#on the other hand it makes them less safe which is objectively bad

[dwelling-on-downtowns]

we need to reduce car dependency for many reasons that urbanists talk about all the time: it’s bad for the environnement, it’s bad bad for our health, it’s a drain on our tax dollars, it limits mobility, yeah yeah yeah we get it

but most importantly, we need to reduce car dependency for me. because in a car dependent world, sooner or later I’ll have to get a new car and with the direction cars are going in, I will have no choice but to buy a car with a touchscreen. I will need to navigate through a menu to turn down the heat. to turn on my windshield wipers. I will be forced to buy a car that no longer has a physical gear shift. maybe even one that has a dial. and I think I would have a breakdown. it would break my will and I would become despondent and withdraw from the world

[yoitsjay]

I got u bestie, some awkward lover fluff coming right up.

Something New

Pairings: Tech x fem jedi! Reader

Summary: you and Tech have feelings for each other, though as a jedi romantic attachments have always been forbidden to you, and as a clone Tech wasn't allowed, nor did he ever find someone he was so drawn too. But now that the jedi order and the republic is gone, you are free to explore... as inexperienced as you both are.

Warnings: cute fluff, awkward kissing, like two teenagers who've never been romantically involved before. Cute date, we love Tech.

Word count: 1,297

A/n: I won't do smut unless specifically requested, and I do take smut requests for future reference.

Maybe it was the fact that Jedi weren’t allowed to love someone, or weren’t really allowed to have many friends. Yet despite that there always seemed to be something that a jedi was attached to, whether it be a memento from their homeworld, or from a citizen off world or even on Coruscant. Some jedi were very traditional, and you knew this, but you also knew plenty of jedi who held attachments to various people, and yet, they could let that person go when the time called to let them go. If that makes any sense.

You were not one of those jedi.

It was something that the council tried to remove from your mind, the inability to let personal possessions go, but every attempt they did make was always unsuccessful.

You were defective, but you were an extraordinary warrior with skill that they could not replace, so the only thing they could really do to get rid of you, but also keep you around was to pair you with a Commando clone unit that was also defective.

That was the council’s biggest mistake.

Because now here you were, head over heels in love, or at least what you assumed was love, since you had never really felt it before- with one of the defective clones from your unit.

No it was not Hunter, as much as you cared for him, and thought he was handsome, he hadn’t swayed your affections quite like Tech has.

You had been fighting alongside the bad batch basically since they were first put into action, which has been a couple years now, but after Kaller, after the clone wars had ended, you could feel things change.

And you started noticing more things, less oblivious things than what you had noticed before, and they were all coming from Tech.

At first there were such miniscule things that you almost didn’t catch, like the way his gloved fingers would brush against yours as you handed him a tool, or the way he had started leaning over you slightly whenever you were piloting the marauder.

But then there were the more obvious things, like him finding wild (and safe) flowers from different planets you traveled to, and he'd always give to you, every single time without fail. The flowers then turned to small gifts, and inanimate objects or pieces of jewelry. He even gave you new beads to decorate your lightsaber or hair with.

You asked him why he was giving you all these things, and asked if he wanted something in return or if he needed a favor, any way you could repay him for being so kind. All he did was brush it off and say it was nothing.

So you asked the next best person.

Hunter.

-

“He’s- he’s what?” Hunter asked, having nearly spit out his caf the minute you approached and told Hunter what Tech was doing. You sighed, and repeated yourself, looking at Hunter expectantly.

Hunter cleared his throat and glanced around before he set his caf down on top of gonky, who just happened to be nearby, and Hunter was practically grinning.

“What is it Hunter? Spit it out.” You ordered, though there was no real authority on your voice, sure you used to be their general, but Hunter was always the leader.

Hunter let out a soft chuckle before he stood up from his seat, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Tech is- well… he’s courting you… It's a mandalorian tradition, and he thought it was the best way to try and get his affections for you out in the air.” Hunter explained, and you press your lips into a thin line and look away for a moment, as if thinking.

Then you can’t stop the smile from growing on your face and you practically race off the Marauder to where Tech is working on repairs. When he hears your footsteps he looks up, only to grunt as he is tackled to the ground, his tools now dropped as he lays on his back, staring up at a grinning idiot…

His grinning idiot.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Tech asked immediately, rather than letting any other thought cross his mind, especially the one where your perched on top of him and he could easily just-

No- bad Tech, don’t think like that-

“I love you too!” You blurt out loudly before you can stop yourself, and Tech’s eyes narrow in confusion, before widening as he realizes what you were talking about, which means you found out about his courting methods…

“I’m sorry I should have told you from the beginning that I was harboring- wait what?”

You loo0ked down at Tech, tilting your head slightly as you chuckled, moving off of him and onto the ground in front of him, pulling him up so he was sitting in front of you.

“I said I like you too, Tech, i’ve- god i’ve been feeling- i don’t even know what- for you- since my first month working with you in the clone wars- i just… well- i never said anything because it was forbidden…” You trailed off, looking away from Tech, noticing that he was just staring at you.

A few beats of silence and you look up at Tech again.

“Please say something Tech, i-”

Before you could say another word, tech is the one that lunges for you next, his gloved hands grasping at the meat of your thighs as he tugs you close to him. You hadn’t noticed, but Tech had taken off his helmet and set it neatly on the ground beside him, so the minute his lips were on yours, you jumped.

He went to pull away, to apologize but you didn’t let him, grasping his face in your hands, tugging him right back into you.

The kiss was very awkward, very inexperienced, and was a clash of tongue and teeth, which you assumed couldn’t be right… Despite that, as you pulled away from Tech, you both were quite breathless, unwilling to remove your hands from each other.

Your soft laugh was the first to break the silence, followed by his amused chuckles, which then lead to you bursting out in laughter as you pressed your face into tech’s chestplate.

“God that was horrible.” You muttered, looking up at Tech, who was smiling slightly. “Indeed, it seems like we are both inexperienced when it comes to this… I do not like that feeling.” He mused, and another chuckle left your lips, grabbing his hand as he stood up and offered it to you.

You got up to your feet with Tech’s help, and now had your arms loosely wrapped around his shoulders, feeling his hands on the dip in your waist.

“We can always practice, do some research.” You suggested softly, tilting your head as you stared up at him, seeing that little smile return to his lips.

“That is an excellent idea, Y/n, i would like to begin immediately.” he stated, and with that he was dragging you into the Marauder and to his bunk, where he promptly removed his armor as you climbed up the ladder, chasing after you as soon as his armor was off.

He closed the curtain, and the little bunk area lit up under a soft orange glow.

Your giggles could be heard throughout the Marauder, which was quite annoying for Hunter after a while so he ended up leaving… not before he shouted out a quick goodbye.

“Where a condom!” Hunter called out as he exited the ramp which promptly closed behind him as he exited the Marauder…

And that only made your and Tech’s laughter worse…

Though now you had the whole Marauder to test out yours and Tech’s experiments…

You couldn’t wait to start.

➺

Tech tag:

@chibai06 @thebadbatchfan

Tbb:

@only-my-unexistent-fiances

All:

@moomoog017

[sterekorgtfo]

This may be a niche unpopular ‘What If’ situation of the Daddy Kink convo we all love and what it’s inspired, but What If Tommy couldn’t match Bucks passion?

Buck and Tommy were collapsed on the bed. Buck was very blissfully fucked the fuck out. He had gotten really into the “Daddy” roleplay and was enjoying this new sex life with Tommy. He had egged Tommy on to see how much harder Tommy could fuck him, and Buck wanted to see how much his own hole could handle now that he had been more comfortable bottoming more and more.

Tommy was pressing kisses to Bucks back and rubbing his back and Tommy was checking in asking “Was that good for you? Was that what you wanted? Are you okay?” and Buck was coming down from his high before he realized something was less than happy in Tommy’s tone.

Buck rolled around and quickly caught a small glance of Tommy frowning before he quickly turned it into a smile, but Buck could tell it was performative and there was something wrong in his eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Evan softly inquired with concern as he caressed the strong jaw of his boyfriend.

“Nothing,” Tommy lied with a positive cadence, attempting to hide whatever it was he was keeping from Evan, which didn’t make Evan feel great inside.

“Did I do something wrong?” Evan asked cautiously, which made Tommy visibly wince. Tommy couldn’t stand the thought of Evan feeling like he did something wrong.

“No, baby, of course not, it’s nothing like that,” Tommy quickly tried to reassure his boyfriend, cradling his face and looking deep in his eyes to let him know Evan didn’t do anything to hurt him.

“Then can you please tell me what’s bothering you?” Evan asked softly, doing his best to gently coax Tommy out of his shell he was trying to mask his feelings within.

Tommy stayed quiet for a moment, not breaking eye contact with Evan, but Buck could see Tommy trying to process something on the other side of them.

“You know I respect you, right?,” Tommy said with a strong, assertive emphasis on ‘respect’. “I love you and I see you as an equal, and it’s important to me that you know that.”

“Of course,” Evan replied with growing concern. “Of course I know, babe. You’ve treated me phenomenally. This is by far the best relationship I’ve had. You make me feel comfortable in a way none of my exes ever had.”

Tommy kind of slowly nodded, but it seemed like he couldn’t fully process the words yet. Evan grabbed his hand and that seemed to catch Tommy’s attention and stop him from overthinking.

“Is this about the sex we just had?” Even asked cautiously.

Tommy hesitated for a while Bee letting out a small not and a soft ‘yeah’. “In the past, twinks and twunks only saw me as a big man who only existed to dom them and other men built like me only saw me as competition to keep them away from said twinks.

“I like topping, and yeah, getting hot and heavy even really passionate can be fun, but….”

Evan looked at his boyfriend with concern and sadness, feeling guilty he triggered something painful inside his man for his own fun. Be braced himself for what was about to come.

“Treating you like some…object or toy and fucking you harder than I should have really…made me feel kinda bad Inside….” Evan winced a little at the confession. He didn’t consider Tommy’s feelings just because he was topping and masculine and stronger than Buck. His boyfriend loved romcoms and romance and always treated him like a gentleman. The man said he would match Bucks pace, and Buck never realized it would be possible to out-pace him.

“But I know you were really into it and you kept saying ‘harder’, ‘faster’ and I know you’ve been hinting at getting more bold bottoming and I…You never used the safe words so I knew you were okay, but it was…Kinda hard to put you through that.”

“Tommy,” Evan said with regretful sadness. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t consider any of this and I feel awful I didn’t,” Evan apologized.

“Please, don’t apologize,” Tommy tried to quickly say. “This isn’t on you and I am not blaming you.”

“I know you’re not,” Evan countered. “But I am going to be sorry and apologetic anyways,” Buck said assertively. Tommy was more of a people pleaser then he let on. He made it hard for Buck to ever apologize for things because Tommy would never think Buck did anything wrong. It was endearing as much as it was an occasional obstacle.

“You told me you were okay with being called ‘daddy’ and I ran with it. I never checked what exactly that entailed and what your limits were and I just assumed you’d give all I wanted to take, which was wrong of me,” Buck said. “I got swept up in the appeal of dating a big strong man who was a sexy beast and I expected you to act like one, despite knowing you’re so much more than that.

“So, it’s important to me that you know that I see you as an equal. I love you and I respect you and you are more than my personal meaty manhandler,” Buck said with insistence.

Tommy laughed, but let out the first warm smile he did this whole conversation and it made Bucks heart so much lighter and release so much tension he didn’t know he was holding.

“I do,” Tommy said. “Thank you, Evan. I want to be the type of Daddy that takes care of his boy, not uses him like a toy. Would that be okay with you?”

“Of course it is,” Buck assured. “I know you’re sometimes worried about our age gap, but I don’t only not worry about it, but I’m also not only into you because of it. And if you’re ever feeling doubtful or uncomfortable, our safe words are for you too. Even if you’re the one topping. You deserve to use those too. Promise me you’ll use them when you need them.”

“I promise,” Tommy oathed. “Thank you, Evan. Next few times can we stick with moderately vanilla missionary, and cock riding? I like being able to see your face and kiss you when I need. I’ll be able to handle a few minutes of Doggy, if need be, I just want to…make love to you sometimes, not just fuck you, and Vice-Versa.”

“Of course,” Buck said, leaning in to kiss him deeply. “I’ll never say no to making love with you if that’s what you need.”

They held each other close and buried their faces into each others necks, massaged each others backs, and both enjoyed the comforting supportive embrace of the others’ love.

[bromcommie]

Oh boy, I'm gonna lose it. This is the third ad like this I'm seeing today. I don't know if that's actually indicative of just how widespread these are becoming or if the marketing is just very aggressive, but going off of the things I've seen people say both on here and other forums, I think it's fair to say that they're definitely a trend at this point. Pardon the incoming rant, but I am just deeply unsettled by it.

Guys. For the love of god. Talk to real people. Talk to friends. Talk to family members. I get that it's hard if those are currently not an option, but there's always acquaintances, neighbors, colleagues, classmates, people at sports events or hobby clubs or community getogethers, people in your congregation, servers, cashiers, doormen, cabbies, people you see every day walking their dog in your neighborhood, people at a party, people at the local coffee shop/bar/bookstore, the guys cleaning your street, anybody, literally anybody who is a living breathing human. You need to force yourself to maintain regular human interactions. This might seem like an overreaction in regards to the topic at hand, but I am so dead fucking serious right now.

Loneliness is a scary scourge, especially if you suffer from mental health issues. Yes, meeting new people and making new friends or maintaining human connection can be extremely hard. Yes, trying to be funny annd lovable and be understood can fucking suck, I know, trust me, but I promise it's not that scary, it's really not. The more you do it it becomes less so, and the effort of breaking through that discomfort and coming to terms and making peace with the fact that conversation with folks will not and should not be perfect and predictable and safe a lot of the time but is STILL good and fulfilling and essential is part of the reward. And the fact of the matter is you don't even need to be besties with everyone. You just need regular human interaction in different forms, even if it's sometimes stilted or superficial or uncomfortable or just plain bad.

And, because this seems to be a lot of the why people flock to these chatbot things—if you're just looking for someone to sling ideas at or talk to about media or special interests or fanfiction or whatever else while staying anonymous, the whole wide internet is right there! Millions upon millions of users! And many, many of them decent people and likely to be open to you reaching out or interested in talking about the same thing you want to talk about, or roleplaying, or whatever else, no matter how weird or niche you think it is. Because here's the thing, and I mean this in the nicest way possible: you are not unique. It has been done before. There is nothing new under the sun, and that should feel like a comfort, not a curse. Generations of anxious, awkward people have found ways to make connections with each other over the (subjectively, and sometimes objectively) stupidest and/or weirdest shit. Sometimes you might even make an actual friend, or find someone who shares your experiences or your views, and you might feel that tiny bit better. Sometimes you'll just write kinky self-insert romance with a stranger on the internet for a couple of hours or whatever, and that's great too.

And if you're just looking for a way to live out fantasies, or get out of your own head, and you are just THAT embarrassed about sharing that with someone else (which, by the way: shame is a normal feeling but one that is once again ultimately necessary and healthy to get over or figure out how to deal with in the long run)—your imagination is enough, and it's fucking good for you. I can't believe I have to say this, but just sitting in your room thinking for yourself and imagining things is good for you, even if it is a form of escapism. Putting that to words or images or whatever else, by yourself for yourself, is good for you. Or at the very least, it's better than asking a preprogrammed intellectual property theft machine to regurgitate a reductive version of your wants and needs back to you at the cost of pouring the equivalent of a ten million gallon canister of gasoline on the environment and also on your own social skills and needs.

This shit, and I cannot stress this enough, is not sustainable. I don't even mean in the grand scheme of things. I am not trying to guilt anyone or prophesize about the "doom days" of AI, I really am not. I literally just mean it is not sustainable for people, individually, to get addicted to and reliant on faux-communication with a program. The dopamine hit it gives you WILL wear off, and it WILL start to not be enough, and the creators WILL start charging you more money or asking for personal information or whatever, and your social and/or creative needs still won't be fulfilled and you'll just be left in the same place you started in, if not sadder, if not worse.

Just. Talk to people. I am BEGGING at this point. I promise the relative discomfort of that versus the long-term consequences relying on whatever the hell these chatbots are supposed to be could have on your actual emotional and mental health is much less scary, and much more worth it and rewarding in the long run.

[ddejavvu]

Would you be willing to write a pstar!Eddie Munson hurt/comfort bit. Where he finally confesses his feelings because he’s pretty sure you like him too, but his nervous smile falls because you start crying. And you say you do love him, but he doesn’t want you. Which he thinks is crazy, because Eddie’s ever the romantic, saying if you two love each other, nothing else matters. But reader thinks they may be asexual/are at least unsure about sex, and obviously that’s Eddie’s fucking career. But with a happy ending for the two of them? 🥺 sorry I hope this is okay!

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+, minors dni. (for dynamic purposes, this does not contain any smut).

Eddie's not understanding. He doesn't get it, he doesn't comprehend what you mean. He's sitting there, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy, insisting that he doesn't care, that it doesn't change the way he feels about you. Doesn't conflict with it.

But how could it not? He's a porn star, he makes his living jamming his dick into places you're not comfortable with him jamming it on you. And what kind of relationship would that be? He's fucking other people but he can't fuck you? You can't imagine him content with that.

"You're not understanding," Eddie urges, his hands knotted in his hair at his scalp, "I don't care. Sex isn't important, I'm not interested in you for your body. I could care less if we fucked. I- I mean, it wouldn't be a bad thing, but there's a million other things we could do instead. Like- like go on a date, read together, get breakfast, I don't care!"

"But it is important, Eddie! It's your career, it's a major part of your life! I don't think you'd be starring in pornos if you didn't like sex!"

"Yeah, okay, I like sex, it feels nice. But does a bath, and I'd still date you if you preferred showers!"

"This isn't about baths or showers, Eddie! This is about sex! Gross, sweaty, up-close-and-personal, nauseating, sticky sex!"

"I know! I know it is," Eddie stands, hands slapping his sides exasperatedly, "And I'm telling you, it's okay. You don't like sex, we don't have to have it. It- it makes you uncomfortable, I get it! And I won't ask you to. But you're acting like I'm made of it, like there's no possible way we could ever work because you're not into it. I'm telling you over and over again that I don't want to be with you to have sex with you, I want to be with you to love you. That's all I want!"

"But your job-"

"Is that. A job. Do you think that mechanics rule out a partner if they don't have a car? Do you think firemen reject ladies if they're fire-safe? My job isn't my life, and I don't need to bring it home if you don't like it. And- and if it makes you uncomfortable to be with me while that's my job, then I'll quit. I'll work at a grocery store, or something. Something with less sex."

You can't help but chuckle, even if you're trying to remain strong.

"Less sex?" You look up at him through dewy eyes, "I don't think there's any sex involved with working at the grocery store."

He grins; he knows he's won.

He sits beside you again on the bed, the mattress bouncing under his weight, "Well, I dunno. There's a lot of phallic objects in the produce section. Bananas, cucumbers, eggplants. Come to think of it, I've heard some weird things about eggs themselves, and-"

"Eddie! Gross," Your face scrunches into a grimace, but a laugh reaches his ears that eases away the last bit of despair from his chest, "You're really not doing a good job pitching sex to me."

"I'm not pitching it to you!" He insists, "It's not your thing, I'm not self-absorbed enough to think I could change that. And I don't want to. I'm agreeing with you," He takes your hand, squeezing it tight, "Sex is gross."

A moment of silence passes between you two that Eddie fills with a brush of his thumb over the back of your hand. It's noiseless, of course, but it speaks.

"Come on. Let's try a date, okay? I'll take you out to dinner, somewhere nice. And we won't get salads. I'm sure cucumber is anything but appealing to you now."

"Very," Your nose wrinkles, and he smooths the line out with his own nose. His breath fans over your face as he butts his nose into your own, and his pretty brown eyes merge into one at the close proximity. Slowly but surely, a smile grows over your face, one that makes him giddy beyond reason. When you finally nod he feels it against his face, and he has the sudden, strange urge to press your smiles together, fit them like puzzle pieces until your teeth clack.

Instead he stands, pulling you up on your own feet.

"Breakfast for dinner? There's a pancake joint ten minutes away. No eggs, though, 'promise."

[blockgamepirate]

(that post was so banger it finally made me register an alt) Honestly, you are so correct about L'Manberg

I remember regularly lurking around mcytblr and reading analysis and I think I only saw coherent L'Manberg nationalism analysis from, like, Xephyr and a c!Dream blogger/fan. Which is crazy in retrospect, because the ease with which most of the fandom leaned into fictional country hardcore patriotism was/is kinda insane

And the ensuing anti Doomsday stance -- like we all know that terrorism is bad and shit, but absolute refusal to acknowledge that maybe Doomsday trio and co were not punished by the narrative for having done that was because they were right was. sure something!

omg that's very flattering thank you :D

By Xephyr I assume you mean @considermygenderminecrafted ? Because yes, xe has some of the best L'Manburg critique out there, as well as some of the best c!Wilbur critique, everybody should absolutely check it out immediately (altho frustratingly, I just tried to find some of their posts as an example but Tumblr's search function is still absolute garbage (Xeph, do you have some of your great posts at hand and if so, can you just link some of them in the reblogs or something?))

And yes. There are valid criticisms that can be made of the Doomsday Trio's tactics (which even Techno himself sort of acknowledged later), but at the end of the day, they were on the right side of history

(Well Dream's character less so, but I can't even be bothered to try to analyse him at this point because none of his plans make sense to me)

Also nobody ever seems to acknowledge that Doomsday Trio were acting in self-defence, since L'Manburg had already gone after both Techno and Phil, and was at the time trying to kill Dream as well, although he kinda beat them to the punch (possibly because he already knew they were planning to kill him? idk, I'm not sure if that was ever confirmed or not)

But yeah, the argument about them needing to be punished by the narrative was always absurd to me, and it just betrays the fandom's belief that L'Manburg was supposed to be objectively good, despite all the evidence that it very much was not, not even to its own citizens! And possibly also the unquestioned assumption of "state good, anarchy bad"

Meanwhile the actual narrative repeatedly shows that L'Manburg always ends up becoming toxic, corrupt and ultimately oppressive, even under the Good President, while on the other hand the anarchist commune eventually turns into a sanctuary for all sorts of people who need a safe place to stay (even arguably the aforementioned former Good President when he needs somewhere to hide his son from kidnappers)

And yeah, this is why I did get pretty heated about some of the debates at the time, and I kinda still do, because in the process of assuming that L'Manburg was always the good guys, they ended up repeatedly justifying just absolutely horrific state violence as well as excusing early L'Manburg's xenophobia (as comedic as it initially was), which unfortunately mirrors a lot of real world authoritarianism and xenophobia

To be fair a lot of this was probably also protagonist-centric morality, since most of these people also saw the L'Manburg side as the main characters, but then again what is nationalism if not a form of protagonist-centric morality where you see your own country as the protagonist of the world lol

I might actually need to make a proper post now since multiple people have shown interest, unfortunately I'm also very lazy and kinda made my main points in that low effort post already

Which would mean that it would actually have to be a high effort post to justify its existence

[dearreader]

hello fellow members of the tortured poets department.

today i enter into evidence my boy only breaks his favorite toys and analyze it. i’m most excited for this one as i think the running metaphor is a great one and love the details ive already seen. it’s also one of my favorite songs on the album so this was move exciting for me.

previous days: fortnight, THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

this song is probably one of my favorites as it uses a toy metaphor for taylor. she’s already made references to youth and toys with her relationships in the past, notably on lover with inthaf being about regrowing again as a person with her muse. also on cruel summer she refers to the object of her longing as a “bad bad boy, shiny toy with a price, you know that i bought it”. with that line implying many things about that relationship and taylor letting it be something less than what she wants it to be to be with him, i also like to think about the line with the price being fame and her buying it so now she can’t have him.

BUT in this song taylor is referring to herself as the toy!! i love this metaphor for her as with her talking about not seeing herself as human and having constant metaphors about being bought and sold (dorothea) or being picked but only to suffer instead (daylight and clara bow). so her being a toy fit this metaphor, especially with how she’s been recently with eras tour AND leading up to the tour. she was everywhere and was THE hot item. and going back to 2016 being seen with you on her arm meant you were hot shit. so taylor saying “the sickest army doll, purchased at the mall/rivulets descend my plastic smile” hits you like a gut punch because even at her lowest moment ever she was still marketable and family friendly to sell. her sadness can be turned into songs or magazine titles or anything really as long as it makes money for everyone AND it references you’re losing me and could be her at the end of the relationship, having fought for years and was now battered and bruised and heartbroken. BUT if that’s how she was referring to herself back in 2016 where she was fighting for her life trying to make anything work but was chewed up and spat back out, with the added detail of her plastic smile being how taylor says she smiles in her sleep because it’s so natural to her (as we saw in the lwymmd video) it shows that she wasn’t real and was just there for others enjoyment in either playing or destroying her. and with the following line being “cause you should’ve seen me when he first saw me” not only referencing how taylor kept going back to the beginning of the relationship to justify staying so long BUT also saying “i was so worse then so it doesn’t matter how he plays with me.”

but with either affect this song has such BEAUTIFUL imagery. taylor describing him building castles for her doll self to play in only for him to destroy them (building up her expectations of their future but backing out and changing his mind so she never knew if they were in the same page of their future) or them being puzzle pieces that fit together perfect and made a beautiful picture only for him to break it. AND her saying that when you pull her string one of her automatic responses is “he runs because he loves me” which references several songs:

new romantics with “please take my hand and please leave me stranded”

you’re losing me with “now your running down the hallway/don’t you know what they all say/don’t know what you got until it’s gone” (which means that he would constantly put her back in the shelf but come running back to her again and again)

down bad with “how dare you leave me safe and stranded”. so with this automatic response saying he runs (away or toward her) because he loves her is because it’s so deeply ingrained into her from all her relationships and what he kept doing to her. she didn’t think anything was wrong because that’s what was always right.

i specifically love the outro and NEED to discuss it. just, her saying she was willing to stay with him for so long because he actually PLAYED WITH HER. and not just in a “he played with my feelings” but that he actually used her how she was designed. he loved her, built the idea of a future with her, and stole her heart and broke it! and that was more than any other person. because she actually meant something to him. and that thought was enough to keep her going until it wasn’t…

other line parallels i didn’t how to fit in but loved:

“maybe your electric touch could bring this ghost town to life”//“inescapable. not even going to try. and if i get burned? atleastwewereelectrified.”//“‘cause i knew to much, there was danger in the heat of my touch”

“and when i break, it's in a million pieces”//“stole my tortured heart/left all these broken parts”//“breaking down, I hit the floor/all the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting, "more!"

“what a charming saturday/that's when she sees the littlest leaks/down in the floorboards/and she just knows she must bolt”//“i used to switch out these kens, I'd just ghost//rip the band-aid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw”//“i felt more when we played pretend/than with all the kens/'cause he took me out of my box” (AND THIS ONE I LOVE SO MUCH because we all called taylor out being like “hey girl, we know it wasn’t” and this is her saying “THIS IS WHY IT FEELS DIFFERENT!”)

[sarroora]

Hey sorry to bug you but uhhh things aren't looking too hot in the good ol US of A right now because Mr. Overcooked Rump Roast is expected to win and basically has already

In my current situation I should be safe for a while but a lot of the people I know won't be

I'm hoping that whatever dumpster bonfire is going on over here doesn't affect Egypt too bad but shit damn I also thought that Kamala would win but look how that turned out, heh.

(You don't have to respond I just wanted to give you an update and some prayers ❤️🙏)

Hey dear ❤️ - no, please do, I too NEED to reach out and talk to people.

Like I only have a surface level understanding of how elections in the US work, but I know that the system is bullcrap. And yes, Trump’s a psycho so please protect yourself. The very idea that not every vote has the same weight at the end of the day is steeped in racism and classism but nothing surprises me anymore.

Really, if there’s anything the Zionist-American genocide against Palestine confirmed in clear light is how evil of a lie ‘western democracy and morality’ is. Like - the rest of the world already knew it for centuries (most of us endured long histories of abuse and settler colonialism since the Romans, after all) but now even people living in the west have their eyes open and no longer fall for the lies and propaganda. But it feels awful to be associated with what our govs are doing when we had NO choice in the matter.

GOD don’t get me started on Egypt - did you know that our complacent ‘leadership’ has allowed a ship carrying weapons to IsnotReal through our waters? People went nuts. Everyone is in a rage and feels humiliated that this happened.

Like here’s a short vid taken by a woman that went viral and even made it to foreign news channels. You may not understand what’s being said in the vid, but the people are aghast, and you can hear rage and panic and profanity all around. The lady recording could only keep repeating in utter disbelief, “you sons of bitches.” (Referring to our president and posse)

Yeah. Things are going to hell here overall. We as civilians are literally held hostage by a draconian military regime that’s throwing everybody in prison on one hand - including minors - and robbing people blind with unexplained ‘taxes’ and insane inflation on the other. The middle class is crushed. No economical reform and no jobs. And people go to prison for objecting - kidnapped by the police in the middle of the night and thrown in secret prisons across the country where their own families can’t find them.

The currency rate to the USD right now here is 1 USD to 50 Egyptian Pounds. FIFTY.

And it’s projected to reach 80 by the end of the 2024. EIGHTY. In less than 2 months. Shifting the blame onto anything else but the consequences of their own decision-making. All while the president and ruling class (military generals) are becoming wealthy and sit above the law. The justice system is in their pockets.

And guess what, Trump loves our guy. Why wouldn’t he, I wouldn’t put it past him that he do anything - even sell his own country and its people and the people next door in Palestine if Trump asked him to. And I’m sure Trump’s gonna push for Palestinians to be expelled from their land and settle in Egypt (which is another country Isnotreal is VERY interested in occupying next, btw) thus helping the Zionists fully take over what remains of Palestine and expand into Greater Isnotreal.

These freaks are insane, istG.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but from what I heard of Harris, it’s not like she was gonna be much better than Trump. Just perhaps a little sneakier. US has treated Isnotreal as its 51st state for decades, it’s not like the politics of the country will change with her. Congress deals with Isnotreal as if it’s more important than America itself. Who’s given the title of ‘president’ doesn’t matter.

Until the US political system is completely changed and the settler colony that is Insnotreal is wiped off the map, we’re all gonna do what’s right in whatever small ways we can and be each other’s backs, even if we live on different continents ❤️.

[garnettfox]

Miracubots au: Akumas

Been a few days but I'm back!

Upfront, we don't have Akuma forms settled for everyone. SOME BITCHES *Stares at Chief, Dani and Kade* ARE SHOCKINGLY HARD TO DESIGN FOR.

So this isn't a complete list, hell if this ever became an actual fic some of them might end up changing.

Without further Adu, a very incomplete list of Akumas:

Ticket Master: Might as well get the Mr Pidgon equivilant out of the way, Don and his speeding tickets make him a weekly Akuma giving everyone in Griffin Rock headaches, especally the Heros. Everyone keeps begging Chief to just impound his car already but Don always pays off his fines so his hands are kinda tied.

Crawdaddy: So you know how there's occasionally a Dude who just has a Flobbster on a Leash? Ya, Ya he get's Akumatized over worrying about his pet's health. Don't worry the Flobster turns out ok.

Demolicious: Expect the spelling of this one to change a half dozen times because I hate myself and thought a portmantu of Demolition and Malicious was a great idea. Graham's Akuma form surprisingly enough formed when Graham just comepletly lost his temper after a stressful week and having to deal with a Karen of a tourest who decided to let her kids play in a derelict building he and Boulder where trying to safely demolish, and blamed him for the kids getting hurt.

Evilistratior: Alright this one was briefly mentioned and is something I kinda put in just for me. Being a very old OC of mine Dusk who I love very much. Think Bendy and the Ink machine meets Samarah from the ring and you kinda get the vibe of our Evilistratior, though instead of objects he creates ink creatures by drawing in his sketch pad as Dusk's an artist. As part of the self indulgent nonsence he becomes Graham's boyfriend. They even end up getting reakumatized into Demo and Evie together and are just an annoyingly sweet couple even when Evie's setting ink demons on everyone and Demo's trying to blow up the fucking island.

Glory Hog: Heatwaves Akuma caused by lingering stress over the entire Swallowtail situation and Kade falling back into his own glory hog ways. Glory Hog has the ability to 'Take away all attention and direct it to his self' Basically if you get hit by his beam, you kinda seace to exist for other people. They don't see you or acknowlage your there, your basically a ghost walking through your own life which is kinda horrorfying.

Emperata: Chase's Akuma formed after their reveal, Chase struggling with the sudden change in dynamic when he's become so acustomed to just the Burns family knowing. Coupled with the towns people not knowing how to treat him and just falling back on treating him like a robot when the more socal members of the team get readily accepted. Causes him to become Emperata, appearing as if Chase really had the horrorfic surgery done to him, and able to inflict the same on his brainwashed minions.

Halloweenie: More of a joke Akuma TBH, Blades after getting scared during Earlyween and getting upset at some teens tormenting some frightened younger kids, becomes the pumpkin fairy themed Halloweenie....Who makes everything cute. That's it. Cody and Frankie actually let him run around unchallenged for a bit because he is literally hurting no one, even if someone's wearing a scary costume and get zapped they can just, take the costume off no problem. And there have been a few occasions where letting the Akuma get it out of their system has calmed them down to be beatten without much of a fight.

Razorback. Boulders Akuma and it's a *bad* one. The idea I came up with was uhh....Graham and Dusk on a date off island when they run into uhhh....Anti-Anti-Fascsits if you catch my meaning. Resulting in Graham getting hurt enough to need the hospital and Dusk in jail needing bailing out for defending the pair of them. Boulder having never known about this side of humanity is just so blindsided and *angry* he's more or less a ball of walking distruction before he's calmed and deakumatised.

Defensor:....You saw it coming, don't pretend. Ya in this universe the episode where Cheif get's hurt and goes the hospital goes a little worse, not too much so, but the bots getting a nasty reminder of not only how fragile humans are but how short lived they are...What's more, their humans are emergancy responders, a profession that famously *shortens* those already brief lifespans....Ya, their pain and grief causes them to be fused into the group Akuma Defensor, who desides to take over the security systems Vigil was meant to once operate, they'll keep their family safe....no matter what....

[littlemoonastrology]

All About: VIRGO ♍︎ - The Zodiac Signs

This post will cover all the basic information needed to understand Virgo, the sixth Zodiac Sign!

Take a look at my other posts to see more information on: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer and Leo!

The next one coming is Libra, the seventh Zodiac Sign.. keep a look out!

If you feel like this post has helped you feel free to Follow, Reblog or Repost (as long as I'm credited! I'm relatively new to Tumblr so I'm still learning about how all this works)!

~

Virgo ♍︎

Date (Only applies to Sun Signs): August 23 - September 22

Symbol: ♍︎ - The Maiden

Associated House: Sixth

Associated Degrees: 6°, 18°

Associated Energy: Feminine

Planetary Ruler(s): ☿ Mercury (Modern and Traditional)

Element: Earth

Modality: Mutable

Keywords: Strategic, Ethical, Intelligent, Selfless, Analytical, Honest

This placement can make someone very strategic, intellectual. analytical and ethical! Whilst Virgo placements have a reputation for being very conservative, organised or traditional, you'd be surprised by how unconventional and creative they can really be. This sign makes for someone very realistic and grounded, taking into consideration every little nuance in order to understand a situation and make a decision. When they dedicate their time to something they can become highly skilled before moving onto the next thing, sort of like a Jack of All Trades. However, whilst a Virgo might be skilled in practical things - they may have some issues socially and find they can be quite awkward in certain settings (unless they have developed this skill, they can become extremely charismatic!) and shy. These signs are deeply emotional, amazing at giving practical advice and great during a debate! A Virgo also loves to serve those that they are closest to, and will do their best to make sure their close friends are happy and healthy.

However, getting close to a Virgo is quite difficult and takes a lot for them to trust you - in some aspect they may be quite anxious and read into what you say... Or if you have bad intent they will easily snuff you out and make sure you won't get close to them. Maybe in some aspect of their life they had been taken advantage of at some point, been in a controlling environment or something else which resulted in them using their intellect to solve problems or develop trust issues.

When a Virgo feels incapable or worried, they might get defensive and completely refuse to open up at all - focusing on their hobbies as a way to distract themselves and feel less anxious. On the other hand, they may give in too easily and sort of become a "people pleaser" or try to be the peacemaker in a situation, only to sort of feel like they've been left the short end of the stick. They may start to overthink... a lot. In some cases when a Virgo closes up or feels tense they may even resort to methods of control over their environment (such as keeping objects neat as it allows their brain to focus on something else) or become quite snappy.

When Virgo feels safe and capable they can really develop anything, but the issue is they may not see something through long enough to fully reap the rewards, maybe become somewhat careless in what they do. When it gets to this point, it is important for someone with this placement to maintain some sort of discipline, stick to what they care about and remain grounded.

~

Notes/Keywords/Phrases

Zodiac Sign

Each of the Zodiac Signs are a constellation. The Zodiac Sign shows how a Planet/Asteroid/Fixed Point/House is being represented and expressed. Once a Planet/Asteroid/Fixed Point/House falls into a Zodiac Sign, it adopts the energy of it.

For example: if Mercury falls into the constellation Sagittarius, Mercury adopts Sagittarian traits. If the 6th House falls into the constellation Aquarius, the 6th House adopts Aquarian traits.

Associated House

The Houses in Astrology are dependent on the time and location of birth in a Natal Chart and there are 12 different ones. Each of these 12 Houses are then assigned to a Zodiac Sign and 1 or 2 Planetary Rulers. The Houses in Astrology show you what area of life the energy of the Zodiac and Planets/Asteroids/Fixed Points is appointed to and helps provide depth into the chart.

For example: Capricorn's Associated House is the 10th House.

Associated Degrees

When a Planet/Asteroid/Fixed Point/House falls into a Zodiac Sign constellation, it will be appointed a Degree. This Degree shows how far along the Planet/Asteroid/Fixed Point/House is in a Zodiac Sign. Each Degree is also associated with a Zodiac Sign, meaning when this Degree comes up it can nuance the way the Zodiac Sign of a Planet/Asteroid/Fixed Point/House is being represented.

For example: Mars is 6° in the Zodiac Cancer, 6° represents Virgo - therefore the Cancer Mars also takes on Virgo traits. The 2nd House is 23° in the Zodiac Scorpio, 23° represents Aquarius - therefore the 2nd House in Scorpio takes on Aquarian traits.

Planetary Ruler(s)

This phrase refers to the Planet(s) that rule a Zodiac Sign. When a Planet falls into the Zodiac Sign it has rulership over, the energy of both the Planet and the Zodiac Sign is amplified.

For example: Pisces' Planetary Ruler is Neptune.

Modern / Traditional

These words are associated with two kinds of Astrology: Modern Astrology and Traditional Astrology. Traditional Astrology refers to Astrology that was practiced before the 19th century, whilst Modern Astrology refers to Astrology that is practiced now. Some people choose to practice Traditional Astrology, some people choose to practice Modern Astrology, whilst some others might practice both types or combine them together.

Element

Each Zodiac Sign/Planet/House/Degree is associated with an Element and this covers certain traits which are unique to the Zodiac Sign/Planet/House/Degree they correspond to.

These Elements are: Fire, Air, Water and Earth.

Modality

Much like an Element, each Zodiac Sign/Planet/House/Degree is associated with a Modality. The Modality describes what the focus of a placement is and how the energy is expressed.

There are 3 different Modalities: Cardinal, Mutable and Fixed.

[duel-king]

// HNY everyone!!! :D

Pls heed the cw tags before reading past the cut.

*dumps this monster whump on the dash and runs away* //

"...The dragon flaps its mighty wings, and then..." Seto glances over his shoulder and sees that Mokuba is sound asleep, before he could even finish the story. He smiles as he quietly folds the book shut and slowly rises from where he was sitting on the bed. He gently shuts the door behind him and heads down the hall.

"Seto!! My BOY!! C'mere!!" Gozaburo beckons him over boisterously. It's New Year's Eve and he's been entertaining and drinking with coworkers and colleagues and the like. Seto feels his mouth run dry as he gets a look at everyone in the room, red-faced and grinning stupidly at him. He greets them silently with a bow and hurries to Gozaburo's side before he has to tell him a second time.

"Yes, father?" He asks sullenly, still feeling all the eyes in the room on him.

"Why so grim, Seto? Always so serious..." He grips Seto's shoulder and practically forces him down onto the seat next to his. "Sit."

"It's almost a new year, son..." He begins, putting on a pantomime of paternal affection for his idiot drunk friends. He reaches over to grab a carafe of dark amber liquor, fills a glass about halfway and hands it to his stepson.

"...Which makes you a year closer to manhood. Cheers." Seto clenches his jaw. I'm fucking 12... he wants to say, but his mouth remains shut tight.

Gozaburo clinks his own glass to Seto's before downing it like it's water. The boy hesitantly raises his glass to his lips. The whiskey smells strong and sickly bittersweet, and his blank expression involuntarily twists into a grimace. He can hear snickering from the other men in the room.

"Oh for Christ's sake Seto, DRINK." His stepfather commands, and Seto empties the glass with a single gulp so he can hopefully retreat to his room. He shuts his eyes tightly as the alcohol burns going down his throat. It tastes as bad as it smells. A tremor runs through his body as the warmth settles in his chest, and he coughs into his free hand. He can feel his face grow hot. The snickering around him evolves into hooting and cheering.

"'Atta boy!! That'll put a little hair on your chest, eh?" Gozaburo remarks with a hearty chuckle and, without hesitation, refills Seto's glass along with his own.

"Father, I--" he begins to object hoarsely, but Gozaburo won't hear it.

"This is an expensive vintage, son. Don't waste it," he scolds. "Consider this a reward for all of your hard work this year," He says this with a smile, but there's a challenge in his eyes. "Before you know it, you'll be drinking with us after a long day of work, and you're gonna need to keep up!! As a Kaiba, you have a reputation to uphold." He continues to lecture him as he rises from his seat.

Seto obediently takes another swig of whiskey. It's slightly less unpleasant going down this time, but not much. When he finishes this glass several minutes later, he rises from his seat, preparing to excuse himself as his stepfather is distracted handing out cigars to his guests.

"Gentlemen, it was a pleasure. Happy New Year to you all, and get home safely," Seto courteously bows again and feels the blood rush to his head. He was moving a little too hastily and he barely got that farewell out without stumbling over his words.

"I didn't excuse you!!" Gozaburo shouts through the cigar clenched between his teeth. "You can AT LEAST make it til midnight. Then maybe papa will read you a bedtime story," he mocks as he strides over to Seto, carafe in hand, and pours him a third glass.

"...Apologies, father." He replies stiffly. Normally he would have snapped back at an insult like that, but he can't bear the thought of getting smacked in front of a room full of people.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to our guests!" His stepfather chastises, prolonging Seto's embarrassment.

"...Beg your pardon, sirs. That was rude of me." The apology earns him a placated grin from his stepfather as he lights his cigar; a few of the guests merely nod in acknowledgment, and the room nearly falls silent as cigars are being lit and puffed on.

Time passes at an agonizingly slow pace--this horrible year just refuses to end. Some of Gozaburo's associates take interest in Seto and start questioning him about his studies and his ambitions as the heir to the Kaiba Corporation. The air in the room becomes thick with cigar smoke and it makes his stomach turn and head ache, but the liquor makes it easier for him to fake a smile and lie through his teeth. He just parrots the responses he knows Gozaburo and his sycophants would like to hear, and it seems to go over fairly well.

The antique grandfather clock finally tolls Midnight, and the room explodes with cheers. Gozaburo's booming voice cuts through the din as he raises his glass in the air.

"A toast-- to Seto and the future of KaibaCorp!!" His toast is returned with an enthusiastic, collective "Hear! Hear!" and everyone raises their glass to join Gozaburo's before drinking again. No sooner than Seto taking that last sip does his gut churn, deciding that everything must go. He immediately turns and makes a bee-line for the door, setting his glass on the nearest surface and covering his mouth with one hand.

But it's too late. His body forces the whiskey out, violently. The room erupts into raucous laughter as Seto is keeled over, heaving and retching. Gozaburo, the loudest of them all, makes his way past his guests and over to his inebriated stepson.

"What did I tell you about wasting this booze?!" He slaps Seto on the back so hard that he falls over face-first into his own vomit.

"Mhahahaha!! Better luck next year, son!!" Gozaburo is the only one left laughing. Seto lays motionless on the floor for a moment, stupefied and completely humiliated. His eyes well up with tears.

No. no no no no nonononono...!! He scolds himself. He's able to pull himself up to his hands and knees, but seeing his mess on the floor and all over his clothes makes him ill all over again. Gozaburo shouts for one of the maids, and two come running.

"Get the boy cleaned up and put to bed." He orders with a sneer. One of the maids hurries to the nearby linen closet to find something to wipe up the floor while the other gingerly helps Seto to his feet and walks him down the hall, slowly but surely. "It's alright, Master Seto..." she coos once they're out of earshot. What little energy he has left is spent focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other and he just stares blankly ahead, saying nothing.

A while later, Seto is still kneeled over the toilet in his bathroom, his breath ragged and hair stuck to his face with sweat. He hears his bedroom door creak open, but doesn't look up.

"Big brother? ...Are you okay?" Mokuba whispers fretfully as he approaches.

"...'m fine, Moki... Jus sick..." He rasps. "Sorry for waking you..." He whimpers and his shoulders rack with silent sobs, but he's so dehydrated he can't cry even if he wanted to. He looks awful, Mokuba worries. He's pale and sweaty, breathing heavily, slurring his words. His eyes are bloodshot from all the strain of dry heaving for god knows how long.

"Don't be sorry!!" Mokuba kneels down by his brother's side and pats and rubs his back, like Seto does for him when his tummy hurts. His hair isn't long enough for Mokuba to need to hold it back for him, though. He's not quite sure what to do. Then, the little one has an idea. "I'll be right back!"

A few minutes later, Mokuba returns with a glass of iced water and a pack of crackers.

"Hope this helps," Mokuba says, doing his best to smile reassuringly. Seto smiles back lazily, gratefully accepting the help and taking the glass of water in hand. Mokuba unwraps the crackers and hands them to him as he eagerly gulps the water down.

"...Thanks Moki.... you're... the best."

*

*

*

*

// 2023 has been an absolute shitshow for me, ngl lol. So, to relieve myself of all this angst, I give you... this. Hope you... uhh... enjoyed...??

May 2024 bring us all better days. <3 //

[starry-nights-garden]

Jiung ✧ Touch of a Hand

✧ P1Harmony Jiung x gn!reader ✧ words: ~1.2k ✧ genre: comfort, angst, fluff, platonic ✧ warnings: hints of a traumatic event in the past

Desc.: Even though lately you haven’t been able to see your childhood friend Jiung as frequently as you used to, he still keeps proving to you that you can always rely on him.

People come and go. They enter your life and then one day they leave, out the back door, out the front door, it doesn’t really matter in the end because the result is all the same - they’re gone. Some fly you by like an object in space, circulating around the sun on its orbit and passing by earth once every 100 years or so, barely saying hello and then they’re off, never to be seen again. And some enter you so deeply, they collide with you like a meteor shower raining down on the surface of a lone planet, forming you anew and reaching beyond your outermost layers. 

And still we tend to forget that people come and people go, because what’s in between lasts longer and it’s often what really matters. 

People can do good, make you open up or close the windows of your heart, they can make you feel and peel off the layers of concrete you’ve carefully wrapped yourself into over the years to avoid getting hurt by the wrong ones. And then sometimes they fuck you up bad, to the point you’re the one who leaves, or in the worst case to the point you can’t even do that anymore. And you get stuck. 

“What are you thinking about again?” You’re torn out of your thoughts by Jiung’s voice ringing in your ears and he hands you a cup of hot chocolate before he slips into the tent that you built yourselves with pillows and blankets on the floor in your room, just like in the old days. He’s known you for years, so he can tell whenever you sink into thought even when it doesn’t show on your face, pondering over things you can’t possibly solve all by yourself, and the “again” tells you he also has a pretty good hunch what exactly it is that’s occupying your mind.

“Just… things,” you respond and do your best to give him a smile, before you return to looking out your window, searching for the first stars appearing in the night sky. 

“Things you want to talk about, or…?” He raises an eyebrow at you, waiting patiently for your answer and taking a sip of his share of the hot chocolate. You look at him and watch as he sticks out his tongue to lick off the layer of milk foam that got stuck on his upper lip. You chuckle and you remember what he looked like when he used to do that as a kid. Then you sigh.

“Childhood was nice,” you eventually say.

“It sure was,” he responds with a grin on his face. “Do you wanna go back?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you answer, as if you had completely missed the fact that there’s a deeper meaning behind his question. “You can’t just go back in time.”

“I know, I know… but if you could, would you?” he carefully pries deeper.

“Well…” Memories flash before your eyes and emotions that you’d rather erase forever fill your chest. You push them aside and focus on your voice so it doesn’t shake as you speak. “Maybe.” A chuckle escapes your childhood friend.

“It was easier back then, huh? You could just play all day and didn’t have responsibilities…” he too directs his gaze out the window now, as if the night sky would magically offer up a portal leading to the past. “But then we’d also still fight everyday,” he adds, and you reminisce on your rather difficult beginnings. You remember how he used to always pick on you in kindergarten and how you would hide his toys from him as a form of retaliation. Years of fighting each other would follow, until one day you got stuck together in a group project at school and somehow came out as best friends - which you more or less stayed up until now. More or less because after graduation you went different paths in life, and now you can’t see each other often anymore. However, when you do get a chance to meet it’s as if no time had passed at all. He’s your safe space, and you’re guessing you’re the same to him. 

“That’s right… that would be too bad,” you say absentmindedly.

“So then why?” he questions further. Through being apart so much there are also things you don’t tell him. Maybe you’ve become more closed off ever since leaving high school - you remember talking to people about your thoughts and feelings more back then. But Jiung isn’t stupid, and so he senses that there’s this thing sitting at the tip of your tongue that you’ve been wanting to get rid of for what feels like forever, but never had the courage to bring up. Perhaps this would be the night that you finally let him in on those dark corners of your heart that have been spoiled by the hands of someone else.

“I…” You open your mouth, but contrary to what you expected would happen, words won’t spill out. And as the frustration of being unable to talk overwhelms you, tears fill your eyes.

“Oh no…” he mumbles as he puts away the mug in his hands and instead wraps his arms around you. He pulls you in for a tight hug, something he does very rarely, and you can feel his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket keeping you safe from the cold outside. It’s this moment that makes you reach the point of giving in to your tears, and you let them flow while burying your face in his chest and letting him rock you back and forth in a slow, calming rhythm. 

“I just wish some things never happened,” you manage to force out as you sob. He doesn’t say anything to that, and instead nods, as if he suddenly understood all the things that led you to say such a thing. He rubs circles on your back with his palm, and finally it feels like the tears are starting to cease. “Sorry,” you mutter as you force yourself out of his embrace, feeling like you’ve made him take care of you way too much already. But he cups your face with his hand and makes you look him in the eyes, as his thumb wipes away a tear still left trickling down your cheek.

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head to underline his words. “I’m here for you, you know that.” His sincerity makes you tear up yet again, but this time they aren’t tears of sadness. You feel the gratefulness spreading in your chest, as if it was about to make your ribcage explode, and somehow the only way you know how to let it out is to cry some more.

“Thank you,” you mumble as you throw your arms around his shoulders and hide your puffy red face in his chest once more. You can sense he’s caught a little off guard by your grand motion, but soon enough his arms are put around you again and his hand finds its way to the top of your head, patting it gently. You feel warmth in your chest, and from that warmth sprouts trust, and even though you didn’t manage to tell him about everything he doesn’t know today either, you still feel a bit lighter.

And you realize, there may be people who fuck you up to the point you feel broken beyond repair. However, at the same time there are always people who can offer a bit of healing with just the touch of a hand and their comforting presence.

[hornedadvance]

Horned Advance

Chapter 14 - Tempest Town Ramath

The desert remained hot as ever as they resumed their travels, shifting sands beneath their feet making every step more tiresome than the last. Gruelling hours passed, the sun crawling through the sky at a maddening pace. The journey was no less harsh than the day before, the trio giving their all just to keep moving under the harsh desert conditions. As the sun hung directly overhead, Merry noticed a bad omen looming in the distance. A golden-brown wall of fog, fast approaching over the Psamathe horizon. “Shit… A sandstorm!” She called out to the group, a look of panic washing over her face. “A what?” Palo asked, her inexperience on the sands rearing its head. “Sands, kicked up by harsh winds. They’ll kill our visibility, and make travelling safely nigh impossible.” Merry replied, her slow trudging in the sand hastening to a swifter walk.  “Right… But it doesn’t look like that's all you’re stressin’ about.” Palo called back, unnerved by Merry’s uneasy look. “Safe to say, if we don’t find somewhere to shelter, there won’t be anything left of us to stress over after it passes.” The merchant responded. Palo’s grip on Quinn’s hand tightened, the two girls flashing each other a reassuring smile before picking up their pace to keep up with Merry.

As the sandstorm grew closer their pace sped up in tow. It seemed that they would need to weather the storm themselves, with no clear cover in sight, a dangerous scenario for any traveller to find themselves in. That was until Palo felt a soft tugging from her hand. “Paly… Look!” Quinn squeaked meekly, pointing off to some sandstone ruins in the distance, off the side of the path. Palo quickly picked up on the cue, acknowledging with a nod and turning towards Merry, a few steps ahead. “Hey, Merry!” The critter called out. The merchant turned back to face her, a puzzled look on her face, before Palo nodded in the direction of the ruins. Merry nodded back, signalling that the three would change courses and make for the buildings, hopefully before the sandstorm could catch them.

The girls fought their way over the dunes between them and the village, collectively praying that it wouldn’t be some sort of cruel mirage or rock formation. Just a few moments before the sandstorm dyed the skies brown, they finally made it to cover, diving behind a crumbling building and making their way in through an opening in the wall. The girls each breathed a sigh of relief, sitting down backs against the wall and lowering their hoods. As Palo did this though, a high shriek could be heard in a dark corner of the ruins. Gripping fear tore into the critter as her eyes darted over to the darkness, adjusting from the brightness of the desert to discern a figure masked in the shadow. A frail, thin looking woman and the young child clutched in her bosom. It wasn’t clear which of the two had made the sound, but the look on both of their faces made it plenty clear that the feeling between them was mutual. They had seen Palo’s horns, and this was the natural reaction for them to have. Palo raised her arm, opening her mouth to speak but the mother immediately flinched at the gesture causing Palo to fall silent. The critter lowered her arm, hiding the shame on her face beneath her hood before going to speak again.

 “I-”

 “-She means you no harm… I swear it on my own life.” Interrupted Quinn, taking an earnest stand for her closest friend. Quinn stood up, dusting herself off from the arid dirt of the desert sand and making her way over to the two as Merry and Palo just sat and watched. She crouched herself down to the level of the child, perhaps a showing of peace to the mother before speaking. “We’re just as scared as you are…” She said with a soft, shaky tone. “I’m sorry for barging in here like this, I never would’ve imagined there were people living in a place like this.” The girl continued, pulling something down from her hair ties. She presented the object to the child with an open palm, the wrapper rustling in her hand. A ball of sugar candy, wrapped in a translucent wrapping paper. The child looked to her, and then to her mother, seeking approval. A clear look of apprehension covered the mother’s face. A warm, earnest, closed-eyed smile on Quinn’s. The mother relented after a moment, nodding for the child to take the candy, which she did without a wasted moment. The small girl fumbled to unwrap the candy, the joy of a sweet treat allowing her to completely forget the situation occurring around her. Quinn stepped back from the two, standing herself up again to give the mother some space to compose herself. Seeing her daughter smile seemed to soften her heart some, and her tense expression relaxed, just a little.

“Thank you.” She said, in a voice that sounded about as frail as she looked. “Times have been harsh for us here… As you might guess.” The mother continued, holding her child tightly within her reach. She glanced out of the hole in the wall that may have once been a window, hearing the howling of the desert wind laden with sand beating against the walls of their little sandstone shelter. “They weren’t before?” Merry interjected, as Quinn came back over to their side of the run down house. “Not like this.” The mother responded, trying to hide the fear in her eyes as she glanced at Palo and the others. “Our village is a common stopping point for Psamathe travellers… We receive news, food and shards from merchants and vagrants regularly in return for our hospitality and use of the water well… Or we did.” The lady sighed, easing up her posture and relaxing against the wall of the hut. “You three are the first people we’ve seen here in weeks… Our supplies are running dry, and there isn’t much to hunt out here in the middle of the desert. If anything, it often feels like we’re one misstep from being prey.” Merry leant forward, resting her chin in her hand as she thought. “Any idea what might’ve stopped the flow?” She asked. “Well, we’ve no news since no one has come to deliver it to us… The elder says it might be wildlife, scorpions and the like.” The merchant girl thought for a moment before speaking: “Perhaps we can look into it for you.” Palo shot her a glare, as if to dismiss the idea, but Quinn shot her one back, with a frown most oblivious to her own situation. The mother stopped and thought for a moment that felt like an age. “We would appreciate that greatly… But you should talk it over with the elder, after the storm passes.” 

And so they did, the three of them chatting to each other while the mother sat more comfortably, shielding herself and her daughter from the sand in the most obscured crevice within the crumbling hut. Time passed, the sun rolling its way lower into the sky, and the sandstorm ended. They were finally able to go outside, to see the village the lady had talked of. An awful feeling sat in the depths of Palo’s gut, though. The historic reaction to seeing her horns had always been the same, shock, fear, anger, violence. For now though, she’d been strung along into Quinn’s antics again, and so they left the hut out into the village, a humble hamlet now layered in sand.

The village was small, but compact. Much like Muvazani but on a smaller scale, the place was made up of winding alleyways between run down shacks, cloth strung up to mask the places where the structure of the buildings had given out. For a short time, they toured the streets, Palo clutching her hood tightly to ensure it didn’t slip in front of any prying eyes that might take shelter here. Few walked the streets, most still sheltering from the storm, and those who did were mostly elderly, too fickle to care, or youngsters too rebellious to heed warnings. No one stood in their way though, as the community here clearly knew how much tourism meant, and the implications of discouraging it. Soon, the group happened upon a building bigger than the rest, though in an equal state of disrepair. “This must be it, then.” Started Merry. “No place to find a ‘village elder’ like the biggest hut in town, huh?” She said, her jovial tone back to usual. Palo gave a grunt of agreement, following her and leading Quinn to the entrance of the bigger shack.

“Who goes ‘ere?” A low, gravelly voice spoke from an obscured corner in the hut. “Ah, we’re just travellers.” Merry responded calmly. “We hear that you’re short on supplies, and we’d like to help you with that.” The girl continued. “ ‘Zat so?” The elder questioned, his voice laden with skepticism. “N’ for what?” The man grumbled. “It’d be a great help if you’d let us fill our canteens with your water.” Spoke the silver tongued one. “We’ve some food to spare for now, and we can try to solve your visitor issue. I’ll just put it on your tab.” Merry trailed off, with a sly grin. “Hmm..” The old man grunted, deliberating his options. After a few stressful moments, the man got up from his seat in the corner of the shack, walking over to the three of them.” Seems there’s little choice t’ be had.” The man sighs, walking into view of the sunlight to reveal his grizzled hair and sun-dyed skin. “I couldn’t deny the young’uns food any longer. But to start with, I need yer names, first and foremost.” After a quick round of introductions, and what was essentially Merry’s sales pitch, the old man was mostly caught up to speed. “Right then, s’pose we better get down t’ business. I think the people ‘ve stopped comin’ cause of local critters. Lunar Scorpions, they’re called. Nasty kind, Can grow to twice yer height, and with a tail sharper than any blade to boot.” Lunar Scorpions… Merry flinched hearing the name, with Palo and Quinn listening on inquisitively. “Feisty bastards they are, tenfold at night, and they tend t’ hunt in groups… Still feel up t’ the job?” A bead of sweat ran down Merry’s forehead, it wasn’t clear if it was from the heat or the offer, but after an instant of hesitation she spoke up. “Same as ever!” She said with a grin, holding her hand out to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal… But we’ll need something to kill them with.” The old man shook Merry’s hand before responding, “We’ve an old pile’o junk from those that have passed, travellers and the weak in the village near the water well. A communal storage of sorts. Leave whatever ye can spare there, and people will find it. Help yerself to any tools you might need on the way out. I pray fer yer safety.” He choked, watching the girls turn to leave. “We won't be coming back any time soon, but don’t forget my name!” Merry chanted as she left earshot of the hut. “May the sands guide ye…” The elderly man mumbled, giving a prayer for the girls.

“The hell’s a ‘Lunar Scorpion’?” Palo asked as they made their way through the village. “His description was pretty apt. Burly insects, any size from knee height to taller than any human. They’re tough adversaries, in every sense. Thick exoskeletons, hard as iron and tails that could cleave you in twine. Any questions?” Palo groaned, sinking her face into her hands as she walked. “ ‘N you signed us up for this?” She scowled at Merry. “Well, someone’s gotta help ‘em. We can’t just leave these people to starve, Palo.” The merchant lectured. “Right, well you didn’t seem awful confident back there.” Palo retorted, spite in her tone. “We’ve all had bad experiences… Especially when you’re as well travelled as me.” Palo rolled her eyes as they arrived at the well, Merry filling her many water canteens and the other two taking a look at the stockpile. 

“Something light, something light…” Palo said, sorting through piles of rusted weapons and trinkets. She eventually found a few pieces that could be worth using. A scimitar, a pair of daggers, a blunted mace and a large, long sword. Though, perhaps it was too big to be called a sword, being closer to a heap of raw iron. The girl picked the two daggers up, neither of them being particularly damaged beyond the weathering of sand encrusting the edges, handing one to Quinn. “You’ll need this in times to come, Quinn.” The baker’s girl looked a little scared holding the dagger, perhaps not trusting herself or perhaps fearful of what weapons like this can do to others. Either way, she knew Palo was right, finding a comfortable slot to slide it into on her leather garments. Palo took the other knife, slotting it in against her hip on something resembling a belt. “Stealing, are we?” Merry spoke from behind them, with a chuckle. “I guess I can’t be left behind in my own art, then.” She continued, looking at the two other weapons Palo had picked out. Perhaps if she wasn’t missing her other hand she would’ve gone for the bigger sword, she knew she’d love to carry it in her pack at the very least… But of course, she went for the scimitar, a worn but intricately patterned scabbard alongside it. She tied the scabbard to the underside of her backpack, in the perfect spot that she could unsheathe it with the hand she still had, before sheathing the sword where it belonged. 

“Right then… Shall we?” She asked, prompting the three of them to head out. “If we gotta.” Palo mumbled. “Stay behind me, Quinn.” The critter went on, a newly resolute look in her eyes.

“We’ll make quick work of ‘em.”

Next Chapter

Link to All Chapters

[pcttrailsidereader]

AI Reaches Trail . . . Has Big Tech Gone Too Far

By Adam Roy, Backpacker Magazine

Google has figured out that I like to hike. I’m not sure what tipped it off—could it be the roughly 40 hours per workweek I spend editing and fact-checking stories about hiking, or maybe the nights and weekends I pass searching for trailheads and obsessively checking and rechecking the weather forecast. Whatever the reason, whenever I log on I get served up a stream of gear promotions and tourism spots for outdoor destinations. But about a week ago, I saw an ad for Google’s Pixel 8 smartphone and its onboard Gemini artificial intelligence that stopped me in my tracks.

The ad goes like this: A dad is trying to set up a tent in a campsite. The dad is floundering, tangled up in guylines and collapsing nylon, when he turns around and notices his son has stopped collecting firewood and is watching him with dismay, probably thinking about how much better his stepdad is at camping. Then the dad pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of the tent, and feeds it into Gemini, which returns a numbered list of instructions for him. Smash cut to the now-content kid and father enjoying their perfectly-pitched shelter.

My first reaction to the ad: I’ve been there. Whether by neglecting hot spots until they bloomed into blisters, leaving a vent open in a snowstorm, or spending an hour struggling to coax a flame out of a pile of damp wood, I know what it’s like to struggle on a camping or backpacking trip in front of other people. The desire to avoid that struggle and the embarrassment that comes with it is a pretty powerful motivator.

My second thought: This is going to get someone into so, so much trouble.

Google and other Big Tech AI firms like OpenAI, Meta, and X want to see their technology everywhere. Using it to filter restaurant results is one thing, but pushing artificial intelligence as a substitute for basic outdoor skills comes with real risks. Let’s start with the fact that Google’s AI arguably still isn’t up to the task of keeping people safe in the outdoors: We’re barely a month out from Gemini telling searchers to eat glue and cook spaghetti in gasoline. Although those errors didn’t do any damage besides embarrassing a handful of highly paid software engineers, it’s not hard to imagine AI trained on the unfiltered whole of the internet telling a new camper it’s safe to run a propane heater inside their tent or eat a poisonous mushroom.

(That’s assuming, of course, that the AI is even capable of giving actionable information: Zoom in on the simulated advice Gemini offers in the commercial and you’ll notice that step 4 is “Assemble the tent poles according to the manufacturer’s instructions.” Apparently Google Dad, like so many dads before him, just needed someone to remind him to read the manual.)

You Still Have To Use Your Brain

Yes, ideally AI users would be cautious consumers, sniffing out bad or obviously dangerous information before acting on it. But we already have real-life examples of people over-relying on much less intrusive technology with disastrous results. Take another popular Google product, Google Maps, for example. There were the hikers who needed rescue after following an imaginary trail in Maps up the side of a mountain in British Columbia, and the German tourists who had to trek two days through the Australian bush after a similar error stranded them and their car on a remote dirt track. The company is currently fighting a lawsuit from the family of a man who followed its GPS directions off of a collapsed bridge.

In Colorado, tow companies make a killing every year dragging stranded motorists off of mountain 4×4 tracks after app-assisted “shortcuts.” The plug-and-play, let-us-think-for-you, don’t-bother-checking-the-sources tone of Google and other corporations’ marketing of their artificial intelligence only makes incidents like these more likely.

My bigger objections to AI-directed camping, though, may be philosophical. Whether you learn from a friend or an expert online, there’s something wonderful about becoming competent in the outdoors. It’s a long, awkward, and sometimes uncomfortable process. But it’s joyful too, fostering self-confidence and a deeper sense of connection with your environment. Mediating that through a robot assistant strikes me as a quick way to dilute that, ensuring that you neither learn any real outdoor skills nor unplug in any meaningful way.

Other tech firms’ AI-powered takes on the outdoors are equally baffling. An ad released by Meta last month starts with one friend in a group chat enticing the others to camp by sharing an AI-generated image of someone cowboy camping next to an unattended campfire, a fully set-up tent with only a lantern inside of it, and, inexplicably, a folding table with what looks like either several copper pots or maybe a moonshiner’s still on it. Setting aside the safety issues, I can’t help but wonder what kind of person finds more inspiration to get outside in a fake-ass AI-generated image than in the hundreds of thousands of real outdoor photos plastered across the internet.

We Can Still Embrace Technology

I’m not a Luddite. I plan every trip I take on Gaia, Outside’s mapping app, and I listen to podcasts on long solo hikes. Backpacker and Outside’s other titles feature Scout, an AI search engine we trained on our own work in order to help readers more easily find the human-written information they’re looking for; we’ve even experimented with letting Scout choose a hike for us. I also recognize I’m not unbiased: My fellow Backpacker editors, writers, and I make our living creating carefully researched guides and stories for people who love the outdoors. Seeing Google redigest those into AI pablum just so it can make ad money off the backs of the real-life hikers doing the real-life work is frustrating.

Ultimately, the outdoors should be for everyone, and how you choose to get outside is up to you. If that means asking Google or Meta’s AI to walk you through it, so be it. But think about what you want to get out of your time in the woods: There are some things in life that are better without Big Tech breathing down your neck. If you want to polish your outdoor skills, there’s a whole constellation of people who will help you without harvesting all of your personal data, from your more experienced friends to local trail clubs to, yes, even the human experts here at Backpacker. And if you’re ever struggling to set up your tent, a free tip: Start by reading the instructions, and practice before your kid is watching.

[artichokefunction]

you are in a nice suit, you are dressed up all smart and proper and normal, your hair has been styled in a way that you are not allowed to mess with, and you are uncomfortable. you are wearing a less functional and less eye catching mask to match your less functional and less eye catching gear. you are limited to a single handgun, tucked away to be discreet and hard to access, and you won't even be able to print new bullets for it without getting these layers off first. this sucks.

these contact lenses feel weird. you're not allowed to pick at your face, you're not allowed to fidget 'too much'. your task is to look normal, and not make a scene. you don't even have to do the hard part, answering questions, that's what the handler's doing. your hear the person she's talking to ask him [so, how long have you and your... partner been together?] and you go back to not listening, and scanning the crowd for potential hostiles. there are none. this venue is very safe, physically. you have to be normal and presentable and not weird and not scary. you adjust your pose to look slightly more human. you keep your breathing even. you don't avoid eye contact but you don't look at anyone for too long either. you think you're pulling this off. probably. you focus on where your gun is stowed, in your calf, nestled between the synthetic and organic muscles. wait- no you don't. you're thinking about normal and non threatening things. totally. nothing to see here. the weapons scanner triggered on you on your way in but they let you in anyway, they were 'informed' of your 'special circumstances', which is already too much intel for them to have on you, as far as you're concerned.

a waiter comes around with a tray of drinks in delicate little glasses. the handler is offered one, and they take one for you as well. they hand it to you, and linger on you for a second. ah, yeah. you move your mask the minimum amount necessary to sip whatever this drink is. it tastes like alcohol, gross, but your systems don't clock any actual poison. you raise the glass in a gesture you hope looks friendly, and the handler nods slightly, and turns back to the people she was talking to. his dress swishes around her legs as she does, the soft loops of red and purple and pink twisting into each other delicately. this whole event is so weird and delicate and pretty. you feel so dangerous and strange, shadowing your friend, avoiding prolonged eye contact. you adjust your grip on this glass to be less likely to shatter it and to make sure the skin looks normal. god, if someone looks too hard at you, it's over. you fiddle with the skin of your hand again, trying to make it look like it sits on top of muscle instead of metal. you feel like it looks slightly worse now. fuck. the handler moves back to address you again, whoever they were talking to has finally left. [we were very lucky to be invited here, the networking opportunities are bountiful.] their tone is weird as hell because their primary objective is to spill nothing, to not give away any valuable information. neither of you know how much data is being collected and from where. you have a nonzero amount of data storage and processing tech in your brain and chest which is why you need to be careful of how loudly you think about certain topics. this is so weird. this all sucks.

the handler is moving towards a table with a bunch of fragile little pastries on it and an atypical heat source underneath. it's a machine. you can't tell what it does and you don't want to risk it. you take their elbow, trying your fucking hardest to be gentle and normal, and direct them to a different table of powdery little sweets with no detectable unknowns hidden underneath. she takes some for himself and offers one to you, and you decline it. you really want to avoid having that powder texture on your hands right now. you put down the fragile little glass, and you wonder if it's bad etiquette, somehow, to not leave it on a coaster or something. you can't see where other people put their glasses when they're done. maybe they're just collected up and swept out of sight. there's someone new talking to the handler now, and they're dressed in silver and white to match the walls and the tablecloths and the long tall curtains. that's something they would do if this was their venue. they're moving with a calm confidence that supports that idea. and they're smiling in a way that might be fake? that might be what faces normally look like. that might be what their face normally looks like. you're no better at reading what a face means now then when you were a kid. that's what the handler is good at, the talking and the parties and all. you can't read her face either but that's pretty normal for an interaction like this. they're talking about, like, a trade or a sale? some sort of business endeavour. that's also pretty normal. the person in silver drifts over to the table with the pastries and the unknown device, says something about how delicious these are and offers one to the handler. technically that's normal too. you stay close to them.

[We understand that you are one of the best engineers in the world when it comes to designing for modern security concerns, and we are interested in facilitating your technological developments with our resources.]

[thank you, but I am content with my current resources, and am not looking to expand or share. my designs are all proprietary, i'm sure you understand.]

[Mmm, I do understand. And I trust that you understand that by refusing this partnership, you are turning down an opportunity to be on the cutting edge when it comes to understanding what might be used against you, what exactly you need to be secure *against*.]

and they say more but you don't really listen because they've reached behind them to pick up a device from the table that looked a bit like something to pick up food but you can see now is connected to a cable that goes down through the table. and you don't like that. you step in front of the handler just in case and yYYYYYYYYYYYYYyou are on the floor. you are injured. you are injured everywhere maybe? that doesn't make sense. your face is slick with something. it might be one of those drinks. but no, it's under your mask and it tastes like metal. so it's blood from your nose. one of your eyes is non functional. you can't tell which. that's a shame, if the attack affected either the organic or the synthetic eye but not both that would be valuable intel to learn about the nature of the attack. the attack was bad, you think. you can't really move. you feel like a plastic bag full of jello. no, pudding. in a burnt plastic bag. with holes melted into it. theyre still talking, over your head. it sounds, uhh, dramatic. like from a show. where the good guy stands up to the bad guy and something something. it's been a while since you felt this bad. you don't want to focus on that. you try to listen to what they're saying above you. above? it doesn't feel like 'up' but you're pretty sure the sound is coming from 'not the floor'. it's never a good sign when your sense of direction gets busted. urgh.

[-incorrect yet again. it isn't a tool and it isn't for sale, it's a *person* and it's my *friend*. and-]

you lose a chunk of time, you think, because next the floor is gone and that was your only tethering point and you feel like your spinning wildly and exploding or collapsing or something and in place of the floor there are hands. lots of them? more then just one pair. that's weird. but people are nice sometimes, maybe. so you've been told. you really hope you're not getting blood on any of those nice formal outfits. that would be bad. you notice the handler, talking like she knows what he's doing, like he knows how to fix this, and around the same time you notice a low anxious grating noise being made in the back of your throat. you try to remember what was installed there and you fail. you try to stop making that noise and you fail less. and now she's saying something else and addressing it directly to you and you try very hard to pay attention and you're on a floor again. no wait. a table. the repairs table in the truck. and the handler is moving at impossible speeds between all the little cables connected to your various silicon maintenance panels and the control pc. or wait. maybe they're moving normally and you're just processing things abysmally slow. hm. this seems like a disaster scenario to be honest. but there's music playing. it's from the drums and synths album that you like. it's good to count. and the more you count it the less too-fast it feels. your heart rate starts to even out. and the handler laughs from over by the computer. they say something as they turn you over to access another panel but you don't catch it. but that feels more okay now. no danger. you're still in the van, just lying on your face instead of your back now. and the handler is still here and the music you like is still playing. and you feel safe.

[sweetestlittledarling]

A Long Walk

Rating: PG

Pairing: Muriel x Lark (He/They Apprentice)

Part of @monthly-challenge 2024 | Long Walks

Summary: Every summer Muriel and Lark go on another long walk...

(Side note: this takes place in my own head Cannon of three sibling apprentices, so it mixes a bits of Julian's, Asra's and Muriel's story line all together. Trust me it's been a hell of a time working it out, but this takes place after everything)

They started out early in the morning. Inanna was ready to go as she led the way. They had a breakfast of spiced pumpkin bread Sparrow had sent along as ‘have a safe trip’ kind of thing. Lark rolled his eyes when he read the note his sister had left him in the bag with the bread. “She says don’t get into trouble,” he snorted tucking the note back into his bag as they walked, “I don’t get into that much trouble.”

              Muriel’s lips turned upwards as he spoke. “Yes, you do.”

              “Seriously, you’re taking her side?” Lark asked with a small sigh. “I gotta stop letting you hang out with her, she’s a bad influence on you.  Next thing you know she’ll have you doing research and talking about the newest plays coming out.”

              Muriel snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, as he took Lark’s hand in his.

              Lark smiled as he laced their fingers together. There was something truly magical about the forest in the early morning, with all the bird song and morning dew on the leaves. Up until a while ago Lark had never truly appreciated all these little things but with Muriel it was now easy to see. They walked in silence for a while, just enjoying the surroundings and each other.

              They made good time walking. Nadia had offered them horses, but they preferred to travel by foot. It just felt better that way. When night fell, they camped with no tent. They did their best to travel during the drier seasons, so rain wasn’t an issue. They made a fire though Lark still found himself cuddling close to Muriel with Inanna either at their feet or in Muriel’s lap with Lark. The big man made no objections, sneaking in a kiss or two to Lark’s hair as the smaller man talked. Lark had borrowed a book about the stars from the royal library, which allowed him to point out the many constellations in the night sky as well as the myths behind them. At night they lay together, Lark resting on Muriel’s chest being calmed by the sound of Muriel’s heart.

              It’s funny but the walk seems much faster than before, as it has been every time, they have taken it. The funny little in keeper knows them by name now, always having a room ready. “You boys are my best customers,” the little man jokes.

              Lark raises an eyebrow. “How many customers do you actually get around here?” He never really gets an answer which he can’t decided it that’s a good thing or not.

              The rest of the walk is pretty much though they do notice little changes here and there. Time continues on in both nature and city, with old things being torn down and new things being built. As they came to the final leg of the journey Lark paused up atop a hill, taking a moment to breathe in the air filled with the scent of forget-me-nots. Soon they can see the circles of stones, marking the resting place of Muriel’s people. Muriel is silent but his mood seems less heavy every trip, his face seems less pained. They place flowers on the graves of Muriel’s parents and Khamgali before going into Khamagli’s hut. They want to spend a few days there before heading back home. This is the long walk they make every year and one they plan to make for a long time still.