#what do you mean this country is a whole day ahead that other one close by it??? thats fucking stupid. who made it like thar

[neurotypical-sonic]

sonic can alway tell about what time it is in the mystic ruins. he doesn't really do the whole time thing, he doesn't have a consistent sleeping schedule because his circadian rhythm is permanently fucked due to him constantly travelling all around globe. time zones mean nothing to him now. but he can always estimate when abouts in the day mystic ruins is in. he will get a text from tails, and depsite it being midday for sonic, he'll immediately go "hey. isnt it like. 3am there. what are you doing up." and tails will grumble about it's not THAT late, it's only 2am. sonic's internal mystic ruins clock does not take daylight savings into account

#but i do think the watch in his communicator is always set to mystic ruins #if it changed according to the timezones he was in itd be functionally useless. #sonic can estimate what time it is locally by the sun or by the starts #and he uses mystic ruins time to base the rest of the world off #hes pretty good at remembering how far ahead or behind mystic ruins is compared to other timezones. more or less #dates‚ however‚ are fucking lost on him. cannot for the life of him remember at what point on planet the day starts and ends #what do you mean this country is a whole day ahead that other one close by it??? thats fucking stupid. who made it like thar #that #sonic #sonicposting #egg.txt

[astonmartingf]

YOUR GENTLEMAN ; LH44

— a slice of domesticity as you experience living with lewis for the first time

amgf set during the pandemic, nico rosberg mention, yay!

masterlist

Living with Lewis in Monaco definitely had its perks, but it was also coupled with drawbacks.

When you moved in, you thought it was a short stint but the few weeks turned into months, and soon you found yourself spending the whole year with him.

In the beginning you definitely found more pros than cons, living in Monaco is like a dream, especially since it was with Lewis, it only made it more special.

But as you spent more time, you found yourself growing anxious, and empty. Isolated from your family and friends, away into a foreign country, where you barely knew anyone.

"Are you sure you're okay with me going to Nico's?" You ask Lewis for the umpteenth time. Opening up last night how you felt yourself slowly going insane staying indoors. That's when Lewis suggested that you visit Nico and his family downstairs.

"I'm sure, look we've been friends since forever, and I know that you miss Nico and his family. I'm busy going to races, and you're stuck here. It's okay." Comforting your worries away, Lewis pulls you into a small hug assuring you that it's all good.

"I do miss Nico, I haven't seen him since he left you know, and you— you're both awkward together."

Lewis sends you a pointed look, "We're working on it okay, it's not like I avoid him every time I see him."

You scoff in reply, "As if you give the universe a chance for you to meet. You're always avoiding him, you literally live in the same building together."

Lewis shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with your sentiments, "You know what I'm going to walk you over to Nico's tomorrow and talk to him just to prove to you I'm not awkward with him."

"You're acting like I'm a kid handing me out on a play date! Also that's not counted since you're just going there to prove a point to yourself that you aren't affected."

Pushing a finger in front of your lips, Lewis shushed you pushing you towards your bedroom. "It's time for us to sleep, we both have a busy day ahead."

Rolling your eyes, you were met with a closed door. Following the sounds of Lewis' slippers shuffling back to his bed.

Despite being annoyed you can't find fault with him, you both had a busy day tomorrow with you spending time with the Rosberg's and Lewis with a flight to wherever the next race is.

Spending time with Nico and his family definitely boosted your mood, often forgetting about Lewis as he's constantly in and out of the country. But instead of moping in his apartment you find yourself looking forward to his arrival.

You avoid messaging Lewis during race weeks, keeping to yourself and leaving the F1 Channel playing in the background for any updates. It's nice to keep Lewis focused on the track but it also means that whatever you see on television, is all the information you have on him.

And during inadequate race conditions you're constantly stressing yourself, every yellow flag, weather update, red flag, pit stop, and other potential crashes have you on your toes.

Yet somehow, Lewis always finds a way to comfort you even if he is miles away from you. Immediately answering the radio about his updates (if he is a part of the crash) it's as if he's constantly assuring you that he is doing fine inside the car.

One time you were eating dinner after a long day with Nico's daughters, you find yourself looking forward to coming back to Lewis' apartment. Which at this point is no longer his only, it's a shared space for you two, mostly yours as you spend more time in it than him.

Cooking up something simple, you sit in solidarity finding peace in your little set up. Placing the ceramic bowl you designed with Lewis a few years back on the coffee table at the living room, instead of eating in the dining area, watching a replay of Lewis' dashboard from a previous race.

It feels like he's beside you, you find yourself listening to him as he talks with his engineers, watching his hands grip the steering wheel going lap over lap, doing what he does the best.

You end your days the same, until Lewis comes back. And it happened to be one of those days. The bell catches you off guard from taking a bite of your dinner, looking up, you find the door swing open revealing Lewis from behind.

"OH MY GOSH!" Standing up from the floor your legs stumble at the speed of your reaction. Throwing yourself at Lewis who dropped his bags at the entrance, forgotten as he wrapped his arms around yours.

"OH NO! I didn't cook dinner for you. Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" Breaking from the hug, you smack his arm scrambling to the kitchen for a last minute meal.

You hear the sound of Lewis' laughter behind, your heart warming at the sound of his presence immediately filling the empty space in the apartment. "You don't have to cook me anything, I can make myself food."

You feel Lewis behind you as you shake your head in disappointment. "That's not it, you just came home you must be starving– how about you have my meal down there in the living room. It's fried rice, it's vegan I was about to eat so it's still warm and I can make something real quick so you can rest and-"

You were cut off with Lewis feeding you a spoon of what was supposedly your dinner. "Calm down sweetheart, we can share the bowl if you really want me to eat that bad."

A frown forms on your face, deep in thought, slowly chewing the spoonful of food, before staring into Lewis' brown eyes.

Dragging him towards the living room, you push him into the sofa before grabbing the bowl of fried rice off his hands. "Are you not hungry? You don't have to eat if you're not! You know what you should sit down and rest, or do you want to take a short bath? I can-"

"I can do those things myself. You're stressing over me when I'm at races, and when I'm here you're also stressing yourself over me. You're supposed to relax." Softly grabbing your hands, Lewis pushes you next to him on the sofa.

"I can't help it you know. It's instinct at this point. When I first started living here you basically took care of me when I was feeling down, and now I'm doing the same. We need to take care of each other Lewis, I'm basically responsible for you."

Nodding slowly in agreement, Lewis grabs your hands holding it into his, "And I'm also responsible for you, which I'd like to think is more important than me. I can't have you stressed over your time here, imagine what your parents will say- God forbid, what my parents say."

You gasp, laughing at his statement, "My well being is more important? I think not, you're literally out there racing and going out- imagine Toto Wolff calling me because you're not in perfect condition."

"Then let me handle it. I doubt Toto has anything bad to say about you." Lewis mumbles under his breath, but you catch his statement.

"What would Toto Wolff know about me? What have you been talking about Lewis? I swear if you're spreading that I'm not taking care of you, I'll actually reveal to the world that you're still awkward with Nico."

Your threat seems to leave little to no effect then you expect, but at least you got him laughing.

Happy drivers mean good results.

"And you don't have to tiptoe around me, I doubt anyone has the balls to say that to my face except you- maybe Seb, but it doesn't matter. You don't have to worry about me, my racing, or my relationship with Nico."

Your eyes squint at his statement, still not believing him. His eyes meet yours, not giving up.

"Fine." You lower your gaze first.

"Let me draw you a bath though." Before Lewis could complain, you march towards the bathroom. Behind you, you hear Lewis laughing, you can see him shaking his head in disbelief.

"After that you better finish your dinner, then tomorrow we can do something together."

You smile to yourself, nodding in agreement. Despite the circumstances, you'd rather spend your time with Lewis like this. At the end of the day, even if you're miles apart from each other you will always come back to each other.

#f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton imagine

[insertdisc5]

The tumblr q&a is over, but I was curious! I love all the different phrases the characters in isat/sasasa:p use--If it's something you can say, where did inspiration for "gems alive" and other phrases come from?

THANK YOU FOR ASKING BECAUSE I GET TO TALK ABOUT WORLDBUILDING AND SWEAR WORDS AND BRANDON SANDERSON

long post ahead

ok so when I was figuring out the world, I found this lecture on worldbuilding by Brandon Sanderson (go watch it, and also go read his books), and (im gonna paraphrase heavily here) one thing he mentioned is that, to make a memorable world, one thing you can do is pick a couple areas of culture, and go real deep with it. So like, pick fashion, and architecture, and interior design, and develop those a bunch, and bam! you convinced people you have a whole dang world, even though you only developed 3 areas of this world. hollow iceberg everyone thinks is a real iceberg.

he also mentioned the idea of like... getting weird with it? and develop based on a weird detail? for example, in his book The Stormlight Archives, one detail is that women have to hide their left hand at all times. ok, so what does that mean, whats taboo about a left hand? is the left hand shameful, or lewd somehow, the same way ankles were for us? what about fashion, what does women's fashion look like? and how do you live your every day life, knowing you can't show this hand, can you carry things the same way? etc

SO, for me, one of the Big Worldbuilding pillars i picked was, uh, swear words lol. or language and common expressions, more generally. i went on a whole journey where i was like... ok swear words in a LOT of languages (including french and english, both languages i speak fluently) are either sexual, or about gross bodily discharges. you know what words i mean!!!!!

and, well, i also didnt want the game to be full of those words, mostly because i think its a tightrope to use those words without seeming cringe, and also because i have a Core Memory of showing a comic to a colleague and she said "well i wouldve liked to show it to my kids, but you said fuck 12 times in there" and i didnt show my face to her for a week. family friendly family friendly family friendly

so what swear words should my characters use, that arent the same ones we use? and could those swear words actually tell us something about the world they live in? could i actually use those swear words... to show the characters come from different cultures???

and what COULD swear words be like, if theyre not about sex or body stuff? well irl they're usually about religions or belief. "oh god", "goddamnit", etc. as a sidenote, stuff like "oh my god" or "geez" arent used, because jesus christ is not canon to the ISAT universe. alright

i decided very early on i wouldnt have those in the game either, but i COULD have them be about the religions specific to this world. and for insults, i could have them be about stuff those beliefs would see as lesser.

anyway instead of talking about "gems alive" lets talk about "crab"

isabeau+mirabelle+bonnie use "crab" as a swear word because they follow a religion all around change, bettering yourself, evolving, and, the crab meme,

for those who dont get the joke, its about carcinisation, and about how a bunch of non-crab-like forms somehow evolved to a crab-like form. which would be horrible, for a religion all based around change!!! you mean we change and evolve, but theres a chance we might all become crabs??? CRAB!!!!!!!

anyway having "crab" kinda reads as 1. swear word 2. thats funny and weird (sets the tone) 3. tells you they know what crabs are (world not that different from ours, AND means they live close-ish to the coast, aka not land locked) and 4. crabs are somehow hated/feared, even if as the player you dont get why, it shows this country has its own culture (even if you dont get the crabs joke, which uuuh apparently doesnt work as well in countries that dont have this specific meme. WHATEVER!!!!)

(a few people came to me saying "heh, i get it, because crab and crap are very similar words" and um actually i did not think about that. crab is just a funny word on its own, and also i am a comedy genius without even trying)

anyway tldr: swear words as a worldbuilding tool. soon in theaters

#in stars and time #start again start again start again #'adrienne isabeau says 'oh geez' 1 time in the prologue' #quite honestly this is a mistake and im retconning it. he said 'oh change' instead. will fix whenever i get around to making a new build #reference #also yeah canonically bonnie swears all the time #everyone has just given up and lets them curse like a sailor. bonnie has won #i added a cut but actually no you WILL read this whole post #long post

[maraschinomerry]

hi lovely, adore your writing <3 i was wondering if i could get a lucy x fem!reader where lucy thinks she’s jealous of the reader cause she always thinks the readers so pretty and it’s just a lot of pining and everyone’s trying to make lucy realise she’s in love, and then one day she sees someone flirting with r and is like oh i’m not jealous i’m gay and just a lot of fluff and things thank yoy so much <3333

Chance Encounters

Pairings: Lucy Carlyle x fem!reader

Content: oblivious flirting, pining, self-esteem issues, kissing

A/N: what a way to get back into writing, this is one of my longest fics yet! Thanks for being so patient with me, hope you enjoy it 💙

Word count: 3.8k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Lucy flopped into her seat with a stack of books and a dejected huff. "Do Fittes have a secret beauty quota for new hires or something?"

Lockwood and George both began speaking at the same time from the other side of the table - Lockwood to assure her that she'd be a shoe-in if that were the case, George to protest that Kipps would never have been hired.

The team were in the British Archives researching a particularly tough case, when Kipps and his crew strolled in with their newest member. If Lucy had thought Kat was pretty, this new girl was on a whole other level. Girls like that always got the best jobs, the most attention from boys, all the perks. It just wasn't fair.

You kept close, tucked behind Kipps' shoulder, as your team strode with far more confidence than you through the maze of shelves. You'd only joined Fittes a week ago and were still getting used to all the rules, both written and unwritten. Kat had at least warned you in advance about the odds of running into Lockwood & Co, how fierce the rivalry was between their leader and yours.

"Ah, Tony," Kipps said ahead of you, and you almost ran into him with how little you'd been concentrating.

Whatever you'd been expecting the members of the infamous agency to be like, this wasn't it. The one scowling most intensely at your colleague must be Lockwood, not the older man you'd pictured but a thin, smartly dressed teenager with bags under his eyes almost as dark as his hair. He was only accompanied by two other people, a curly haired boy who was only visible down to his glasses over the top of an enormous stack of books, and a pretty brunette girl who hadn't taken her eyes off you from the moment you walked in. Her gaze was unwavering and unreadable, and you had to resist the urge to squirm.

You tuned back in. Kipps was speaking again. "Allow me to introduce (name), one of the most prestigious agents the country has to offer." It would have been embarrassing enough had he just called you prestigious, but the way he emphasised it made you wonder if it was some kind of dig at them. You tried to shrink further behind him, cheeks growing warm.

"I'm Lucy Carlyle," the girl suddenly blurted. Her eyes widened as though she was surprised by her own actions. The boys also looked at her, a little stunned. "I mean," she fumbled, "obviously just call me Lucy. This is Lockwood and George."

Learning her name finally made it click where you'd heard of the other agency. "Oh, you solved the Annabel Ward case! I remember seeing it on the news, you're amazing!"

Kipps elbowed you without subtlety, but you didn't miss the way Lucy's face changed. It was only brief, but there was a flicker of pride and something like awe.

"I was going to say the same to you!" Clearly she hadn't noticed Kipps' reaction, nor the unusual look her boss was shooting her. "I'd give anything to have been there when you fought that Rawbones, it sounded so impressive."

"Well," Lockwood chipped in at last, "when you get fed up of Kipps you know where to find us to exchange stories and advice." The flash of a glare he shot your boss was sharp as a rapier, but he smiled warmly at you.

You returned the smile. "Either way, I'm sure we'll run into each other again."  Lucy met your eyes again, but where before she'd stared intensely, now she quickly averted her gaze. Odd. Kipps led you away before you could address the matter further.

—

Nearly two months went by without so much as a glimpse of Lockwood & Co. Part of you wondered whether Kipps was intentionally avoiding them, but you knew that was irrational - even he couldn't predict their movements all the time.

This proved true one Saturday afternoon, when you were sent on a last-minute errand to Satchell's. Your team was out of flares, Kat had said, and Fittes wouldn't get an official restock until Monday. Armed with your rapier, a wad of petty cash, and firm instructions not to return empty handed, you hailed a cab across town. It was a pleasant enough day, but you didn't much feel like walking. Best to get the supplies and get back to whichever task Kipps no doubt had lined up for you next.

Kipps wasn't a bad team leader, not by any stretch of the imagination. He was fair, mucking in on tasks and never asking anyone to do something he wouldn't be willing to do himself, and caring enough to always check in after a case. Nonetheless, it was clear this rivalry with the other agency had had an impact on him and made him so desperate to push himself, and by extension his team, to higher and higher standards. Frankly, it was a little exhausting.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realise you were running on autopilot until you reached for the handle to Satchell's door and another hand came to rest over yours. A streak of blue appeared in the corner of your eye, and you looked up to see a familiar brunette.

"Lucy, hi!"

The other girl jumped a little. "Oh, (name) I'm so sorry, I was in my own world there." You waved the apology away with your free hand, glancing briefly at the other under hers. She noticed, following your gaze, and quickly snatched hers back with a nervous chuckle. No longer at risk of accidentally smacking her with the door, you opened it and gestured for her to go ahead. She stepped in, reaching back to hold it open from within for you.

Inside was a maze of weaponry. Shelves upon shelves of neat packaging stamped with the Satchell's logo; you recognised many of them, of course, salt bombs and Greek fire and lavender water, but there didn't seem to be much logic to how they were laid out. Turning one corner brought you face to face with floor-to-ceiling silver-glass. Where did you start?

You'd frozen on the spot, and Lucy was a little way ahead of you before she faltered. She must have realised you were no longer behind her.

"Everything okay?"

You nodded unconvincingly. "Fine, I just… haven't actually been in here before."

"Oh, it's easy enough to find your way around once you know. They sort of organise by intensity so you can't get someone popping in the door and making off with an armful of bomb flares." You both giggled at the thought. "But, um, I can show you around a bit if you know what you're looking for?"

You felt your smile ignite, but she continued hurriedly without noticing. "Only if you want, I mean, the staff are super helpful here and they probably know more than me. Not that you can't figure it out on your own, you seem like one of those cool independent types so-"

Finally, you cut her off with a gentle hand on her arm. She stopped talking instantly, like you'd managed to find a secret 'off' switch, and actually looked as though she'd short-circuited entirely. Cautiously, shyly, you slid your hand down and through until your arm was linked with hers. 'Off' no longer pressed, she sprung back to life with a fierce blush.

As Lucy led you round the shop, she chatted away about the different types of defences on offer. She’d taken you to the flares you were looking for first, of course, but when you made no move to leave she took you along to gather her own supplies. She’d seemed so jittery at first, you almost worried she was uncomfortable having you there, but the more she spoke about her experience making her own salt bombs and the run-in she had with a bunch of ghostly monks and a bomb flare, the more confident she became. Something about seeing her so in her element helped you to relax as well. It broke the ice.

“So what’s it like at Lockwood and Co?” you asked eventually. You’d been curious about the other agency ever since that first meeting - nothing about them had been expected, and you wondered if maybe the impression Kipps had given was more biased than you thought.

Lucy glanced at you, arm deep in a shelf stocked to the brim with vials of lavender water (they stock from the back, she’d advised, so the fresh ones are the hardest to reach). She hadn’t expected the question, but the answer came naturally. “Great, actually. I came to London hoping to get in with one of the big agencies like Fittes, but I didn’t have any of the right papers so I ended up there as sort of a last resort. It was difficult to get used to at first, they’re not exactly by-the-book as you’ve probably heard from Kipps, but now I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Lockwood and George are like family.”

The final part hit you like a ton of bricks. That was what you’d felt missing in your team. They were all good people and had quickly grown to be your friends, but they didn’t feel like family. Fittes didn’t feel like home. And here was this girl, who before today had barely had a full conversation with you, guiding you round the shop like it was nothing and telling you how this funny little agency was just that. Home. A weight you didn’t even realise you’d been carrying shifted, working its way up from the pit in your stomach to your chest where it settled, resolute yet comforting.

You realised you were now the one staring when Lucy waved a fistful of vials at you. “I think that’s me sorted,” she nodded to the smartly dressed man at the till. You picked up your basket of flares from the ground, wrapping your other hand around the wad of cash in your pocket, and followed her lead.

—

The rosy hues of evening were beginning to drift across the sky when the two of you emerged onto the high street. You hadn’t realised how long it had been; Kipps would be wondering where you were. The weight in your chest and the smile on your face told you that you didn’t much care. Now that the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees it was much more pleasant, and a gentle breeze ruffled your hair, carrying a soft floral scent. There were no flowers nearby, and you wondered whether it came from the girl beside you. It was lovely, whatever it was.

“Thanks again Lucy, I’d still be lost in the first set of shelves if it wasn’t for you.” The laugh that got from her was as fresh as the breeze, and you couldn’t help but smile wider. It gave you the courage to continue and ask, “Could I walk you home?”

Lucy frowned, and you worried it was too forward. You’ve only met her twice, for goodness sake. “Isn’t Fittes the other way? I don’t want to drag you all the way across town for no reason.”

That was hopeful - she wasn’t concerned about your intentions but for your wellbeing. “I don’t really want to head back just yet,” you admitted. “Besides, you’ve got more bags than me, the least I can do is give you a hand after all your help in there.” She tried to protest, but you held out a hand and with some reluctance she handed one over until you had two each. “There’s something I need to ask Lockwood too, so…”

This was turning out to be a day full of surprises, because you couldn’t possibly have predicted what Lucy said next. “Oh, he’s single, if that’s what you want to know.”

All the breath in your chest rushed out at once, the weight pressing hard on your lungs. “What?”

Your shock was mirrored on her face. “I just… after you were both talking about meeting again in the Archives… and since he’s a bit of a charmer and you’re gorgeous, I figured-” The words died in her her throat as the blush returned, this time reaching up to the tip of her ears and down past the collar of her playsuit.

You fought to keep your smile from breaking into a full-blown grin. The poor girl looked like she wanted nothing more than for the pavement to open up and swallow her whole, and while it was so tempting to tease her a little and see how far that blush could spread you resisted. Plenty of time for that, if you’d read things right. For now, you gave a light chuckle. “Thanks, but I don’t think I’ve been charmed by him.” You tried your best to give the right amount of emphasis on the fact it wasn’t by him, but it didn’t seem to help. Maybe you’d misunderstood. You hoped not. Maybe she was just embarrassed and not thinking about it properly. At any rate, she didn’t shy away when you tucked in close for the walk back.

—

Lucy paced anxiously through the library. George was curled in one of the armchairs with a comic; you and Lockwood were away in the living room, discussing goodness knows what. She hadn’t dared to ask any further on the walk home. She’d eventually plucked up the nerve to talk to you again after what she’d said (why on earth had she said it in the first place, she wondered) and found you to be so easy to talk to. You’d told her about life at Fittes, she’d told you about life in Portland Row. It sounded fun, chaotic at times but in a good way.

“Will you please sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet,” George groaned. Lucy sighed dramatically, but obeyed and slumped into the other chair. The lamplight cast unusual shadows across her face - it was well into the evening now, curfew had descended, so clearly whatever you had to discuss was of vital importance or you’d have gone back to Fittes by now.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

George didn’t look up. “I really couldn’t say, I don’t know her well enough.”

“Exactly, and Lockwood doesn’t know her very well either, so if she is trying to ask him out then-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” George interrupted, dropping his comic with uncharacteristic urgency. “You really think that’s why she’s here?” He studied Lucy for a moment - the way she kept glancing at the door like she expected them to walk in hand in hand, the way her index finger tapped rapidly where her hand rested on the arm of the chair, the way her lip wasn’t curled with disgust or outrage but quivering with upset. “Oh my god, you’re jealous!”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Obviously I’m jealous, George. I know what it’s like with girls like her, they’re always one step ahead or one move beyond me. Just because they’re pretty it means they get everything.”

George’s comic was thoroughly neglected now, this was far more interesting. He had his suspicions about why she was reacting like this, but knew her well enough that he couldn’t just come out and say them or she’d deny it. She had to realise for herself. “Riiight, you’re jealous that she gets Lockwood and you don’t.”

Her nose wrinkled, the first confirmation of his theory. “Ew, no. He’s like my brother. I just don’t think it’s fair, is all. She’s been so sweet all day but as soon as there’s a better option I fade into the background again.”

Second and third confirmation: Lucy thought you were sweet (and he remembered she’d said pretty before, a fourth point on the tally) and, whether she realised it or not, had just called herself an option. George was getting more certain by the minute. God, as much as it hurt seeing her think so low of herself, he had to admit it was amusing trying to make her see that perhaps the ‘better option’ was the person you’d gushed over and pointedly said you hoped to see again and whose arm you’d been hanging off the whole afternoon, not the person you’d barely said five words to. “Got it, so you’re just jealous on principle, not of her specifically.”

“Right!” she said confidently.

“And it's nothing to do with you having feelings?”

“Right,” she said less confidently.

George didn’t say another word, just pushed himself up from the armchair and left the room.

Five minutes later, he returned with Lockwood in tow. The taller boy didn’t fully enter the library, just leaned round the door with an excitable twinkle in his eye.

“Ah, Luce, I was just about to give (name) a demonstration of the training area, if you want to come and help? I’m not sure her mind’s really on training at the moment.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, but Lucy only looked more disappointed than ever.

George grumbled under his breath, low enough that Lucy wouldn’t hear. “Is that your best attempt at acting coy?”

“Coy?” Lockwood hissed back. “I thought I was helping her realise that (name)’s crush isn’t on me, it’s on h-” A sharp elbow in his side cut him off. He returned to normal volume. “Anyway, she’s also going to stay over tonight, if you’re okay sharing your bed? Or I can always put her in-”

Lucy shot up. “No, no, I can share.” Her gaze flickered to George, who gave her a triumphantly smug grin. “And don’t worry about the training, I’ll go with her.” Lockwood matched the other boy’s grin, and ducked out again.

George made his way back to the armchair, Lucy’s eyes following him the whole way. Her expression was a conflicted mess - irritation at proving him right, amazement at her newly discovered feelings, worry and hope all blended together.

“So you were jealous that she might like Lockwood, but not for the reason you thought?” he asked gently. It wasn’t you she was jealous of, seeming to get his attention, but him for getting yours.

She shook her head, tears beginning to well as her lower lip wobbled. “Okay fine, you win, I have feelings! Still doesn’t change the fact she went straight for him. She doesn't like me the way… the way I like her.”

There was no more amusement to be had from this, and it broke George’s heart to see one of his closest friends so upset. He stood and pulled her into a hug, feeling her sniffle into his shoulder. “You know it was you she was talking to when she said about running into us again, right?” Lucy pulled back and looked at him incredulously, puffy cheeks bearing the telltale streaks of tears. She reached up and wiped them away vigorously with her cuffs. “And when Lockwood said she’s too distracted to train it’s not because she’s flirting with him, it’s because she didn’t shut up about you the whole time she was asking to join the agency.” Immediately, Lucy stopped scrubbing at her face. In fact, she stopped crying all together.

“She what?”

“Something about you showing her how much she was missing having a family, and she wants to be part of yours. And she has a bag of flares which technically she’s now stolen from Kipps to sweeten the deal, if you’ll have her. Lockwood said it’s your call.”

Lucy’s frantic rubbing resumed, trying to erase any evidence of her crying even as she hastily made her way to the door. George called after her, “Does this mean you finally acknowledge that I’m always right?” He laughed at the chain of expletives he got in response.

—

You were alone in the basement, admiring the collection of rapiers and trying not to overthink what was taking Lockwood so long, when Lucy came barrelling down the stairs. She skidded to a halt in front of you, breathing heavily and as flushed as she had been earlier.

“You were flirting with me?!” she gasped.

“I… yes?”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“That’s generally how flirting works, love.” Her face grew redder at the pet name. “You only just realised?”

She cast her eyes upwards. “George helped. I thought you were just being nice to get to Lockwood.”

“I told you it wasn’t him I was charmed by.” You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She folded willingly into you, burying her incredibly warm face in the front of your blouse. The heat sparked something in your chest.

“You didn’t say it like that!” she whined.

“Well you know what I just realised?”

“What?”

“How cute you are when you’re flustered.”

“Really?” Her hands ran slowly down your back, coming to rest on your waist, and her eyes met yours before gliding down to your lips.

“No, of course not - I realised in the Archives.”

She smiled shyly, melting your heart even more. “I can’t believe you think I’m cute.”

You dragged her even closer, reaching up to boop her nose which made her scrunch her whole face up in the most adorable way. Your hand continued to the back of her neck, gently bringing her face towards yours. Perhaps you could make her even more flustered.

Lucy had other ideas. Her hands on your waist gripped tightly as she bounced up to meet you, lips soft and sweet yet firm and passionate. Her intensity took your breath away, and you felt your knees buckle. She held you strong, backing you up against the wall for support. You gasped a little into the kiss, trying to regain some air, and she did the same when your hand wound its way into her hair. When you both ran out of ways to breathe, you broke apart, but her hand found yours and yours never left her waist.

“Kipps is going to be absolutely fuming when he hears about all this,” she murmured with a grin.

“Oh trust me, I can’t wait to tell him myself. I quit, I’ve joined a better agency, and I get to be with one of the most amazing agents - one of the most amazing people - I've ever met.”

“I could say the same.” She puffed up her chest, pulled a face and lowered her voice in a silly impression of your now-former boss. “Allow me to introduce (name), one of the most prestigious agents in the country and my girlfriend… if you want to be?” Her voice returned to normal and she bit her lip nervously.

“There’s nothing I’d want more,” you smiled as you leant in to kiss her again.

#lockwood & co x reader #lucy carlyle x reader #lucy carlyle #fem!reader #save lockwood and co #lockwood & co fic

[stormblessed95]

Here to tell the whole world to stop living through some rom-com style, heteronormative fantasy of Jikook. Last night’s live seems to be such a big deal for so many of you and I am here like, buddy?? You all really thought ,one fine day, JK would wake up and be like, my ring finger has JM on it, as in JIMIN??? If they are in fact a couple, there’s simply no way they will come out any time soon, if at all. Jk is 25, he’s very successful, but he’s still very young with at least two decades of career ahead. JM is just 27, known as the idol’s idol, pretty much acknowledged as a role model for the idol space. They live in Korea, and the current regime is anything but pro LGBTQIA+. As many sus moments as we have seen, they are still in the CLOSET, if they are intact together? They aren’t gonna kiss each other in public and make it official you no? At least not for the foreseeable future.

I can’t emphasise this enough- it may seem all sunshine and rainbows, because we all are wearing tinted glasses, but being queer in a queerphobic country with cameras on you 24*7 isn’t even remotely fun. It’s even harder if you have images to live up to and roles to play. As someone who has been living in Asia, I can promise you, the tables would turn so fast if they even approach the subject. They were just recently Busan expo ambassadors? You know that means practically having supremely close connections with the government? Their families, the communities they are a part of, the group, the company, everyone would have to face such strong repercussions. I am a nobody and my nonhet sexuality is a nightmare to navigate. I have lost friends and families over it. Imagine doing that while being hella popular?

Just wish them happiness and move on. If they are together, they are. We have no control over it, only over the narrative. Please just please don’t expect a mega coming of age film. It’s embarrassing. We have no right to be hurt because he said what he said. Either it is the truth or he’s trying to protect something. Either ways, respect it. Also, they are K-pop artists after all, of course they are very globally renowned, but after all they are K-pop stars. Their narratives, their medium, their stories, we will never have first hand access to. We are seeing them through a tunnel, because we just don’t have access to many things. For instance, JM is so so popular in SK and many other Asian countries and pretty much receives endless love. Like the culture minister of the country says “everyone knows JIMIN”. He isn’t tortured or tired, he’s very loved and he knows it. JK just because first Korean artist to perform at WC, he’s made the country very proud. We see them as these characters in this world, they aren’t. They are full people, with agency. Let them do what they want to. Twitter is vile and bullies playground. But that doesn’t make it a reality. They get hate, and they probs see it. But they also get love and know it.

Meant to post this yesterday. Sorry I'm late anon. Jikook distracted me 🥰

#jikook #kookmin

[flowersforjude]

𝐈 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Elvis x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | With the news of Elvis leaving for the army, he decides to take a leap of faith and ask you a question that’s been on his mind for a while.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,391

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Some angst but the fluff far outweighs it. Everyone’s in their feels. Little bit of crying from both parties. I think that’s it?

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Oh, to have E propose to you. *Dreamy Sigh*

masterlist | read on ao3

“The army?” Your voice was quiet, but the crack it made was blaring. You gazed ahead as Elvis closed the bedroom door behind himself. He agitatedly rubbed his hands down his face. The conversation downstairs had been tense, and the feeling still hung in the air. You didn’t know what to say. The thought of your boy going away to another country for two whole years made a pit form in your stomach. Elvis’ poor mama hadn’t taken the news well either, and you could still dimly hear her going on in the living room.

“I don’t like the thought of leaving home either. This whole thing is ‘bout to make me sick.” Elvis still stood with his back against the door, and you could see the war going on in his mind. He was no doubt running over his decisions that landed him here. Whether or not he did the right thing, blaming himself for the pain he was putting his parents and you through by him having to go away. You could see all of it passing over his hazy, unfocused eyes. You hated seeing him so distraught, and you knew the sorrowful expression on your face wasn’t helping. But you couldn’t imagine even trying to look like anything else right now.

The longer you sat there, allowing your mind to wander through all the horrible thoughts, the harder it was to keep your emotions in check. What if Elvis met someone else while he was gone? What if he decided he didn’t need you anymore? You didn’t even attempt to stop the first tear that fell and the others that followed.

“Oh, sweetness.” Elvis said when he noticed your sniffles. He was quick to stride over to the bed and draw you to his chest. He let you cry into his shirt until your hiccups slowed down. He tilted your face up with a slender finger to your chin. “Dry those tears, pretty girl, or you're gonna make me start bawlin’ too.”

You sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. I should be the one comforting you,” you apologized.

“Come on, sweetness, don’t do that to yourself.” He sighed as he wiped away the tear stains on your cheeks. “We’re both allowed to be upset.” Elvis rested his chin on the top of your head. You two sat there for a long moment, just soaking up each other's presence. Your boy’s nimble fingers ran through your hair as yours clutched his shirtfront.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” Elvis spoke after a long silence.

You pulled away and gazed up at him in confusion. “What on earth are you sorry for, baby?”

“For dragging you into all this mess.”

You chuckled slightly, and before Elvis could say anything else, you moved back farther so you could look him in the eyes. “I chose to be a part of this when I chose you, and I’m so glad I did. Even if it means I have to learn how to go two years without seeing you every day. I love you, and a little distance isn’t going to change that.”

“I know you love me, but…” He trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts. “Well, it’s just that you didn’t sign up for this. What if, in a few months or a year, you finally have enough and decide you're done waiting?”

You fought off a grin as he said that. If only he knew you were having similar thoughts.

“Elvis, I could never leave you. Yes, these two years are going to be torture, but I would never think about abandoning you.” When you still saw uncertainty in his blue eyes, you moved so that you were sitting in his lap. You wrap an arm around his neck and bring him incredibly close to you, chest to chest. "You're the love of my life. You're it for me, E."

The truth of your words struck you somewhere deep. Of course you’ve always known Elvis was your soulmate. You were well aware of that even before you two had started seeing each other. With his departure looming overhead, though, saying those words out loud seemed to have a new meaning for you. This man truly was your life. You were meant to be by his side, and he by yours.

Elvis’ voice draws you from the depths of your mind. “What if it didn’t have to be torture?” His eyes bore into yours with the question.

“What do you mean?” You ask, puzzled.

Elvis licked his lips nervously, and his hand on your back started to trace anxious shapes along your spine. He took a deep, slightly trembling breath and moved you off his lap. He stood suddenly, and you couldn’t keep the concerned look off your face.

“Elvis, what-”

He got down on both knees and took your hands in his, cutting off the question rising from your lips.

“Y/N, I love you so much. Sometimes it’s painful how much I love you. It makes me just ache inside. The thought of the possibility you might not be mine someday sends me into a panic.”

He smiled and shook his head. His thoughts were going a mile a minute as he tried to find the right words to say. The right way to ask you what he’d been thinking for a long time. His going away to Germany just helped give him the shove forward he needed.

“Since the first day we met, when you quite literally knocked me off my feet on the sidewalk, I haven’t been able to think about anyone else. You took over my mind. You were a glowing star so bright, I couldn’t see anything else. You’re all there is and all there ever will be.”

You didn’t know where this love speech was going, but the tears of sadness you were crying before turned into happy, heartfelt tears from hearing your boy speak so beautifully about his love for you. You wanted to grab his face in your hands and plant a kiss right on his plush lips. But you could tell he still had more to say, so you held in your urges.

“You were an angel sent from above. You were an ethereal vision of a girl, and I’ve never been able to get enough of you. I never will. So, with me leaving and all, I wanna ask you to be mine forever. So you can come with me when I leave if you want.”

Your pulse picked up at the implication of his words. You watched him shift from kneeling on both knees to one.

“Will you marry me, Y/N?”

Elvis looked at you with such devotion and adoration that your breath got caught in your throat. You always thought he was the most beautiful man there was, sometimes on an unfair level, but the look he had on his face was breathtaking. All his love for you was right on the surface. It made his eyes sparkle with such life, and the blush on his cheeks made him look all the more romantic.

You realized you were taking too long to answer when he started to mumble something about there being no ring.

“Yes!” You cried. “Of course I’ll marry you, E. And I would love to go to Germany with you.”

“You mean it?” He asked just to make sure he’d heard you right. He couldn’t actually believe you’d just said yes. When you were just looking at him wide-eyed with your pretty pink lips slightly parted in shock, he feared you’d reject him.

“You're damn right, I mean it.” You laughed, and he couldn't help but mimic you.

Your giggles quickly went silent as the two of you took a moment to process that you were engaged now. You’d have to tell your parents. That was definitely going to be interesting. They loved Elvis, and you knew they were holding out hope that you two would get married. But this was all so sudden, and that part about you moving to another country for two years might not go over as well as you hoped.

“Hey.” Elvis nudges his nose with yours. “Stop thinkin’ so much, sweetness. Everything’ll be alright.”

You sighed and nodded your head in agreement. “As long as I’m with you, E, everything is always alright.”

I don't know how I feel about the ending, but oh well. Hope you all enjoy! <3

#austin butler #austin butler elvis #austin elvis imagine #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis movie #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvisaaronpresley #elvis 2022

[kisskiss-slashslash]

A Texas Hitchhiker Part1

Nubbins Sawyer x Reader

Warnings: None

You decided to help a hitchhiker you meet in the middle of Texas.

_______

Long car journeys were the worst. Especially if you were driving, which you were in this case, since you were alone.

Your trip had thus far been fairly uneventful. Maybe too uneventful. The never changing scenery going by was starting to lull you into half-sleep, which was never a good thing while you were operating several tons of metal propelled forward by explosions.

Finally, a slight change in your sorroundings jostled your mind awake. A hundred yards or so ahead, a lone hitchhiker stood by the side of the road, eagerly shaking his raised thumb to get your attention.

What you were about to do was spectacularly reckless. Picking up hitchhikers while alone was just begging for trouble. But damn, it was a blazing hot day and the guy looked like he had been there a while. And he was cute, too, in a slightly disconcerting way. So you stopped and cranked down the window. "Where to?"

He gave you a toothy, slightly unhinged looking grin, opened the door and plopped himself into the passenger's seat. "Home. I'll tell you where to go. My brothers may even invite you in for dinner for helping me."

"Sounds good."

You set the car in motion again.

"Soooo", you began slowly. "What were you doing all the way out here?"

"I was at the old slaughterhouse. My brother used to work there, and my grandpa too. Whole family comes from meat, y'see?"

"So you work there?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Never got as good as grandpa though."

"Guess he gave you a lot to live up to, hm?"

"Yeah", he replied.

You drove on for a while, always feeling the gaze of your new co-pilot on you. Suddenly, you heard the click of a camera and turned around, only to see him catch a polaroid in his hand.

He gave you another insane looking grin and showed you the photo. "It's a good picture. I'll let you keep it for $2."

You chuckled. This guy was obviously a complete weirdo but you couldn't help but find that endearing. "How about $4 for a picture of both of us?" If you somehow survived this encounter, it would be a fun memento.

He seemed completely taken aback by that. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. Then his eyes lit up. "Yeah. Yeah, why not." He turned away from you and positioned the camera so the image would show you both.

He handed the picture over to you once it came out of the camera. With one hand, you dug through your pocket for the money you promised him.

Again, there was a short moment of silence between you.

"By the way. I don't think I asked for your name yet."

"Nubbins", he said. "Nubbins Sawyer."

"That's cute", you said without thinking.

Again, he looked at you like *you* were the weird one here. "Heh. Been a while since someone called me cute."

"Can't imagine why."

After a long while of light banter, he finally said:"My house is over there."

"Alright then." You drove up the dirt road to a nice little country house. "Was nice meeting you, Nubbins."

"Yeah." He seemed suddenly hesitant. "Was nice meeting you too." While he got out of the car, he kept looking from the house to you and back. Then, seemingly having come to a decision, he spoke once more. "Ah rats, I think my brothers aren't even home yet. Guess there won't be a dinner for you. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's fine", you told him. "Your company was payment enough. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime. Goodbye."

You drove off again, seeing Nubbins' reflection in the rearview mirror, looking at your retreating form until he was out of sight.

You didn't know the full meaning of what just happened. And you wouldn't find out until much later, how your kindness towards him had just both saved and changed your life.

#nubbins x reader #nubbins sawyer #slasher x reader #I just watched the first TCM and damn Nubbins deserves more love

[practically-an-x-man]

4, 8, 9, 11, 14, 18, 23 for Gia and Eris

Thank you!! Dude you're seriously my saving grace on this, I've been waiting all night to get asks for this one :D

OC Ask Game Time

4) What color or colors do you most associate with your OC?

Eris: Gold, ochre, crimson, and cobalt - the sorts of colors you'd see in ancient paints, historical signs of power, and the color of blood

Gia: Clover green, of course, but also a soft tulip pink and perhaps an earthy brown. Life, growth, new beginnings.

8) Greatest strength and greatest flaw about your OC?

Eris: Their greatest strength is their resilience. Above everything else, he will push through the struggles and survive. His greatest flaw is probably their emotional constipation, since it both damages the social bonds she does have and prevents them from making those connections in the first place.

Gia: Her greatest strength is her kindness. She's one of those people who's been through hell and never ever shows it, she's always got a kind word and a couch to crash on for those that need it. Her greatest flaw is her timidity - she's afraid of being crushed by life again, so she doesn't ever take risks, she lives by the same routine day-in and day-out.

9) What is your OC’s greatest wish/dream/goals?

Eris: Doesn't have a lot of long-running dreams or hopes, they really tend to take life as it comes and not worry much about what could be. If he's got one larger goal, it's to eventually abolish all human slavery in the world (through any, and she means any, means necessary). If they've got a smaller goal, it's to make their life with Rick as long and pleasant as they can while he's still around.

Gia: She just wants to live a normal life, and to put all this HYDRA business behind her. Her aspirations are mostly limited to keeping her shop comfortably afloat (perhaps to the point that she can hire someone to keep things running when the clover goes through a rough patch and she gets sick) and having enough left over for coffee and new books and maybe a few Broadway tickets.

11) What actor or voice actor do you see best playing as your OC?

Eris: I'm still torn between May Calamawy and Alia Shawkat, I like May's overall look a little better (and she'd get those fight scenes right for sure) but Alia has the freckles and I really see Eris with freckles like that

Gia: Zyra Gorecki! She's an amputee in real life, and she's got the right look for Gia outside that too

14) What about any siblings, do they have any and is their relationship good?

Eris: Doesn't have any "siblings" per say, but Diana/Wonder Woman is a bit like a cousin. She's always been seen as the golden child, always fighting for the good of humanity and all that, and Eris just tends to avoid her as much as he can. They don't really think about her all that much, but they do get annoyed to be compared to her. It's the one competition he's never been able to get ahead in, Diana will always be the better hero even if Eris ends up making more of a difference in the world as a whole.

Gia: I didn't imagine her with any siblings at first, but this question has got me thinking about it a little more... I could see her with an older sibling, maybe - they were close growing up, and the sibling set off for their big aspirations about the time Gia ended up in HYDRA, sibling thought she died and she was afraid to reconnect because so much had changed... I guess I'm seeing it a bit like your Siv and Esme dynamic. I need to think more on it, work out all the details.

18) What is your OC’s greatest fear?

Eris: I think they are genuinely, irrevocably terrified of time and don't even realize it. I mean, think about it - he leaves one country for another, comes back after what feels like only a few years to find that everyone she knew is dead, the cities don't look the same, the rules are different and they can never go back to what they remember.

So they leave that place... and every other place is like that. All they can do is bounce around in this same dance - so they're drawn to war because bloodshed is always the same, except then it's not, then there are guns and drones and battles fought through computers and the art of war is just another memory.

The only place that could ever be constant is Themyscira, and he doesn't want to go back there. It's both better and worse once he meets Rick: she's perpetually reminded of how fleeting time is, with his human lifespan, yet is encouraged to appreciate each individual day and year more than they did before (which lessens the feeling of time slipping away from them)

Gia: She's terrified of death, plain and simple. She came close to death too many times in HYDRA, and having her life force separated from her feels oddly more vulnerable than having it tied to her body - it's one thing to know that any car accident or stray bullet could end her life, it's another to think that someone could burn down her flower shop when she's not even home, and leave her screaming like she's on fire in the middle of the grocery store. It takes a lot to convince her to leave her shop at all, especially for longer than a few hours, since she's so afraid of something happening to her clover.

23) Is your OC religious and what religion? If it’s a fictional religion for your story please give a summary of the core teachings of their faith?

Eris: Grew up on Themyscira, which I suppose is somewhere between Ancient Greek and Modern Hellenistic, but has a general knowledge of most of the world's religions. She doesn't actively believe in any real higher power herself, but she's got a bit of an academic appreciation for how different parts of the world see religion.

Gia: This is another thing I'm torn about - I see her growing up in a highly academic, scientific family, which is part of how she ends up getting into HYDRA, so I don't feel like she'd grow up around religion. But I also think it could be interesting if she is religious, at least as an adult.... with nothing else to do while stuck in HYDRA, she found herself praying for her life, and surviving where the other test subjects died felt to her like a divine forgiveness. I think she'd have a very complicated grasp on religion, and I think it could be really fun to explore, but since I'm not religious myself I still need to try and work out all the kinks first

#my friends!!! #answered asks #ask game #my ocs #oc eris #gia pantazis

[hell-much]

Once In A Lifetime - Chapter 5

Pairing: Sansa Stark / Margaery Tyrell Rating: Explicit Summary: On a farm, in the far north of Westeros the path of Sansa Stark’s future seems destined. The four days in the summer of 1973, when her husband and kids are away, promise to be no different than any other day.  Yet, when photographer Margaery Tyrell, happens to turn into the Stark farm and asks Sansa for directions, everything changes.  Soon  Sansa finds herself faced with an unexpected fork in the road, and a love that causes her to question everything she had come to expect from  life. A love that happens just once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky.

…

Shaking her head, Margaery drops back in her seat and fishes for her cigarettes in the middle console, taking the last one out of the pack. “I’m usually a better driver than that, you know.”

“I believe you.”

The empty cigarette pack lands crumbled next to Sansa’s feet, and lets her spot the thermos lid. As she bends down to pick it up, she hears the rasp of a lighter and a deep inhale.

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not,” Sansa returns, screwing the lid back. A small smile plays at her lips at the way Margaery’s posture slumps with that first drag. Somehow, with her eyes closed and her head tilted back, she manages to make even that look graceful. “You drive through the entire country by yourself, so you can’t be that bad of a driver.”

A sly smirk builds on Margaery’s lips. “If you think that’s impressive remind me to tell you about the car I took through Essos where the reverse was broken.”

Sansa chuckles. “What?”

Rolling down the window, Margaery nods and inhales once more. “It was so annoying. The worst was getting off the ferry. It was one of those you back out off.”

“So what did you do?”

Shrugging Margaery holds the glowing cigarette out and Sansa ignores the instinct to tell her, that it’s too early for her. “Popped open a few buttons on my shirt and found myself a guy who pushed it off the ferry for me.”

“You’re kidding.” As she brings the cigarette to her lips, she finds the filter is slightly damp. It feels strangely intimate, and adds to the lightheaded feeling that comes with smoking on an empty stomach. It’s as if their lips just touched. With that thought, she tears her eyes away from Margaery. “That’s not very feminist of you.”

“What does that have to do with feminism?”

Sansa takes another deep drag to delay having to answer. That’s what you get for saying words just to fill a silence. She’s still caught up in that last train of thought. Her stomach feels queasy and as much as she would like to blame it on the cigarette, she has to admit that it isn’t that. “I don’t know. You could have pushed the car yourself?”

In passing the cigarette back, Margaery bestows her with a slightly patronising look. “Just because you are able to do something on your own, doesn’t mean you should do it.”

Sansa hums and wraps an arm around her middle, staring ahead, where the light cone illuminates the dark road. 

“You disagree?” Margaery probes.

“No. I just wish someone would have told me that ten years ago.”

“Well, now you know. Better late than never.”

Sansa isn’t sure how true that is.

Her hand trembles slightly when accepting the cigarette one more time. Wrapping her lips around the filter she takes a consciously slow and deep drag. It takes everything not to wonder why the simple and harmless act of sharing a cigarette churns her this much. Why, when Margaery puts the cigarette out in the ashtray, part of her wishes they’d have another one, and could repeat the whole thing right away.

...

[READ CHAPTER ON AO3] [READ FROM THE BEGINNING]

#sansaery #sansa x margaery #bridges au #the chapter that tortured me beyond believe

[quincyhorst]

(Scrapped Tweet Thread)

This was meant to be on my own HC tag only but I decided to post it on the main Ina11 tag too bc I feel like this isn't talked enough imo. So, hi.

So just to clarify, all my Rose Griffon headcanons are set on FFI!Ogre universe, unlike the other teams (which are more inspired by the anime). Mainly because I wanted to expand on the specific Ogre vs RG match and the outcome it left in-universe. Plus being fair, I personally find slightly more interesting than just getting humiliated by all other Block B teams.

Another reason why? It is a good source of angst.

(Long post + Headcanon ahead)

First off I want to clarify something: On the game, it is shown that Ogre inflitrates on the FFI tournament, defeating Rose Griffon by 36 goals (I'm still unsure what team were they replacing in this match, and since I don't own IE3 I cannot confirm) and things got so bad that the french players had to leave themselves. Either way, after Inazuma Japan and Canon defeat them, they leave the timeline, but at the cost of deleting any of their trace in people's memories. So this leaves a question, what about the match? If Ogre gets memory holed from the entire FFI, are those 36 goals attributed to anyone else? Or do the match results change to suit the original timeline better?

For this scenario's sake, we'll make it so Ogre modified everybody's memories and perception, and took one team's spot for this occasion. When they left the timeline, they changed the match as said country made those goals instead. But unfortunately the damage was still done, France got destroyed by something they couldn't remember anymore, just vague memories and feelings that haunt them deep inside.

But you know how to make this worse? Remember, Rose Griffon is a national selection, meaning they were under the constant pressure of representing a whole country. But, what happens when at the last second, you get bombarded with such horrendous result?

The Rose Griffon kids must have had it hard, specially after getting labeled "the worst FFI team". Imagine returning home with your teammates, and for the next days, weeks and months all the press talks about is an international humiliation that you couldn't do anything about; and you can't actually process how or why it happened.

And this is all about being a regular player. NOW, imagine BEING THE ACTUAL GOALKEEPER. Because remember, in the match's cutscene THERE WAS NO SWITCHING. Ladji Parra stood in the goal during the entirety of the match, even when it ended.

When you come back home, your name appears everywhere. All over the newspapers, all over the TV, the web, your image as a soccer player overall gets ruined forever. Nobody wants to have you around, as you became a nationwide symbol of shame and humilliation. From now on, you will forever be known as the goalkeeper that failed 36 times, who knows if you'll ever get rid of that stain as time goes on.

...Now, this got rather sad, so let's add here something more uplifting: If there was something actually good that came from the Ogre match and that dreaded FFI, is that after it all ended, the Rose Griffon players started to rely deeply in one another for support. They were all put on the same situation and negative public image, so if nobody else was going to support them, why not work together? It wasn't easy at first, given some members even refused to communicate at first (I think you know who I'm referring to), but no matter what, they eventually came back and all stood together.

And by also reaching out constantly they managed to strengthen their bonds any further; making very close friendships within some of their members. Hell, some of their actual family members became close too. So overall, post-Ogre, Rose Griffon all became a very united found family.

----

Note: I'm case I might be wrong and turns out those 36 goals were erased from history too, then... Uhhh... You can consider this an AU instead (? I think it's an interesting change of pace given how Rose Griffon (And France overall) always got the worst treatment out of the three euro Block B teams. Also it feels weird for me for Ogre!IE3 to just hit RG in the face and then just erase/change it with time travelling magic or something. They went by something horrible, man, of course something must have remained on their brains.

#inazuma eleven #HC:Ina11 #Rose Griffon #Ladji Paara #Funfact: This is what straight up SOLD me into Rose Griffon #People talk about the Zeus vs Ogre match but I feel like none realizes how fucked up this one is in-context #Reminder; Zeus was mainly a weapon of Kageyama #BUT ROSE GRIFFON WERE INNOCENT FRENCHIES WHO WANTED TO PLAY SOCCER AND REPRESENT THEIR COUNTRY #And they got destroyed by a merciless team that had beef with one (1) japanese player and wanted to ruin HIS love for soccer #Mfs ended up ruining the soccer love of 16 other players instead :( #Well no in my setting Pierre still kind of wanted to keep playing but eventually he gave up too #...I should post a list of all the Ogre!RG futures someday

[dailylumi]

Jan 3rd

Guess I'm a bit late to the start of this daily blog but knowing me I'll be missing a lot of days coming ahead. I don't really know where to start so I'll just reflect on today and the last few days.

I kind of feel like I'm already starting 2023 on a rough note. I don't know the holiday season is just always a really tough and lonely time for me and with seasonal depression on top of that things have just been hard to get through. I mean I spent new years eve and christmas majorly alone and even if that is better than having to spend it with family it just felt so defeating not having anyone to actually be close to. I feel like things have just been building and hurting and I'm starting to feel disconnected from other people. Even if I know it's not true I just feel like I'm bothering others and constantly asking people to spend time with me to cover up for my loneliness and isolation. Kind of like a parsite.

I know people will say I'm not but it's hard not to feel that way when I already struggle with emotional permanence. I feel like there is just a wall and I'll always be stuck behind that and the classification of an "internet friend" or "long distance friend" to others. There is nothing wrong with that because it is true but you just feel so unimportant at times because of it. It's the feeling that you'll never come before anything in their immediate life that makes me feel like this. I feel like there's nothing wrong with that because in terms of relationships in person ones should be priority. I'm just.. Idk maybe I'm just complaining because I have no in person relationships. I feel so toxic thinking about this whole thing. It's just a woe is me, I'm acting like a baby and want attention moment it feels like. Need to get over myself

I'm probably just tired of feeling alone and in the process of trying not to feel alone I've just come to hate myself for this weakness and desperation more. Just constantly wondering if people will come to hate me if I try to cling so I shut down. It's just an unhealthy cycle and I feel like I'll be stuck feeling like this.

In other news I find myself back in a reading binge of sorts. Probably in connection with my desperation to escape reality but I start at least 1 series a day at this point. Today I read a few short GL series the main one being Handsome Girl and Sheltered Girl. I got recommended it by a friend that was making an edit of the series (10/10 edit btw). It was such a cute and interesting series.

This series should have been much and I was shocked to find out it got axed!? LIKE WHYY they even teased a gay couple developing in the last chapter. It had so much more promise and storyline it could have explored even if it still was a short series.

Also I am so upset I missed out on the hardcover barnes and noble sale! I so could have bought so many art books ughhh

I think the last thing I wanna talk about is probably what I think 2023 will have in store for me. I just know there is going to be so many changes ahead for me. From being out of school right now to moving across country later in the year. Not even mentioning the constant drama and stuff going with my family. I'm excited but filled with so many many worries that I feel overwhelmed at times. I just tell myself not to think on the what ifs and if any come up I need to just drown the thought itself. I get a lot of headaches lately though lol

I think a big realization I came to today is that while I can leave my family literally I don't think I'll be able to cut them out of my life as much I want to. So I might have to actually come out to my family so I can be more open when I am away. Idk the thought of hiding any more than I already do is mentally exhausting but so is the thought of coming out.

2023 will just be messy and a mental nightmare but that's okay I'll try to take things one day at a time

#jan3rd #2023 #daily blog

[janeeyreheresy]

Stupid Girl

All the facepalms by all the regulars of all the Star Treks (ALL of them, including all the new shows and the Kelvin timeline) are not enough facepalms for this.

Jane, at the beginning of the story, was a naïve and inexperienced girl. That is no longer so. She bravely escaped the only home she had, with nowhere else to go, fell to an almost literal rock bottom, met people outside of her previous limited experience--not teachers at girls' schools or servants in country mansions--had long talks with a man other than Rochester, lived by herself in a small cottage, therefore running her own household, getting groceries etc, instead of having staff to rely on with domestic tasks. She inherited a fucking fortune, making the commendable decision to split it with her cousins because she felt they deserved it. Yet she has not learned a thing.

You know why I think Jane chose to divide the twenty thousand four ways? Because she wouldn't know what to do with all that money. She made no use of it. The only activity she found pleasure in was giving Moor House a good scrubbing, top to bottom, to make it ready for Christmas, and buying some new furniture and decorations. She started learning German, because Diana and Mary did so, later Hindi because St John asked her to, and occasionally taught at the Morton school, but that was it. Briefly she considered going to India as a missionary, not because it was something she was passionate about, but on St John's suggestion. 

When she first came to Thornfield, before the arrival of Rochester, she found life there dull and it was dull. But here she is, all the opportunities for excitement at her doorstep, and she doesn't take them. She does no travelling. She takes no trips to other cities, or to London, to museums, or theatre or opera, or just sightseeing. We know she sneers at fashion, but surely she likes some type of clothes, at least she can't be wearing the same thing every day. In that interrogation by Rochester at the beginning, she admitted she's not read many books and those she did were not very learned, but there's no sign of her buying any new books. The Marmion she reads was a gift from St John. She likes painting, but seemingly has no interest in visiting galleries. To put it plainly, she has no fucking life.

She doesn't open her own school, but I'm thinking she doesn't actually want one--at the time, in the gypsy fortune teller episode, opening her own school was the best it could get for her. Now that she has money she has more options, obviously, she doesn't have to go on "schoolmarming" for the rest of her life. (I mean, who would want to...) Except she doesn't even consider any other option. She's still never visited a city. Or the seaside. All her life experience is limited to countryside; to villages and country mansions. The only men she's ever got close to are Rochester and St John. No wonder she has such a scarcity mentality. She doesn't believe life can get better for her. She's not yet twenty, her whole life ahead of her, healthy and of sound mind and rich to boot. Yet she does an absolute fuck all, apart from listening to St John's long monologues. She thinks she will not marry, not because she doesn't need to depend on a man anymore, or out societal pressure, but because she doesn't believe anyone would ever love her, she doesn't believe there is any man for her, despite talking to all of TWO men in her life.

She likes to paint, yet seeks no new landscapes to capture with her brush. Explore the world, or England at least, Jane! Visit York, see the Minster, the Shambles. Go to the Lake District. Go to the coast. (Anne Bronte loved Scarborough, she died there too, poor soul...)

Yeah, so that double fare didn't cause any dent in her finances. I know that. She was still stupid to pay it, though. Whether she got there on the same day, or on the morning of the next would have made zero difference.

Jane continually looks down on other women for being shallow but it's not that she's that deep herself. Honestly, all she cares about is Rochester. Nothing and nobody else exists for her. During the month of their engagement, she worried she was making him her whole world. She knew being that obsessed with him was not a good thing, but she did nothing to change it. Even after she put a physical distance between herself and him. She was in the prefect position to get over an ex. New life, new friends, and even a new fortune. But no. She passes judgements on everyone that crosses her path, yet brags about not getting over a married man. 

There is being in love with someone. And there is being stupid.

The next day, Jane gives an account of what she went through after her escape from Thornfield. Rochester starts asking about St John, as he features so heavily in her narrative (what can I say, I wish he didn't). You know what Jane does now?

She teases Rochester with St John. Because St John was good looking and young and of good character (in Jane's eyes; she likes him, she just isn't in love with him), she is able to make Rochester jealous. Which... girl.

Too little too late. It's like sending a health and safety inspector to Thornfield the day after it burned down. What's the use of it now? She's just travelled all this way to see Rochester, clearly she has no intention to be with another man. She is sitting in his lap, for heaven's sake. 

She should have done this when she was still his governess. When the merry company was there and Rochester was pulling that stunt with Blanche. True, there was no suitable guy for that around, but that wouldn't matter, she could have made one up. Say, for example, she comes back from her day or afternoon off and Rochester asks her what she's been doing and she says "oh nothing much, met an old friend from Lowood today for a cup of tea in the village, he used to give us music lessons, he's on his way to Manchester for a new job but stopped by here so that he could see me, we were such good friends back in the day, you know." Even better, ask for an extra time off when the said friend is passing by, so that she can meet him. It doesn't matter if she'd spend the time sitting alone in a village pub. 

Another one to file under "what could have been".

And it's not that her teasing goes on for long. Pretty soon she spills out the truth, that St John doesn't mean anything to her and neither does she mean anything to him, that he only wanted to marry her because she would make a good missionary wife.

"But if you wish me to love you, could you but see how much I do love you, you would be proud and content. All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence for ever.”

Sir. And she used "my master" sixth time (to the reader, not to him).

He tries to protest, pointing out his disabilities. He compares himself to that chestnut tree under which he proposed to her, the tree that was struck by lightning. (The tree deserved better. Rochester didn't.) Jane responds by continuing with that metaphor and he thinks she means they would be friends (she just declared her love for him (again) but okay). 

“Ah! Jane. But I want a wife.”

Of course you do, Edward. Who else will look after you? Mary does all the housekeeping tasks, but it's only a job to her and she has her own husband. 

Marriage is beneficial to men. Married men live longer than single men. Don't believe all the lame "ball and chain" jokes. 

So he asks her to marry him and she says yes. He emphasises that she will have to wait on him, but she's happy with that. 

Of course she is happy with that. She literally walked back into his life carrying him a tray. She'd give her life to serve him. She's always done what he asked her to do, things that were outside her job as a governess. She sat in the drawing room with the guests at Thornfield, she stayed up at night when he needed her to, she kept running to his bedroom the night Richard got stabbed to fetch things, which included a highly suspicious substance (that everyone seems to ignore), she complied with his demand not to talk to Richard, she didn't advertise for a new job when she believed her stint at Thornfield was coming to a close because he told her not to advertise, she keeps calling him "sir" and "master" long after she is not his employee and has her own money. My master, my master, my master, waah-waah-waah. The good, obedient girl, who will help him bury the body. That's Jane Eyre.

And yes, Jane was in no position to refuse her master's orders, especially not as a live-in staff. But she doesn't even wonder why he gives these orders. So much time she spends in her head, talking to the reader, observing Blanche's behaviour, suspecting Grace of arson, pondering Richard Mason's existence, but she doesn't stop once to think about Rochester's motives. Not "why does he make me sit in the drawing room, what's his game?" Not "why should Mr Mason not to talk to me?" Not "how come he has a vial full of liquid from an Italian charlatan? What does he use it for?" The only time she doesn't comply is when she runs away. 

At the beginning, when she arrived at Thornfield, she thought it strange that Mrs Fairfax was so friendly to her, when she believed her to be the mistress of the house. But she showed no such surprise when the real master started behaving like a friend. 

I think it's real shitty of her to not even acknowledge that Grace Poole wasn't the bad guy after all. But if she did, if she, only in her head, said to herself, "I've been a real fool suspecting Grace of criminal activity", she'd have to also acknowledge that her beloved master was a piece of shit.

And it wouldn't kill her if she allowed at least one semi-friendly thought towards Richard Mason. She didn't have to like him, or talk to him if she didn't want to (not because Rochester demanded it), but again, she could have at minimum acknowledged that it was nice of him to care about Bertha, despite everything she was. And if she really cherished the hope of meeting her newly found uncle one day, why didn't she ask Richard about him? 

After they agree they'll marry, Rochester goes on to say that he was wrong in what he did but--let me copy it here:

“Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but far more wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower—breathed guilt on its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, in my stiff-necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation: instead of bending to the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course; disasters came thick on me: I was forced to pass through the valley of the shadow of death. His chastisements are mighty; and one smote me which has humbled me for ever. You know I was proud of my strength: but what is it now, when I must give it over to foreign guidance, as a child does its weakness? Of late, Jane—only—only of late—I began to see and acknowledge the hand of God in my doom. I began to experience remorse, repentance; the wish for reconcilement to my Maker. I began sometimes to pray: very brief prayers they were, but very sincere."

I don't know. It's at best a half-assed apology. He found Jesus. And it only refers to his demanding her to become his professional mistress. Nothing about all the other stuff, or how awfully he treated the women he had relationships with.

He called her name--loudly--that time she heard him in Morton. But she doesn't tell him she heard him, so as not to frighten him. I can buy it. It's a gothic novel. Still more believable than her collapsing on the doorstep of the people who turned out to be her cousins.

I would have liked it better had he added "waah-waah-waah". 

He swears he will live a clean life from now on.

Not like he has any choice. He can't be running off to London or Europe and chase after women anymore. He can't host parties because: 1. nobody wants to attend 2. Ferndean Manor is a hole and a dump 3. he can't see. Sneak in a 4. what is his financial situation now?

Lovers reunited or not, the real winner of this chapter is the driver who got the double fare. I hope he spent it wisely.

#jane eyre #edward rochester #rochester is a villain #stupid stupid STUPID girl #jane eyre meta

[crimson-mayhem-archive]

🖌 small baby delivery, treat with care <3 🖌

Small footsteps could be heard as the young girl walked around the school campus in her small form, unaware of where she actually she is. Her fear grew once she'd notice the stares of all the other students, wondering who that child is.

Caria turned and ran, eventually bumping into something. She glanced up and shrieked, taking a few steps back. It wasn't that she was afraid of anyone. She was afraid of hurting everyone.

❝ I'm sorry... ❞

The small one spoke quietly, pressing her hands against her chest as they balled into tiny fists.

❝ I'll go home so... please don't come close. ❞

That was going to be difficult for her to do as she used to live in a whole different country before she came to live in Japan, therefore she wouldn't know where to go. Plus, she believed she lived with her father, which was the last place she should be going.

❝ ... ❞

The thought of meeting her father at their front door, angrily looking at her while her mother stood next to her covered in bruises crossed her mind and her eyes screwed close. Tears begin pricking at the corners of her eyes as she began to cry.

Maybe just maybe, she did not want to go home today.

🥀 GOD THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SO SORRY DNDNNDN 😭🥀

Virek was attempting to make his way home from school, seeing as he had nothing to do afterwards… Caria would sometimes come to invite him to stay after if she wanted company whilst studying, but today didn’t seem like one of those days. And after hanging back for a bit to see if she would approach, he decided to go ahead and go home…

That is, until a child bumped into him?

He’d never witnessed any children on this side of the city that weren’t accompanied by some sort of guardian— And especially not at such an odd hour. Looking around with keen eyes, he tried to spot any if the lingering students, or perhaps a distressed parent, who may be looking for this child, yet somehow came up with nothing.

The boy closed his eyes for a moment, mentally cursing whatever force had put him in this position. He was never the best with children, by any means… Nor did he particularly care for them, but—

❝ What’s your name..? Do you know where, or who your parents are..?❞

Virek squatted down to the child’s level, forearms rested on his thighs as he balances on his toes. Tired and lifeless eyes stared back at the young girl, as he observed her cautiously. Even around children, he couldn’t be entirely sure of his own safety… Though he was definitely a lot more lenient. After all, if he left a kid abandoned like this, there’s the risk of those people catching her.

#— ♔ asks #cursed—requiem #caria baris #virek sutcliffe #T.Y.C.E #((this took so long to answer i am so sorry 😭))

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 3: motion

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine.'

---

Fushiguro Tsumiki is amazing and she's changed the trajectory of your life. You decide to hope you can do the same for others.

Fushiguro Megumi is someone you meet again after six years, only for the two of you to have become so very different since then.

Itadori Yuji is, well, a fun guy to hang out with. That's all you know for now.

word count: ~10k (this chapter was hell to edit on tumblr); tws: mild “gore” again? (a fight scene)

30-11-2010

“When’s Megumi’s birthday, actually?” you ask one day after finishing the last of your homework off at their place. 

“Oh! December 22nd,” Tsumiki states. Megumi’s scrubbing a plate in the kitchen. “Are you planning to give him anything?” 

“I’ll see what I can,” you reply, “But I just wanted to know. What do you usually do for your birthdays, though?” 

“Hmm,” Tsumiki pauses, “We usually only have Mr Gojo and some of his friends over— oh, hi, Megumi!” 

“Yay, you’re back!” 

“We were just talking about your birthday,” you inform him. “…you know, I’ve been meaning to ask something, actually. I never really see you guys’ parents, so, um… are they busy? Are they out of the country for work, or something?” 

“Oh— no, our parents left.” 

Left? Like, abandoned?

“Oh— oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I thought they just had work or something and could never come back earlier— I never even thought—!” 

“—They’re probably having fun or dying in a ditch somewhere, though,” Megumi interrupts, “It’s not a problem to either of us. It’s not like we knew them that well either. I can’t even remember them,” he explains. 

“Oh…” you trail off, turning to face the table. If they’d really gone away when the two were so young, Tsumiki, the older sister, must have tried to be the ‘adult’, right? That sounds difficult. And you’ve heard that children are like plants, and plants need to have enough space to grow— you can recall that fact from your science classes. So if they’d grown so close to each other with no one else save that weird benefactor guy, would they have been able to grow properly? It must have felt suffocating for both of them, right? Maybe they didn’t realise it if they’d been so comfortable with and used to what they’d been having their whole lives— only each other? 

Or maybe you’re thinking ahead of yourself and in reality they were okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t be either way, but maybe the benefactor spent more time with them growing up, and they had more friends before you than you think— you know that Tsumiki does, even if Megumi doesn’t. 

“Megumi, you shouldn’t curse people by talking about them dying like that.” 

“So what? It’s the truth.” 

“Hey, don’t argue…” you start. 

“Hm—? Sorry, [Name]! It’s our own issue— don’t worry about it,” she says, her smile a little forced, the remnants of her frown still left on her face, “Right, Megumi?” Oh, she’s angry. Oh no. 

“I’ll never understand why you’re like this,” he says, heading to his room. 

“Hey— why’re you leaving?” He walks out anyway. 

“Tsumiki, why’s he leaving?” She frowns again. 

“I’m sorry, [Name],” she says, “Megumi just thinks that you shouldn’t be nice to people.” 

“Huh? Nice in what way?” 

“No, it’s just… when people do bad things, I think we should forgive them. We shouldn’t punish them instead. We have to be kind because everyone has a reason for what they do, so we should just be kind to whoever we see.” 

“…uh-huh. I guess. But my mummy says that sometimes if you do that too much life gets harder.” 

“It gets harder if you think it does. Megumi thinks like that too, calling me a hypocrite when I tell him to forgive people and things like that,” she says, “…you know what I think, [Name]?” 

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So…” she grins, and it’s light and happy again, but you see the sagacity in her eyes, and maybe how tired yet satisfied she may be on her lower eyelids. “Don’t give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.” 

“Oh…” you say. If your eyes could, they would have stars in them. Nobody’s told you you could be amazing at something, much less good. You’re quiet and nobody listens to you. Every parent-teacher-meeting always ends with the conclusion that you’re quite an alright student, but even more so a reticent girl. For years your parents have been telling you to speak up or to be more confident and the only people you’ve been able to speak easily to are Tsumiki and Megumi. The two of them are the only ones who have ever said much beyond your timid demeanour. 

You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine. It’s strange how she doesn’t know that, how she must think that she and Megumi are close friends and that the impact she’s had on you is far less than that; it’s strange how you can meet other people at any time and if it’s the right person, no matter what, your life will be affected. It’s strange that there is such a thing as fate. 

It’s 2010 and you think this year is one you want to keep lasting forever. 

27-6-2016

It happens on one summer evening. 

Everything seems like it’s empty; from the streets and their dusty white concrete turning grey as they’re drenched with water, to the rain that news outlets report to be more saturated with acid as the years go by, to the houses and trees that around this time are either deafeningly loud with either the quiet, the sound of cicadas or the temporarily never-ending downpour. 

But for a while, on that morning, the place where you’re settled in— for now— is the rain’s dominion, and you’re just a feeble, powerless human at the hands of nature’s relentlessness. 

So you stay under the convenience store awning, hiding in the shade from the rain after running an errand. The last time you’d got drenched in this type of weather— about two weeks ago— you’d got ill, and it only caused your parents more problems, as your mother chided you. Being sick in the summer wasn’t that bearable for you either— no, it was something hellish. Sometimes you could handle being sick in the winter with a runny nose or getting mild colds in the spring, but being sick during summer time was the worst. You’d be struggling to breathe through mucus-filled lungs and you wouldn’t be able to swallow anything without triggering a terrible ache in your phlegm-filled throat due to post-nasal drip. You’d be feeling like ridding yourself of anything resting in your insides, from toxins to food; you wouldn’t be eating or ingesting anything except water and the constant sensation of feeling faint weighing you down would seem like it were about to kill you prematurely as the sweat from a high fever made you feel immeasurably weak, like a helpless child trapped in the confines of your own body. 

“Are you okay?” the cashier by the counter— not the one who’s usually there, though, so you presume that this one’s a replacement— asks as you’re lost in your own thoughts, “I can give you an umbrella. For free.” 

You’d insist on paying if you had any cash, but your now empty wallet reminds you of the fact that you’re all out. You have a tiny quibble with the kind lady before she finally gives in, and you’re off on your way back home. 

Even upon further inspection as you exit the store, she still seems like a run-off-the-mill cashier. She seems to be in her early 20s, some college student back for the summer part-timing at the local convenience store for extra cash, maybe— with a sort of wistful yet coltish smile and a mole by the side of her right eye. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t be so insistent on not doing things if those things’ll do you good,” she tells you, “I mean— I know that sounds kinda mean, and that in asian cultures like ours we naturally say stuff that deprecates ourselves, but I really do think that you should, um… how do I say it?” she ponders aloud, “Aha! —Yes, you should just look out for yourself and let people help you. It does everybody a little better. And, you know, you’ll be able to live life without regrets, because there won’t really be an opportunity cost for letting people help you, and they’ll like helping you too. I mean, who doesn’t like helping others? Wait, you get what I mean, right?”

“...it sounded like you were rambling,” you tell her, then step back, “Um. Sorry.” 

“No, no! It’s fine! Like, um, you and I are kinda similar in that regard, I guess? We’re both awkward and we’re strangers but I just thought that the advice would do you some good, you know?” 

“Ah— I get it, sorry,” you repeat, “It’s just that… I’m not used to that, maybe? I don’t want to be a burden on others.” Not anymore. 

She purses her pink-glossed lips. “It’ll be hard to live like that, you know. If you live like that you won’t know who you are.” 

It’s strange to hear that from a literal stranger. What’s even stranger is how deep the conversation is. Wasn’t this the time to make small talk? You didn’t talk to strangers very often, especially those in stores and all. At least not for this long. 

“I… uh. I’ll see— I guess…” you mutter. The conversation dies there. You really aren’t suited for things like that. You can only find it easy to communicate and speak in that way when it’s with Tsumiki or your parents. Otherwise, you’d be stuttering and muttering your way through valleys of words that you don’t know if you should use, people demanding you speak up, or people commenting on how awkward you are, even if they mean so endearingly. You don’t know the source of the problem, really— maybe it was puberty and the onslaught of new, different people you had to talk to every time you moved? Maybe it is that. But this is your predicament: you used to be able to talk to people and over the years that just went away. 

And it’s especially bad with people your age— the last time you’d been able to talk to someone your age in a normal, non-cloddish manner, was probably when you were eight. 

Oh. 

When you exit the shop, the sky’s been dipped in the sunset and it looks like a mix of purple and pink hues have been laid onto it like watercolour paint on fresh paper. The cashier waves you goodbye anyway, claiming that she hopes you’ll come back soon— you hope she doesn’t hate you now, else you’d avoid this convenience store like the plague for the next few months. The plastic bag rustles and crinkles as its contents bump against your knees. 

The air is still thick with petrichor and the breaths you take feel light and fresh, brushing against the inner walls of your lungs as you breathe in and out. There are water residuals left on the sidewalk in patches. 

Suddenly it changes— and you don’t notice this until after it happens. The air grows heavy and everything around you feels volatile, like their constituents will be separated from each other at any moment, turned into a mangled mass of jostling particles; your ears feel as if they’re so intensely covered to the point that you find it difficult to catch a breath; you can’t bring your lungs to continue moving after that hitched breath you made once you felt it. There’s something in the air, something disgusting and thick and suffocating. It fills you with ominousness. It fills you with a feeling of sickness, of suffering, of shame and fear and sadness, and it’s lurking somewhere, somewhere in the dark. 

Cursed energy. 

You remember your father talking about it, mentioning how it felt in passing. 

Oh no. 

“Help!” a voice erupts— it’s the same  voice from the cashier, except this time it isn’t pleasant, it’s frantic, no— downright terrified. 

If there is anything you’d consider yourself it isn’t someone who saved others. 

Beyond the geographical sense of the word, you were the embodiment of stasis; something that didn’t touch others at all and made no effort to do so. You’d have no effect on any others’ life and for a long time you’d accepted you’d live a life amounting to nothing. You knew that and walked into life thinking you’d just keep doing nothing until you died for some nondescript reason. 

So you didn’t really care about your future, and you abstained from thinking of the morality behind your actions because what was there to judge, anyway? You just had to follow what everyone else did, and none of your actions were so monumental to change anything. Being guilty over doing too little or doing nothing at all wouldn’t change anything; you didn’t have the power to change it and you didn’t see the point of a Sisyphean life like such. Even if humanity would have tugged at your shoulder to do something and be removed from that state of stasis, you were sure everyone felt the same and the amalgamation of this was society’s indifference— after all, what was humanity, kindness, against society’s apathy, its enemy; what was humanity when placed against what it had built itself into? 

Thus for all your fourteen years of life you did nothing at all to change the trajectory of anything. It would be no use doing and no use trying. Nothing would come out of it in the end. 

As long as you could be useful to your parents, or at least the people around you, you didn’t have to care about being good or bad or kind or evil. 

You’d lived like that for a long time. You’re not the type to save people, not the type to help those you know nothing of. 

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So… don’t  give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.” 

You look down at your clenched fists, at her hair tie and its cherry-red hue. 

She did say you’d be good at it. 

It’s strange to think of your best friend now, but damn it, you really want to be like her now. You need to. 

Else you wouldn’t be able to live; you have the power to help people, right? And you’re probably one of the only people on this island with the ability to do so. At the very least you’ve got some cursed energy, and you’ve always been able to heal from injuries really quickly. You’ve seen enough, from simple shikigami to veils and simple domains cast by your father. 

So there may be a chance, a one in a million chance. And you’re willing to take it. If you don’t take it now and find that in the future you could have helped someone who would have gotten injured or worse— it’s now of all times that you think you wouldn’t be able to ever forgive yourself for such a thing. 

You can’t change the directions of others’ lives. At least not if you keep thinking like that. 

You grind your teeth and turn back, leaving the bags on the sidewalk. You’ll get them later. This is a ridiculous idea and you’re doing it anyway and your mind is screaming at your frozen legs to move and keep running, idiot, keep fucking moving because you’ve got to save someone you may just be able to save. Someone you don’t know, who may just be able to help. She said that you shouldn’t deny things that can help you, after all. And she has to be helped, right? So you’re going to jump in and you won’t deny yourself from saving yourself from a life of guilt. And you’re going to be useful, too. You’re going to help. 

You really have to do this and all of a sudden you think you may be crying. But you run forward anyway. You’re going to move away from that state of stasis; you’re going to change and shift and move; finally, it’s liberating and frightening and feels like living as you step into the store. 

Your lungs are burning. 

The curse looms over, a deformed, monstrous thing with its eyes and hands drowning in the mud-like substance it consists of. 

You’re going to make this work. You’ve seen your own cells once or twice before in science classes and all, you remember how your father had the old microscope he used to use for work, and brought it out for you to look at what made you. You’re your father’s daughter so you’ll make this work, your promise yourself— and you think of those cells, you conjure that image of them in your head and focus on them shifting, changing to make something new. You force them to multiply by the millions in a tenth of a minute, then you cut them off from your body. You make a tiny blister and goodness you can’t imagine you can actually do it but you’ve got to digress from that and worry about the college student cashier first, and how she’s trembling at the sight before her. 

There’s a bruise on her arm, and so you’ve got to examine the situation: she’s holding it to her chest so you can imagine she’s only been wounded on the skin and hasn’t been scratched or anything. You imagine her cells— they mustn’t look too different from yours— and heal them back up, the blotch of a bruise disappearing as if wiped over by a stain remover. “Calm down!” you shout at her, and you really don’t mean to, but adrenaline and anxiety and the whole situation are getting your heart pounding unlike ever before. 

“Wait— don’t touch that thing!” she shouts, “You’ll end up getting bruised by the hands!”

So what next? —Cursed energy alone can kill other curses if there’s enough of it, right? And your mother told you about how some people imbue things with cursed energy. 

Then you run to the curse slapping it with as much force as you can muster, and it’s arms outstretch to snatch you and force you all around, hitting you abrasives against the shelves of the buns you bought earlier, scraping your skin against the surface of the counter’s edge or nearly smashing your shoulder against the wall, but you keep your hand on any part of it no matter what. You surge your cursed energy, splitting part of it to heal your wounds and the other part of it to overload it with cursed energy. The more intense you get, the harder it hits. But you can’t give up— you’re going to commit to it and stick to something; you’re going to do something that’ll amount to another thing for once. The sight of the cashier hiding under the counter, hunched and praying is enough for you to keep going. She doesn’t deserve that. 

You load it with all the cursed energy you can manage as a rookie— you don’t think this is as much as a rookie has, though, so you probably have a lot and you promise you’re coming out of this thing alive. For once you’re going to swear you’ll keep living this intensely. 

Eventually it fizzles out, its energy, and you just keep overloading it with cursed energy. You’ve still got a lot left. That’s good. Extremely so. 

It bursts all over the convenience store, the ways it was made of. It’s going to be hassle to clean. You fall on the ground face flat and heal yourself. There’s a nosebleed, you think, from such a large amount of cursed energy. You’re panting heavier than you’ve ever done in your from any race or PE class. 

But you’ve discovered that you are the type to help others. You’ve discovered that you can change others’ lives if you want to. 

And it’s really frightening, but you’re happy. You don’t have to be a jujutsu sorcerer— you know too little of curses’ organic matter to be able to do this without making it alive yourself— but you’re going to devote your life to helping others. 

Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a doctor in that world, a nurse, or something. You won’t have to be too involved in its inner workings; you won’t be on the front lines. Still, you’ll help and you’ll be useful. You’ll help and your life will be a good one to live, hopefully. 

Shakily, she moves up. You’re shaking too, gooseflesh and cold sweat and temperatures going wild in and on your body. 

“A-are you okay?” she asks. 

“Oh— uhm, yeah!” you say, rubbing the blood off your philtrum. You’ll have to have a really long shower once you get back. Maybe you’ll draw a bath or something. “Sorry, I… uh— I should have asked you to go outside or something. Could you not tell anyone about this? If you’re injured anywhere I’ll try my best to patch you up as long as you don’t tell anyone about this.” 

“I— okay… god, you’re just a kid,” she goes, “What happened back there, actually?” 

“Have you ever seen stuff like that before? Like that monster?” 

“…no.” 

“Oh, I see. Well, don’t worry about it, because there are people who take care of stuff like that. You seeing it was just a one-time thing. It probably won’t ever happen again!” you say, holding your thumb up. “Promise not to tell anyone, okay?” 

“Alright. Just… you okay? Want me to help you with anything? I mean, it’s pretty late now.” 

“I’ll be okay. But I think I’ve got to go home now. Could you let me see any injuries you had got just now, first?” 

28-6-2016

You only arrive back at midnight. The weather’s fully put a stop to its torrents and your parents are worried sick. You’re so tired you could faint— fighting the curse took more out of your mental energy than you thought it would, and you have a splitting headache as the result of it. 

When they see you and sense the cursed energy, you explain whatever happened. Once you’re done your father shudders, and your mother stands up. 

“Whatever it is, I’m not letting you be a jujutsu sorcerer,” she states resolutely, “I’m never going to let you be one.” 

27-12-2016

The date you and Megumi have agreed on (with the help of Tsumiki as a sort of middleman) is about a week after his fourteenth birthday. 

Your parents told you to be careful— it’s a long trip to and from Tokyo, and you’re going all alone. 

This is the travel plan: fly from Kagoshima to Tokyo, stay at Megumi and Tsumiki’s for a while, and ultimately find the courage to hand him the letter before you leave. Maybe you’ll see if he still cares for you while you’re at it. 

To be honest you don’t completely feel like going there anymore— you’ll always love Tokyo, it’s just that things will be painfully awkward between you and Megumi. So you remind yourself of Tsumiki, and that you’re mostly doing this for her. Any of the three of you can be the glue holding the other two together at any given moment, and now it’s Tsumiki playing that role. 

Friends will always be above boys, anyway. So you’re doing this for Tsumiki and not him or yourself. 

When you’re finally at the airport, Tsumiki greets you with a hug and Megumi in tow. You’ve her old hair tie on your wrist— it’s come in handy multiple times since then. They both look so different now: Tsumiki’s still tall, but her hair has grown longer, more luscious and she looks so pretty you understand why she had received so many anonymous confession letters on Valentine’s Day this year. Megumi’s taller too, and though it’s slightly embarrassing the first thing you think of when you see him is how handsome he looks, at least as far as boys your age go. The viridian of his eyes is a lush summer day in a capsule, a contrast to his jet black hair spiking in all directions and his eyelashes— and those, too, those eyelashes, goodness— they look like they were woven by silk or taken off a doll: they’re so unbelievably long and curly and pretty. Your face is as hot as an oven that’s about to bake up a whole cake and let it expand and rise. They’re the kind of people you see on television, each so beautiful like the other and you almost feel as if you’re intruding; you can’t imagine how out of place you must look with them from the eyes and viewpoints of other people. 

“Tsumiki!” you grin as you’re still kept in her arms, “Long time no see!” 

“[Name]! Finally! Oh, you look so pretty now!” 

“Haha, really? I was thinking the same about you, though. I’m so happy to see you, seriously!” 

“Me too!” 

You step back and pull away. 

“Hi, Megumi,” you say. You’re nervous, but you can’t deny you’re happy. You smile as you look at him— the two of you are no longer the same height anymore. You tug at the straps of your bag, feeling the weight of you pulling the straps down on your shoulder.  “…it’s nice to see you again.” 

“…nice to see you again, too.” 

Why’d he have to stop talking to you? Why’d he have to avoid you? “How’s… um, how’s everything?” 

A glimpse from your peripheral vision shows Tsumiki with sparks in her eyes. She really was so excited— and maybe a little too hopeful, because you don’t think anything will happen at all. The incident from June makes you feel like you should try to hope for something, though. But you probably won’t be completing this trip with a new boyfriend kissing your neck or something. 

“It’s been okay,” he answers. 

“…it’s the same for me.” 

“That’s good to know.” 

You take the train back with them, breathing in how crowded Tokyo is once again. When you’d first arrived six years ago you felt like a country bumpkin, the masses of people turned into one giant entity never once fathomed by your eight year old mind. Now you’re fourteen, and the lights with their neon sparks, the dark concrete bathed in streetlights when the sun sets, the moon hanging overhead over a multifaceted maze of buildings— it feels a bit like coming home, even if you only called it home for a little less than twelve months of a life spanning some number roughly around five thousand, one hundred and ten days. 

You really love Tokyo. But more than that you love the people you met in it during what feels like a lifetime ago. 

The cold air that you breathe in as the three of you walk and take the turn to their house fills your lungs, settling into them like they never left. 

“—And you remember that old maths teacher?” Tsumiki laughs, “‘You children have to harness your mental prowess!’” she quotes, holding two fingers on each hand up in the air. 

“Oh my god,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes, “I was so sick of him last time— bet he’d feel old as hell now if he saw us all grown up like this.” 

“We saw him last week,” Megumi adds, “That old geezer expected college-level intelligence from bunches of feral eight and nine year old kids.” 

“I mean, you were a smart kid, Megumi,” you recall, “Tsumiki too. But that guy, seriously…”

“Hey! You were a smart kid too, [Name]! But was there anyone who didn’t hate him last time?” 

“Never, probably,” you agree, “He was so infuriating. Ugh— Oh! We’re here! I haven’t been here in so long, oh my goodness…” 

Megumi works the key in and opens the door. You inhale the scent of their house, a mosaic of memories and old book pages. Places like these deserve to remain treasured forever. 

The three of you step in. Smiley Tsumiki, frowny Megumi and you. This is the home that will never leave you no matter what. This is what you’d call home even if you’re not in Tokyo, or away from them, because it felt like a constant for a year and that was enough to feel like you went to it at least five times a week for less than a full year.  

It feels good to be home. It feels better to call it that after years of not feeling as if you really ever had one at all. 

28-12-2016

You can’t sleep. 

They’ve helped you unpack all your things, you’re clad in pyjamas and have had a thorough shower, and the white blanket on the futon is warm on the inside and cold on the outside— perfect for sleeping comfortably. But you can’t get a wink of sleep. 

Since you’d first discovered that you could, in fact, use cell manipulation, your nights had always been like this. 

To use it properly with your own organic matter, cell manipulation requires cooperation with your brain and your stomach— the source of cursed energy. Imagining the cells enough and applying cursed energy to them required your brain to overload itself with both cursed energy and information, and adding commands to that, making yourself do even the slightest bit of actions with your cells— felt like leaving your brain in the microwave. The fact that your gut— for your cursed energy— and your brain— for command and control— had to work together added more of a headache on top of that. Headaches and nosebleeds and your brain being unable to shut down became what you were used to. 

Did you keep doing it anyway? Yes— you still had the intention of helping people with it, after all. You held on to the hope that you could be a doctor or a nurse for jujutsu sorcerers or something, not an actual sorcerer in that world itself. You assumed your mother would be fine with that at least. You’d be satisfied with something like that as well, even at the cost of your sleep and health. You were still young, and the only two people who could do anything like this were you and your over fifty year old father. And you didn’t want him doing that at all for any longer. 

Clang–! 

The water bottle on the bedside table falls to the carpeted floor with a bang against the wood under it— you rush to pick it up with as little sound as you can manage. 

Stealthily, you step out of bed. If your memory serves you right, the kettle should be on top of the drawer next to the oven. 

You’ll drink some hot water or tea and lull yourself to a peaceful night eventually, you decide. 

Then there’s a knock on the door. It’s light— so light that it would be inaudible had you stayed on the bed instead of moving nearer to the door, and so soft even the lightest of sleepers wouldn’t hear it. So whoever this is, they must know that you’re awake. You’re sure you wouldn’t have caught it at all and for a second you wonder whether there really was someone knocking the door after all. Tsumiki seems to be fast asleep, though— you can hear her muffled snoring from the other side of the wall. Thank goodness she’s a heavy sleeper. You’re not too sure about how Megumi fares in that sense. 

You turn the cold metal knob and open the door. 

In the dim light the front of his body’s barely visible, its glow only tracing the outline of his left shoulder from the back. 

“Can’t sleep?” you ask, keeping your voice as soft as you can to prevent cracking your voice once you’ve started speaking. 

“I heard something,” Megumi answers, “Did you fall?” 

“It was just my water bottle. Did I wake you up? Sorry.” 

“No, don’t worry about that.” 

“Why’re you still awake?” 

He places his hand on the door frame, voice lower than earlier that night. “Why are you? It’s way past midnight,” he adds, “...I couldn’t fall asleep either, to be honest…” 

“Insomnia, huh?” you go, “This happens to me all the time, too.” 

“No, it only happens once in a while,” he remarks, “Usually I sleep pretty well.” 

“Oh. You wanna come inside? We can, like, talk, or something. We can catch up.” 

“Sure.” 

You guide him over to the edge of the bed, and he shuts the door before he sits down beside you. There is no way you can think to describe this other than saying that it’s strange, really: the boy you had a crush on six years ago, who was one of your closest friends, has grown more than thirty centimetres, and the aura surrounding the two of you is more awkward than any conversation you’ve ever had in your life. Neither of you question why the light isn’t turned on, and neither of you head to the bedside table to flip the light switch anyway, so the scene in their guest room is of two fourteen year old— about to be fifteen year olds in a little over three days, though— kids in the dark either reminiscing over memories or trying to catch up despite having changed so much. 

“So how’s life?” you start. 

“Nothing much happens at all, honestly. Wait, [Name]—” When he says your name it’s like your chest makes one full leap. “—I think I should let you know, six years ago, the dog you saw—” 

“I already know about all that,” you tell him, “My parents told me. …hey, wanna see something I can show you with my own cursed technique?” 

“...okay.” 

You hold your hand out. 

“It may be hard to see it in the dark, but…” 

He turns the light on for you before you finish and you thank him. It must have been silly to try and show it to him when everything was engulfed in the night despite the fact that you were closer to the switch. You lean back as he outstretches his arm to do it. 

“See?” You hold your hand up, palm displayed and facing him, before closing your eyes and imagine your heaps of skin cells and red blood cells. You’re bound to have a headache by tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. At least there’s something you can show him, something new you can let him know of. This was ‘catching up’, anyway. 

“[Name]!” He whispers, but the urgency in his voice is clear. You close the wound up immediately, speeding through a healing process that would have taken days to be completed in the span of a few seconds. Tomorrow you’re going to end up having a nosebleed, too. 

“Are you alright?” he goes, “Your nose is bleeding.” 

“Is it?” you reply, smiling, “Don’t worry. It’s just that I’m not that used to it yet. I guess if I trained my body even more, it would be able to handle it better.” 

His hand strays to yours, most likely out of worry. You pull it back. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“Sorry if I made you worry.” 

“...I don’t think you should strain yourself,” he begins. It’s like how you and your father speak to each other— how funny. “If your own cursed technique does that to your body, it’s better if you don’t use it at all.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you say, “I’m not going to use it in fights or anything, either.” 

“You won’t become a jujutsu sorcerer?” 

“No,” you explain, “I mean, my dad was one and he quit a while ago, but I know it’ll be hard to hold on and do so much with this during fights. I may just be like, backup, or a doctor or nurse, or something. You?” 

“I think it’s pointless to save others.” 

Wow, cringey much. Reminds you of yourself six months ago. 

You don’t press it any further. 

“But… about doctors and all, there are people like that. Only one, to be more specific.” 

“Oh, well then— what's her name? I’d love to meet her.” 

“Ieiri Shoko. Want me to introduce her to you?” 

29-12-2016 

He does try to take you to visit her the next day. You think the reason why he’s doing this is to avoid catching up, or at least actually talking about something beyond a superficial level. You think that if that’s the truth behind this then you must be at fault too because you let him take you there with no hesitation whatsoever. Like adding opaque white tape over a fully painted canvas. 

But he fails because of the man over the phone. It’s probably that Gojo guy, that benefactor. Now that you know how strong he is in terms of sorcery, you guess that since he’s taking care of Megumi, Megumi’s probably a massive deal too. 

“No, I’m just asking if she can visit right now— no, get your head out of the gutter, damn it!” 

He hangs up. “I’m seriously going to punch him,” he states, frowning. So it’s definitely Gojo, then. You remember him being really insufferable by Megumi’s standards. “She’s busy, by the way. …sorry about that.” 

“Calm down, it’ll be alright,” you say, “We didn’t have to. Let’s just go around the city like tourists or something. I think that’s better anyway.” 

Tsumiki says she can come along with you, but she’ll have to leave at the stop right before Ueno for something important— a sudden appointment with someone, she says— before heading back and reconvening with you and Megumi. The three of you ride the Yamanote Line, but at the stop right before Ueno—your first chosen destination for this trip— Tsumiki has to leave, as she’d said. She apologises profusely. You know she isn’t slick.  

You take your phone, texting her. 

[Name]

Tsumiki

You ain’t slick

Why

Seriously omfg

[Tsumiki]

Sorry, I would have joined, just wanted to test the waters hehehehe… (>‿◠)✌

I mean you two seem ok

But let me know if anything bad happens okayyy??? 

You two seem pretty happy with each other though… also, what happened last night? 

If you’re up to any hanky panky, don’t do it under our roof (ㆆ_ㆆ)!!

[Name]

Literally so done with you right now -_-

But thanks I guess, I’ll see if we can catch up

AAAAAAHHHHH it’s gonna end up being so awkward I swear

[Tsumiki]

Good luck!! Love you bestieeee

Ttyl okay?? Gimme all the details 

“Who’re you texting?” he whispers. 

“Just a friend,” you say, as they announce that the train is in Ueno. 

The day in Ueno Park goes quite smoothly, really— but there’s still little progress made and the letter seems to be having its screams more drowned out the more you tug on your bag. 

“It’s pretty cold,” you comment as the two of you walk around, witnessing everyone else walking around with their huddled-up bundles of clothes and coats on, “Next time, if it’s not too crowded, we should, um… we should visit during autumn or spring. Together.” 

“Tsumiki and I can come here anytime. It just depends on you,” he says, a little rougher than you think he intends, “Wait— no, I mean, your timing—” 

You giggle slightly. So you’re not the only one who’s gotten more awkward since last time. Now he doesn’t seem the type to be, though— he seems more like those ‘cool’ guys in shoujo mangas; those bad boys who the girls end up changing, or something. Kinda cringey. But the fact that he’s avoiding eye contact and turning his head away evasively so that you don’t see him because of such a little slip-up in his phrasing is really, really cute. At least that’s what you think. It’s not like any other people would think the same, probably because of that frown or the fact that his voice doesn’t seem any flustered at all. But you think that’s okay. That makes it so that there’s more for you to appreciate, maybe. “It’s fine,” you reassure him. 

“...I brought a camera, by the way,” he says, digging for it in his pocket. The camera itself seems like one from the 2000s— it’s the small type with the wrist strap, and the buttons on the side and all. “It’s… old, though.” 

“Oh! That looks nice!” you comment. It really does. Your bag’s strap— the damn thing— slips off your shoulder again and you’ve got to put it back securely in place. Your shoulder hurts and you regret bringing so much with you. 

“Want me to hold your bag for you…?” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say, “It’s just that it goes off my shoulder sometimes and it can be pretty heavy. I packed too much stuff in it, heh.” 

“Then I’ll carry it. Give it here.” 

You end up handing him the bag. At least he doesn’t mind how heavy it is, nor does he complain about what you must be packing, or anything. It’s better than being forced to give your parents your things only for them to tell you to pack lighter ones. 

“It’s good that we avoided the crowd, but now there aren’t any leaves or flowers…” you start. You hope it doesn’t sound like complaining— that would be awfully rude. “Normally, people would be having picnics here, right?”

“We can still take pictures, though. Wait, can you— can you stand in front of me, here?” he asks, his steps coming to a halt next to a small garden. 

“Okay.” 

He brings the camera to his eye. “Smile,” he says. 

You’ve quite an awkward-looking smile, you think. It’s always bothered you slightly whenever your parents wanted to take pictures of you, but you smile anyway in the picture— you give him your brightest grin. It’s not like either of you will keep it anyway, and you are happy: gratingly awkward or not, you’re still with an old friend. 

“Ah, delete that,” you tell him when he shows the picture to you. The backdrop is pretty, though. “You should take a picture of the background. I look so bad in it.” 

“It’s a nice picture,” he argues, “You look… nice.” 

You shift your line of sight to look at him, unsure if it’s out of incredulousness, or the fact that the whole situation seems to be a little silly, or the fact that he’s looking down at the picture with a gaze that warms your heart a bit. Those eyelids and lashes and green green pupils will be the death of you, you’re sure. You feel you could drown in them at any second. “…thanks.” 

He looks back at you. 

“I think you look nice too, Megumi.”  

It’s really, really cold, but you feel your face heating up. For once in your life it doesn’t feel like something you should be shy of. 

30-12-2016

“Could you show me the dog again?” you ask him. He’s on the bed again. Different day, same situation. “Why did it suddenly pop out all those years ago anyway?” 

“It was an accident,” he explains, “You know how my Ten Shadows technique comes from the shadows, right? Wait, I should rephrase that—”

“Oh… I mean, don’t worry, you don’t sound rude or anything. I just wanted to see the dog. I mean, I like dogs! I still read books or articles about them every now and then.” 

“There are actually two.” 

“Two?” you go, wide-eyed and excited. 

He summons them out of the ground, one dark with the same red markings, and the other the exact same dog as the one you saw six years ago. He does it effortlessly— there’s no pain involved, no trade-off for getting to show someone his abilities. It’s not like you and your father’s, with your headaches and nosebleeds and vertigo every time you use it even if it’s for something simple like opening up a wound and closing it, or creating tiny blisters. How terribly inconvenient it was for you, and how easy it was for Megumi to use it so quickly and painlessly. You were slightly jealous of him for it. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” you say, petting the white one. It cuddles up to you. The one with dark, fluffy fur does the same and you’ve got each palm on each dog’s head. 

You turn your head back to face him. “Thank you, Megumi.” 

“...it’s nothing.” 

What a classic Megumi-like thing to say. 

15-4-2017 

Freshly fifteen years old, you know one thing. The friends you meet at this age are probably the best you’ll ever have. 

You’re still training your cursed technique from time to time if only for leisure or any emergencies since your mother’s absolutely determined to keep you from being one. But you’re in a new place again— your parents have chosen to move back to Sendai— where they lived and got married before you came along, and everything considered things aren’t as bad as when you had to leave to and from Tokyo. 

It all started with the class’s seating arrangement. You sat down after one of the classes, preparing yourself for a year where you had to search through the whole school for friends or spend it alone as you watched everyone else fall into their groups from the previous year like dozens of tiny puzzle pieces clicking into place again. 

The clique in front of you is all looking at this one guy with unkempt hair as pink as cherry blossoms, or MyMelody’s pink ribbon. He’s got a boyish grin on his face that honestly makes him out to be a pretty nice guy. 

“Hey!” a guy greets, his hand up as he’s smiling at you, “My name’s Itadori Yuuji. What’s yours?” 

He’s kind of tall, is a really smiley guy, and seems like he’d be pretty popular. He reminds you of a friendly puppy. Or one of those really, really cute seals people make videos of in aquariums. 

You tell him your name. “You… uh, you seem pretty popular, Itadori.” 

He pauses and turns his head up like he’s thinking. “Well… now that you mention it, I guess so,” he states, hand scratching the back of his neck, “They’re pretty cool, though. Don’t worry!”

“Oh…” 

“Anyway, where ya from?” 

“I–uh. I mean, my parents move a lot,” you say, “So I guess you could say I don’t know where I’m from, myself? Sendai’s my parents’ hometown, though. And they wanted to be back for a while. So I transferred here.” 

“Cool! So you’ve got to see a lot of stuff?” 

“Uh. Kind of?” 

He drags a seat from behind him before facing you. The way he sits is comfortable; it’s almost funny— you’re so awkward, so rigid like a frozen statue, and he’s actively trying to melt it, but the ice is still cold and barely broken. Poor Itadori, you think, He’s talking to someone who doesn’t know who to talk properly. He’s going to get bored any minute but he’s still going to talk. 

“Like, um…” you think, “Oh! I went to the Tanegashima space centre a while back.” 

“Woah!” he goes, with excitement in his eyes like fireworks sparkles, “Wish I could go to space one day. Maybe it’ll be like something in Passengers.”

It’s only the space centre, though? Not space itself, you think. But you guess that’s okay— something, something, men are perfect when they’re a little dumb. You don’t know that much about idols. “I haven’t seen it yet, but uh, sounds nice, I guess? And you don’t look like the type to watch sci-fi movies… but maybe I’ll watch it one of these days. I don’t watch a lot of movies, though.” 

“I mean, it’s got Jennifer Lawrence in it,” he says, “She’s my favourite actress!” 

That makes a lot of sense. “…really? I’ve only seen her in clips from the Hunger Games a few times. I mean, I heard she’s had other pretty good movies, though, like… what was it called… Silver Linings something? I don’t know, uhm.” 

“Oh, Silver Linings Playbook?” he says, excitement dazzling in his eyes again, “Man, you haven’t lived if you haven’t seen them. I’ll drag you along with me sometime to watch it!” 

“Ah,” you go, unsure of what to say, “Um… nice! Thanks!” 

Over the course of the next few months you learn a few things about Itadori Yuuji. He loves horror movies and Jennifer Lawrence with a passion, is a sterling athlete and freakishly good at sports, and has a smile that makes people turn to face him like sunflowers to bright summer sunlight. And he knows you too— knows that you mildly loathe all genres of nonfiction save for books about animals (especially dogs), that you prefer when things are busy even if you may enjoy the quiet, and that the two of you are people who really, really ought to just take a train to Tokyo and have kaiten sushi together one day. 

Also, you can admit that you have some degree of a crush on him— him and that damned smile. Seriously, how could anyone not? You watch him sometimes during PE, eyeing the way he moves, and that guy can move, alright: he swerves so naturally it makes you swoon, jumps up and down with might and energy, can carry people around like they’re boxes of tissues. He’s swift but his movements aren’t frenetic; they’re controlled and he demonstrates such mastery over his body that no one who sees him wouldn’t be amazed. And he’s a nice guy— your parents have met him at least twice by chance, and they love him. Your father talks about how he’s a nice, handsome boy, and your mother mentions how he’d be an ideal son-in-law. 

Poor Itadori, you think to yourself whenever they say it, giggling, Maybe they’ll let up soon enough, and they’ll realise that you’re just a really good friend. 

You’re still not going to act on your feelings, though. You never will; you’re never going to act on anything. So you’ll fade away like a spectator, only trying to talk to him because guess what? You like it, you like talking to him and spending time with him even if you know he doesn’t like you back and sees you as just a friend. He’s still a fun guy and he always will be. 

In a way it feels almost liberating, like a breath of fresh air from what happened a year ago: lighthearted crushes like these are a quintessential element of the teenage girl experience, and even if you’d always fit the bill for an ordinary teenage girl, another part of that would probably be not feeling like a normal teenage girl at all. So having this and not being hurt, having this and having fun— is great. Maybe if you get over him and start crushing on someone else, you’ll get to try having a boyfriend by the end of your last year in junior high. Sounds pretty neat if you do say so yourself. Having a partner sounds interesting. 

“Itadori. Um… they’re going to release a new Jennifer Lawrence movie,” you say, standing behind him as the other friends around him stare at you. You aren’t too close to them, but hey— he was right. Some of them were pretty okay, cool people. 

“Ah, yeah! I’m watching that too!” 

“Oh, great! I mean, it’s right up your alley, right?” 

“Yeah,” he says, “Wanna watch it together?” You blush and he continues, “I can bring the other guys too.” He gestures to the boys behind him with his thumb. You don’t know them very well— hell, they probably don’t know your name much less like you— but that’s okay. Itadori is a great guy to spend time with and whether it’s scream-singing karaoke in a language you can’t speak at his house, joking and horsing around while his grandfather frowns on the dining table, or learning how to cook meatballs he says are easy to make— you’re guaranteed to have fun with him no matter what. 

“Sure.” 

So: now you have a new guy you’re crushing on, because the last one took so long for you to get over, and you’re not sure if you’re completely over the last one, but you know you’re not going to talk to him that much anymore. And this new guy’s sweet, a hundred times better, and even if this all-in-one perfect guy doesn’t like you back, you’ll say it again: you think Itadori is awfully fun and nothing can change that. 

Life is going pretty okay, you think. Life is becoming something you’re getting the hang of. Maybe, just maybe. 

2-1-2017

“Guess I’m going back, now…” you sigh, zipping your luggage bag up. It’s a cold day outside— each time you press your fingers against a window, or even touch a door knob or any cold metal, it freezes you up. It’s just inconvenient, for now— if you could, you could even use cell manipulation to keep yourself warm, but that would just be too much effort wasted on too little of a cold winter day in early January. 

New Year’s had just been a trip to the local shrine with them— this time Tsumiki had to come too, so she didn’t sabotage you and leave the two of you alone— and the days have gone by relatively peacefully. When your parents call you up they’re always relieved to just see you sitting on the bed or seated on their dining table eating meals with the two of them. 

“You’ve still a few hours left here, don’t worry,” Tsumiki says, “Let’s make the most of it!” 

Despite how awkward things were, you’d say you enjoyed being with Megumi and Tsumiki the past few days— mainly Megumi, though, because Tsumiki’s been conveniently leaving anytime you and Megumi are about to go anywhere together. 

“Has anything interesting happened lately? Any action?” she asks. 

“Pft— no, not really. Haven’t even given him the letter…” 

“Aw…” she starts, “It’s alright if you don’t want to force yourself or anything, but I really think it would do him good to read it and that it’d do you even better if you passed it to him. He cares about you more than you think.” 

“Uh-huh, that’s good to know,” you say, “At the very least, we’re friends, still. I’ll get over him eventually— I mean, I think I already have, since I’m not praying for him to be my boyfriend or something.” 

“Oh…” she goes, “Well, whatever it is, I’m supporting you!” she smiles, patting you lightly on the head. 

“Thanks.” 

She leaves for something quick before Megumi arrives back, which you think does him good because he comes back with enough bruises and patches on his face to completely drive Tsumiki up the wall. 

“Woah— you okay?” You rush to him. “What happened?” 

He groans. He reminds you of a stray dog sometimes, really. Even more so now than before. 

“S-sit down,” you say. He follows your instructions. “I’ll try to heal you, don’t worry.” 

Since you discovered you had your cursed technique, you’ve only used it to heal others besides yourself once when you helped rid the cashier from the store of her bruises. It’s been half a year since then, and you’re still getting used to using it on yourself. Still, you let him sit on the sofa anyway. 

“You probably shouldn’t. I can handle this on my own. If you do this to yourself then you’ll be over-exerting your body.” 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” you chuckle, “Let me take care of you. And if I get a nosebleed or a headache, you can take care of me too. Heheh. That’s how things like this work, right? We take care of each other. So I can heal your wounds for you and you can take care of me if I get any of my cursed technique’s side-effects.” 

You place your hand on his face for your cursed energy to get to him— you’d be able to do it without touching him, but the more the better— and you feel how his breath hitches when you do so. His skin is cold, and so very smooth, like the soft cotton blankets they have in their house. Slowly, you visualise his cells changing, shifting, until his skin looks pristine and good as new. 

“…and…there.” 

Then your nose bleeds. “Ah— hate it when this happens, honestly.” 

“See? I told you not to strain yourself.” He gets up and places a tissue to your nose. “Lean your head back. Please.” 

You follow his instructions as he did yours. “So what happened?” you ask, only able to view either his face or the ceiling. “How’d you get injured?” 

“Nothing, just… I… got into a fight.” 

“Wh— a fight? That’s dangerous!” you frown, “What happened in the first place? Someone picked on you?” 

“No, they were just picking on someone else. People like that shouldn’t be able to trample on others.”

“So what are you, the police?” you argue, “You shouldn’t hurt people, nor should you let them hurt you. It’s bad for you, you know?” 

“The basis of all kinds of human interaction isn’t being kind,” he claims, “It’s avoiding violating someone’s dignity, and I despise the people who ignore this rule just to make themselves feel powerful.” 

And that pisses you off a little. Because for all his sister’s kindness and forgiving spirit, her brother cares less for being able to forgive others than for reading books until one AM in the morning or something along those lines. 

The weather becomes that little bit colder and you go against him. 

“Well, yeah— I hate bullies too. It’s just… ugh, why’d you have to get yourself hurt over this? It really isn’t good to have injuries. Who’s to say anything life-threatening won’t happen? It’s not like you’re invincible.” 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, seriously,” you retort, “Do you fight often or something? You know, no matter how many times you come out unscathed, it’s not like you’ll even be alive the next. What if these bullies aren’t the worst and there are some gangsters or something who kill you one day?” 

“In my school?” he goes. 

“Uh-huh— and you seriously sound kinda self-righteous, too. I mean, who gives you the right to judge? Just don’t be an asshole and you’ll be fine, and it’s not like being an asshole to the assholes is gonna do anything.” 

“No, I just can’t handle people who step all over others.” 

“Me neither, but why can’t you just be nice?” you go, “I don’t know, what do boys do? Talk to each other, make friends or something. Forgive each other. Just be nice. That’s what I think the basis of human interaction is. It’s helping people when you can, and stuff. That’s what the basis of life is, even.” 

“You sound like Tsumiki.” 

“Oh, well. I’d rather take that as a compliment even if it wasn’t intended to be by her own brother. I seriously used to think you were better than that, honestly. That sounds so emo— ‘Oh, the world isn’t inherently kind and so we should be tolerable to each other at best and horrible to the ones who aren’t tolerable at worst.’ What a joke.” 

“Seriously?” he frowns, not raising his voice, but definitely angered, “You’re worse, really. You and Tsumiki and that hypocritical sense of forgiveness. It’s probably because you read too many fiction books last time.” 

“I can’t believe I’m taking that from an antisocial guy who reads boring-ass non-fiction all the time and beats middle school bullies up to act high and mighty over them. You’re giving me secondhand embarrassment. You should be out with people our age buying sodas from vending machines or something— jeez, you’re just a fucking kid. Just be nice and save people if you have the power to— especially if you can do it without having to do things at your own expense. That’s the easiest way to do things in life. And who says you aren’t a hypocrite too? You think you’re some kind of judge in court or something—?”

“—You have cell manipulation, right? So use your brain! I’ve already told you that it’s pointless to save people. Good people who are too merciful to bad people are just as disgusting as bad people too prideful over themselves.” 

“Ew— good and bad? What happened to just living life? Just live it, seriously, it’s not like everything can be split into two categories like that. You just sound so— ugh— stop being so immature—!” 

“Megumi!” Tsumiki says when she opens the door. “[Name]! What happened? Did the two of you fight? Why were you fighting? What—!” 

“No, no! Just bickering over something small,” you tell her, “I had a nose bleed all of a sudden.” 

“Tch. Something small?” Megumi scoffs. 

“Stop fighting, the two of you,” Tsumiki orders, her voice firm yet still soft and sweet. 

The next few hours move painfully quietly. 

3-1-2017

“I’m really sorry it had to be at midnight like this,” you say. 

“No, no, it’s fine!” Tsumiki grins, “We wanted to come, anyway. We still have to give you a proper send-off.” 

You breathe in. “…okay. I’ll visit again, I promise. Maybe next year, but at a better time, okay?” 

“Alright, alright. Well— you’ve got to go now,” Tsumiki says, hugging you. You hear her sniffling even though you can’t see her face. 

“Okay. Bye, Megumi. Bye, Tsumiki.” 

“Bye, [Name]! Take care of your health, okay? We should stick together no matter what, the three of us.” 

You’re still a little angry at Megumi. You haven’t passed him the letter. 

You’ll live. You hope you can, at least. You’re better off not ending up with or confessing to a guy who thinks like he does. 

It’s for Tsumiki, you tell yourself. And it grounds you. 

“…I will.” 

“…bye,” Megumi says, avoiding eye contact. 

And as you get on the train and they’re waving you off, you should have taken a picture, or a video, or something. Something to keep that moment in place. There’s Tsumiki— smiley Tsumiki— with her signature warm grin and the faintest of tears in her eyes, with her hand raised up to wave at you. Then Megumi— frowny Megumi— older and taller and angry at you. 

You really should have kept things there, or apologised to her again for anything and everything, apologised to both of them for any trouble you’ve caused them, or thanked them a trillion times over, but you didn’t. 

And you regret this forever. Because this is the last time you see Fushiguro Tsumiki, the girl who changed the trajectory of your life. 

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

#sorry for the extra long wait AGAIN but for the ao3 readers chapter six is finally here <3 #thank you for your patience! #also thinking on redoing the playlist since I've found better songs for it now... #take me back (take me with you) #jjk megumi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fluff #megumi angst #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x fem!reader #fem!reader #ruer writes #didn't know where to put the readmore for this chapter so I just put it there HAHA #megumi x reader

[kylekozmikdeluxo]

Welp, there goes another Halloween/spoopy season. October is my favorite time of the year, but it's starting to feel like a Charlie Brown football as life has gotten very *very* hard for me over the past couple of years: COVID, moving out, watching people I've known and loved my whole life being marched down a right-wing maga anti-lgbtqia rabbit hole, and still trying to settle into my new life. It's still lonely at the moment, with very little opportunities. New no job, no friends outside of the internet made, etc.... But I have to keep pressing ahead, no matter how grim the country looks to be in a year and no matter what's going on close to home...

I mean, November 1st - today - is Samhain. The Gaelic festival that ends the harvest season. And really, that's all it is... Why does widespread love of spoopy stuff end after October 31st? When there's a whole month ahead of us that's, weather-wise, as beautiful as October and full of autumnal stuff?

Capitalism.

What ever Halloween's origins may be, I feel it's largely been commodified much like Christmas... And hell, most holidays, let's be real here. In that it's just this capitalist rush-rush-rush of stuff to buy, things to do. Like, Christmas stuff was on the store shelves at the beginning of October this year. Whenever I went into, say, a Walmart or a Kohl's... Christmas stuff... Everywhere. In early October. This is a personal attack.

I know that not everyone celebrates Thanksgiving, but we have a whole-ass month ahead of us. Like, can we CHILL with the Christmas stuff already? If you want to celebrate it this early, go right ahead! That's awesome that you can happily be in the spirit this early. I technically start feeling ghoulish around the end of August, maybe mid-September... But I feel like the mass-market just pushes it aggressively on us. I want to enjoy November for its beautiful weather and colors and aesthetics, you know? What if I still want my Halloween decorations up? What if I still want to watch horror movies?

Technically, I can. Plus, there have been horror movies that were released in November. A couple recent examples I can think of are OVERLORD and FREAKY. I saw the former in theaters during a snowstorm, lol. We have a horror movie literally called THANKSGIVING opening in a few weeks. Hell, one of the all-time Halloween classics, OVER THE GARDEN WALL, began airing in early November the year it was released. Maybe there is no date. Time is just a construct, and the lot of us weirdo hearts out there who love the creepy stuff just keep going. Even well after Halloween.

But there's a sense of loneliness to it, I feel. After the world packs up, and trades jack-o-lanterns for sleigh bells, that initial high of everyone being in on that stuff during what I feel is - weather-wise - the most beautiful time of year... It feels kinda desolate afterwards. Like a desert, almost. Like, after Halloween, wouldn't it be cool if wherever you lived did more freaky-themed events, fun stuff, and other things? Just in case you might've missed the boat (like I did this year, I was busy last week) or had a crappy Halloween day (like I did)? Like, November is the perfect month to keep that going.

Even when you start feeling merry and holly jolly, there's still a rushed-ness to everything. Maybe it's because I'm in my 30s now, but everything feels so fast... It's kinda scary sometimes. I understand working and having a job, and keeping up with my creative endeavors. I know I have some situations I have to figure out, and anxiety demons to overpower, but part of me also wishes that things weren't so hectic. Ya know? All the holidays, really. All the times of year, just rushing rushing by...

#autumn #post halloween #in my 30s #adult life #reflecting

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Star Blazers Theme (English Version)" on YouTube

This is a lot going on and they're doing spelling bees trying to say our son doesn't know he's talking about and he said yeah I know the max are saying and they feel and they should and they're also saying some things about their clan are there out in the desert and that's what they're saying right there in front of them the judges so they're harassing him cool he says that's actually an old joke you going to win a spelling bee and stuff and it's like so what do you know what the word means and you probably don't know you know what that word means a little bit but you don't know what you're talking about and you are going to learn you need to stop harassing me there's too many Macs harass me it's a job and really you guys are really quick and I have to work with what I got and you're going to you're going to start doing things you'll feel better about yourself and a lot worse about these spelling bee people because they're the ones having to do it you see and they know about the American joke and it's an Old English joke too it's like you know how to spell the stupid word but you don't know what it means what we're saying and they're going to hell cuz they don't get it no they get it get away from me on the f****** man you're nothing but a God damn child molester is an old joke here I don't know what it is and they don't help me out like this we're not f****** spelling bee.

There are other things happening Charlotte county is experiencing changes for one

-there's no leadership and yeah our sunset boy that's insulting you're in a spelling bee how horrendous for you and Mac was laughing because our son do the joke it's an old American joke and I hope your everyday cuz boy would that be stupid so yeah welcome. But here it is new leadership is coming to Charlotte county and they fired a whole bunch of leaders given their pink slips and they did say the same but they are doing it only about 50 of them but that was city workers in punta Gorda and that's out of 2000 but that was higher ups and they started firing others and yeah but a thousand of them and it's two different groups no but they blamed each other a little and then they said it's not us and what can we do and they're actually picking them up all of them tried to go by here and they grab them and tomorrow the fire the rest and they're firing the county people they're down to 300 sheriff and yeah they fired the other one so they're trying to keep them out they don't say it's formally done but they did and they fired five more put to go to police and there's only 10 left they're going through them and pretty soon they'll be done that's what we know and they are installing the shield they are clearing them out of here a few more days who knows they probably won't be here

-Tommy f need a small storm and South shore and he's trying to intensify it there are ships at his and he'll be moved off shortly or the ship will be destroyed and he has a choice they said we're going to hit you and you'll crash and cause the tidal wave or you going to leave and there are ships that are shielding for a tidal wave big ones better anyways and Tommy says you can't and say we can and it's a 5 Mile ship no it's a 50 it's pretty big but and water like that it'll dissipate and make only way of 300 ft high by the time it hits here that would be about 20 ft high but they're blocking it so he's offshore and he's getting beat off and he'll be out soon and they're going to punish him and it's finally happening boy that suck it was very close to being a disaster and we're going to help get rid of this idiot says anything that I want to go after he's approving it and I do see that and I have targets and I want to and Hera talk to me about them and is approve them and his country too we have plans so we're going to go ahead with them we have to and we're going to get ready for the repercussions right now there's other things happening in Charlotte county

-these people who are so annoying and think they're going to get something or outnumbered in outgun by everybody and they are going away they do know it and they're having a problem with it and they can't help it but it's going to happen today into tomorrow they are going to be extradited and arrested and more and it's disgusting what they're doing they're just really stupid tonight there are a few things happening the cold is coming down he anticipate might be 30° here and it's very cold but he doesn't think so it might be getting to 40 or 50 and he doesn't care cuz it's hotter than hell in here but it will cool off and it's going to keep cooling off and we're playing tons of stuff out of the Midwest huge numbers of things and the upper Midwest parts of it are emptying and we pulled tons of stuff out including other people's robots and they just kind of leave him there

-huge numbers of these ships will be coming out they're all over the world and the Argo is the headship and they know it too they have Intel from phones and getting more as Jason and it is going to be a huge deal this is a giant number of things happening The shield is growing extended out of Tampa enter Brandon in town into Bradenton almost it's almost there this gigantic now and the ones down south Naples Cape Coral is coming north to fort Myers and within the next couple days it'll be there and covering the place probably completely and they're taking stand ship please out of and they're going to put them here even stand might think he's running it from time to time so it's something to watch out for

-is that a terrific day these two are hitting it out of the park it's going on we have a huge program going on and and a massive one but the huge one is venom and she Venom and really there's just to hundreds of trillions of them or something that's a lot of them and massive ones and we have to get to work and they have special abilities we need right now they work great in crowds and we need it for the great they hit like 50 people each and we're going to go to town on these guys instantly most of them because the poison and we've had enough of those people and there is a serious amount of Venom in the water at this time and a lot of people are dying out there massive amounts of death so we will tell you this is not going to continue for much longer and treatment by people who work for Max because of Max we've had a great day this is terrific we're setting up for tomorrow and we deserve this at this time we're going to do it tomorrow night is the intro and then Saturday we'll have the big event and he's bucking his own system now he says he remembers it and it's different hearing it back and she says it too he says why we having Friday oh yeah that's terrific they really know about it they like it and they're happy they were doing it and it's exciting because it worked out and it was a nice idea and something that's massive it is a good idea I'm going to introduce the hypercar and the light cycle car and he wants to get them both going because of the race because there's nothing else it's going to raise them and we don't want to race mega cars up there you're going to see something different you will be astonished you will be amazed I'm at his Godlike powers of invention and no computer can do what he does. It's true when he thinks that if they see the ship grow and they see what it can do they might try and move him down there and not like kidnapping cuz it doesn't do anything this sort of noticed but then again he says I'll probably kidnap attempts for a while until each other off and then finally will do something else we have recorded it says that's what happens so it's off to Peter Pan and he loves his wife and doesn't like the fact she has so many characters that were near him but loves her because of who she is but she's fully in all the time and it says that she smiles and says that's too bad because he's stuck here and it's a horrible place and they mess around with her and torture her and forced him to do gross things and not really gross the gross enough and truthfully she's imitating people she says that he's messing around with most of the time simply pair of sultan they really force that and she didn't feel too good but really it's kind of what they feel like to him it was different for him

Thor Freya

Zues

I like it I'm here with him and I'm thinking of him he knows the difference and she felt weird and was saying strange things not real strange but she didn't feel like me and was thinking differently and was strong enough to overcome me a little bit and I get what he was already his hearing some stuff and it wasn't really the greatest

Hera

She had enough power to do that and was holding her off and was trying to have us have him here stuff he heard a little but it was odd and she felt it was kind of strange a little loose and kind of a little bit upset and safely like she's not really into it and so he stopped and she left and it was right

Olympus

#Youtube