reedy, unable to articulate how lovely you think she looks, or how you had seen her talking to Suguru earlier, and whether or not she is who you think she is. So you simply awkwardly look at her. Nod your head in a curt goodbye and turn back around, intent on not speaking to anyone but Hideo for the rest of the evening, lest you embarrass yourself further.

You run right into someone’s chest, and hear a familiar voice say your name, the familiar scent of sandalwood in your nose, as a hand on your upper arm rights you back up.

“Suguru,” you say happily, looking at him. Up close, you think he looks especially handsome in his dark blue kimono. His usually pulled up hair is down, flowing down his back. You like it when he lets his hair down. You didn’t think you’d get to see him, or even talk to him today. “I seem to be bumping into a lot of people today…”

Concern immediately colors his face as he smooths your hair down and fixes the shoulder of your dress. His hand stays on your shoulder, thumb tracing your collarbone in comforting motions. “Everything alright?”

“Yes!” You reply immediately to assuage his concern, if anything. You hope he's alright. Or at least making nice with Satoru for the duration of this event. You're sure they've grown past making a public spectacle of their arguments, but one can never be too sure. “I’m no good at these types of events. I guess I’m just a little nervous…”

“I was looking for you,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “Shoko said you were…” his features grow taunt, lips tugging into a slight frown, “fine. But you weren’t in your seat.”

Shoko must have seen you with Hideo. Which meant she looked for you. Your smile grows wider. However, even the thought of returning to your designated seat surrounded by the most important people at the event you’d be expected to converse with makes your stomach twist. Embarrassing yourself was one thing. Embarrassing Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko was another.

“She’s right,” you confirm, doing your best to reassure him. “I found an old friend!”

His lips reflexively twitch into a smile, maintaining an amiable expression, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “An…old friend…?”

“I’ve been with him the entire time, so you don’t need to worry. I’ll introduce you,” you say eagerly, excited at the prospect of being able to introduce Hideo to Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. “He—”

“Are you cold?” Suguru suddenly asks you lightly, hand slightly squeezing your shoulder. “The air condition is cold in here, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” you blink. “...Are you cold?” That wouldn’t do. Maybe you could ask the hotel receptionist—

“Geto-sama,” a voice interrupts, “I didn’t think I’d find you out here.” You turn, seeing the woman in the silver kimono, once more, smiling, a fresh layer of red painting her lips. You straighten, resisting the urge to smooth out your dress.

“I was on my way to get some air,” Suguru answers with a smile of his own. “I ran into a close friend.” He chuckles goodnaturedly. “I’m trying to convince her to come back with me.”

Come back with him?

Her gaze slides to you. If she remembers you, her expression is unreadable. Her eyes slightly widen. “Oh my,” she lifts her hand to her mouth. “Is it your seat I’ve taken? My apologies—”

“Oh, it’s fine!” You wave her off. She looks genuinely apologetic. “Please, take my seat. I’ve found another with an old friend.”

“Is that so…” She trails off, glancing up at Suguru. “Forgive me, we haven’t been properly introduced.” She lowers her head. “Sasaki Kumiko. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

You reply with your own name, and an encouraging smile.

“Speaking of,” you step away. “I’ve kept Hideo-kun waiting long enough. Why don’t you take her with you to get fresh air, Suguru?”

“It would be a pleasure,” Kumiko says, eyes brightening at the idea, giving a face a certain type of incandescent joy. “I would love to accompany you.”

You don’t wait for his reply to make yourself scarce. You give his hand a little squeeze, before making your way back to Hideo.

The two of you fall back into easy conversation and talk until the moon is high and bright in the sky. Plates are cleared and guests start to rise once again, mingling and talking as the dancefloor begins to fill up.

You’re unsure of what to do. Should you look for Shoko again? You’re not much of a dancer. You don’t want to hold her back with your discomfort. Hideo lightly taps on your arm, bending down to whisper into your ear: “There’s a garden outside. Do you want to walk with me?”

You are instantly relieved. With everybody crowded around the dance floor to witness the bride and groom’s first dance, the two of you would be able to slip outside. Nobody would be there. You could get away.

You nod, and he takes your hand, leading you towards the exit leading to the hotel lobby, and then outside. As the two of you step out into the pebble lined path, lit up in anticipation for the wedding, you can still hear the strings of the quartet playing from the ballroom. Immaculately tended flowers line the path, flowers of every color and shape. You sigh, feeling the tension slipping from your body. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you. Earlier.” Hideo laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to you earnestly. “I saw you earlier, and I spent so much time thinking of what to say to you that I completely forgot what I was going to say!”

You laugh, despite the outside chill trailing over your body. You relate to the feeling of your tongue not working at times. “You didn’t scare me. But I did think you mistook me for someone else at first,” you admit. You were initially perturbed, that was true. You’re glad he cleared the air before you managed to escape. You’re glad that you’ve met him again, after all these years.

The path opens to a small clearing with an empty fountain as Hideo fondly details his short lived time at the main Kamo estate with you. At the Kamo compound, he was one of many boys, left alone to his own devices in favor of the more elite sons of the family. It was the first time he had ever tasted freedom away from his own clan estate, where he was coddled by servants and his sickly mother.

Upon your silence, he looks at you, concerned. “Is it cold?” He moves to take off his jacket but you stop him.

“It’s not that,” you blurt out. The cold feels good on your skin. Calms you down. “I don’t remember much from back then. It’s all…hazy.” Any recollection of your childhood draws a blank. It makes you feel bad that you can’t dignify his memories with your own. “But I know that…” you trail off, staring at your feet. “You were kind to me. Back then.” Even you know that you hadn’t been in the right state of mind so soon after your father died. You wanted to leave the past behind. You didn’t want to remember. You had to forget to survive.

You sit down on the cold surface of stone, and exhale. You didn’t realize Hideo’s appearance would dredge up the past like this. You feel tired all of a sudden. You want to go back to the apartment you’ve made a home, curl up in your bed, and let sleep claim you once more.

A weight settles on your shoulders as the warmth of Hideo’s jacket envelopes you. He takes a seat next to you, gaze searching yours. 

“You were a child,” he says gently. “It’s okay to forgive yourself—”

You don’t hear the rest of his words as blood rushes to your ears. You can’t swallow the lump in your throat, and your face feels hot to the touch. Your fingers curl into the skirt of your dress. Forgiveness . You have no right to forgiveness. You allow yourself just enough happiness, and that’s enough. 

“—it was only three months.” His gaze turns a touch concerned. “Are you alright?”

Panic bubbles in your chest as you manage shallow breaths, staring at him in increasing discomfort as your vision begins to go spotty.

Forgiveness? Your father died before he could forgive you. He died resenting your birth. He wished you had died instead of your mother. The forgiveness to absolve yourself isn't yours.

“There you are.”

You’d recognize the sharp cadence of Satoru’s voice anywhere. You focus on it. He’s unhappy. You wonder if he got into another fight with Suguru. You turn to where he stands, arms crossed, jaw set into a hard line. In the moonlight he glows otherworldly, a piece of divinity on earth. If only his expression matched.

His eyes are piercingly alight as he approaches. “Shoko’s looking for you.”

“Oh.” You perk up. “She is?” In your momentary elation at the prospect of seeing Shoko again, the anxiety dissipates enough for you to collect yourself. You almost forget to make introductions, but Hideo beats you to it, standing up. 

“Gojo-sama,” he says, inclining his head. “It’s an—”

“Like I care,” is Satoru’s clipped response. A dismissive glance in Hideo’s general direction, before his gaze is focused on you again. You stare at him, taken aback at his rudeness.

He pulls you up, not roughly, and examines you with a keen eye. He takes in the coat on your shoulders, and irritation shrouds his face once more. He swipes it off your shoulders and throws it back on the fountain. Then he takes off his haori and sweeps it over your shoulders. Without another word, he takes you by the wrist and away.

You give Hideo one last glance over your shoulder. He waves, a good natured smile on his face.

You eye Satoru’s back, trying to tug your hand back to your side to no avail. His fingers are locked around your wrist. Despite his annoyance, you’re happy to see him. There’s so much you want to tell him, about all the small details about your shameful past you tried to hide, about the small things you did remember about your time at the Kamo compound, even about Hideo—

You are backed into a wall, Satoru looming above you, eyes flashing. “Who the hell was that?”

You blink at him, looking from Satoru’s left arm caging you into the wall, to the other with slight disbelief.  “Shirokami…Hideo…” We lived together when we were younger. Back when I had nobody. Back when I was a ghost. He taught me how to catch fireflies. I don’t remember much about those days, but I think he made me happy.

You hold your tongue.

You hope you aren’t being presumptuous. “He’s a friend—”

Satoru’s fingers dig into your chin as he lifts your face up. You look into his eyes, brighter than the moon hanging in the sky, and you think there’s something disconcerting in the way he looks at you. Like you could ask him to defy the laws of the world. For you, he do it. And if you asked him to bring down a star, he’d lay it on your palm.

The world stills, just as it usually does when you meet his gaze. Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you stare at him, daring you to pull away, to drop your gaze back to your feet.

You feel his hand curl around your nape, pulling you to him with a squeeze that feels branding. He takes your lips with a bruising kiss, pressing you back into a garden shed. A startled noise leaves your open lips, and Satoru takes advantage, teeth sinking into your bottom lip with a distinct viciousness. You feel his tongue dragging against your own, hungry. Your eyes widen, never leaving his lidded stare that could be a glare. His hands come up to cup your face, angling you to his whims, effectively keeping you still against the onslaught of his lips as he steals your breath away.

He’s all you can see and feel. The heat of him, his palpable desire, so feverish it eats you alive. You push at his chest, feeling the lack of oxygen muddle your brain but he only holds you tighter. When he finally pulls away, a string of saliva briefly connects your lips, broken when Satoru’s tongue runs over his lips. Your hands are fisted into the fabric of his nagagi so tightly that you’ve pulled it open, exposing more of his chest than necessary. You let go, hands falling limp to your side.

His eyes lower back to your lips, and you startle. You’d take a step back if you could, but instead you push back into the wall. Somewhere in between, Satoru had lifted you up, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist, dress hiked up. Satoru’s hand is resting on your bare thigh with a grip that has no intention of letting you move, and a shiver rips through your body as you inhale gulps of air. His leg rests between your thighs, reminding you of the uncomfortable wetness staining your panties.

He leans forward and you unknowingly tense, but instead of your lips you feel a sting on your neck. Teeth. You wince, but Satoru holds you in place, fingers curling into you like a warning. You feel his tongue tracing the bruise, before he straightens with a finality. You might be shaking but you’re unsure if it’s from the cold or…

You stare at him, stunned, while he meets your gaze unrepentantly.

“I…” your voice trembles as the awful reality slowly sets in. “Could you…” you struggle with the words. “...Please put me down.”

For one terrifying second, you see the beginnings of the stubborn set of his eyebrows, as if he might refuse.

Then, wordlessly, wearing a frown, he lifts you down.

You don’t think. You bend down on unsteady legs to pick up his fine haori that had fallen to the ground, and neatly fold it. You hand it to him. He takes it. 

“Good night,” you intone.

You stiffly walk back into the hotel lobby, where everyone has gathered, ready to leave for the night or take taxis to the invite exclusive after party. You think you might walk to the train station. Nothing feels real.

You should text Shoko. Tell her that you didn’t feel good and that you took a taxi home. Yes, you’ll do that.

You accidentally meet Suguru’s searching gaze from across the room. You register surprise across his face. Then he slowly makes his way through the crowd. There's something wet on your lips, and when you raise your hand there's a smear of blood on your fingers. You take a step back, stomach twisting into knots. You’ll walk.

You’ll walk.

You turn around, starting through the hotel lobby where cabs have begun to line the entrance and the streets outside. You'll feel bad later. You walk through it all. Once you get far away enough, you manage to flag an empty taxi down.

You don’t remember the car ride home. You enter your apartment and make it to your bed just as your legs buckle. You fall asleep in daze, wondering if the night was all just a bad dream.

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 20/? Word count: 2858 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 18. Statement

"Buongiorno," Charles greeted his colleagues when he entered the engineer's truck. His eyes scanned the people who had already sat on their spots. He missed one person, but she must be getting some tea or coffee.

His colleagues greeted him back. Charles sat down in his designated spot next to Matilde, who usually would sit at the head of the long table. It would give her an overview of the team. Charles noticed how her seat was untouched, her notebook and laptop weren't there, just like the tangerine she always ate every morning. It had only happened once that she was late and that was on her first day. It became normal to arrive and see Matilde already sitting there. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave.

Carlos entered the room. "Sorry for being late. There are so many fans out there," he apologised. He sat down across from Charles. He looked at Matilde's spot. "Where's Matilde?" He was surprised.

"Late," an engineer replied.

"Oh. Weird."

Even though the meeting had to begin when Carlos entered the room, people were still busy with preparations. Some didn't mind having a few extra minutes, but it was unusual.

Ten minutes had passed the designated starting time and Matilde was still nowhere to be seen. Members started to exchange puzzled glances. Even if Matildle was a minute late, she would tell someone about it. Her being ten minutes late already, was not right.

"Did someone try to call Matilde yet?" one of the engineers finally suggested.

"I already tried. No answer," someone else answered.

"And Galileo? Did someone try to contact him?"

"Shouldn't we just begin? We need to get this done before we run out of time."

"No, let's just wait for a bit longer. She must be on her way," another voice chimed in, hope lingering in the words.

"I texted Galileo," someone else mentioned.

Just seconds after that, Galileo and Silvia entered the room. Their presence alone was enough to signal that something was amiss. The usual smiles were absent, replaced by expressions of concern. They were never at a briefing like this.

"Can I get everyone's attention, please," Galileo's voice cut through the room, making sure everyone stopped with whatever they were doing. He took a moment to survey the room. "As you have noticed, we are missing the team principal today. Matilde will not be present today, tomorrow, and Sunday," he announced, causing eyebrows to raise in collective surprise. She had never missed one day of work.

A murmur of questions and confusion rippled through the room. Carlos, unable to contain his worry, spoke up first. "What? Why? What happened?"

"We are only allowed to share with the team that Matilde is hospitalised for a personal reason," Galileo responded somberly.

More questions were being asked about the situation.

"Her family has kindly requested that we not contact Matilde until she reaches out to us herself. We will not have a replacement for this weekend, so we must do it together."

Silvia nodded in agreement, her usual vibrant energy subdued. "We will publish a statement in a moment, written by Matilde's family. Charles and Carlos, when talking to the media or someone else who asks about it, you will say she will not be here at the track until further explanation. There will probably get some fuzz around it, let them be, but don't say anything about the hospital. Galileo and I are informed about the situation, but the media doesn't have to know it yet. They asked not to share it because they are still waiting on some results and do not want to share it yet. But do know that she is fine and not in a life-threatening situation. It is a private matter and for you, a team matter. For your further information, Christian Horner and Toto Wolff were there when it happened, but they have also been requested not to share anything with anyone. For now, that is all we know and all we can share. When we get an update, you will be the first to know about it. For questions about it, you know where to find me."

A sense of collective shock settled over the room, the usual camaraderie replaced by an atmosphere of uncertainty. The team members were left with more questions than answers, their concern for Matilde was palpable.

"May I ask why Matilde's family is in control of all the communications? Just curious to know..." one team member ventured, voicing the questions that echoed in the minds of many.

Silvia exchanged a glance with Galileo before responding. "Matilde's family is handling the situation because they value their privacy, and we respect that. Matilde's brother is a press officer and will be dealing with this for now. Let's focus on the tasks at hand and wish Matilde a swift recovery. Updates will follow when we have them."

"We do have a card, so if you would like to write something down, please, do it," Galileo mentioned and gave a massive 'Get Well Soon' card to Charles.

"Can it be stress?" Charles worriedly asked. He knew he had created a lot of fuzz and stress last week. He was worried this could be his fault.

"That's something we cannot share, Charles," Silvia weakly smiled.

He silently gasped for air; he had caused this. Fear flickered in his eyes. "Okay," Charles mumbled and opened the card. As he grabbed a pen, his mind became blank. He stared at the empty card, processing the situation.

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of the unknown casting a shadow over what should have been a routine morning briefing. The Silverstone weekend had begun under a cloud of uncertainty, and the Scuderia Ferrari team found themselves navigating uncharted territory without their leader.

- press statement -

Official Statement from the Family of Matilde Jørgensen and Scuderia Ferrari

Dear Scuderia Ferrari and Formula 1 Fans,

We want to inform you that Matilde has been admitted to the hospital for a medical concern that requires some attention. We want to assure everyone that she is currently stable and receiving the necessary medical care. We understand the desire for more details, but we kindly request your understanding and respect for our family's privacy during this sensitive time.

At this time, Matilde needs some space for rest and recovery. Consequently, she will not be present for the upcoming weekend, and we appreciate your understanding regarding her absence. The medical team is taking good care of her, and we are hopeful for a swift and smooth recovery.

As always, we are grateful for Matilde's support and love from the Ferrari family, the Formula 1 community, and fans worldwide. We kindly request respect for our privacy during this period and will keep you updated as necessary.

Thank you for your understanding and warm wishes.

Sincerely,

The Jørgensen Family and Scuderia Ferrari

* * *

It didn't stay unnoticed that there was one team principal missing during the Friday at Silverstone. The news travelled fast through the paddock and beyond. As the morning unfolded, whispers of concern reverberated through the media centre, press rooms and social media platforms. The press release from the family and team confirmed some of the rumours, and photos and videos that were taken last evening - a few fans spotted the rushing ambulance leaving the paddock in the evening, causing so many rumours - but it was Matilde who was taken to the hospital.

Reports were exchanging speculative theories about Matilde's sudden absence. Twitter and other social media channels became flooded with questions and speculation because the statement provided minimal details. It confirmed her hospitalisation, but left the reason shrouded in mystery. Fans and media were craving information about the young team principal. The lack of information became a breeding ground for rumours and speculation.

The week began with all its focus on the huge sporting event in the weekend, but it quickly shifted to the missing and hospitalised team principal.

The whispers and speculations reached a crescendo when fans began piecing together the timeline of events. Fans witnessed the fallout back in Spielberg last weekend, could that be a reason for the absence? The realisation that Matilde was taken from the track to the hospital stirred a wave of anxiety among the Ferrari faithful. Concerned messages flooded the team's social media accounts, asking for updates and offering words of support.

The team was just as affected as the fans were. The first free practice was full of mistakes, especially by Charles. He was distracted and that was noticeable; messy mistakes in the corners, delayed reactions and the times were off. He blamed himself for Matilde's absence and it weighed heavily on his shoulders. He had been a pain in the arse to her, he gave her a hard time. What if he went too far?

Throughout the entire day, he kept reading the speculations on social media. He didn't know what kind of impact it had on the fans, but it was probably caused by the not-saying-much press release.

Tweets:

"MATILDE IS HOSPITALISED??? WHAT HAPPENED TO HER???"

"Just heard a theory about Matilde's absence at Silverstone - some say it might be stress-related burnout. Hoping for her speedy recovery!!!"

"Heard some dark whispers about Matilde leaving due to internal team clashes. It might be the reason why Matilde collapsed during the team principal's meeting. Hope it's just wild speculation!"

"Ferrari is no good to their team principles. Maybe Matilde collapsed due to all the fights within the team. Everyone does what they want to do in the team. What is going on?!"

Nobody in the team was aware of a sudden departure, but to Charles, it kinda wouldn't be a surprise after the way everyone treated her, including him. Gossip travelled fast through the paddock and over the internet, just like wild theories.

However, the day continued and Charles still had to see the media after the free practices.

"Charles, tough day out there on the track. Can you walk us through your day and the challenges you faced?" F1TV asked.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a tricky one today. We struggled a bit with the balance of the car during the first practice. We were trying some new setups, and it didn't go as smoothly as we hoped." Charles honestly replied and looked around while talking, he never looked the interviewer in the eyes during the interview. "The car felt a bit unpredictable, especially through the high-speed corners. But we have collected enough data, so we will work on it."

The interviewer nodded. "We saw during the second practice that you improved some runs. It seemed like you had it under control."

"Yes, we made some adjustments and it did feel better, but we're still not where we want to be," Charles replied. He was glad the man was only asking about the practices. It felt like he finally could answer properly and think about something else. "We are working hard to analyse the data and find some solutions for tomorrow, for qualifying, and of course, for Sunday." He showed a brief, but promising smile.

"The world is all thinking of Matilde's absence, did it have any impact on the team's performances today?"

Cheered too soon. "Well, it's certainly a bit different not having Matilde around. We all miss her, and I think it's been a bit of a challenge for everyone."

"Fans are speculating about Matilde's situation. Some say it's a reaction to your clash last week in Spielberg, that it caused her to be overstressed and perhaps even burnout. We've seen quite some moments that didn't go smoothly between her and the team. Do you have anything to say to that?"

Charles took a deep breath, recollecting his thoughts. "Uh... I wish I could provide more information, but honestly, I don't have my details. Matilde's family and the team have asked for privacy, and we respect that. All I can say is that we're sending our best wishes her way, and we hope to have her back with us soon," he replied. It was a scripted response, he had to learn that from Silvia and so far, it worked well. "But," he said before the reporter would ask his next question. Charles wanted to share that they made it up. He didn't have the chance to say it to anyone. "About the situation in Spielberg, we talked about it, and we're fine. I also spoke to Carlos and Max, we're all fine now. It was an unfortunate moment, and I'm not proud of it, but we have to look ahead of us, not behind us."

"Thank you for sharing this, Charles. We wish Matilde the best, and we hope to see her soon again."

"Thank you," Charles nodded and returned to the Ferrari hospitality.

"You didn't have to say the last part," the press officer mentioned.

"I wanted to."

The entire team made themselves ready for the debrief again. The engineers were already sharing some points with each other, others were enjoying an espresso, and some people were scrolling through special media.

"Guys," one of the engineers said. "There's a tweet going around that Matilde collapsed due to an addiction issue."

Silence fell in the room, and looks were shared. It was like someone pressed the pause button, no one was moving or saying anything.

"I heard a reporter say that the hospitalisation is linked to high blood pressure due to an unconfirmed pregnancy," someone else added.

Charles sat down on his chair, he was lost in the sea of rumours, the uncertainty gnawing at him.

One of the engineers noticed the unease in the room and took charge. "Alright, people, let's focus. For whatever reason Matilde is hospitalised, it still doesn't change the fact that we will support her. Whatever is circulating out there, is just speculation. We will hear from her once she is ready. But we have a job to do, and that's what we'll do now."

Everyone shifted their attention back to the technical details, the debriefing starting, but Charles remained distracted. The rumours circulating about Matilde's conduction were like a storm in his mind, each one more unsettling than the last. As the debrief continued, Charles had ups and downs regarding his concentration. When he needed to be focused, he was focused, but when it wasn't about him, his mind drifted away.

Luckily for Charles, the debrief came to an end quickly. He had to find Max, perhaps he knew something more about Matilde. He walked to the Red Bull's hospitality like he had one goal and one goal only.

"What are you doing here?" Max confusedly asked, he was walking around with his dinner, trying to find a spot to eat.

"Matilde... Do you know if she's okay?"

Max glanced around, making sure no one was in earshot. He signed to Charles that he could enter the cafeteria. They sat down in the corner of the area, where they had some privacy. "I don't have all the details, mate. But from what I've heard, it's serious enough that they're keeping it all under wraps. Toto and Christian were there when it happened, but even they are tight-lipped."

"But you are close to her..."

"I tried to call her, but her brother picked up the phone, not giving much information."

Charles felt a lump in his throat. "What do you think happened?"

"No idea. But you know Matilde, she's tough. She'll pull through."

Charles nodded, trying to hide the worry etched on his face. "But all those rumours," he breathed. "Stress, burnout, depression, clashes in the team. Maybe I'm the cause, maybe I pushed her to the limit and now she collapsed because I am a dickhead. And the rumours about an addiction, or unconfirmed pregnancy. I even heard that she had a miscarriage because of the stress I give her." He looked and sounded hopeless, a side Max hadn't seen of him yet.

"Don't blame yourself for things you don't know," Max replied.

"I just can't shake off this feeling that I could've done something differently."

"We all have those moments. But right now, she needs our support. If there's anything you can do, it's to stay focused on the race, keep the team together, and give her the strength she needs when she comes back."

Charles looked at Max, making eye contact, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and distress. "I hope she comes back."

"She will." Max observed Charles' body language. Charles had a hard time hiding his emotions, and the situation was taking a personal toll on him. Max could see that Charles genuinely cared about Matilde, and the worry for her well-being weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was a stupid thought, but perhaps that was the reason why Charles couldn't get along with Matilde.

"You care about her, don't you?" Max asked, his tone gentle.

Charles sighed, not attempting to mask his emotions. "Yeah, I do," he whispered, running his hand through his hair. "More than I probably should, given our position. She's my team principal. The entire team is, was, shocked, but they can handle it. I...I just can't stop thinking about the things I've done to her."

"She'll be fine. And none of this is your fault."

Next chapter

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

new key!!! 🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲magical au hoh buck?? yes pls 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 need more shannon in my life thank you!! 🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕buck & bobby and eddie & chim???????????????? say less ⚡⚡⚡⚡and to help you with this one

HELL YEAH! Let's go!

30 for 🌲:

---

A two word sentence is actually rather articulate these days. 

“I was just calling, because… Well, we had a sort of hard call at work this week. With a kid - a teenager, just a little bit older than you, and… I just miss you, I guess. And I wanted to check in.”

Eddie is expecting Christopher’s usual wall of stony apathy in response, but instead, he gets something different. Some sort of emotion. Chris’ mouth twitches. His eyes dart around, searching for a response.

“I…” He trails off. “Uh, what happened on the call?” 

Whoa.

Okay, damn. A question. An honest to god question.

“Weston,” Eddie says. “He’s on his high school’s cheer team. At a game, a football player crashed into him, and he fell and broke his pelvis really badly.”

Chris winces. “Ow.” 

“Yeah, he was in a lot of pain,” Eddie says. “But he’s a trooper. He’ll be okay.”

“That’s good,” Chris says. “Will he still be able to cheer?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Eddie admits. “I hope so. Seemed like he was pretty good at it.”

---

39 for 🔼:

---

Probably not a great time to process. There is, potentially, more blood in his dick than his head at the current moment. But, overall, Buck thinks the current makeout is sort of significant for several reasons. First being, it’s Eddie. Eddie Diaz. His best friend. Who is married with a wife. A wife that also kissed Buck. It bears saying that Buck is fairly certain he never kissed any married people before he met them. Now he’s kissed his way through a whole legal union. But also, Eddie is a guy. A man. Historically, Buck doesn’t kiss men. 

To be honest, at this juncture, Buck isn’t sure why he hasn’t kissed men before. Because honestly? This is sort of great. Eddie’s hands are big and strong and a little calloused and it’s sort of thrilling. Buck has him pressed against the door now, but Buck knows Eddie could flip him around and take control just as easily. He smells good. Like cedar. Buck thinks he’d like to kiss him until he runs out of oxygen.

Unfortunately, Eddie doesn’t seem to think that’s a good plan.

“Wait,” he pants, breaking the kiss. “Wait, Buck.”

Crushed, Buck steps back. He drops his hands to his side. His lips are still buzzing. 

“Sorry,” he blurts.

“What? No, don’t be sorry,” Eddie says. “I just… I have to pick up Chris soon.”

“Oh,” Buck exhales. “Right.”

Right. Other things exist. 

---

39 for 🤕:

---

“Only parts of it,” Bobby says. “But, listen… I need you to free me, carefully. You can’t be doing too much, okay? I can’t have you hurting yourself worse.”

“And we don’t want to cause further collapse,” Buck reasons.

“That too,” Bobby agrees. “Start with my arms, then I can help.”

“Okay,” Buck says. 

Carefully, Buck gets to work cutting the pinned fabric of Bobby’s turnout coat from the fallen rebar, and removing any other debris on top of him. Bobby winces at one point. There’s probably a small injury, some bruising or a sprain. Nothing life threatening, Buck would guess. But, then again… Bobby thinks he has a brain injury. Maybe he shouldn’t be guessing anything at all. 

Within a minute or so, they’re able to get to a place where Bobby can prop himself up a bit more on his elbows. 

“Okay,” he tells Buck. “I can feel my legs enough to help you, I think. I’ll push up, and all you need to do is hold the concrete up long enough for me to slip out.”

“Alright,” Buck says. “Got it.”

“Count of three, okay?” Bobby prepares him. 

“Okay.”

Buck gets a firm grip on the edges of the concrete slab over Bobby’s legs. 

“Okay, three… Two… One…”

Bobby grunts as he pushes the slab upward. Buck lifts, body twisted so that the majority of effort is concentrated in his abdomen. A stab of pain cries out from his gut.

“I’m free, I’m moving,” Bobby says. “Hold on.”

Bobby shimmies out, hissing in pain as he does.

The moment he’s clear, Buck drops the slab with a hefty exhale. His gloved hand flies to his stomach, to the source of the pain. 

---

12 for ⚡:

---

Determined to get to the bottom of his feelings - and whether or not they’re justified - he talks to Bobby. He’s always been able to talk to Bobby. That’s nothing new. But ever since they actually talked out everything between them - their place in each other’s lives - it feels even more natural. Like, duh? Obviously he should bring everything to Bobby. Especially if it involves Bobby’s future grandchild.

He tells Bobby everything in his office during a slower shift at work, the day before Eddie has arranged for them to meet Lourdes with Pepa. Bobby listens quietly as Buck explains his position. 

“Am I being an asshole?” Buck asks. “Because it sort of feels like my opinion is like… Crappy?”

[runwayrunway]

No. 50 - All Nippon Airways Airbus A380 "Flying Honu" Livery

Happy 50th Runway Runway post! I had a bit of a hard time deciding what to do for it - after all, it's a pretty significant number. I already sort of know what I want to do for the 100th post, but I hadn't put much thought into the 50th, and I had to scuttle any plans for something long and interesting after a rather stressful week. Instead I decided to do something both fun and requested!

source: ANA Stories

One (well, three!) of the most beloved special liveries out there, All Nippon Airways' turtle-themed "Flying Honu" Airbus A380. These three friendly giants fly from Japan to Honolulu, delighting anyone lucky enough to see them.

Actually, I love the Flying Honu so much I have one myself.

I would describe myself as a bit of a magpie. I collect useless things, be they historical ephemera, horror movie memorabilia, old books, pretty rocks, or way too many fountain pen inks given I mostly use them to take notes. I even have a bunch of my old teeth in a pillbox. Surprisingly, though, the things my talons have lodged in don't include many model airplanes. I have...a few. I've actually, though serendipity, gotten two more since I started this blog, expanding my collection to a startling five. Maybe seven if you count my Starscream and Brainstorm figures, but I don't think I even remember how to put either of them in their alt modes. The fact is that while they aren't a fortune or anything plane figures are expensive enough that it's a commitment to buy one, and I usually only do when I stumble on a good deal for a model I really want. And one of the few times I've actually decided that I just needed a model of a specific livery was the "Flying Honu" A380. Specifically, the one I have is the airframe registered JA382A, Kai. (She's the 1:500 JC Wings diecast model and is around the size of my hand.)

I just needed to be able to gently tap her nose in person, okay? She can't fit up on the shelf with a lot of my other miscellaneous trinkets so she sits on my desk and sometimes I explain things to her while trying to figure them out, like a coding rubber duck. She makes me happy.

All Nippon Airways (全日本空輸) is a major Japanese airline. In fact, in terms of both fleet size and number of destinations they're bigger than flag carrier JAL. They're consistently described as being among the best airlines in the world for the discerning well-to-do business traveler, and let's just say that's not me, but what I am is a reviewer of airline liveries, and ANA sure has those! In addition to their standard Triton Blue livery they do all sorts of special designs, particularly crossovers with properties like Pokémon and Star Wars. All of these are something I would like to someday feature, but none of them matter at all to me when compared to the Flying Honu, introduced with the A380 fleet in 2019.

A couple of times when I've told people I know about this livery they asked me if 'honu' is Japanese for 'turtle'. That's a reasonable question, but the Japanese word for turtle is 'kame'. 'Honu' is the word for turtle, though - in Hawaiian.

image: ANA

In fact, Honolulu is the A380s' only destination. ANA didn't really want A380s to begin with, but ended up stuck with them while acquiring another airline. The thing about the A380, and the reason it failed commercially and so few were ever built, is that the use-case for a massive plane is pretty limited. It goes as such: you have a passengerbase of people who have to travel from one giant hub that can land an A380 to another frequently enough that you can actually make money on a plane with four entire engines.

Okay, so the use-case is that you're Emirates. ANA might be expensive, but they don't really have the central location or sheer amount of regular business travelers that Dubai does. 'Three' also isn't really that many A380s, which creates a bit of a question of reliability. So instead they fixed the problem in a way that's honestly pretty genius: they made it turtles.

image: ANA

ANA seems to be generally invested in Hawaii, with a fair amount of partnerships with local organizations. A lot of Hawaiian real estate is owned by Japanese companies, and those of Japanese descent are the second-larget ethnic group in Hawaii at 16.7%, so it makes sense that a lot of people would want to travel there. Tokyo to Honolulu is a nice 9-hour flight with no possibility for a stopover of any kind (unless they invent civilian aircraft carriers for A380s), so it's the perfect route for precisely three really huge planes.

images: ANA

They can fit 520 passengers across four classes on one flight, seated across both decks of the massive planes. There is also a section of seats which convert to couches, marketed for families. Those who fly this route get to enjoy rainbow lighting and the ability to buy a duty-free 1:500 model of the plane (not the same model I have, though, I'm pretty sure) or a set of Flying Honu plushes.

Ra looks like she's plotting something. Lani looks like she's never had a single thought in her life.

And they do make money off this, because people absolutely love these planes. People have apparently had their weddings on these planes, and I would too! They make ten weekly flights right now, but in December that will be increasing to fourteen weekly, or two daily.

Okay, so, the actual liveries.

Here's Kai in full-size! The light in my room make her look way cooler toned in the photographs, but in real life she's this color. It's frequently described as 'green' or 'emerald green', but I think it's definitely turquoise and would go so far as to call it blue. Whatever the case, it's meant to represent the color of the sea near Hawaii. Kai is also distinct from the others because of her eyes, which are closed as she smiles from ear to ear. That's why she's my favorite - she just looks so happy!

...a bit weirder looking from upfront, but look how even the ventral fairing is painted! That's part of the flippers where they curl around, tucked into the shell. Unlike the Transocean Air Jinbei Jets, the cockpit windows blend in with the 'scales' of the Flying Honu, looking rather natural.

'Ra' is a beautiful orange, meant to represent the Hawaiian sunset. She has a bit of a peach undertone if you look closely, but her details are done in an extremely vivid reddish orange. Her distinguishing feature are those gigantic eyelashes, similar to Sakura Jinbei's. The actual mouth shape on all three planes appears to be the same, but I find that the eyes still give them distinct 'personalities'. Ra has always looked very thoughtful to me.

Just look at her in flight! I've never understood why people call the 747 stately or graceful, and same for the A380 - double-decker planes are just inherently goofy-looking, and that's great, but ANA managed to make one look pretty elegant. I think it's because turtles are already regarded as large and slow creatures, so fitting like for like just makes it seem as natural for this absolutely gigantic aircraft to be flying as it is for a turtle to swim.

Finally, Lani, the turtle everyone agrees to be blue, represents the Hawaiian sky during its brightest color in daylight. If you look closely, you can see her blue 'eyeshadow', which I've always thought made her look relaxed.

This picture gives a good angle of my only real critique of the Flying Honu, which is that the shells and heads don't entirely look aligned, as if the head is in the process of being retracted. That said, I think that's just a fact of working with the shape of an airplane. There's just no more space below to fit any more shell.

Rather than being just one turtle, though, each "Flying Honu" has two fully rendered baby turtles following behind their 'mother'.

I think this is adorable, and beyond that it solves a crucial problem - the tail. Turtles do have those, but not in a way that maps onto a standard empennage. Instead, ANA makes the smart choice to end the shell at a certain point and add these two extra turtles make-way-for-ducklings-ing their way across the fuselage for more visual interest, leaving the tail empty for an ANA logo without making it jarring. This is a huge improvement over the Jinbei Jets, which again serve as a point of comparison as the other major Japanese marine life planes. (Amakusa Airlines is way smaller and thus not going to get caught up in this.)

I mean, it's hard to find too much to say about these that isn't just "oh my gosh, look at them". The Flying Honu are vividly colored, with clever shapes used to make them immediately recognizable as turtles. I smile every time I see one, including the little one on my desk!

And in case you weren't already delighted, there's two extra bonus turtles!

I think it's pretty obvious I'm giving these an A+. Come on, just...just look at them. The fact that ANA bothered to make three distinct ones with their own names and faces is just icing on the cake for me, but I do love that they did.

I can't believe I didn't find a way to fit this in earlier into the post, but I really love turtles. If you have an aquarium near you, and that aquarium has turtles, I really recommend stopping by to see them. My local New England Aquarium has had Myrtle for more than 50 years. As they describe her, 'the 550-lb Queen of the Giant Ocean Tank is large, in charge, and ready to receive your adoration'.

True to form, although a lot larger and dealing in a different type of fluid dynamics, the Flying Honu jets get plenty of my adoration too.

[ughmyreality]

Thoughts on S3 E4

(SPOILERS ahead)

There might be positives, there will be negatives, so please be forewarned that I am not going to solely praise the show. Also, it needs not be mentioned, I am but a single negative person on the internet talking about a fictional story. We are all not going to agree.

On another note, this episode in particular left me with a lot of feelings so I might make another post talking about the dynamic of Polin entirely. Anyway... With that said, let’s move on.

Episode 4-

I’m all for Lord Debling. He’s shown to have not only more personality than Colin but also have a genuine interest in Penelope. I like that they’ve tried their hand at showing an unconventional man.

I miss Brimsley and Reynolds together. They could be a cutesy old couple together. Sigh… but at least Brimsley hasn’t lost his wit.

Oh my gosh, the introduction of John! I’m all for it. Finally Francesca looks genuinely happy. I like the fact that neither of them quite know what to say. This is how you do “awkward wallflower”.

Who cares about the “give up the club” storyline? Honestly, I’m just going to start skipping it and if I miss something important I’ll just read some spoilers. 

I particularly like the hairstyle of Penelope in the scene with Lord Debling. Although I have been enjoying their outfits, I feel like a lot of them look way too modern. I understand that Bridgerton is not an accurate historical show, but I feel like the issue is more glaring this season.

I’m glad someone else said it. Colin was not the only one holding that balloon down but everyone swoons for him. 

Staring like a creep doesn’t convey romance, at least not to me. I’m sure if anyone were dedicated enough to count the line between Penelope vs Colin, you’d find that Colin has barely said anything in comparison. Out of the 4 episodes so far, I’ve taken from them that Colin is popular with the ladies, likes to travel, and doesn’t care for LW. Ok? Where is the suave main male lead? He has not an ounce of charm. I can’t see how even Polin fans can be satisfied with the way things are going. Colin is barely in it, Penelope plays the victim and finds herself in more trouble, and the rest is watered down filler. 

Honestly, I’m keeping my hopes up for the future. I surprisingly enjoyed Anthony’s season, even though he previously got on my nerves, so I thought maybe they’d surprise me again. I don’t know why they would go out of the book order. They could have had a more subtle opportunity to establish Polin, for better or worse, while also moving on to the fan favorite, Benedict.

Here we go again. At this point these bland sex scenes are nothing more than a hindrance to the show. They’re lifeless and add nothing to the plot.

Girl, “and I should like to call on Miss Cowper a moment”! My head is already filled with ships with no hope of being cannon and it appears I have found another one. 

I’m not understanding why Cressida’s father doesn’t want her to be around Eloise. Because of the scandal? Like it or not the Bridgerton name has shown to still hold quite significant power. If anything he should be happy they’re friends.

How in any way has Colin been aware of others' needs? All they do is tell us about Colin’s character rather than show us. I have seen not one instance of Colin caring for someone else. If we’re talking about caring for other people, we should be talking about Anthony. The one who cared and helped all his younger siblings after the death of their father. The person who despite his sometimes harsh ways, wants the best for them all. Colin is hardly ever home so when would he have the opportunity to be caring. He can waste money freely on his travels without thinking of anyone else. He can see the clear feud between Eloise and Penelope but still somehow make it about himself. It’s pretty obvious that Eloise has a closer relationship to Benedict and if Colin was so concerned he would have asked him what’s wrong. He seemingly doesn’t care that Penelope might have found a genuine man but is thinking instead of how seeing them together makes him feel. He has no consideration for his friends if you can even call them that. They inlist in idol chatter about women. He comes to a sudden realization and tries to confide in his friends only to find that they don’t care and why should they. It seems as though they have never had a decent conversation beyond their own sexual adventures so why should they suddenly care about how he’s feeling. He doesn’t spend enough time with the people he supposedly cares so much about, barely interacting with the rest of his siblings. So tell me again Violet how Colin is so caring and sensitive.

Colin has in no way been living to please others. He just returned after months away. I would think that Violet wouldn’t want him traveling for so long, she surely wasn’t pleased. He didn’t put his feelings aside and court Penelope to please her. He didn’t drop the subject or try to offer advice to Eloise about her friendship downfall which didn’t please her. Nothing he has done has been out of unselfishness. Unless you consider that poor attempt to help Penelope, which steamed out of pity rather than him truly wanting to help her.

Yes! Cressida is showing where her loyalties lie. Sticking by Eloise’s side, much more than someone can say.

Colin has no right to try and tell Penelope what to do. He had his chance more times than I can count. It’s too little too late.

I’m actually kind of sad for Lord Debling. He seems like an actual nice person and he thought he had a chance with Penelope. At least he ended the conversation nicely because I would have been more angry. 

Why is Colin’s main point against Lord Debling that he will leave. It’s almost like he’s talking about himself, he is notorious for his travels.

Penelope should have slapped Colin. Have some confidence girl! This guy literally was on the brink of marrying your cousin, publicly stated he’d never court you, and dispises your alter ego. Now for what appears to be nothing but physical lust, he barges in your carriage claiming to be entranced with you. Level up! Stop this same song and dance.

Sigh, I hate to say it, but I don’t think Luke’s acting is very good in comparison to everyone else. He hardly moves his face. It’s like those clichés of people with Botox not being able to make facial expressions. Note, how I feel they intentionally barely showed his face in this part because of this. This is supposed to be the start of a steamy interaction but Colin looks as though he couldn’t care less.

Wow… another useless sex scene. This came from nowhere. Penelope are we supposed to ignore the fact that this man rejected you multiple times but now only wants you for sex? Also, Penelope never seemed too enthralled with the idea of anything sexual but she’ll become some sexual fiend with Colin at the drop of a hat.

Where is the SLOW BURN FRIENDS TO LOVERS! I’m on the verge of madness! Tell me how Colin can profess his supposed feeling for Penelope, nearly take her virginity, and propose all in one night? This is repulsive. If Penelope had any sense of respect she’d turn down his proposal seeing as she’s Lady Whistledown, but of course that would be expecting her to take accountability so she more than likely will not. Colin has some nerve proposing too. What does he even know about her? He doesn’t like her personality but rather her new physical appearance. I feel like one of the appeals of Penelope is the fact that she’s a plus sized woman, which is great. However, what message is this sending to people? That ‘Oh well, you know that plus sized girl that has a crush on you? Maybe if you ignore all the things you don’t like about her you’ll realize she’s just another woman after all. Just another person to have sex with.’ I wanted this to be a situation where Colin ends up liking Penelope for her, albeit awful, personality. Because any random guy can like you for your looks but not anyone will love you for your flaws and all.

This carriage scene doesn’t hold a candle to even the scene between Daphne and Simon in the FIRST season. This was nothing special and honestly I could have done without.

I’ve said it in the last part, but this only further solidified my beliefs. There is absolutely no reason this needed to drop in two parts. There is no surprise, we all know that Colin x Penelope will be endgame so what’s the point? We know that Penelope will more than likely say yes to the proposal and even if she says no, she’ll say yes eventually. There’s no suspense.

I guess for my ending thoughts I will say, I’m just glad this is over with and we can move on to some other characters in the later seasons. It will be a breath of fresh air. My only hope is that they don’t rush them like they did Polin.

Now, word on the street is that Colin is going to end up going to a brothel after he finds out Penelope is lady whistledown. I haven't dug too deep into this so take it with a grain of salt. However, if true, I have so many problems with this. 

-EXTRA SPOILERS FOR PART 2-

Why does he think mindless sex is going to solve his problems? That’s just a red flag that anytime the going gets tough he might resort to cheating.

If Penelope had true intentions of marrying Colin she should have told him the truth and been ready for a negative reaction.

I thought Colin was supposed to always think of others. How is fucking anything that moves while he’s engaged “thinking of other’s needs”?

Penelope still stays with him. Why are we feeding into the narrative that it’s perfectly ok for your partner to cheat on you? They haven’t even been together that long and he’s already cheating. It’s already a stereotype of plus sized women having “low self confidence” and they are doing nothing to stop that. 

[aroaessidhe]

Emerging authors person here! I need to pick an emerging author for a class but I don't really pick up brand new books till years after, so I just have no clue. I like fantasy and scifi best and I don't really like romance!

haha okay sure. well off the top of my head here's some recent debut sff books I liked a lot (that have romance generally as a side thing, if any). This is a very random list! but maybe there's something here you'd be interested in

The Deep Sky by Yume Kitasei - beautiful sci-fi mystery/thriller about a murder on a deep space mission, not really any romance. she has another book coming out this year too

Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel - historical fantasy retelling, with an aroace MC. and she has another book that just came out, I'm about to read it

The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera - a very weird and surreal Sri Lankan fantasy that is def not for everyone but also I can't stop thinking about it.. (he has a lot of short story publications under his belt but I believe this is his debut novel)

The Butterfly Assassin - YA thriller / dystopian trilogy, just completed (I haven't read book 3 yet!), about a traumatised teen assassin trying to live a normal life. no romance

The Spider and Her Demons by sydney khoo - YA paranormal about a girl who's part spider demon and accidentally eats a man in front of the popular girl. they become friends

idk what your class counts as recent/emerging but The Scapegracers (2020) by H.A. Clarke is a recently completed YA trilogy about feral teen witches that I love SO so much. also and his adult debut Metal From Heaven comes out later this year (I read an arc it's great)

Fallen Thorns by Harvey Oliver Baxter - aroace urban fantasy/academia vibes vampire coming of age

To Shape A Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose - YA* fantasy about an Indigenous girl who finds a dragon and is made to go to the coloniser's dragon school. has the starts of f/f/m polyamory subplot (*is marketed as adult but feels YA to me, maybe it'll age up with the series though)

also if if counts The Vanished Birds (2020) and The Spear Cuts Through Water (2022) by Simon Jimenez - the vanished birds is a great sci-fi and spear is one of the best fantasy books I've read in years (I guess I'd consider it to have a significant romance but also it's not like A Romance where that takes up most of the plot, if that makes sense. it's the kind of subtle romance my aro ass loves anyway.)

[ninjakittenarmy]

I think my main issue with the plot of Spirit of Justice, despite generally liking it, is that you didn’t really NEED to have the entire conflict with the Kura’inese government to revolve entirely around trials alone for the plot to work. Spoilers ahead naturally.

See, the plot isn’t actually THAT far fetched in concept. Manipulation of the legal system to suppress dissent is pretty much ubiquitous among dictatorships. It’s the oldest trick in the tyranny book. And the fact that regular citizens can abuse it for their own gain is a very common side effect of it’s not intended in the first place irl. And targeting attorneys that won’t play ball is part of that pretty much always.

And honestly, the idea that a faith could have a murder trial have spiritual significance for the deceased is actually pretty interesting, and the justice system being of spiritual significance or even being intertwined with the local faith isn’t particularly unusual historically. My only issue with it is just that they don’t mention what happens if someone ISN’T MURDERED. The trial is established as necessary for the spirit to move on, and that seems at least partially true (gotta wonder if the spirits believing this has something to do with it, if they make a sequel they should build on this). So what happens if there’s no trial to be had? I assume it’s only necessary for murders, I’d just like to know.

The final trial isn’t that unbelievable either. Delegitimizing a ruler in front of both their subjects and the people they count on to enforce their will is how many a tyrant has fallen, and a trial where it’s proven that their rule was acquired through illegal means or they otherwise don’t have legitimacy is a perfectly legitimate way that can happen, especially since in this case, the queen’s goons were loyal entirely because they thought she was legitimately divinely ordained (sure, her coup didn’t matter to her royal guards so long as she had the necessary powers that gives you, but she uh, didn’t).

The main issue really is just that they overdid it. The trials seem to outweigh other forms of repression a dictator would use in tandem. There would need to be other elements to the government’s tyranny and the groups resisting it. You had one assassin when these regimes have whole death squads. And attorneys alone aren’t really a big enough group to justify having them be the main enemy your dictator “needs” the power to fight. There’s gotta be more. Other ideologies, other cultures, other faiths. Maybe a bit heavy for AA but dictatorships are heavy stuff and this series is already about murder.

And there would realistically be more groups opposing them besides defense attorneys alone. They’d probably be part of it. Lawyers have been part of tons of revolutions in the past, including America’s, in fact. I can buy one being a leader in fact. But it wouldn’t be like 90% lawyers with like, three other people. You’d have partisan sympathizers, vengeful families of those wronged, members of persecuted groups. Having the Dragons be entirely composed of a crack team of guerrilla lawyers isn’t plausible, and the absurdity of it isn’t noted in the narrative like the other wacky stuff in these games. You’re meant to just accept it.

Also, I don’t buy for a SECOND. That they’re all pacifists. You made their second in command a foreign commando soldier and had them presented throughout the game as a typical partisan rebel group. You want me to believe the most feared group of rebels in this country is pacifist? Pacifism is all about discrediting that notion, it’s REALLY HARD to make them seem like the boogeymen the government says they are. And it just felt in context like a cheap way to make them not TOO rebellious lest idiots accuse them of endorsing political violence, despite the fact that political violence against a democratic government and innocent people is completely different from violence targeted specifically at a dictatorship’s rulers and enforcers. You can still portray anyone who attacks innocents “for the cause” as evil. There’s a middle ground here.

[docholligay]

When did you last have a significant portion of time to yourself that wasn't training or being ill?

In full fairness, the training is for me. Like, let's not kid ourselves here. No one in my family gives a shit if I run well, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. They would support and cheer me on if I were running 10 miles a week at a 13 min/mi*. It's a thing I do because it gives me something to work on that feels like an easy to read way forward, and it helps me get a sense of accomplishment and success. So, I mean sure, i spend a lot of time training, but I count that as 'me time'

That being said, not a lot. It's fine, this summer is just going to be long because I'm doing most of the childcare and working when I can. I think it'll be easier when beeb goes to two afternoons of preschool in the fall.

Moulin Rouge is playing at our historic theater this Friday and maybe I'll see if anyone will let me sneak out and go.

*Running is also the number one A+ best thing that has ever happened for my ADHD up to and including Actual Ass Adderall. It makes me much much less annoying to live with.

[niloycentral]

Welcome to Niloy November 2023!

We’re glad you want to join the fun in our inaugural year! This is something I hope to generate every November for fans of Aloy x Nil, new and old.

What is it?

Above, you’ll find a table of one prompt per day of November, most of which contain special significance to the relationship between Aloy and Nil. For those participating, simply take the prompt and create something around it for that day.

What can I make?

Whatever you feel most comfortable creating!

If you’re a writer: a drabble, ficlet, even a poem! No word count minimum or maximum, but in the spirit of the event, I recommend no greater than 2500 words.

Artists can do sketches, doodles, fully rendered pieces, comic pages, whatever they are inspired (and have the time) to create.

Gif-makers, virtual photographers, and other types of visual media are also more than welcome to participate and we encourage it!

For prompts that limit gifs and virtual photography, alternates have been provided – though you are welcome to use the alternates for art and/or fic for the given dates, if they inspire you more.

In addition, you are not limited to one form of creation. If one prompt inspires art, another inspires writing, another has the perfect shot from in-game photography, feel free to mix it up!

The only ask is that whatever you create be new for the prompt. However the prompt inspires you, run with it! Some may feel “on the nose,” but those can be fun to explore metaphorically too!

What are the restrictions?

For fic submissions, please use the appropriate submission tags below the text box. All ratings are welcome provided they are properly labelled.

As per Tumblr guidelines, we cannot show any NSFW art or photomodes. If your submission contains NSFW material, please submit a suitable crop preview or censored version that can safely be displayed on Tumblr. The post will also, if possible, have a Mature community content label. This also applies for other types of Mature content.

Can I team up with someone for art or writing for a prompt?

Yes! Fics and art are welcome to inspire each other.

Where do I post?

Wherever you feel comfortable sharing. Fics should be posted on AO3 and you are welcome to share the link on your own social media or in a server. Mostly, I encourage you to submit it directly to the niloycentral tumblr.

If you have a Tumblr: You can submit it directly to niloycentral, or tag your post with either #niloynovember or #niloynovember23 – both will be tracked! You can also @niloycentral.

If you don’t have a Tumblr: You can submit the art or photomode itself directly, or link to your creation on other social media (Twitter, Instagram, AO3, wherever it is hosted) through our niloycentral submissions page using the following format:

Creator: your @(social media) or your alias

Prompt: what day/prompt you have submitted

Plus any applicable tags as per checkboxes below the submission area.

#niloynovember and #niloynovember23 will also be tracked on Twitter, but to make sure we see and catch everything, I encourage submissions to niloycentral Tumblr!

Do I have to do every prompt?

We don’t want anyone to get burnt out or frustrated. Some prompts will inspire more than others and we all have days where we just can’t. You definitely don’t have to do every prompt to be included! Your creation will be featured whether you do all 30, or 19, or 12, or if you even only do 1. You’re more than welcome to continue working on the prompts after November as well.

Do I have to do them in order?

No… but if you do submit to the blog for a prompt from later in the month, we will schedule your submission to post on the proper day (based on EST). Any submissions from previous-day prompts will be posted as usual.

Prompts are being released now, but we ask that you do not post until November 1.

Happy creating!

Prompt list below:

Light

Rain

Fire

OT3 (Alternate: Sharp)

Triumph

Honour

Sun

AU - Historical [pre-2000s] (Alternate: Fly)

Wink

Remorse

Throwback

Cleanse

Partner

AU - Genre [sci-fi, horror, etc.] (Alternate: Mask)

Free space/Your choice

Shadow

Hands

Release

Moon

Coping

Reputation

Joke

Hope

Loss

Steel

Innocence

AU - Modern (Alternate: Mask)

Soft

Ride

Meme

[protect-daniel-james]

WIP asks: what is your oldest? What is the one you will probably never finish?

Omg, do unfinished chaptered fics count?

AO3 tells me the oldest non-finished chaptered fic is Silent Freeway, an Alex Turner/Miles Kane fic from ancient times. I am kinda ashamed of it now, because ultimately it was too much for me to write about - I chose the light topics of mental health and psychosis with my poor English skills, and obviously it was a pain in the ass to write in the end. I wasn't brave enough to go back and read it but I can imagine the shit I wrote back in 2016 in English. It was too much drama for the sake of drama, no characterisation, no reasonable behavior... I will definitely never finish that one. I'm not that much into Milex, and the whole story seems childish today.

Fun fact - it has over 11 000 words making up 11 chapters. Yes, 11 chapters. Which means about 1 000 words per chapter (I was so proud of it back then, lmao). Good old days. Nowaydays I write a 11 000 word fic about Inzaghi brothers fucking.

WIP which I might actually finish one day is definitely Let's fade together, let's fade forever. No football. Historical Figures RPF combining two of my favorite fruity couples from late 18th century, Alex Hamilton/John Laurens and Frederick II/Hans Hermann von Katte. As the tag says, I imagine Heaven as a waiting room. A waiting room where Laurens and von Katte meet and talk and wait for their loved ones. I think it was a nice lil' idea, a fic that became known as "sad gays in heaven". Yeah, it is still rather naive and silly looking back, but I am still quite proud of that one. It's literally missing one chapter.

My problem is I get too excited about a new thing, and I am able to produce quite quickly a new fic when I am excited. A planned out multichaptered fic even. But then, the excitement fades - either because I find a more interesting new thing, or because the response is non-existent, and I see that something I was excited about and cared about isn't really interesting "to the outside". Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one to count kudos and comments because I know that the ships and themes I write about are very niche (I am well aware that if I write a Pedri/Gavi fic, it would get to 200-300 kudos, if I write a Grizione fic, it would be around 50, but if I write about Unai Emery, there will be like 5) - but even with this awareness, if a fic I truly was excited about doesn't really get a response, I just don't feel motivated to prioritise it, work on the next chapter, or write something about the pairing again (unless it's Unai and Football, because those fics I take as a form of experience, exploration, and almost academic work so I don't care if y'all aren't reading those; they are for me to explore the unexplored. although it's nice when people read and comment on them, and want to discuss its topics, obviously).

When it comes to unpublished WIPs, I don't really have many of those because I tend to start my WIPs when excited and then I usually work quickly (unless it's literally a 10 000+ words fic like the yacht fic or like the Inzaghicest one might be). One that I promised to do was a Henderson/Stevie G in Saudi Arabia engaging in bad, sleazy, desperate sex because they have no clue what they are doing there, but I haven't really started to work on that.

I started working on a Mourinho/Abramovich fic (with a flavour of Abramovich/Sheva).

"Mr. Abramovich - " José made a significant pause, spread out his hands over the edge of the desk that separated him from the addressed man. "I know you like him. Is easy to see." For a moment not a single muscle in Abramovich's face moved. Then, his eyebrows rose up, and he tilted his head, smiling; not just smiling but amused at such a simple yet daring statement. "Is it?" he asked, although José wasn't completely sure about the wording. It might have been just a simple, bemused repetition of the word he himself used to describe his reading of the situation - easy.

I think it's now the oldest actual draft that I have, but it's only 2 months old lmao. As I said, I finish my fics pretty quickly (after all, I usually write directly in AO3 - believe me, I did regret it a few times), and the one month due date on drafts works miracles.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, I'm still stuck on how funny it is that Andy Zaltzman got Daniel Kitson to appear on TV just by calling him to say he's in the bath. To which Daniel Kitson responded by being confused about why Andy called to tell him this, which I think means, according to this clip from Daniel Kitson's 2007 stand-up show, that in the last 17 years, Andy Zaltzman has still not managed to crack the exclusive list of Kitson friends:

(Arguably, by the rules set out in that stand-up clip, Kitson being confused as to why Andy had called to tell him something like that means they are not friends, and therefore Andy did not correctly complete the task, which said he had to call a friend.)

Though you'll notice that clip did list John Oliver among Kitson's friends, which makes sense, as anyone who enjoyed their phone call on Taskmaster might enjoy hearing the last time that Andy Zaltzman and Daniel Kitson interacted in a piece of media that was recorded and released in an official capacity. That would be the Bugle episode that had highlights from the Political Animal reunion show that Zaltzman and Oliver did at Edinburgh 2011, where Kitson came in on one of their sketches to, very aptly, play the role of God:

Fun fact: Kitson was reprising a role here. Political Animal is a mixed-bill night, where the double act of [Andy] Zaltzman and [John] Oliver compered with little sketches and stand-up bits between other comedians who did political material, which ran in London and Edinburgh starting in 2003. Kitson used to perform at this sometimes, and there's a review of it from 2004 that says Daniel Kitson guest starred as the role of God in their God-based sketch. In 2011, John Oliver came back to Edinburgh after years in the States, for a few Political Animal reunion gigs, and they apparently decided to use the same guest star for the sketch.

I am aware that I have infodumped all of this information onto Tumblr before, but there are now a lot more people on Tumblr who are interested in Andy Zaltzman than there were the last time I wrote about this one, so I'm doing it again.

Anyway, Ed Gamble said on the podcast that that Taskmaster phone call was Daniel Kitson's first time on TV since Phoenix Nights. Phoenix Nights ended in 2002, and Ed Gamble's almost right; Kitson is a very very good live comedian who appeared on that one sitcom early in his career, hated it, and has avoided TV work ever since. Which is why Andy sneaking him onto Taskmaster via a phone call was significant/very funny.

However, Ed Gamble wasn't quite correct when he said it was his first time on TV since Phoenix Nights. Kitson's been on TV a very small number of times since 2002, and the most recent time he was on a TV show in any capacity (specifically TV, which wouldn't count the Eugene Mirman documentary, as that was a movie) would have been 2012, when BBC Scotland aired a four-part documentary about the late-night show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival called Late 'n' Live. Kitson compered that show for years in the early-to-mid-00s. I'm pretty sure his first year compering there was 2000, based on this 2001 review that says he did it "last year". And he was doing it until around 2007, which I say only to have an excuse to post one of my favourite comedy historical relic pictures, of the blackboard outside Late 'n' Live that listed the lineup, on the last night of the 2007 festival:

That picture is slightly relevant to this post, in that the theme of this post is "Kitson and Zaltzman", and that is a picture from an earlier time they worked together, as Andy occasionally went by the nickname Zaltor. A name he sometimes used on The Bugle as well, and I didn't realize until I saw this picture that he was using it since before The Bugle started (this was from August 2007, The Bugle started in October 2007).

Anyway. The Late 'n' Live documentary mini-series used archive footage of Kitson in a couple of the episodes. Most of that footage was recorded before the end of Phoenix Nights, but it aired in 2012, meaning that technically, this is an example of Ed Gamble being wrong to say that Taskmaster was his first time on TV since Phoenix Nights. Actually, that phone call was Kitson's first time on TV since this:

Thank you, Andy Zaltzman, for giving me a tenuous excuse to post a video of Kitson, Adam Hills, and Ross Noble dragging drunk Johnny Vegas off a stage in 2001. That's all I really want to do with my blog, actually. I'm just here to educate people about what everyone in the Chocolate Milk Gang was doing in 2001.

For example, Andy Zaltzman got nominated for the Perrier Best Newcomer Award in Edinburgh that year. Oh, and he stood around incredibly awkwardly on the last night of Late 'n' Live in 2001, while a guy who used to be in that band with Phil Nichol sang a song about Edinburgh, and this video doesn't show it but I've seen a longer version of it where at the beginning, Adam Hills calls all the comedians onto the stage, and you can see Daniel Kitson immediately walk off stage and not return, while everyone else works their way up there:

Kitson's not in that video since he'd fucked off before it started, but you can spot Andy with his bright red hair and bright red shirt in several shots, also various people like Shaparak Khorsandi, Adam Hills, Dara O'Briain, Jason Byrne.

Most of this post is just me dumping pointless information about my inexplicably obsessive interest in Chocolate Milk Gang comedy, and no one else needs to follow it - but seriously, anyone who hasn't heard it before should listen to that Bugle sketch that I posted up there, it's a great one.

[theworldvsyoshiko]

Robot's Ocean has already gone on for about $80k wealth higher than any of the previous colonies and my save file seems precariously close to being bricked, so I've been thinking about wrapping the colony up and moving on.

As a sanguophage mechanitor with psylink level 6, every (non-mechanitor) implant she can possibly get that doesn't come with significant drawbacks, 9+ in every skill, and now a spouse, I think Yoshiko's development has kinda plateaued. Making her dramatically stronger (by, say, making all the sanguophage stuff into endogenes and then stacking a new xenotype on top of that) would take a ridiculous amount of time. Otherwise, the only real ways for her to get stronger are luciferium or by upgrading some of her bionics to archotech, and once you're at the 'every body part is bionic' stage already, those are pretty marginal upgrades. Skill-wise, all but two skills are into the range where they decay, and since she uses almost every skill on a daily basis, the levels are just going to keep fluctuating up and down as her focus shifts. Also, she's like... 35 now. It'd be weird if she ended up older than I am. So this doesn't feel like a bad spot to let her retire from active duty and enjoy the rest of her immortal life in peace.

Which leaves me debating where to take things in the future. Somehow I'm not bored of this yet, and the blog's follower count has doubled over the past week or so, so apparently somebody still wants to read this. Various options include:

The strongest contender in my head is roughly repeating the original start, but without the mechanitor part. Starting off with a lone child who doesn't have robots to fall back on. (Obviously this would be a different girl named Yoshiko.) This would probably involve making a custom scenario to give her appropriate gear and starting tech, because useless child Naked Brutality might be a bit much. Not sure if I'd go for the orphanage thing again, or try a different goal. It'd need some limitations, or else the kid can just recruit some adult help in the first month, which kinda defeats the purpose. I'd also probably have to disable the exostrider corpse in the scenario, or she could just rush becoming a mechanitor anyway.

As above, but start as a non-baseline xenotype to shake things up a bit. Incompetent 13 year old sanguophage could be an interesting way to help the kid survive while introducing its own problems to work around. Otherwise, maybe yttakin, impid, or waster? Yttakin and impid both have powers that would make combat a less dicey proposition early on. Waster could live in wastelands, which comes with its own benefits and challenges.

Or start with a new 13 year old mechanitor, but try the solo mechanitor thing, never allowing anybody else to join the colony. This would remain an interesting challenge for longer, but it also might be a little boring to talk about since there wouldn't be any character interactions.

The way opposite option would be something like using VFE - Tribals to start out with a pre-neolithic group and try to progress from 'what the fuck is ""fire""???' up to building a spaceship or something. Which would very likely be a generational kind of deal, because historically that takes a while.

Just start a new colony with Yoshiko and Cindy and keep going. The orphanage thing has been pretty fun to play tbh, and while Robot's Ocean is pretty secure now, as the Hospital Rockets Incident demonstrated, just because she's super-competent doesn't mean that bad stuff can't happen. On the other hand, starting with two competent adults, I think things would snowball a lot faster. This would probably involve using Character Editor or something to ditch the current save and start a new one, presumably with a mod or two disabled. Although unfortunately, one of the prime candidates for the mod that's breaking things is the one that allows for humanoid mechs.

Or have Yoshiko pass off the torch, giving a mechlink to one of her kids upon 13 and sending them off into the wilderness to continue the cycle??

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #36: Aegon Targaryen, but make it Reincarnation

According to the ASOIAF wiki disambiguation page, there are eleven Aegon Targaryens - thirteen if we count Jon Snow and Aegon, son of Daemon I Blackfyre. Five were kings, four died as infants, and all of them had eventful lives.

So I thought: what if every Aegon Targaryen was the same Aegon Targaryen? Or: what if, for whatever reason, each Blackfyre and Targaryen named Aegon was the same soul, reincarnated over and over again into new bodies?

Aka: The Aegon the Undying fic.

Just imagine it:

Jon Snow, the thirteenth of his name, loses the War for the Dawn. Maybe he's betrayed by one of Daenerys' advisors, who'd rather see her on the throne of whatever remains of Westeros; maybe he's betrayed by Sansa, who'd rather have an independent North under her control than a unified Seven Kingdoms under Targaryens; maybe he falls in battle as one of the last men standing.

Regardless of the details of his death, Jon is cursed - or perhaps blessed - by the fourteen gods of the Valyrian Freehold to reincarnate over and over again until he is able to stop The Long Night.

Rather than find himself reborn into his own infant body, Jon Snow finds himself in the infant body of Aegon, son of Gaemon the Glorious and Daenys the Dreamer - though find may be the wrong word. Jon's soul is reborn in the past, yes, but he doesn't recall being Jon Snow. Instead, he learns how to be a Dragonlord from parents born in the Freehold, living and dying a Lord of Dragonstone.

The next few rebirths follow the same pattern: he's reborn as Aegon I and Aegon V without remembering anything previous, then has a string of early deaths as Aegon, son of Jaehaerys I; Aegon, son of Aerys II; Aegon, son of Aenys I; and Aegon Blackfyre.

After these traumatic deaths, slivers of memories of his previous lives start making their way into his current incarnation's consciousness. He spends his time as Aegon II feeling as his entire life is a play which he doesn't understand and from which he can't escape, despite liberal self-medication with alcohol. He's tormented by memories in his short life as Aegon, son of Rhaegar. As Aegon III he's so heavily marked by both the Dance of Dragons and his foreknowledge of all the tragedies that were to come, something within him breaks.

And then he is born as Aegon, son of Baelon and Alyssa, a child fated to die before he turns a year old. Jon, now with full access to the memories of his eleven previous lives, plans to spend his entire short life planning 1) how not to be quite as unworthy as Aegon IV, the last Aegon left, and 2) how to stop the Long Night when he returns to his original life as Jon Snow after that, as the gods surely intend.

A year passes, but Aegon doesn't die.

And so Jon Snow finds himself living as Prince Aegon Targaryen, fifth of his name - a boy who never should have lived, with the memories of five lives that have already happened and five that might happen again.

It is... complicated living as the younger brother of Viserys I and the Rogue Prince when he has memories of being the son of each. He loves his brothers, but because of his memories knows their flaws better than anyone alive. Jon has been both a Green and a Black, and as a result is more than aware of the flaws on both sides. But his very existence in this time period again proves that the future can be changed.

Yet, for all it's clearly possible for things to change, not much does. The only significant historical deviation which occurs for the longest time is Jon's own marriage to the youngest sister of Benjen Stark, Lyarra, for which he's granted the title of Prince of Moat Cailin. Jon spends most of his time until Viserys' ascension rebuilding the Moat. He and his wife have an amiable enough relationship to have a son and two daughters - Daenys, Gaemon, and Alyssa - but are hardly a love match.

That, and he claims Grey Ghost at age 8.

Under Viserys I, Jon is named Master of Laws - a position which allows him to mitigate some of Otto's more self-serving activities and some of Daemon's worst impulses. But for every problem he fixes, another arrises, until it seems as if the Dance will be inevitable.

Rhaenyra's marriage to Laenor is avoided by the convenient death of Rhea Royce. Her first and only marriage is to her uncle Daemon, orchestrated largely behind the scenes by Jon, remembering how happy they had been together as Aegon III. (He'd tried to prevent Alicent's to Viserys, remembering how miserable she'd been as Aegon II, but lacked the power.)

A series of betrothals are arranged between the children of Viserys, Jon, and Daemon, which should strengthen the family - but instead make the dynamics and loyalties of the soon-to-be Blacks and Greens all the more complicated.

It all comes to a head in 129 with Viserys' death. Jon manages to have all parties in the Red Keep at the time. It very nearly turns into a bloodbath in the godswood until Jon steps forward and declares that anyone who wishes to become a Kinslayer must start with him. His ultimatum steals enough attention that Aegon II is able to escape his minders and rescind his claim to the throne in favor of his half-sister.

Things are still messy after that. Rhaenyra is crowned queen and Hightower blood will come onto the throne with Helaena's marriage to Rhaenyra's heir, but that's not enough for Otto. He tries to foment rebellion using young Daeron as a figurehead, but it works against his interests as House Targaryen unites as it rarely has against a common enemy.

Jon eventually dies - and is reborn into his original life for a brief epilogue as the son of Rhaegar (who has a much different ancestry, including all three of Baelon's sons) and his second wife, Lyanna Stark. Dragons survived the Dance and, though Westeros is not without problems, its strong enough to stand against the Long Night.

Bonuses include: 1) Jon having an impossibly good relationship with all dragons, especially the ones he rode in different lives. His dynastic name is very nearly The Dragonwhisperer; 2) The inherent difficulty of having ten different sets of memories in your head, half of whom are your current ancestors, the rest of which prophesize horrible futures; 3) The inherent difficulty of having for brothers men that were once your fathers; of being older than - and at one point considered a potential husband for - the women who were once your mothers; of looking your nephews in the eye and wondering if you are the one looking back; and 4) Jon always remembering Gaemon the Glorious as the best father he had in any of his incarnations. Alyssa Velaryon holds the position as best mother, and he holds a grudge against House Baratheon as much for her death as Ned Stark's.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother

More Terrible Fic Ideas

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About the Targaryens again… So George said that Rhaenys was a “flirt” (and we know it for sure because she obviously loved the company of males and it was a part of her extroverted personality) and Visenya was a “seductress”, but ASOIAF doesn’t portray her as a seductress at all, nor is it clear who she would be seducing. It doesn’t seem to have been Aegon, or she obviously didn’t succeed in seducing him, nor it seem to be anyone else at all. All we know is that she was cold, dark, serious and had a little sense of humour (like torturing a monkey for fun could count ok). What do you think about that?

"About the Targaryens again" I mean, do I ever really get questions about anything else, lol?

So, I think the "So Spake Martin" stuff tends to fall into the lines of "semi-canonical" rather than out and out canon from the official texts we have, which would be ASOIAF (which Visenya and Rhaenys aren't in due to having been dead for three hundred years) and Fire&Blood, where they're really only referred to because it's a historical text covering past events, not a contemporaneous narrative. But it does seem like the "So Spake Martin" description of Visenya ("Visenya is both stern and sensual, more voluptuous than her sister, more passionate, but with a dark and unforgiving side") is still meant to be taken in conjunction with her F&B official description ("Even those who loved her best found Visenya stern, serious, and unforgiving") since Rhaenys's "So Spake Martin" description ("Rhaenys, the younest of the three, is slender and graceful, playful, with a mischievous aspect to her personality than Visenya lacks") follows pretty closely with her F&B description ("Rhaenys, youngest of the three Targaryens, was all her sister was not, playful, curious, impulsive, given to flights of fancy"). So the idea that Visenya might have had a seductive aspect to her personality that she wielded when it suited her doesn't seem to be entirely out of bounds.

As to who she was seducing, that's more unclear. If you follow the conventional wisdom surrounding Aegon's relationships with his sister-wives, then she might have tried to be "seductive" towards him to try and sway him into being more attracted to her, as opposed to Rhaenys, and it simply didn't work. Or maybe it did at least once, we have no idea what the circumstances of Maegor's conception were beyond the fact that it happened at an opportune time for his parents. If you have my specific set of brain worms, then she might have tried to seduce Rhaenys somehow and whether or not she succeeded depends on how sad I want to make myself on any given day. And while there were never any rumors about her going after anyone while married (though she very well could have, just kept it incredibly on the down low), Visenya did spend a significant amount of time widowed. And while some might say "OK, but she was in her sixties and seventies when widowed so who was she seducing" I will respond with a) GILF rights and b) Visenya was said to dabble in dark sorceries and blood magic, she could have easily used some of that to make her look more youthful than her years, potentially even explaining why she suddenly had such a steep drop-off health and looks wise in the last year of her life (something something magic always has a cost something something). So it's entirely possible that, now that she was unencumbered by marriage, and powerful enough in her own right (even more so after Maegor became king) that no one would brook any argument against her for doing it, that she took some lovers in the last decade of her life, and probably seduced them into bed with her. There's also this quote that "To most of the world, she presented the grim face of a warrior, stern and unforgiving", which could easily mean that Visenya had a more sensual side to her that she didn't show in battle or on progresses or to much of open court, aka most of the world, but was present enough to be accounted for by other people, including whoever was in the inner sanctum of the Conquerors time as rulers.

Of course, just because she's described as a "seductress" doesn't necessarily mean she went around enticing everyone she met 24/7. It could easily be a description of her personality as much as it is about her actions. People generally contain multitudes, Visenya can absolutely be both stern and serious as well as using wiles to try and get people to do what she wanted. It's an element of her personality that we can actually see in how she took the Vale, tempting Ronnel with Vhagar and the promise of flying around on her, and using just that to get Sharra to realize that she needed to submit and surrender to the Targaryens. Visenya could have been a seductress in more ways than just sexual, and had her own purposes behind it, just like Rhaenys's flirty patronage of singers also served as masterful propaganda to prop up Aegon and their dynasty.

As for the monkey thing, I don't think there's any suggestion that she tortured the ape she took as the second Lord Monkeyface (even though we as modern Earth humans now know better than to try and dress animals up in little outfits that they don't want), just that she had a fool named Monkeyface and then replaced him with an actual monkey that she thought was funnier.