#I haven’t been an active part of a community in four years

[chitrolls]

It’s time for my yearly visit to ruminate on what my trolls are up to for ball season and, idk, the next several months. I don’t really go here anymore as much as I ruminate with a couple of people, but I still love and miss all my trolls.

[sinnabarmoth]

Worthy of Devotion (3/9)

Pairing: Sea God|Rafayel x Worshipper|Reader (fem)

Summary: Reader learns more about Rafayel and can't help asking some more personal questions. Meanwhile Rafayel is learning new things about human peculiarities both funny and concerning.

Content Warnings: Self worth issues caused by religious trauma.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9)

Read on AO3

~~~

The next day was more of the same. You woke up, made yourself from breakfast and started cleaning a new part of the temple. You had decided to work on the bedroom this time. The main issue was all the dust and you ended up tying a handkerchief around your face to help keep yourself from sneezing.

You had also finally entered the attached bathing room. Yesterday you had just availed yourself to the communal toilets on the main level since that was where you had spent most your day. The bathing room was in much the same state as the bedroom, covered in a fine layer of dust. The main problem was the large tub in the center of the room. In any other circumstance it would have been lovely, the large basin cut into solid marble, you could fit at least four people inside easily. But over the years a layer of moss and fungus had sprouted inside, coating the marble like a carpet. That took a lot of scraping and shoveling and scrubbing to get clean.

You were knelt in the center of the tub, trying to get the green ring stain out of the marble when Rafayel wandered in. “There you are,” he sat at the edge of the tub. “Keeping busy?”

“Someone has to repair this temple and I’m the only one here, so yes.” you wiped the sweat from your brow but only managed to smear more dirt and grime against it. “I assume you’re here to continue working on the journal?”

“Yes. But you are going to need to clean yourself up first. You’ll end up dirtying the pages with hands like that.” he picked up one of your hands and inspected the grime caked under your nails. “In fact, have you bathed at all since coming here?”

“I have rinsed…” you muttered, “But I haven’t really had the time to--”

“Up. Now.” he pulled you up and out of the tub. “You are not doing any more work until you’ve bathed. To be perfectly honest, you smell rather bad too. I let it slide yesterday because we were working but there is no excuse for this now.”

“Alright. I’ll go down to the baths--”

“What are you talking about? You just cleaned this one, use it.”

“If I use this one then I have to carry buckets of water up here to fill it. It’s just easier to go to the baths downstairs.”

Rafayel rolled his eyes and reached towards the head of the tub. There was a pipe over the basin but you saw no pump with which to call up water from. Behind the pipe was a large smooth gem that he put his hand over. He muttered something foreign to your ears and suddenly water began to fill the tub. Even more than that, steam was rising from it.

“But how--”

“A water gem.” he pointed to the gem behind the pipe. “Very rare. They provide unlimited water with the activation of certain phrases. “Calidum, for hot water. Frigus, for cold water. To get it to stop, say finis. Try it.”

You put your hand on the stone. “Frigus?”

There was a pause in the spray of water and when it returned you felt it was ice cold. You touched the stone again. “Calidum.” Another pause and hot water came out again. “Finis.” The water stopped. “Wow. Do you know how useful that would have been to know an hour ago when I was carrying buckets of water up here to scrub the floors?”

He smiled. “Well now you know. There should still be some soaps around here somewhere. Clean yourself up, I will be back.”

“Thank you.” You started the water again, going back and forth with the cold and hot to get it to a nice temperature and then sank in. When was the last time you had an honest to goodness hot bath? It was always such a hassle back home to get a hot bath all to yourself.

You let yourself relax, the feel of the hot water easing the pain in your joints and relaxing your muscles. Yes, you needed this. After a while of just soaking and enjoying the bath you picked up a rag and the soap and started cleaning yourself in earnest. You shouldn’t have been surprised by how nice the soap was but it still caught you off guard to smell something so pretty and floral. It smelled like plumerias and a whiff of coconut.

You were rinsing the suds away when the door banged open and Rafayel strode in again. You ducked under the water up to your neck, covering your body with your arms. “I’m still in here!”

“I figured you would be.” he didn’t seem perturbed by your nakedness or the clear panic you were exhibiting. “I brought fresh clothes. Those rags you’ve been wearing need a wash, if you still want to keep them that is.”

“Yes, thank you. You can leave now.” you curled into yourself, trying to hide your body more the closer he got.

“You’re awfully jumpy. What’s got into you?” he cocked an eyebrow up at you.

“I’m naked!”

“So?”

You swallowed back the urge to scream. “So I don’t want you seeing me naked. Please.”

“I assume this is one of those human peculiarities.” he shrugged. “The nude form is very natural, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You especially have a rather delectable form, from what I glanced when I came in at least.”

You were going to drown yourself in this tub. “Thanks. But I’d rather not wander around naked so freely. So can you please leave now so I can dry and dress?”

“Yes yes, I’m going.” he left the room. “We’re going to add these views on nudity to the book I hope you know. It’s ridiculous that you humans are so preoccupied with it.” He shouted from the bedroom.

“Got it.” you sighed, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes. “Gods give me strength.” you muttered.

“Strength for what?” Rafayel shouted again.

“That prayer wasn’t for you!” you snapped. So he really could here your prayers…great. You needed to be careful about what you said now.

After you had drained the tub and dried yourself off you picked up the bundle of clothes that Rafayel had left for you. It was a pair of loose pants and shirt made out of the same linens that he wore. There were little shells embroidered along the sleeves and a wave design along the thigh of the pants. They were simple working clothes, easy to move around in and lightweight.

When you left the bathing room you saw Rafayel packing more garments into the standing wardrobe. He turned back to you and smiled. “There, that looks much better.” he walked up to you and pulled you close. You froze as his face was buried in your hair. “Smell much better too. Now we can work without you smelling like dirt and sweat.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” you protested. Your resentment covered the sheer panic of his sudden embrace.

“It was. Come along, mudskipper. Time to get writing.” he pulled you to the sitting area of the bedroom.

“First I’m a grouper and now I’m a mudskipper. If you’re going to keep comparing me to fish can’t they at least be cute? Like an angelfish or even a starfish would sound nicer.”

“How about a clownfish?” he deposited you in one of the chairs.

“Do you enjoy mocking me?”

“What? Do you not think clownfish are cute?” he tossed you the book and sat down in the chair opposite you. “Now, where were we?”

You flipped open the book with a roll of your eyes. “Let me see, we had just finished discussing how the title of Sea God is passed down through generations and I have a note here about partners to the Sea God. I think we left off talking about unions and the powers that romantic partners had if any.”

“Right,” Rafayel cleared his throat, “It varies from person to person, some gods chose to have a partner with which they could entrust helping to rule over the Lemurians, in that way it was very strategic. Others were more driven by their desires and chose partners with their hearts. Sometimes partners are equal rulers with similar ruling authority, sometimes they are figure heads, but there is no set in stone responsibilities for the partner of the Sea God.”

“Interesting.” you started writing everything down. “And what about children? Is there any chance that progeny of the current Sea God may be chosen as the new god or is it entirely up to chance?”

“It is entirely up to chance. Children of current gods do not automatically inherit their parent’s title. I only know of one recorded instance in which one of the children of a past god was selected as the inheritor.”

Your pen paused. “Rafayel, do you have a partner?”

His eyes widened a fraction before he shook his head. “No. I do not.”

You didn’t know why but your heart did a pitter patter in your chest hearing that. “Then, do you plan on marrying for strategy or for love?”

“I don’t really have any plans right now.”

“Alright, let me just write that down. Current god, Rafayel, is not one to plan for the future.”

“Hey! You can’t write that down!” his face turned pink.

“I’m the one with the pen so--ah!” you held the pen back as Rafayel tried to grab it. “You’re the one who tasked me with writing this book so I get to write my findings!”

“No, you write what I tell you to write. Now give me the pen.” he made another swipe for it but you leapt out of your seat. “Are you disobeying me, clownfish?”

“Of course not. I would never dare disobey my god.” you handed the pen to him. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.”

“But I will be taking this.” you grabbed the book and took off out the door.

“Oh! I see how it is! My sweet clownfish is actually a slippery little eel!” he took off after you.

There was a part of you that screamed that you shouldn’t be doing this. Everything you had learned, everything you had been raised as told you that you shouldn’t have been disobeying and teasing your god like this. If any of the priests or priestesses could see your behavior you’d be put on floor scrubbing for a year, maybe ten. But they weren’t here. None of them had actually completed their pilgrimages. None of them had spoken to Rafayel. According to what they taught you, and according to your god, you were more worthy than any of them. No one was here to say otherwise. You could do whatever you wanted. And you felt like having a little fun, and the fact that it was at the expense of a god made it all the funnier.

You were flying down the stairs, a wide smile on your face as you ran. You could hear Rafayel gaining behind you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be caught or not.

You glanced over your shoulder to see how close he was and your foot hit a chunk of fallen ceiling. Your body pitched forward, gravity helping send you down the last couple of steps.

“Watch it!” you were caught by the waist and tugged backwards with force. You were tipping back instead and you landed with a thud on the stairs, Rafayel cushioning your fall. “Ow.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” you rolled off him. “Are you okay?”

“No. I think this is it for me. I’m weak, this is the end.” he threw an arm over his eyes. “The light shall need to choose a new Sea God now. I am to descend into the abyss. Tell my people I died heroically, saving one of my acolytes.”

You could tell he was being dramatic but you saw the way he winced as he sat up and the rock that he had landed on was painted a deep crimson at the point.

Rafayel looked at you, the humor on his face disappearing. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he waved a hand in front of your face, “Say something, you’re starting to worry me.”

“You…you’re bleeding.” you murmured, horrified that he had gotten injured saving you.

“Ah that,” he picked up the rock and tossed it away to a corner. “Don’t worry about that. I was only joking, I feel fine. A little sore between the shoulder blades but nothing to get worked up about.”

“I’m sorry.” you drew into yourself, pulling your knees close to your body. “I’m so sorry. You got hurt because of me. I’m sorry.”

“You would have gotten hurt worse if I let you fall. We really need to work on that balance of yours. You have about as much grace as a fish on a dock.” he smiled at you. When you did not return it he inched closer. He reached out as if to touch you and you flinched back. He eased away.

“You’re shaken from the fall. I get it.” he said slowly, as if trying to coax a skittish animal, “But I promise I’m fine. You don’t need to feel bad about it. Accidents happen.”

“I…I…” you glanced around and saw the book splayed out at the bottom of the stairs. You stood up, ignoring the pain in your foot as you hobbled down and recollected it. “I need to go.” You set the book on the bottom step and limped out of the temple.

“Where are you going?” Rafayel raced after you. “Your foot is scraped, if you get sand in it it will only make it worse.”

You ignored him, your body taking you down the steps and onto the beach. You kept going until you got the shore where the ocean lapped at the sand. You waded into the water up to your knees. The salt burned against your wound but you didn’t retreat, the pain helped to ground you. Staring straight ahead your vision tunneled as it tried in vain to see past the horizon line.

You hurt your god. Actually hurt him. And for what? Because you wanted to tease him a little? What right did you have? Was this a divine punishment? Fate reminding you of your place? A mortal poking fun at a deity like he was an old friend. No. There were lines for a reason. You couldn’t cross them. No one was ever meant to cross them.

“Come back inside,” you heard Rafayel’s voice behind you. “Your foot needs tending.”

“I shouldn’t be in there. I don’t belong in that temple or on this island. I’m not worthy. I need to leave. I need to--”

“By the tides, not this again.” Rafayel groaned and with an ease that surprised you he hefted you out of the water and started carrying you back to the temple. “Here I thought you were finally done with all that aggrandizing. One little tumble down some stairs and suddenly you think you need to throw yourself into the ocean. Those charlatans on the mainland really messed with your self worth in the name of worshiping me, didn’t they?”

“What--what are you--” you stammered as he marched you back into the temple. “Please! Put me down. I don’t--I can’t--”

“Shush.” he brought you into the kitchen and set you down on the table. “Stay there.”

“But--”

“Stay.” he pointed and left out the back door. He came back with a bucket of water and grabbed a clean rag out of one of the drawers. Dunking it into the water he grabbed your injured foot and started dabbing away at the blood and sand. “And here the day was going so well. I finally got you to take a bath, we were having a nice chat, then we took that little tumble and it was like it reset you. You had better not start calling me Your Radiance again, I swear.”

“I shouldn’t have ran though. It’s not my place. I shouldn’t have done it and then you wouldn’t have had to help me and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and--” you went silent as he glanced up at you, that spark of blue flame alighting his eyes once more.

“Did I not say yesterday that you are allowed to feel whatever you please in regards to me? You can feel guilty if you wish but your guilt doesn’t get to erase the fact that you also feel comfortable with me. I like that you play. I don’t want you to stop on account of this one accident.” He patted your wound dry and tore a strip of fabric off of his sarong, wrapping it around your foot. “Understood? Don’t make me have to make it an order because that will go against everything I am trying to accomplish here.”

“What is it you want to accomplish?” you asked.

“I want to create followers that want to follow me out of devotion, not fear. If I can’t get you to not fear me, then what hope is there for the others?” he handed you the wet rag. “I know I can’t undo everything you learned, especially not in a day. But we are not going to spend this time with you too scared to say anything out of turn or show any displeasure. I may be your god but I do not control you. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

“No. Say it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?”

You took a deep breath. “I understand what you want from me.”

“Which is?”

“To be devoted to you out of desire, not obligation or fear.”

“Good.” he turned around and you could see the wound in his back where the rock stabbed him. “Now, could you be so kind as to help clean this for me?”

“Yes. Of course.” You wiped at the blood trickling down his spin and pressed the rag over the cut to staunch the bleeding.

“Rafayel?” your voice felt as if it was a thousand miles away from your body.

“Yes?”

“You talk of being a god worthy of devotion, but do you not have any requisites of your followers? Is there nothing to make us worthy of your blessings outside of wanting to worship you? It seems unfair that you hold yourself to such a high degree but not us.”

“You wish to know what I think makes my followers worthy of my blessings and spared of my wrath?” he thought for a moment. “They have to be kind and honest. They cannot spread fear in hopes that it will gain me more followers or larger offerings. To be worthy, their actions and words must come from their souls. A sand dollar offered by a child that believes in me out of trust is worth more than all the gold shoveled onto a dais by fearful priests. Chasing you through the halls as you try to play keep away with me is more precious to me than this self loathing you carry about inadvertently causing me injury.”

“I understand.” A smile started to creep its way back onto your face. “I like this version of you far better than the one I learned about on the mainland.”

“Nice to hear it.” he glanced over his shoulder. “Almost done back there?”

“Oh right.” you had forgotten what you were doing for a moment. You removed the rag from his back. You were shocked to see that the wound had completely disappeared, gone as if it never existed, save for a small pink spot between his shoulder blades. “What…how did that happen?”

“I’m God of the Seas, water is a natural healer to me, be it fresh or salt.” he rolled his shoulders, the muscles in his back flexing as he did. “Now, how about we do something relaxing for the rest of the day? No cleaning, no writing, something simple.”

“Like what?”

“Want to learn how to play a Lemurian board game?”

“Sure.”

“Alright,” he glanced around the room. “Right, I need to go get one. Stay here, don’t go tripping over anything else, I will be right back.”

He left to dive back into the sea while you stayed sat on the kitchen table. You picked your foot up, inspecting the makeshift bandage over your foot. He could have gone and found actual bandages but he tore off part of his clothes just to dress your wound. Either he thought very highly of your foot or very little of his clothes. You ran a finger over the gold embroidery, contemplating.

It would take him some time to return so you carefully stood up and limped back out to the staircase. The book was still resting on the top step along with the pen that Rafayel had dropped. You picked up both and cracked open the book, penning a new note near the back.

“The god Rafayel wants more than anything for his followers to follow him out of love rather than fear. I think this shows more than anything that he cares for us more than the priests of old would have had us believe. He is a kind god,” you bit back a mischievous smile, “and he likes it when you tease him, so if you are reading this you should do it a lot. He really does like it. Just be ready for him to tease you right back.”

[joblrcensus]

it’s time for the JOblr census results 🧡🙌

before we start i want to thank everyone who took their time to answer this silly little project, gathering responses from 203 baby boos!! it’s my first time doing this so hopefully i can bring some excitement with the results <3

so buckle up and let’s get into it

general questions

Which continent are you from?

Unsurprisingly, the majority is European with a total of 80.8% but it’s amazing to see that they’ve crossed the continent’s border and we also have 9.9% people from North America, 3.9% from Australia & Oceania, 3.4% from Asia and 2% from South America. No person chose the Africa option.

Which country are you from? (optional)

With this being an optional question, 162 respondents out of 203 opted to answer it. Let’s take a look at the top countries by number of people in JOblr (small note: I counted the few people who wrote England or Scotland as part of the UK answer)

Drumrolls 🥁…..

Finland - 29

UK & USA - 15

Germany - 11

Poland - 9

Italy - 8

Australia - 7

Sweden - 6

Austria, Spain, The Netherlands - 5

Croatia, Slovenia - 4

Czechia, France, Romania - 3

Belgium, Canada, Denmark, Hungary, Lithuania, Norway, Philippines, Portugal, Ukraine - 2

Bolivia, Brazil, China, Estonia, Greece, Iceland, India, Luxembourg, Malta, Mexico, Russia, Switzerland - 1

How old are you?

45.8% of us are between 18-25, following by 23.6% between 26-30, 18.2% between 31-45, 10.8% under 18 and two people who are over 45 years old.

Are you part of the LGBTQ+ community?

Remember when they said Joker Out are for the girls and gays? 🏳️‍🌈

Well that was absolutely not wrong since 77.3% baby boos answered that yes they are part of the community, while 11.8% are questioning and 10.8% have answered no

tumblr activity questions

How do you participate on JOblr?

a majority of 98 people are mostly reblogging posts in the fandom but sometimes making posts of their own, 38 are only reblogging while 36 lurkers have stepped out of the shadow and made themselves known. The least amount of people (31) said to be active posters

Do you post any of the following?

It’s already known this fandom is mad talented and entertaining!! It’s always a joy seeing everyone’s creations and posts no matter the type. And the people who are only enjoying and supporting the content are just as important 🫶

Do you also post about Käärijä?

Since these two fandoms are basically overlapping, sometimes even seen as one fandom, I was curious just how much

50.7% also post about Käärijä outside of Joker Out, while 35% don’t post about him at all (or perhaps very rarely). 14.3% are mainly coming from Käärijä’s fandom

joker out questions

How did you find out about Joker Out?

Another unsurprising result, with 89.7% of us finding out about them through Eurovision. But it was really cool to see that there are people who discovered them differently. Ten people found out about them through Tumblr or other social media, to four they were recommended by someone and one through a music platform. The “other” option was chosen as well and included:

finding out about JO through Käärijä

through a music blog review

on slovenian radio

Who from the current members is your favorite?

One of the hardest questions but it had to be done

So Tumblr’s top favorite members areee:

Bojan - 69 votes

Jan - 42 votes

Kris - 40 votes

Nace - 35 votes

Jure - 17 votes

Have you been to a Joker Out concert?

I did not expect this one to be so balanced but I am pleasantly surprised! 104 people have been to a JO concert, while 99 haven’t. It often feels like you’re the only person who hasn’t seen them live yet but it’s nice to see that you’re not alone, so if anyone feels the same don’t worry our time will come too 🥹

If you answered yes, have you seen them multiple times?

Out of the 104 people who previously answered yes, there’s still a balance between those who have been to only one concert and those who have been to multiple

If you’re into RPF, which one of the most popular ships (according to AO3) is your favorite?

Another optional question where 181 out of 203 opted to respond to.

Oh boy, ooooh boy this was a tough battle. It felt like I was watching a horse race. I can tell you that all three ships have been at some point in the first place, or even equal. Are you ready to see the most interesting result yet?

Drumrolls again 🥁…….

BoJere - 58 votes

BoKris - 57 votes

Jance - 56 votes

The “other” option was also chosen and the following ships were included:

BoMartin

Jan/Jure

Kris/Jure

Nace/Kris

Nace/Jere

poly!JO

aaaand that’s it, you made it to the end 🫶 hope you enjoyed and why not see you on the next census!!

[createyourownnarrative]

Acceptance. Understanding. Coming to terms.

Not sure how to start this. I am currently using voice to text because of numbness and neuropathy in my hands. I am finding it difficult to type.

The last four years, I feel a constant state of loss. Not just the loss of my health and abilities, but loss of my identity, my purpose, the list goes on. Much like my symptom list. It just goes on and on. Most days I’m overwhelmed and distressed, living with Long Covid.

Many people ask me if I still do photography. I’m finding it difficult, to have an answer. I haven’t been as active, in the last 4 years, because of my health issues and decided to slow down, to focus on getting well.

Am I still a photographer if I’m not working? Am I still a photographer if I can’t feel the shutter button at my fingertips? Would I still be a photographer if I could no longer shoot? What is my purpose if I can no longer create art? What is my purpose if I can no longer connect with people? What will happen if the cognitive impairment in my brain, from having Covid, is permanent? I feel it every day. What happens when you can no longer trust yourself? So many heavy questions infiltrate my mind constantly.

I miss feeling part of a community and being able to contribute to building culture and relationships. I miss talking about art, and learning. I miss representing my community and human connection.

I feel like after I got sick, all I do is let people down. I can’t show up the way I want to, or the way that is expected of me. It’s been really hard. It hurts that I can’t feel reliable because of this. It’s been hard to feel strong or any kind of confidence at all.

Long Covid and identity. ANY Chronic illness and identity. How do we cope? How do we answer these questions for ourselves? How do we find our new purpose, new limits? How do we navigate this new life? What happens, if I can’t work anymore? What is the meaning of life? Of my life?

[perfectlyvalid49]

So, I got to have a “fun” experience yesterday.

My son is in first grade, and on Sunday mornings he has Sunday school from 9:30-11:30. Our synagogue actually has a lot of kids programming on Sunday mornings – the aforementioned school for kindergarteners and 1st graders, a music hour for younger kids, sometimes parties if there’s a nearby holiday. The Channukah party was two weeks ago, and yesterday they were actually going to be holding a parents’ forum to get feedback on what we want in a new clergy member because we’re looking to hire.

So at 9:25, my whole family is getting out of the car, meeting up with some of the other parents and chatting. My daughter runs ahead – she’s only four, but she’s trying to get into the school to see if she can talk the teachers into letter her come to class. She thinks it’s neat that there’s a second alphabet for her to learn and doesn’t want to wait until next year. My son and one of his friends run after her, so my husband runs after them so that the kids are supervised while I stay behind to help some friends unload their 1 year old and associated gear (stroller, diaper bag, etc.) from their car.

Everybody is laughing and having a good time, but as we start walking toward the door, we see that my husband is hustling the kids back to the cars. I ask him what’s up and he says that everything is canceled for the day and we should leave. Our friends ask why, and once he’s sure the kids aren’t paying attention, he tells us that there’s been a threat, and while they don’t think anything will actually happen, they’re playing it safe and cancelling all activities for the day. He didn’t have any more details than that.

We quickly made plans and wound up hosting an impromptu play date at our house, and the kids seemed mostly fine with it, though they did ask several times why school was cancelled, because it seemed weird. We distracted them with legos and some painting kits.

And everything wound up being fine. I have not heard any news, so I don’t think anything actually happened, but I agree that acting with an abundance of caution was the correct call. And obviously, nothing happening is better than something happening, but not having the threat in the first place would be best of all. I’m still trying to process it. Part of me is like, if whoever it is picked a Sunday instead of Saturday, then they can’t be very bright, as there are a lot more people present on Saturday. But part of me wonders if they picked Sunday instead because they were deliberately targeting young families/children. And that makes me worry too, because there’s a preschool/daycare in the building.

I still haven’t given my kids a good explanation for why school was cancelled yesterday. We told them that the teachers just decided that it wasn’t a good day for class, but I don’t think it answered all their questions. I’m hoping that they forget about it, because I don’t really know what else to tell them. I’ve said before that I want to protect them from the fact that some people want to hurt them just because they’re Jewish for at least a while longer. I don’t think they’re ready. I know I’m not ready.

I’m not worried about going back to my synagogue. I think their policies and procedures are sound, and they have a longstanding good relationship with local law enforcement. Since the beginning of October, they’ve increased security in a bunch of ways, and while I hate that it seems necessary, stuff like yesterday makes it feel like a good idea.

I dunno. To relate this to some of the larger conversations happening right now, I think that this is a prime example of antisemitism that is felt by Jewish communities, and invisible outside of them. Like, in the end, nothing wound up happening except a bunch of families getting hustled out of a building. It won’t be reported on, and most people will never know that anything happened. But “nothing” is still me having to figure out what to tell my kids, and plans getting cancelled, and people worrying for their safety. Due to the staggered start times of events, I’m sure our director of family engagement was there for at least 2 hours telling other people to go home, and I can’t even imagine how she must have felt telling people, “Go home, it’s not safe here,” while she stayed. Psychological attacks are still attacks. Even if you don’t hear about them, it doesn’t mean they’re not happening. When Jews tell you that antisemitism is an issue, please believe us.

[whileiamdying]

Sinéad O’Connor, acclaimed Dublin singer, dies aged 56

The Irish musician found worldwide fame with hit single Nothing Compares 2 U in 1990

Sarah Burns Wed Jul 26 2023 - 18:31

Irish singer Sinéad O’Connor has died at the age of 56, her family has announced.

In a statement, the singer’s family said: “It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved Sinéad. Her family and friends are devastated and have requested privacy at this very difficult time.”

The acclaimed Dublin performer released 10 studio albums, while her song Nothing Compares 2 U was named the number one world single in 1990 by the Billboard Music Awards.

Her version of the ballad, written by musician Prince, topped the charts around the globe and earned her three Grammy nominations.

The accompanying music video, directed by English filmmaker John Maybury, consisted mostly of a close-up of O’Connor’s face as she sung the lyrics and became as famous as her recording of the song.

In 1991, O’Connor was named artist of the year by Rolling Stone magazine on the back of the song’s success.

Ms O’Connor was presented with the inaugural award for Classic Irish Album at the RTÉ Choice Music Awards earlier this year.

The singer received a standing ovation as she dedicated the award for the album, I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, to “each and every member of Ireland’s refugee community”.

“You’re very welcome in Ireland. I love you very much and I wish you happiness,” she said.

Taoiseach Leo Varadkar led the tributes to O’Connor, expressing his sorrow at the death of the singer in a post on social media.

“Her music was loved around the world and her talent was unmatched and beyond compare. Condolences to her family, her friends and all who loved her music,” said Mr Varadkar.

Tánaiste Micheál Martin said he was “devastated” to learn of her death.

“One of our greatest musical icons, and someone deeply loved by the people of Ireland, and beyond. Our hearts goes out to her children, her family, friends and all who knew and loved her,” he said.

Ms O’Connor is survived by her three children. Her son, Shane, died last year aged 17.

She drew controversy and divided opinion during her long career in music and time in public life.

In 1992, Ms O’Connor tore up a photograph of Pope John Paul II on US television programme Saturday Night Live in an act of protest against sex abuse in the Catholic Church.

“I’m not sorry I did it. It was brilliant,” she later said of her protest. “But it was very traumatising,” she added. “It was open season on treating me like a crazy bitch.”

The year before that high-profile protest, she boycotted the Grammy Awards, the music industry’s answer to the Oscars, saying she did not want “to be part of a world that measures artistic ability by material success.”

She refused the playing of US national anthem before her concerts, drawing further public scorn.

In more recent years, O’Connor became better known for her spiritualism and activism, and spoke publicly about her mental health struggles.

In 2007, Ms O’Connor told US talkshow Oprah Winfrey that she had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder four years previously and that before her diagnosis she had struggled with thoughts of suicide and overwhelming fear.

She said at the time that medication had helped her find more balance, but “it’s a work in progress”.

Ms O’Connor had also voiced support for other young women performers facing intense public scrutiny, including Britney Spears and Miley Cyrus.

The singer converted to Islam in 2018 and changed her name to Shuhada Sadaqat, though continued to perform under the name Sinéad O’Connor. In 2021, Ms O’Connor released a memoir Rememberings, while last year a film on her life was directed by Kathryn Ferguson.

Broadcaster Dave Fanning said Ms O’Connor would be remembered for her music and her “fearlessness” and “in terms of how she went out there all the time, believed in everything she was doing, wasn’t always right and had absolutely no regrets at all”.

American rapper and actor Ice T has paid tribute to O’Connor, saying she “stood for something”, after her death at the age of 56.

In a Twitter post, he wrote: “Respect to Sinead….. She stood for something ... Unlike most people ... Rest Easy”.

Musician Tim Burgess of Northern Ireland band Ash said: “Sinead was the true embodiment of a punk spirit. She did not compromise and that made her life more of a struggle. Hoping that she has found peace.”

Penguin Books Ireland, which published her memoir ‘Rememberings’, said they were “so sorry” to hear of the death of the singer.

“Sinéad was a once in a generation talent and we were honoured to publish her memoir ‘Rememberings’,” they said. “We would like to extend our heartfelt condolences to her family and friends.”

Sarah Burns is a reporter for The Irish Times.

[builtbybrokenbells]

ive stuck to posting mostly fic content on this blog, and i will remain doing so from here on out. but in light of a certain post made, I came here to air out some feelings, I suppose. not in attempt to draw the light away from anybody, but more like a reflection in response.

from the minute i discovered gvf it was almost like a breath of fresh air. in the time listening to them, as an aspiring musician, artist, writer, or whatever the fuck I am, I’ve found great solace and inspiration in the four boys we love so much. today, i found a piece of home within them, too, but more specifically, from Josh.

i grew up and, unfortunately, still reside in a little, homophobic town that is nothing if not dedicated to normalcy. it has been a devastating twenty years of life knowing that my existence is abnormal to others, including some family and friends, and they would prefer if i remain quiet about it. ive lost friends, family, acquaintances, you name it, just because i was born the way i am. just the other day, there were news reporters in front of my apartment building seeking opinions on a lgbtq+ bill for youth passed by the government. that’s right, opinion, on the human rights of very real children that walk on the same streets they were spewing their hate on.

I’ve always been quite comfortable with who am sexuality-wise. from a very young age, to now, it has never been a debate or shameful idea to me. I’ve been very loud and proud, and will remain so. my gender, not so much. less than a month ago, i finally voiced my proper pronouns to the first person ever, after years of struggle with it. i still haven’t told family, or properly ‘came out’ (because, if you know me, you would know that i think the whole idea of coming out is quite ridiculous) and i have no plans on doing so in any intimate manner. but, today, a bit of courage bled into me from one of the people I look up to most, and i told a bit more of the world about myself.

to say i am beyond proud of josh for his transparency is not enough. what he did, although some would disagree, was one of the most courageous things a person in any type of spotlight could do. i surround myself with only a few people, and i have yet to find the power within myself to tell the closest to me, who i am. what i am more moved by, is that he used his platform to not only make himself known, but vocally and actively join an ongoing battle that many believe is already over. he was already such a beacon of light and love, that i did not believe he could be any more so. today, i happily admit that the idea was wholly untrue. not because of his sexuality or anything like that; he’s still the same Josh he has always been. but because his own moral was so strong that he, without fear, showed an intimate part of himself to the entire world, and guided others on how to help the cause in the process. it is admirable to be proud of who you are, but even more so to educate and inspire others while doing it.

being so vulnerable, especially in the public eye, is terrifying. being a beacon of light and love in a world full of hate and darkness is also terrifying. he did both today with grace and strength, and as someone who’s been actively fighting this fight for my entire lifetime, i am beyond words. i said a lot of things here, but nothing can truly amount to how i feel. i cannot articulate the feelings accurately, and in place of that, i ramble.

basically, if you stuck through this, thanks. if you use this angels sexuality against him in any way, i will find you. if this changed the way you view him, you didn’t deserve him in the first place. together, these four boys have created a community of love and all things that come with it; if you are not willing to give it back to them, or right now, him specifically, this is not the place for you. remember, as proud/happy/whatever you’re feeling about this, he’s still a person. the same one who you knew months ago, who worked to create the community and music we love and appreciate. that did not change, and there is no need to view him any differently. im certain that if he’s been so private about this for so long, he does not want the world to see him only as such.

so, from the bottom of my heart, the message of my rambling is to say im proud of him, and that im incredibly grateful for the chance to live in the same time as him. I’m even more thankful that his courage has given me some, too. be respectful of him and his privacy, because he is deserving of such (and much more). and, if you also find a piece of his courage within you, im proud of you, too.

as always, be kind, thanks for reading, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes ;) 🫶🏻

[redheadinjapan]

The End and The Beginning: Graduation Ceremony, Farewell Parties, and Entrance Ceremony

It’s about that time of year when school comes to an end, at least, it is in Japan. In America, we’re used to the September to June school schedule, but Japan’s schools run from April to March. This means the school year ended a few weeks ago and is just starting back up after a couple of weeks of spring break (for the students, not really for the teachers, at least not in my area). As such, I’ve just been through a lot of firsts: first graduation ceremony, first farewell party, and first entrance ceremony.

Depending on whether you have one school or many, you may be asked to attend the school’s graduation ceremony and entrance ceremony, which are usually held in the school gym. While I wasn’t asked specifically to attend either, if the day I was there overlapped with when they were happening, the schools made sure I knew where to go and what to do. The graduation ceremony at my middle school was short, about an hour, just long enough to watch the 3rd years (9th graders) graduate. The entrance ceremony at my elementary school, on the other hand, was a little more than an hour, maybe an hour and a half. For that one, they did ask me to stand with all the teachers when they announced our names and classes at the end. The entrance ceremony seemed mostly geared towards welcoming the students and the new teachers, which put me in a strange position because it was my first entrance ceremony, but I wasn’t exactly new. It also sounds like there was another entrance ceremony specifically for the first graders that weekend.

The other important event that comes with the end of the school year is the farewell parties. Known as sobetsukai (送別会) in Japanese, these farewell parties are for the teachers to–well–say farewell to any teachers leaving the school or retiring. They’re held after hours and are a nice, less formal environment to get to know the teachers you work with, especially non-English teachers who you don’t normally talk to. They usually hold events like these throughout the year for teachers to mingle, but because of Covid, this was the first time any of my schools has held one. Or, in my case, two, because two of my four schools invited me. Beware, though, they are hard on your budget. One of my farewell parties was 7,700 yen (about $77) and the other was 100,000 yen ($100)! But as long as you’re willing to pay that, you’re in for a fun night of fancy food and lots of drinks. At one farewell party, they even put bottles of beer on the table for people to pick up and use to refill other’s drinks. One of the English teachers told me this was a typical way to mingle at these parties, but it didn’t happen at the other one, so I can’t be too sure. 

And if you’re lucky, you might also be invited to a second party (nijikai / 二次会) or even a third (sanjikai / 三次会). After the fancy farewell party, any teachers that aren’t ready to go home will head to another bar or izakaya where things get even less formal in the more casual environment. It’s almost a little like barhopping. We went to a separate bar for nijikai at both my schools, and one school invited me to sanjikai which was basically just late-night soba. That school’s teachers said that you have to end the night with noodles, but I haven’t been able to confirm that either.

These end- and beginning-of-the-year events are a great way to become more a part of the community at your school (or schools). It can be especially hard to get involved in everyday things, like clubs and afterschool activities, if you have multiple schools, but these one-day events are a great way to get to know teachers and be there for your students. While the ceremonies might seem tedious, especially if you can’t understand any of the Japanese, and the parties are expensive, I highly recommend them if you want to make the most of your time working at a Japanese school.

[letters-to-teaching]

Teaching in FL with standards while bi and liberal

Letters to Teaching

I hope very much that you will read all of this before commenting. I am a human being and have made my own mistakes, to which I have consistently owned up. That being said, 

CW for general shittiness of US, Florida, gun violence, mental illness, poor treatment of teachers and kids. 

Anyone have time/spoons for a frank and open conversation about teaching in the US, Florida in particular?

Still into it? Please consider whether you’re ready to consume this information. It may end up being surprisingly un-traumatic for you, but for me it’s both rambling and just ~a lot~.  Buckle up, star children. 

So yeah here we go. Diary entry or whatever. March 29 2023, in which I say a few of the many wretched things that have sucked in the last four years. This will take a while but I promise it’s all important. 

What follows is a brief summary of my personal experience and the desperate hope that I can fall in love with teaching again. The classroom used to be my most joyful place, but with each year, particularly after leaving my former position at a wonderful school, the profession that once gave me passion and purpose has increasingly become nothing but a cesspool of dread and broken promises. 

Frankly, my students and my program deserve someone like my 23-yr-old self: willing to do and give every particle of my being to teaching,. Realistically, those teachers shouldn’t be willing to do that. We are not able to do that. We all deserve better pay, more respect, and better training, both social and emotional. Our worth should not be determined by our productivity. 

I’m tired now. I’m so fucking tired and so incredibly devastated to see how much teaching, this school in particular (my alma mater), has warped me. Especially with the comparison between my former school’s response to COVID vs that of my current employer. Mine truly used to be an exceptional school, and I’m devastated to see how far it’s fallen. I thought I could be part of the solution, but here’s what has happened in my time here:

Year 1: accepted a job making the same salary ($46k) as my previous job bc I wanted to be close to my mom and I naively believed that this school shared my pursuit of excellence and inclusivity. Taught 7 classes with no planning period for no extra money. Helped colleagues navigate online challenges during COVID, hosted lunches and socials to help students connect in isolation, and designed entirely new curricula to best support online learning. 

Year 2: Forced (on threat of firing) to teach two periods of English with two week’s notice and neither training nor a textbook. Parents and students were vocal, toxic, and furious that I was drowning and couldn’t keep up with lesson plans and grades. Their concerns were valid, but the administration left me entirely without help. 

Year 3: Began with zero support /confidence and increased scrutiny due to my challenges from the previous year. Admittedly, this lack of respect and support did cause me to be behind often on grading and communication. Written up for (legally) discussing pay when I learned a coworker was making $10 less per hour than I was. Took on all of the classes in my program when my co-teacher (justifiably) bailed due to discrimination and poor treatment with literally a week’s warning, which led to me teaching a lunch class and another period with two classes at the same time for a total of nine preps. From day one, a group of students actively tried to get me fired and intentionally bullied kids away from my program. Admin refused to do anything and blamed me, taking away my entry level classes and functionally killing my program. I expressed that this decision ensured that there was no possibility for growth, but was again ignored without consideration. 

Year 4: intense criticism over the fact that I haven’t been particularly successful in my position. I fully admitted my own part in this. Constant terror that my contract means nothing in an at will state. Two new situations in which I am teaching multiple classes in the same period. This year alone I am generating curricula for 10 unique classes during 6 class periods. 

No matter what happens, I will always be honest. In this hostile environment, my grades ~were~ often  late in my second and third years. Parents complained, students actively worked against me, and I have been paralyzed with fear and largely unable to dig myself out. I am not blameless here, nor have I ever pretended to be. My frustration is the choice of my administrators to place every ounce of the blame upon me. My department chair was told that the classes which could save my program were taken away due to scheduling conflicts, while I was told that they were a punishment for my low recruitment numbers. Whatever improvements I make are ignored, while every mistake is a point of discussion. 

My own dean suggested that I get out as soon as I can. He sees the writing on the wall. 

The one breath of fresh air is the possibility of returning to the only school that treated me reasonably well. The school that I loved, the school I left to be nearer my mother. The school that, despite its own problems, I never forgot. 

The education system is broken. In ten years and three schools, my salary has gone up by $8k (now $46k) while my living expenses have skyrocketed exponentially. I am unable to purchase Expo markers or even notebook paper and pens for my students. 

Teachers and students risk our lives every day we set foot on campus. Our livelihoods are threatened when we speak out. 

I generally try to end posts on a message of hope, but at this point I am sincerely asking for help. America’s teachers are HUNGRY; we are TERRIFIED; we are THREATENED; we face DEATH each day. Help me. Help us. Be a voice for the voiceless. I beg you. I love you. I honor you. 

[beardedmrbean]

At a Wednesday meeting in Sacramento, public safety officials serving on the State 911 Advisory Board questioned why they were kept in the dark about safety issues impacting California’s massive Next Generation 911 project.

The agency responsible for the project, the California Office of Emergency Services (Cal OES) also announced it has stopped all deployment of the new network until it figures out the scope of the problems uncovered by NBC Bay Area’s Investigative Unit.

The advisory board said it has scheduled a special meeting to get to the bottom of their concerns. 

“If this board was misled in any way, whether intentionally or by negligence or by poor communication, that needs to come to light,” said Martinez Police Chief Andrew White, who took over as the advisory board’s chair at the meeting. 

As NBC Bay Area reported last week, the state’s half-billion-dollar project to bring its landline-based emergency 911 network into the internet age has been plagued by years of delays, along with complaints from dispatchers that lost calls, outages and other failures are jeopardizing public safety. 

The California Governor’s Office of Emergency Services recently cut ties with Budge Currier, the man in charge of implementing the state’s NG911 vision. Currier, until his departure, had also chaired the 911 advisory board. 

Board members, however, say they were never told Currier was no longer with Cal OES, nor were they informed of troubling issues encountered by some of the first dispatchers in the state to use the NG911 network, in places such as Tuolumne County and Desert Hot Springs. 

“There was information that came out that certainly, as an advisory board member, that I hadn’t been aware of,” White said.

Other board members echoed White’s concerns.

“Speaking for myself, it caused me to go back and communicate with some of our dispatch centers,” Rodeo-Hercules Fire Protection Bureau Chief Rebecca Ramirez said. “I feel like there hasn’t been enough information on the totality of the system and how it’s working.”

Cal OES officials said they hoped to have answers for the board members at the special meeting scheduled for February, although they had no estimate on when the long-overdue project might be completed.

Cal OES originally estimated the network would be live across the entire state by 2021. Three years later, however, only 22 of California’s 438 emergency dispatch centers are currently taking calls on the NG911 system.

Board members questioned how the state was holding the contractors in charge of building the NG911 accountable for their performance. 

An attorney for Cal OES said the agency can draft a letter to the appropriate vendor if it’s deemed there was a violation in their contract or agreement but did not elaborate further. He said the state is also working on a new audit process for vendors.

NGA, one of the four contractors working on the network, had a representative at the meeting who said the company was actively working with Cal OES to resolve any issues. NBC Bay Area reached out to the other three companies, but they haven’t yet responded.

At the meeting, Cal OES officials also conceded that not every failure with the NG911 system gets publicly reported. 

When asked by NBC Bay Area why an outage in Tuolumne in Tuolumne County that lasted 12 hours in 2022 was never brought up at subsequent advisory board meetings, Cal OES’ attorney said they hope to address such concerns at the next meeting.

NGA is building the network in Tuolumne and said it couldn’t comment on specific outages. But in an email, the company said, “many of these challenges are tied to the legacy infrastructure being phased out as part of the NG-9-1-1 migration."

While board members demanded more transparency and had tough questions for Cal OES officials, they continue to express unwavering support for modernizing California’s aging 911 system.

“California needs NG 911,” said board member Mark Chase on behalf of the California Chapter of the National Emergency Number Association (CALNENA). “CALNENA encourages the Cal OES 9-1-1 branch to reset realistic expectations and timelines, commit to transparency, and engage us as willing partners. We stand ready to help.”

[jcmarchi]

Spamouflage's advanced deceptive behavior reinforces need for strong email security

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/spamouflages-advanced-deceptive-behavior-reinforces-need-for-strong-email-security/

Spamouflage's advanced deceptive behavior reinforces need for strong email security

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY:

Ahead of the U.S. elections, adversaries are weaponizing social media to gain political sway. Russian and Iranian efforts have become increasingly aggressive and transparent. However, China appears to have taken a more carefully calculated and nuanced approach.

China’s seeming disinformation efforts have little to do with positioning one political candidate as preferable to another. Rather, the country’s maneuvers may aim to undermine trust in voting systems, elections and America, in general; amplifying criticism and sowing discord.

Spamouflage

In recent months, the Chinese disinformation network, known as Spamouflage, has pursued “advanced deceptive behavior.” It has quietly launched thousands of accounts across more than 50 domains, and used them to target people across the United States.

The group has been active since 2017, but has recently reinforced its efforts.

Fake profiles

The Spamouflage network’s fake online accounts present fake identities, which sometimes change on a whim. The accounts/profiles have been spotted on X, TikTok and elsewhere.

For example: Harlan claimed to be a New York resident and an Army veteran, age 29. His profile picture showed a well-groomed young man. However, a few months later, his account shifted personas. Suddenly, Harlan appeared to be from Florida and a 31 year-old Republican influencer. 

At least four different accounts were found to mimic Trump supporters – part of a tactic with the moniker “MAGAflage.”

The fake profiles, including the fake photos, may have been generated through artificial intelligence tools, according to analysts.

Accounts have exhibited certain patterns, using hashtags like #American, while presenting themselves as voters or groups that “love America” but feel alienated by political issues that range from women’s healthcare to Ukraine.

In June, one post on X read “Although I am American, I am extremely opposed to NATO and the behavior of the U.S. government in war. I think soldiers should protect their own country’s people and territory…should not initiate wars on their own…” The text was accompanied by an image showing NATO’s expansion across Europe.

Email security implications

Disinformation campaigns that create (and weaponize) fake profiles, as described above, will have a high degree of success when crafting and distributing phishing emails, as the emails will appear to come from credible sources.

This makes it essential for organizations to implement and for employees to adhere to advanced verification methods that can ensure the veracity of communications.

Advanced email security protocols

Within your organization, if you haven’t done so already, consider implementing the following:

Multi-factor authentication. Even if credentials are compromised via phishing, MFA can help protect against unauthorized account access.

Email authentication protocols. Technologies such as SPF, DKIM and DMARC can assist with verifying the legitimacy of email senders and spoofing prevention.

Advanced threat detection. Advanced threat detection solutions that are powered by AI and machine learning can enhance email traffic security.

Employee awareness. Remind employees to not only think before they click, but to also think before they link to information – whether in their professional roles or their personal lives.

Incident response plans. Most organizations have incident response plans. But are they routinely updated? Can they address disinformation and deepfake threats?

Further thoughts

To effectively counter threats, organizations need to pursue a dynamic, multi-dimensional approach. But it’s tough.

To get expert guidance, please visit our website or contact our experts. We’re here to help!

[lizzygrantarchives]

Complex, October 7, 2011

The "Video Games" vixen tells us how she's dealing with the sudden fame and what's next for her music.

Ever since her passionate singles "Video Games" and "Blue Jeans" got Lana Del Rey buzzing this past summer, music journalists have gone to great lengths to try and figure her out—with inconclusive results. Lana popped up with a DIY aesthetic, then surprised everyone when it was revealed that she has the support of a major label machine in Interscope. Some love her because her music is awesome. Some hate her because they feel she's manufactured, Trojan Horse-ing her way into the scene.

If you ask Lana to describe herself, or her purpose, she's not much help either. "I don't even have that much to say!" she proclaims over the phone, while stepping off the subway in New York. For a girl with an image that appears so deftly calculated, it's hard to tell if she's being sincere, or whether her coyness is all part of the act.

And really it's this act, her penchant for Old Hollywood cinematics, killer fashion, and dramatic tales of heartbreak, that has us mesmerized. We care about her, just as much, if not more, than her records. Where did this girl come from and why is it so fun to watch her? Lana Del Rey finally opens all the way up to Complex, from the authenticity of her much-discussed lips, to how she really feels about those Internet haters, and the sound of her upcoming debut, tentatively titled Born To Die.

You moved from Lake Placid to New York City seven years ago in search of a career in music. Now you have one. How did that happen?

Just going to open-mic nights and things like that. It was mostly in Brooklyn. It was a folk scene. When I was 19, I signed to an independent record label. I was the only act on their roster, and then that record was shelved. After that, I still wanted to sing, but I started focusing on being an active member of my community. It’s only in the last three months that I’ve had any attention.

You really came out of nowhere. Did you have a relationship with anyone at Interscope before your rise in popularity this summer?

No, I had never met anyone in that capacity. I had gone to record labels in London a year and a half ago and showed them my songs, but no one was interested. I hadn’t met any of the people that I’m signed to now. I know lots of people are wondering about the deal. [Laughs.]

Yeah, when I first heard “Video Games” in July, your record label was mentioned.

Well, I wrote that a few months ago with a composer called Justin Parker. I got a publicist a few weeks ago. I signed my deal a few weeks ago. I’ve had a very diligent manager for the last two years. In terms of assistance, I haven’t had a thing, which is OK. It’s nicer to have help.

No help with your videos? The editing is great.

No, I found and edited all of those clips myself. In the last four weeks, I’ve had to hire copyright specialists to reach out to people to ask for approval for those clips, but I found them ten months ago by searching keywords on YouTube. It’s not like the videos are that good. I’d rather them not be up, but whatever. They’re fucking weird. It’s not like I wanted the videos to look that way; it’s just what I was working with at the time. I’m not sure it’s a perfect representation of what I would have chosen if I’d had more money. [Laughs.]

Well, it’s worked out for you.

Yeah, you’d think so, but there’s definitely a backlash to it that I’m starting to see now. But it’s fine.

Anytime I talk to someone who’s facing backlash, it’s always “Whatever” or “Haters are going to hate.”

I don’t feel that way. I’m not that cool. I feel like I want to fucking kill myself. It’s miserable.

What bothers you about the criticism?

I’m just not interested. Music is secondary to me. I wish I could go back to normal. I’m a really quiet person. I always have been. It’s hard when you see a lot of things written about you. It’s not what I had in mind.

Yeah, there’s a lot of speculation about your lips.

I can tell that’s going to be a fucking problem. I didn’t sign up to be famous, I just wanted to sing. It’s so annoying, but what am I going to do?

Are your lips real?

I haven’t had anything done at all. Anyone who’s known me will tell you that. I’m sorry, but I was living in a trailer park for a few years. I didn’t even have enough money to buy Cocoa Puffs. It’s not like I crawled from under the bridge and got surgery. I’m quite pouty. [Laughs.] That’s just how I look when I sing.

How else has your life changed since your music took off?

It’s just been a lot of moving around, working with a lot of different producers trying to get the sound of the record right. I have like four songs that I think, sonically, are really good. The record’s written, but it’s not produced. I haven’t gotten to fix anything up yet. I’m still living between a million different places. But it’s nice not to be trying to survive on the street. [Laughs.] That’s good. I’m glad that I’m safe and not in any dangerous regions.

Where are these million different places?

I’ve been living in London off-and-on for the last year and a half. I started going over there to work with different producers. I never expected to end up there, but I’ve been spending a lot of time there. I go to Glasgow in Scotland and I go see my friends. That’s really fun, but there’s a lot of other things. My life hasn’t been about music for a long time now. There’s a different side of my life and I don’t really talk about it.

So, you’re 25? That’s what’s mostly out there.

Yeah, I’m 25.

When do you turn 26?

June 21st.

Who was it that broke your heart?

The songs are about two people that I couldn’t hang on to because they got in trouble and had to leave. When you’re an introvert like me and you’ve been lonely for a while, and then you find someone who understands you, you become really attached to them. It’s a real release.

I’ve seen you say things on Twitter like, “I still think about you.” Do you feel like you were supposed to be with one of them?

No. In this particular case, I know that I wasn’t supposed to be with that person, but I was still really lonely. It’s so hard to be alone. I think you know in the back of your mind when you meet someone that could be the right person. I think you know. It’s rare.

It seems like you play up your retro sex appeal intentionally.

Most of the songs are about heartbreak, but maybe the videos and the pictures have added to that perception. They are quite vamped up, aren’t they? [Laughs.] I have fun with it all, but music and taking pictures are not my end-all, be-all. They’re fun, but they’re not important to me. The most important thing, obviously, is the record. I just hope I can create that sonic world that I have in mind.

Who are you working with?

My best friend, who is a film composer in California. He’s been working with [Kanye West producer] Jeff Bhasker and [Kid Cudi producer] Emile Haynie, who are more in the hip-hop world, and we’re creating a really good thing. I don’t think it’s going to be an easy road, but for me, it’s going to be about the songs.

People have high expectations for your album. Are you feeling the pressure?

I don’t feel pressure, but I do feel nervous. I’m not used to having a lot of people hear my music. When you don’t have a lot of people listening to your music for a long time, you start making it for yourself and it takes the pressure off. I really like the record. Of course I hope people like it, because I don’t want to deal with any drama.

Originally published on complex.com with the headline Lana Del Rey Talks Backlash, Plastic Surgery, and New Album.

[tetsunormous]

Reencounters

pairing: Matsukawa Issei x f!reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers, smut (18+), fluff

word count: 6.5K

warnings: cunnilingus, fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, swearing, nipple play, pinning

A/N: This is for Ria's @bakugohoex's rich boy collab 💜 Congrat's on 3k!! thank you to @ohno-otome and @armins-futon for reading this for me. I love matsukawa but I don't write for him often so this has been really fun :)

Walking into your new dorm room, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sure, you’ve seen the pictures online, but there’s nothing like the slightly dusty window letting in a hazy ray of light shining down onto the slight dip in the middle of the mattress you now call your own. Your desk almost touched the corner of your twin-sized bed, and your new bookshelf barely has enough room to fit half of the books you brought, but this was your new life. It didn’t dawn on you just how different university would be until you arrived this morning, but here you were, unpacking all your clothes into the cramped closet in the corner. Luckily, you’re in the building where you had a single room. Privacy was something you were worried about, and the communal washrooms will be something to get used to, but either way, this was a new start, and no matter how nervous you are, you’re grateful for it.

High school wasn’t terrible, but it definitely wasn’t what you expected it to be. Going into it, you obviously knew that it would be nothing like how the movies depicted, but you were excited. How bad could those four years really be if you had your best friend right by your side? He was incredible. He understood you better than anybody else, would be able to tell how you were feeling without the exchange of words, but most of all, he was your person, and you were his.

There was no doubting that in all your years of friendship.

But alas, like all good things in life, they must come to an end.

The summer going into the twelfth grade, he was longer your best friend. The boy that would go to the farmers market with you and your mom every other Sunday was now lining up for the newest sneaker drop. The boy that would rather spend the night at home and binge-watch your shared comfort show for the seventh time is now out with the boys sneaking into shisha bars and doing donuts in the community centre parking lots with their new cars. You watched as he slowly forgot about you, getting caught up in his new friendships and obsessing over material items that he never cared about before. It’s not that you were upset he found new friends. It’s that the only time he would reach out was to randomly drop off something he had bought you in hopes it would make up for him blowing you off again.

They started small, simple sweaters he knew you would like, but the gifts became almost ridiculous as time passed. He would never let you return them either, so now you have designer shoes for imaginary banquets. Of course, you were always grateful, but you would trade all his gifts just to spend time with him again. His family has always been wealthy, they always went on lavish vacations and drove the nicest cars, but you never really cared about what he spends his money on or just how much his parents make. You cared that he saw you as a person he wanted to be with rather than just someone he could shove gifts towards to make up for the quality time he’d miss.

But now you’re here. You were arriving three hours before the suggested move-in time because you didn’t want to be rushed to unpack before orientation starts later. You’ve seen a few people walking around on your floor, but neither of your neighbours have arrived, and honestly, you don’t mind because that means you’re able to blast your music without worry. As The 1975 fills your room, you stand still for a second, really taking in where you are. You’re now attending one of the best schools in the country, living on your own with a floor of people you don’t know yet. It starts to sink in that you are starting anew. The people who end up in the rooms next to you might just end up being your lifelong friends. As the song comes to an end, you decide it’s time to try to make yourself look a little more presentable since it’s almost time for people to start rolling in.

...

It’s almost five in the afternoon, and everyone on your floor is meeting outside on the field for a quick introduction before group dinner. You’re sitting with your knees pressed to your chest as the girl next to you tries to make small talk. To be fair, she’s incredibly sweet, but you can’t focus on her because somewhere behind you, there is a voice you think you recognize. There’s no way he would be here. Sure, you have no idea what school he ended up choosing, but if he ended up here, he would’ve at least texted you. Right? Before you can confirm your suspicions, orientation starts, and your group leader is already talking with more energy than you can handle.

The group of guys settle down close by, and you can’t stop yourself from looking over, wondering if you’ll see the head of brown curls. Instead, you’re met with a bunch of frat boy looking wannabes that instantly make your eyes roll. To say you’re disappointed that you didn’t see him was so stupid. It’s been over a year, yet here you were, hoping to magically bump into him as if this was some cliche movie. If anything, it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating that even though he stopped caring for you, you still longed to see him, to hear him laugh at one of your cheesy jokes. It’s even more frustrating that this new start you’ve been looking forward to, makes you miss him even more.

There are only sixteen people on your floor, but introductions take a lifetime because someone didn’t come on time. When they finally do show up, you almost laugh at this whole situation because, of course, it was him. Of course, he was strutting down the courtyard in some brand new Gucci sneakers and the same Balenciaga sweater he had bought for you a few months ago. Of course, the annoying group of boys behind you gesture for him as he quickly apologizes to the group leaders. And, of course, when you make eye contact, he’s the one looking at you with a mixture of shock and annoyance.

Quickly rushing back to your room after the meeting, you decide you’re ordering in tonight so that you don’t have to see him for at least another day. This is all so fucked up. You wrack your brain trying to understand how probable this whole situation is because, frankly, it feels like a sick joke, and on top of it, he’s the one annoyed?

Naturally, you spend the rest of the night unpacking the rest of your things before ordering your comfort food to wash down all the feelings you’re experiencing. Putting on your favourite show, you begin your tenth rerun as you bury yourself in your blankets. Part of you feels so stupid for completely ignoring your initial dinner plans, but you knew with the mindset you had at the moment, there was no way you would have enjoyed yourself. It’s a bit silly you haven’t left your room since picking up your takeout, you don’t even know who lives beside you, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Slipping into your slides, you head towards the washroom with your little toiletry bag. You pass by the girl you were sitting with earlier, and she sends you a smile. After apologizing for disappearing all night she just laughs and assures you nothing happened. She even points out where her room is if you were up to hang out tomorrow during frosh activities.

Just this interaction makes you feel better, and you quietly hum along to the familiar tune coming from the shower stall.

He used to play this song all the time, claiming it spoke to him the first time he heard it. Since then, it became the song he would play anytime he’d come to pick you up, explaining how this song is special because the ending always reminded him of you. It didn’t matter how long it’s been since the two of you hung out. Every time you heard ‘Pluto Projector,’ it would always bring a smile to your face. You even tried to show the song to your ex-boyfriend, but he never paid attention to your suggestions. He always claimed that his music taste was better. Thankfully that relationship only lasted a couple of months, but still, the regret of not waiting for someone worthy lingers in your mind.

While applying your moisturizer, you hear the water shut, the person pausing the song right as the orchestra starts to come in. Worried about who you may run into, you quickly pack up your stuff. You hear the click of the lock, and as you turn around, you’re met with him, with his curly hair all damp and his obnoxious teal blue robe wrapped loosely around his waist.

Rushing past him, you briskly walk towards your room, but before you can close the door, his foot jams between the doorframe. He pushes his way in and quietly closes the door, only to be met with the unimpressed look on your face. He circles around your room, eyes searching for any trace of your past friendship before standing back at the door.

“What do you want, Matsukawa?” you ask impatiently. It’s bad enough you run into the one person you wanted to forget, but now he’s standing in your room with a matching frown.

Something indescribable flashes across his eyes, and you can visibly see his frown deepen at your question. Leaning against your door, his arms come up to rub over his face, peeking at you through his fingers before letting out a long sigh. “When did I become Matsukawa? I thought I was Issei.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips, and you realize how childish your grudge might be, but he has changed, and the man standing in front of you isn’t the same man you once called your best friend. “When you changed, Matsukawa. Issei was my best friend, and YOU are not.”

His eyes filled with confusion as his eyebrows furrow, taking a step forward towards you. “I’m sorry? I tried to stay in touch with you. You’re the one that stopped talking to me, so I’d try to send you things instead. How was I the one who changed?”

You stand there, staring at him for a second before shaking your head. “I can’t do this right now; I want to have a good day tomorrow, so I need to go to sleep. Please, leave my room.”

His eyes soften a little, and you can see a faint glimpse of his infamous lazy smile, “We both know you’re not going to be sleeping anytime soon,” he stalks over and kicks his slides off before sitting at the end of your bed. “Let’s talk about this because, frankly, I’m tired of watching you decide if you hate me every time you see me.”

The nerve of this man. The fact that he invites himself into your room, declares his stay, and then sits on your bed without permission. You don’t even know if he’s wearing anything under that robe as his hair is literally dripping onto your comforter. Regardless of what the situation is, this action alone has you seething. Turning towards your desk chair, you harshly pull out the slightly imbalanced piece of wood and sit down, silently questioning why he isn’t the one on the chair.

He watches you stomp around, and he kinda chuckles at your little tantrum, missing how easy it was to rile you up. Your glare at him would be a little scary if he didn’t see the way your lips mumbled to yourself. It’s honestly a little cute to watch you all frustrated with him even though he saw one of the shoes he bought you in your closet. Sure, they look brand new, but the fact that you brought them here with you must mean something.

The year you two spent apart has been really stressful on Matsukawa. He thought that you’d be happy that he could give you everything you wanted. He knew he wasn’t spending as much time with you as he used to, but he thought the gifts he spent hours lining up for would make up for it.

When you stopped returning his calls and texts, he was crushed. Everyone could see how he felt about you, but then he watched you get close to another man. Within two weeks, you were dating him, and he was left watching from a distance. Neither of you ever confirmed your feelings for each other, but he could tell that man wasn’t making you happy. He didn’t understand your different facial expressions, he didn’t care about what you had to say, but all he could do was watch the girl he wanted from the sidelines.

Sure, as time went on, Matsukawa also started talking to other girls. None of them ever became his girlfriend, he didn’t think it was fair to get with someone when he was set on you, but he had his fair share of hookups. He has money, a shit ton of it, but he never let that get to his head. It wasn’t his fault that he gained popularity when he started to get into name brands and upgraded his car, but none of that ever changed who he was — at least not to the degree you had him pinned.

He watches you carefully, your leg bouncing impatiently as your eyes glare daggers in his direction. He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a sigh, “what did I do wrong? You didn’t even give me a chance to fix whatever I did (y/n).”

The lamp in the corner of your room shines a dim yellow hue onto his features. His brows are knitted in concern as he leans forwards on his knees, his robe showing off a deep v down his chest. You can feel yourself freeze up at his question, goosebumps covering your skin, while your eyes pour into his. “You changed Matsukawa. You stopped making an effort to be there. I’m not some girl you can just buy with all your money. I have never cared about how much you have or what you can afford -- you know that! It doesn’t matter what. I always split things with you because I never wanted you to feel like I was there for your money. But then suddenly, you just stop showing up. You wouldn’t even tell me you made other plans, and I would just open my door to find some package you dropped off.”

His eyes search your face before letting out a deep sigh. “I tried! You wouldn’t answer any of my calls, I know I stopped explaining myself, but can you blame me? Don’t you think I want to take you around and introduce you to all my friends? Don’t you think I miss going on late-night drives with you to 7-11? Every time I would drive past there, you’re all I thought about. You and your stupid obsession with cheese taquitos and Arizona tea. Did you even think about how I felt when you decided to act like I don’t exist?” He hastily stands up and paces around in the confined space of your dorm room. He never raises his voice, so hearing him talk at a slightly louder volume was enough to let you know he was dead serious. “You know, I never stopped talking highly about you because as selfish as it is, those boys have an important family. They have the connections you dream about (y/n), so even when you started to ignore me to go out with that fucking ex-boyfriend of yours, I never said anything.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes before going to sit back down, his elbows now resting against his thighs. “I know you don’t care about my money, but I didn’t know how else to tell you I was still thinking about you. I tried to get you things that you’d like, things that you’d wear. But no, I had to watch you put on a fake smile and laugh at that asshole’s jokes while you stubbornly ignored me to the point I thought you had me blocked.”

Looking up at you through his curls, his hooded eyes looked darker before. His lips curled into a forced smile as he let out a breathy chuckle, “he didn’t deserve you. But what do I know, right?”

You sat there quietly, taking in what he had just said. You didn’t realize how hurt he was. To be frank, up till now, you were so consumed by your feelings, and you failed to consider his own. His head is hanging between his hands, and the silence in your room right now is insufferable. He’s just explained himself, yet all you can do is scoff at yourself. While you were obsessing over the fact that Matsukawa wasn’t coming over to watch another rerun of your favourite show, he was out picking out different gifts he thought you’d like. You didn’t even open the last few because your own emotions so blinded you. Hearing him take a deep breath, he stands up and smiles sadly at you, “nice talk, (y/n). Thanks for listening.”

“I’m sorry, Issei.”

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, and you can visibly watch as his shoulders relax. It’s been too long since he’s heard you call him by his first name.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve just gotten out of the car to talk to you.”

You look at him with a small smile. Walking towards your bed, you sit down and pat the spot beside you, pulling him in for a hug. His robe is probably the softest thing you’ve ever felt in your life, your fingers sinking into the fabric as you hold him close. His arms are immediately wrapping around you, and you both stay like that for a minute before you pull back, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. You tried reaching out to me, you tried explaining yourself, but I didn’t even give you a chance. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so caught up I didn’t even think about what you were feeling. The fact that you still wanted to introduce me to your friends, even after all the stuff I did to you….I’m so sorry, Issei.”

He gives you a playful smile and lightly nudges your shoulder with his, “yea, that was kinda unfair, but good thing we talked it out, huh?”

You flash him a sheepish smile, but your eyes glimmer with happiness, “yea, it’s good you barged into my room at two in the morning. Just like old times.”

His smile instantly grows at your playfulness, and he gives you a mock scoff. “I’m sorry, but if I remember correctly, you’d beg for me to stay over at two am cause you decided you wanted to watch a scary movie. Have you gotten better with horror movies this year, or are you still as jumpy as I remember?”

The tip of your ears growing warm while you mutter out a quick “shut up.”

His laughter makes your heart beat against your chest because you missed it so much. It’s been a while since you got to hear him laugh with you, and without even thinking, you go in for another hug.

His arms easily hold you close, and one of his massive hands reaches up to pet your hair. “Missed me, didn’t you?” he asks, and you can feel him smirking, so you just nod, your fingers playing with the damp, short curls at the base of his nape.

“Issei?” you ask with a little murmur against his neck.

“Hmmm?”

You smile to yourself and pull back a little, so you can see his face, “so other than hanging out with your friends and keeping up with my relationship, what else have you been doing?”

His face drops as he looks at you with a deadpan stare, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile as you giggle at his reaction. He pushes you back, so you end up falling onto your mattress, his long limbs effortlessly straddling your legs. Before you can think about the position you’re in, his fingers start to poke all-around your torso, causing you both to laugh as he starts to tickle you. “You think you’re funny, huh?” His hands go to tickle your worst spot as he starts to talk, but you can’t hear him over your own laughter. His fingers slow down, but you keep giggling when you’re met with his lazy smirk, “I’m trying to talk, you know. It’s rude you’re laughing when I’m trying to speak to you.”

He leans forwards and has both hands resting at the side of your head. Your faces now inches apart, the faint smell of sandalwood from his body wash now becoming more apparent. You stare into his brown eyes, and it almost feels as if everything stopped for a few seconds. The lamp in your room doesn’t do him justice as the shadows of his face wash over his features, but even then, his eyes stare back at you with a slight twinkle as you catch your breath.

Reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and you tug him close, crashing his lips onto yours. The sweet hints from his beloved Burt’s bee’s lip balm make his lips even softer than you imagined. The kiss is short, but as you both pull away, he’s staring at you with a goofy smile.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, (y/n).”

“Me too, Issei,” you whisper back before his lips capture yours again, this time with more confidence. This kiss is much more passionate than the last, holding onto each other in hopes of deepening it. One of his hands travels down to grab your waist, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip, asking for permission. Your lips part and your tongues swirl together effortlessly while your hands play with his hair, pulling him closer into your body.

His hand feels a little rougher than before against your bare skin because of how often he trains, running down the length of your leg. The light touch of his fingertips admires how smooth your skin is before they trail back up, stopping just before the edge of your pyjama shorts. Hooking your leg around his hip, he leans into your body even further and even nips at your bottom lip.

Matsukawa smirks and whispers against your lips, “did he ever kiss you like that?”

Slightly surprised at the question, you shake your head, answering honestly. “He never made me feel the way you do.”

You watch as his eyes dilate, flickering into a deep brown you’ve never seen on him. The hand that was previously on your leg is now cupping your cheek, stroking your face softly, while his own face blooms into a rare shade of pink. Still, his words are clear, “please...give me a chance? He never treated you right. Let me take care of you?”

Words can’t describe how his question made you feel. You spent years learning about Matsukawa, understanding him to the point where words weren’t necessary to see what was happening in his head. Not once did you think he reciprocated your feelings, let alone want to be with you. Yet, here you are, caged beneath his arms as his hopeful eyes pour into yours.

Turning your head slightly, you press a kiss onto his hand and smile. “Please?”

His face breaks into a smile. His cheeks are tinted rose as the corners of his mouth reach up to his eyes. Leaning down, he peppers kisses onto your face, the loose curls on his head tickling your cheeks as he giggles with you. The kisses trail down to your jaw, and he follows the natural curve of your jawline to your ear. “Is this okay?” he whispers softly, only continuing down this path when you give him a curt nod.

Your legs tighten around his waist when he begins to press open mouth kisses down your neck, gently nipping at the spots that make you let out shy little sounds. His tongue leaves kitten licks against your skin after he’s sucked on it, littering faint marks. Seeing you with light hickeys on the base of your neck and collarbones is completely self-indulgent for him. Thinking about waking up in the morning and seeing the marks he knows he gave you makes him inexplicably happy as he sucks particularly hard, causing you to wince.

Immediately he stops and turns to you, “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? D’you wanna stop?”

His concern for you is truly a breath of fresh air compared to what you had before. Shaking your head, you guide his hands to the edge of your sweater. “You bought this for me… it’s only fair I let you take it off.”

He studies your face for a second before his lips curl into a lazy smirk, quickly pulling the overpriced sweater off your body. He takes a sharp inhale when you reveal you aren’t wearing anything underneath as he’s met with your beautiful tits, nipples hard and pointed. “You let me in here knowing you weren’t wearing a bra? And here I thought you were a good girl.”

Noticing how your legs tighten around him, he smirks even wider. Leaning back down, his kisses trail down to your chest, and his lips feel soft and warm against your skin. His fingers take hold of your chin and force you to look down on him while his lips wrap around your nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking gently at the hardened bud. His hand palms against the fatty flesh of your other tit; his fingers are rolling your nipple before tugging on it experimentally.

Suddenly feeling shy, your arms come up to cover your face slightly just to have him lace his fingers with yours, pulling your arms away. “Don’t hide from me. Let me see how pretty you look. Let me hear how good I make you feel, okay?”

“I’ve never had someone play with my tits like this…”

He just stares at you, brows knitted as his smirk turns into a slight pout. “You’re with me now; that means every part of your body will be pleasured. I wanna hear and see all of you, okay?”

With a shy nod, you gently roll your hips against him, inviting more of his attention.

He kisses you once more, murmuring against your lips, “you’re so beautiful. Let me know if I’m going too fast, okay?”

His lips follow down your body once more, lightly biting your tit before using the flat part of his tongue to feel the valley between your chest. Matsukawa lets out a low moan as you arch upwards, pushing yourself closer to his touches. Letting go of your hands, he begins to massage the soft flesh of your tits and kiss down your stomach, the tip of his tongue trailing against the waistband of your shorts.

“Let me hear you ask for it; I don’t wanna do something you don’t want.”

“Isseiiii, please?” you whine out, the tip of your ears turning hot at the thought of asking for his tongue.

He smirks at you, looking up through his hooded eyes and tsks. “Be a good girl for me. Use your words.”

His words go straight to your pussy, and you can’t help the doe eyes look in your eyes when you whimper out, “please, Issei? Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

You watch as he takes in a sharp breath, the hunger in his eyes shining through despite the dim lighting in your room. He tugs at the end of your shorts until they’re completely off, repositioning himself lower until your legs are resting around his biceps. His eyes zone in on the way a sheer layer of slick coats your lips, happy that the attention he’s been giving you has pleased you. As he shimmies down on your bed, his legs now supporting himself on the floor, he nestles himself between your legs, easily spreading your things open with his arms. Sending you a knowing smile, he blows cool air directly onto your clit, loving how your walls flutter for him.

“You’re so sensitive, baby.”

“No one’s ever made me feel like this before...want more, please?”

You look down at him with pleading eyes, your hands cupping his face when you speak. Pressing a quick peck to your hand, he hips his head down and traces your pussy lips with his tongue, savouring how you taste.

The gasp that you let out once you felt his touch was adorable. It suddenly became the sound Matsukawa will chase after the more he gets to know your body and what it likes. He takes one long lap up your pussy, stopping just before your clit and using his fingers, he spreads your lips even more. Once your clit is all exposed, he flicks it gently with the tip of his tongue, looking up at you with all the confidence in the world. Hearing your little moans make him greedy for more, for more desperate and needy sounds, so he goes to press a kiss onto your bundle of nerves. Feeling you twitch beneath him, he gently places his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks earnestly, relishing in the way you buck your hips and call out his name. After a while of pure clitoral stimulation, he leans back up to watch your eyes blink back into focus on his face, a silly dazed smile on your face.

He winks at you and sticks his tongue into your drooling hole, swirling it around to feel the walls of your pussy clench around him. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, his cock getting unbearably hard at the way you pant our pleas.

“I-issei! Please….need you inside, please!”

Coming back up for air, his hand leaves your thigh as his fingers start to tease around your hole, loving how your pussy clenches around nothing. So needy for his touches when he’s barely even started. He knows your orgasm was building, but he wants to take his time with you. You mean the world to him, and seeing you like this already makes him feel like the luckiest man at the moment.

Taking two of his fingers, he coats them in all your slick before slowly pushing them inside you. His eyes squeeze shut when he feels how tight you are, his mind immediately thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. When he’s finally inside, he pulls out slowly before sliding them back in, loving how you beg for more.

“Need more, please, Issei! Go faster, please.”

Your hands pull his head up to kiss you while his fingers begin to speed up. With the lewd sound of his hand slapping against your sopping wet pussy, his palm is applying pressure to your clit. Your moans are lost in your kisses, his other hand going back to playing with your sensitive nipple.

“I have to stretch you out, babygirl. I don’t want my cock to hurt you.”

All you’re able to do is nod as his fingers start to scissor your hole, stretching you out even more. His fingers, now knuckle deep, curl against your sweet spot, making you grip onto his hair as he swallows all your cries, suddenly remembering that the walls in this dorm probably aren’t that thick.

His fingers curl into you more, whispering sweet praises as his hand teases and tugs on your swollen nipple. Everything happened so quick, and you’re cumming all over his hand, your sweet sticky arousal covering his fingers as he slows down. Matsukawa is smiling down at you, “you did so well, baby. Bet that felt really good, huh?”

Maybe you’re needy or just horny, but even after your orgasm, you start tugging the tie that keeps his robe up. Your legs are sore, sorer than they’ve ever been, but all you can think about is how full you would feel with him inside of you. He smirks at you as he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking off all your juices before letting his robe fall and chucking it to the ground. He’s wearing his briefs, but you can see how hard his cock is under the thin cotton material. Before you’re able to pull his underwear down, he stops you and lets out a small chuckle. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a condom. We don’t have to do anything.”

You giggle and shake your head, “don’t need one; we’re in university, baby. What’s a little fun without risks?”

He lets you pull his underwear down, and his massive throbbing cock instantly slaps against his stomach as he laughs at your reaction. “Had to make sure you were stretched out enough.”

You bite your lips and stare at how big his cock actually is. It’s hard to imagine how you’ll fit that inside of you, but you’re determined to give it a try.

“You ready, pretty girl?” he asks as he taps the tip of cock against your clit, loving how you squirm under him.

“mmhmm, Issei.”

He lets go of his cock and leans up, and pulls you into a deep kiss, completely in awe of you.

“Tell me if you wanna stop, kay?”

Replying with a small hum, he gathers up the remaining slick that’s leaking out of your pussy and strokes his cock slowly, also letting his spit drip down to help lubricate himself. He lines himself up with your pretty pussy and starts to push the head in, studying your face to make sure you’re doing alright. When he sees you smiling back at him, despite the grip you have on his arms, he pushes another two inches inside of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. We’re almost halfway,” he whispers into your ear as he kisses your neck softly, sucking on the spot by the base of your lobe. “Such a good girl for me,” he coaxes as his cock slides another inch into your sweet cunt.

Incredibly, he’s only halfway down because you’ve never felt this full before. Still, your fingers dig into his arms when you ask for more. “Just want all of you in me, please?”

Hearing you ask for more even though you already looked fucked out sparks something inside him. He lets out a low growl and quickly pushes the rest of his length inside you, mumbling sweet nothings against your skin. He moans out with you when he feels how warm and tight you are, your pussy stretching more than it ever has to accommodate his size.

“Feel s’good, Issei.”

With a breathy chuckle, he peppers kisses all over your neck, loving the sound of your soft giggles as he pulls back three-quarters of the way, slowly pushing his way back into you. The gasp you let out is different than before, much more surprised but sensual.

He continues this motion a few more times before he picks up the pace, his hips slamming against you while your tits bounce. Each thrust knocks the air out of your chest cause he’s brushing against your spot every time. Matsukawa leans down and presses his forehead against the crook of your neck, muttering how good you feel.

“F-faster...need you faster, is’o good, please.”

Obliging to your pleas, he starts to rut his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin with each movement. He looks up to see your dreamy eyes and smiles. He knows there’s not a thought behind those eyes right now as his cock slams against your walls with each thrust. He goes to kiss you again, silencing your cries as your nails drag down his arms, trying to ground yourself in the midst of all the pleasure.

“You’re s-tight baby I- fuuuuuck, I can barely move.”

You can’t help it. Your walls are naturally squeezing him because he’s fucking straight into your sweet spot with each snap of his hips. You look at him with hazy eyes, entirely in a trance as you moan out his name. He can tell you want to cum, so his hand reaches down to rub your clit as his cock continues to pound into you.

“C’mon baby, cum all over my cock. You can do it...ah shit, yea, just like that.”

He’s been trying so hard not to cum but watching your back arch into him as your nails drab down his back, his name falling out from your lips in a loud erotic moan, is making it really hard. He looks down in surprise when he sees a creamy white rim around his cock, proud of himself for making you cream.

“Good girl...that’s my fuckin girl.”

Satisfied he made you finish, his head falls back onto your shoulder, his hips just rutting into you as he chases his own orgasm. Not even a minute later, he’s calling out for you as he quickly pulls out, cumming all over your tits. His chest heaves along with yours, his hair sticking to his forehead slightly as he empties his load all over your chest.

Once you’ve both calmed down a little bit, he smiles down at you and goes to stroke your cheek. “Had you creaming on my cock, was it fun? Did you have a good time?”

“S’good...thank you, baby,” you say before pulling him down for a kiss.

He gets up and reaches for his robe, “you did so good, took me like a champ heh. I’ll be back with a rag to clean you up, okay? Don’t move.”

As he leaves your room, you stare up at the ceiling and let out a laugh. Not even twelve hours ago, you were cursing the fact that he was here with you, and now you have his cum all over your tiddies as he goes to get stuff to clean you up.

You watch as he comes back into your room, fully changed with a rag in his hand. He kneels beside you and pets your hair as he starts to wipe his mess.

“Why’re you changed?”

“Oh! We’re going to 7-11 once I get you cleaned up.”

“.....it’s like three-thirty in the morning.”

“I’ll get you taquitos and Arizona,” he says as he goes to wipe around your pussy, mindful not to put too much pressure cause you’re still sensitive.

“And skittles?”

He snorts and kisses your shaking thigh, “yea, I’ll get you skittles, brat.”

© tetsunormous 2021

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @arte-misa @strawbari21 @matsusimp @bokutomessy @mentaly-ill @arumiee @kvrooschibichan lmk if you want to be added to my tag list

[nevermindirah]

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

[transpidergwen]

The Sex Lives of College Girls still prefers spectacle over substance

So, the Sex Lives of College Girls premiere episodes were okay. Nothing problematic, nothing impressive either. It still feels like something is missing. There’s not much of an overarching plot to tie events together and give it a sense of momentum, but it’s not episodic enough for each episode to have a coherent narrative purpose or resolution. Granted these are 2 episodes out of 10, but this was an issue I had last season as well. The episodes are feel less like a cohesive story and more like a collection of short, quippy scenes with the same pop music and wide shots of campus transitions 8 times in a row. It’s very flashy, but it feels more designed to keep us engaged with flashy editing rather than substantive storytelling.

As for the substance, the storylines they’ve set up for this season are fine so far but still feel like they’re missing an emotional depth. Part of this for me is the setting. As it was pointed out in the first five minutes, these characters (other than Kimberly) are extremely rich. That makes Kimberly’s storyline the closest thing to relatable so far, because they all feel so far removed from society that it’s hard to care at all about any day to day obstacles they encounter. That’s unfortunately a result of where the writers decided to set the show, so that might just be a permanent roadblock to my personal investment. Ymmv, that’s fine. But because of that, the big obstacle to the girl’s happiness that these episodes presents is that they...can’t party, and they’re sad about that. That just isn’t compelling for me.

There’s also the characters themselves, which I haven’t been able to connect with at all. The only characters that feel real are Eric and Canan, and for a show with four female leads that seems like a failure of writing. They’re the core of the show, but they still just feel like outlines of characters and not real people. More importantly, they barely feel like friends. They spend a lot of screentime together, but the way the show is paced and written hasn’t allowed them time to slow down and connect with each other. Aside from Kimberly and Leighton it doesn’t feel like they’ve bonded or grown together as a group. They just feel like four roommates who jump from set piece to set piece together. Which isn’t inherently a problem, but without an emotional underpinning that’s all it is, surface level spectacle and popcorn raunch.

The other thing that feels surface level is the way the show approaches “wokeness.” I hate that word because it’s blunt and diminutive of the wider progressive movement, but unfortunately that’s what the show has presented so far. Last season saw some actively harmful treatment of the queer community; the pick-me-gay girlfriend and the way the other girls at the women’s center were treated in-narrative as punchlines was part of a larger, worrisome pattern in how Hollywood has tried to present woke (specifically queer) characters. The show feels like a centrist’s vision of progressive. There’s constant dialogue that beats us over the head with the fact that THIS SHOW IS WOKE, but very little substance to actually back that claim up. Nothing in these premiere episodes felt actively harmful like season one, but with things like the same AOC joke Hollywood has been running for the last 5 years it doesn’t have anything new to say either. They’re trying to reclaim sex positivity, but the way the show revolves around it as if nothing else matters ends up feeling self defeating. In trying to reclaim the raunchy comedies that the guys have had for decades, it ends up feeling like we’re looking through the same lens just with a different presenter. The dialogue and presentation of the show spends too much time defining itself against the patriarchy, rather than leaving it behind and just telling its own story. 

And that might be a feature, not a bug, and I’m just looking for something that this show doesn’t intend on offering. But it has the potential to be more, and it’s just frustrating seeing that go unfulfilled.

and thanks to @the-bensolos for their help on this post!

[helliontherapscallion]

Yellow Carnations (Destiny Written in Begonias Part 1)

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Summary: After hearing something deep within the woods, you give into curiosity and investigate. Who knows, whatever you find could be a prize.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly graphic violence (just some zombies getting dismembered)

Word count: 3,715

(A/N): So, welcome to my new series! I have so many ideas for this that I’d love to write. This story will be very gay, fluffy, and sorta angsty, so buckle up my children!

So just a lil background info: the reader is Techno’s adopted daughter. She is a piglin hybrid, but she is more human looking than piglin. This takes place about eighteen years after the most recent events of the SMP.

                                           ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Techno, I think we have enough ender pearls for tonight.” You glanced to your side to look at your father and Philza, the enchantments of their armor glowing dimly in the moonlight and the orange light of the torches in their hands. Philza stretched his body and his wings out, a small groan escaping his mouth and small cracks sounding from his joints.

“The night’s still young, Phil!” Technoblade grinned, his gold capped canines glinting slightly. His hand moved to gently rest on the handle of his sword.

You snorted to yourself, “you two, however, aren’t.” A small shove came from your side making you stumble slightly, laughter bubbling from your throat.

“I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t hear anything,” Philza crossed his arms and looked off to the side. Though, you could hear a smile in his tone and the beginnings of a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, “Dad set me up for that one. The opportunity was too good to pass up.”

“I’ll set you up for longer training sessions if you keep going for… ‘opportunities’ like that.” He glanced down at you with amusement glinting in his eyes and tugging at the corner of his lips.

His statement, though lighthearted, immediately made you stop laughing. You knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t joking; the last time you laughed it off you had to endure two extra hours on top of the four hour sessions you had daily. By the end of the punishment, your arms felt like they were going to fall off.

“No! I take it back, you guys are young! Not a single-”

“You’re digging yourself an early grave if you finish that sentence, kid. Besides, you can’t pass up opportunities like these!”

“I think I’m good for now,” you shivered slightly when a breeze blew past you. It was starting to grow colder as the night dragged on. Technoblade, noticing this, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him securely. Though the Blood God never shows mercy, he couldn’t let his only child succumb to a head cold; that’d just be barbaric.

You jumped at the feeling of the freezing netherite making contact with your bare arm. “Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, “forgot how cold the armor is… We should probably head back, it’s getting cold.”

As your family started to make their way back towards the tundra, banter was exchanged between the three. The journey out of the forest was uneventful, only a few mobs had attempted to attack or sneak behind you. Just as you reached the edge of the forest, a noise caught your attention.

It sounded like it was only a couple of minutes away; so faint that if you weren’t actively listening for it, it would have nearly been lost in the night. If you strained your ears, you could hear the trampling of dry leaves making you assume that there were several people or animals in that area. Alongside it, there was a faint whimpering.

Your curiosity was piqued, just what was making that noise?

“(Y/n), is everything alright?” You looked back at Philza. It seemed that they walked a bit away from you while you stopped at the forest’s edge to listen to the sound.

You absentmindedly nodded, “yeah, Uncle Phil. I think I left my bow back in that clearing when we were taking a break so I’m just going to go grab that. You guys can keep going home, I’ll be right behind you.”

“We can go with you-”

“No, you don’t have to. I’m old enough to go alone.”

Philza and Technoblade then spoke at the same time, “alright, we’ll just meet you there.” “Absolutely not.”

Philza elbowed Technoblade’s side lightly and looked up at him. They were silently communicating with pointed looks and pursed lips, every expression understood completely by the other. You never understood how they did that, even if they raised you. You could remember making a journal dedicated to deciphering their expressions, but you never could truly understand it (that, and ‘nose scrunch and eye narrow’ meant multiple things).

Eventually, Technoblade’s shoulders slumped and he ran a hand down his face tiredly, “you know the rules?”

You rolled your eyes, “of course I do. Fight to win, go for the throat, if you lose your weapon go for the pressure points. You remind me daily.”

He stared at you for a moment before his ear flicked, “don’t take long, we’ll be waiting.” They both turned and started to trudge towards the spruce forest in the distance.

Without a second thought, you ran into the forest with your ears perked. Following the noise was easy, the whimpers had turned into high pitched whines. You leapt over stumps and ducked under low hanging branches as they blocked your way; nothing was going to stop you from finding out what was making that noise.

Eventually, you broke through the trees and found yourself in a grassy clearing surrounded by large stones. If it were spring, you’d imagine wildflowers sprouting everywhere you stepped. A small spring sat in the furthest corner of it, waterfalls cascading over the jagged stones and crashing into the water below. Near the cliffside, a hoard of groaning zombies swarmed something and they were closing in on it. Now, what was it they were attacking?

You quickly unsheathed your golden sword and sprinted towards the hoard. The crunching of the dried, colorful leaves under your feet was enough to drag the zombies’ attention to you.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you made your first swipe at one of their torsos. In an instant, the zombie was bisected and fell to the ground. With a twirl, you slashed at multiple zombies at once. They all collapsed to the ground as their rotting flesh was torn and couldn’t support their crumbling bodies any longer.

As soon as all of the zombies were laying dead on the ground, you wiped your blade off on one of their torn tunics and sheathed it. Taking a step back to look at the bodies littered on the floor, you smirked; this was too easy.

Now, without the obstacles, your prize awaits you. Eagerly, you looked over to see what the zombies were swarming. Instead of the scared villager you were expecting, the person that stood there completely took your breath away.

The woman was wearing a simple white dress with a baby blue shawl shadowing the upper part of her face. Her skin was fair and her face was round, a button nose laid in the center of her face and plump pink lips slightly parted showing off straight white teeth. Curly dark brown hair framed the sides of her face and spiraled down to rest on her shoulders.

She was tall for a human, about five-foot-ten if you were to estimate. Her hands moved to clasp in front of her elegantly, your eyes catching sight of light blue nailpolish decorating her perfectly shaped nails.

Red was starting to dust her cheeks and her breathing was starting to return to normal. That was good, at least she wasn’t going into shock. For someone who nearly got eaten alive by the undead, she looked relatively calm and well put together.

“Are you alright?” You tried to keep your voice even, but there was a light wobble to it. You thickly swallowed, cursing yourself for showing any emotion in front of this stranger. The mask that hid the upper part of your face gave you a sense of security and safety, it hid most of your emotion.

You saw her lips move, but no sound came out. Were you going deaf like your father? You shouldn’t be; you haven’t blown up an entire nation yet. You stepped closer in hopes of hearing her better, “excuse me?”

Her lips curled up into a smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks, “Oh, I just said that I’m fine, nothing else. May I get the name of my knight in shining armor?”

Her voice was soft and light. Though it was on the deeper side, it had feminine, euphonious undertones; it was like honey was dripping out with every word she spoke. Just by the way she spoke, you assumed that she came from the nearby kingdom.

You smirked, playing along with the small game she was setting up. Stepping closer and kneeling, you grabbed her hand and brought it to your lips. Her hands were soft and velvety, a part of you longed to hold it in yours all day long.

Against her knuckles, you spoke, “(Y/n) Blade at your service. And you, my fairest lady?”

“Princess Helen Dahlia Eret, but please, call me Dahlia; Helen was my mother. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

You snorted, she was really dedicated to this game. You’d just play along with her, why not? It’s not like you have anything else to do. “Well, princess, it’s about time for you to head back to your castle.”

You looked up at her through your eyelashes and caught sight of the outline of her shadowed features. You could see her purse her lips, “you think I’m lying, don’t you?”

“Forgive me for thinking so, your highness!” You snickered, “the princess shall not step foot outside of her chambers, lest a scrape shall mar her flawless skin!”

She smirked before placing a delicate finger underneath your chin, tilting it upwards. You could feel your face grow hot as she removed her shawl. Ivory white eyes stared back at you smugly, sending a shock through your body. You weren’t sure if the jolt you felt was from her beauty or from the fact that she wasn’t lying.

“Would you like to try again, my knight?” She cooed to you, her other hand coming down to rest on your cheek. You stood up and gaped at her, “oh fuck, you’re actually the princess.”

A part of you wanted to dislike her for her title and for the royal blood that coursed through her veins. That blood tainted her, filling every nook and cranny with vile corruption. “All governments are bad,” Technoblade had taught you early on in your life, “they should, under no circumstances, be trusted.”

Though her parent Eret had been a fair king, always attending to the needs of their people, you were anticipating their corruption. If your memory serves you right, they were the one that betrayed the revolutionaries during the L’manberg Revolution simply because of their thirst for power. If they were a power hungry traitor before, who’s to say that they won’t be blinded by it again?

Every fiber in your body screamed at you to sink your sword through her abdomen to put her down, just like the bloodthirsty hounds that hailed long before her. You could just end her right now, make it quick and just leave her body here. It’d be easy and it would bring chaos to the SMP Kingdom, causing mass paranoia and tearing it apart from within. It’d be delicious, something that would give you a high you’d ride for years. You wanted to paint the grass with her blood, but something deep within you protested.

Filthy blood nourished her body, but that didn’t take away from her sheer and complete beauty or the way she covered her mouth with a delicate hand to hide her laugh. That did not take away from how she had cupped your cheek moments before, your skin still tingled where her hand was. That didn’t suppress the butterflies that fluttered wildly in your stomach when she stepped into the moonlight.

She put her hand out and smiled, “won’t you accompany me to my castle, my faithful warrior?” You merely put on a cold, uncaring facade and side stepped her.

“...You got yourself here, yes? You can find your way back.”

“Well you see,” she moved to rub the back of her neck and awkwardly chuckled, “I was hoping you know the way back?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that escaped your mouth, something about her made her irresistible. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you just ran blindly into a forest?”

“Hey, you would too if you were being chased by zombies!”

“Excuse me, who was the one that just slaughtered said zombies in under a minute?” You raised an eyebrow and looked down at her.

“I don’t have a sword like you do,” she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at you.

“Even then, I doubt you know how to use one. Here,” you unsheathed the large sword and held it out to her, “I bet you can’t even hold it up.”

“Can too!” She protested before snatching the sword out of your hands. She grunted slightly at the heavy weight, almost dropping it, but she quickly steadied it. Looking up at you with a smug, slightly reddened face, she shook slightly. “See? It’s not that hard.”

You quirked an eyebrow beneath your mask, “oh really?”

“Y-yep,” was all she managed to choke out before she stepped back and dropped the tip. It swung down and buried itself inside the dirt below, scouring the earth as it made contact.

Smirking at her, you took it back with ease, putting it back into its sheath slung around your back. You once again stepped around her and started walking in the other direction.

“Where are you going?!”

“To the castle, you said you wanted me to take you home.”  

She rushed to your side and grabbed your arm with both of her hands. They snaked around your bicep and tangled themselves in your cape. You could feel yourself soar at the contact; you had to fight against every instinct to hook your arm with hers. You ripped yourself out of her embrace and put some distance between the both of you.

She crossed her arms and hugged herself, shivering slightly, “how are you not cold?!”

“It’s barely cold out here,” you mentally scolded yourself for being a hypocrite, “you’ll be fine.”

She said nothing and continued to walk. As you got further and further into the forest, she merely started shivering more. You could hear her teeth chattering loudly and could see goosebumps decorating the skin on her bare arms. Sighing, you unhooked your cape and slung it over her shoulders.

She squeaked in surprise at the feeling before realizing that you gave her your cape. She grabbed the edges and pulled it closer to her before snuggling deeper into the cloth; you could feel your heart explode at the small sigh that she let out and the content hum that left her mouth. Just as she looked up at you, you made quick work of looking away. The ground was very fascinating at the moment.

“Thank you,” she murmured. You just curtly nodded, avoiding looking at her.

The walk to the castle was short, luckily she hadn’t run far from her home. Just as the castle walls were in your sights, she tried holding your arm again. Once again, you stepped away from her.

“C’mon,” she chuckled, “I don’t bite.”

“Well I do. You really need to learn not to trust a stranger, princess.”

“Well, we aren’t strangers. We know each other’s names, do we not? And besides, I bet you’re just a massive teddy bear.”

“I don’t know what your teddy bears looked like as a kid, but they certainly weren’t me. If I wanted to, I could take your hand clean off with a single twist and pull,” you growled out. She was silent once more as she led you towards a specific part of the castle.

“...Why are you so defensive? At least treat me like you did before we knew each other!” She unhooked the cape and shoved it towards you. You gladly took it and put it back on. To your sheer embarrassment, you felt joy as you caught a whiff of books and expensive perfume. It smelled like her.

“...I could’ve just left you back there if I wanted to, consider this a favor. Respect is earned, not given. Even to royalty.”

You turned to leave, you cape swishing behind you as you turned. Before you could walk off, a hand on your arm stopped you. “Wait. Even if you’re a massive jerk,” she sighed out, “I still have to thank you. So, thank you for saving my life; I’m indebted to you, my douchey knight.”

She leant up on the tips of her toes and gently placed her lips on your cheek. You froze and watched as she turned on her heel. She walked towards the entrance with several glances back at you, some of them being smug and others being questioning. It was like you were entranced underneath the veil of a spell, unable to move until she disappeared from sight.

The walk home was quiet with no mobs sneaking up on you. The entire time, the memory of her kissing your cheek replayed endlessly in your head. Though the very thing you disliked more than anything was embodied in her, you couldn’t help but fall for the natural charm she had. You were probably just tired, it was getting late into the night after all.

As you walked through the door, you could see Technoblade impatiently waiting for you on the couch. He had a book open in his hand and his half-rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his snout.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, I just ran into more mobs than I anticipated.”

Technoblade said nothing as his eyes flickered over your body, looking for even the smallest of scrapes. When he didn’t find anything, he nodded to himself and stood up. Tiredly, he walked over to you and ruffled your hair before trudging to his room.

“Are you sure the only thing you ran into was mobs?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “just a lot of zombies.”

He rolled his eyes and gave you a knowing smile before walking over to you. He swiped his thumb across your cheek and showed it to you. It was stained with a light pink color. “In all of the centuries I spent living in this world, not once have I seen a zombie wearing pink lipstick or,” he took your cape in his hand and sniffed it slightly, “cherry scented perfume.”

Your face exploded in heat as you made hasty work of scrubbing your cheek making the older man laugh quietly at you, “all you’re doing is smudging it all over your face. Some warm water and soap will get it off fast… Now, wanna tell me who gave you that?”

You stared at his smug expression and quickly came to the realization that he wouldn’t let this go unless you told him. Or, at least until you told him what happened.

You sighed and started to remove your armor, placing it on the armor stand situated between Philza’s and Technoblade’s armor. You had insisted that the armor stands were in this specific order, it just made sense with the height differences between the members of the household. Since you were between Philza’s and Technoblade’s height at 6’4 (and still growing), it made sense with the order of the armor in terms of size.

You made your way over to the couch and sat down with a sigh, Philza following suit. He gave you a reassuring smile, “whenever you’re ready.”

So you told him everything that had happened that day. Needless to say, Philza was happy for you, asking you questions about the interaction.

“It sounds like she’s perfect for you, kiddo.”

“That’s the thing, Uncle Phil. She isn’t,” you ran a hand down your face and leaned back onto the back of the couch, your head resting on the top of the cushion. You heard Philza shift slightly before he grabbed your hand.

“Now,” he asked gently, “what makes you think that?”

“She’s King Eret’s daughter. Helen Dahlia Eret,” you sardonically chuckled, “I really thought she was just joking when she said ‘princess’.” Every part of you wished that that was a joke. That she would laugh and tell you that it was part of the game she was playing. But no, she just had to be royalty.

“Eret’s better than most, they are a good king,” he reminded you.

“Still, there’s royal blood in her. She’s actively a part of a government… I wanted to kill her on the spot; hell everything in my body was screaming at me to slaughter her, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Sometimes, someone is more than the blood inside of them; maybe she isn’t as bad as you think she is. Someone could be born into a family of saints and still destroy everything they touch. On the other hand, someone could be born surrounded by the lowest of humanity and grow up to become the best person you’ll ever meet. You have to understand that blood isn’t everything to a person’s character.”

You didn’t say anything, contemplating what he said. She didn’t seem like someone to rule with an iron fist, and neither did her parent. Tubbo was the first person to come to mind. He was raised by a malicious, tyrannical idiot, a man that had valued absolute power and booze over anything else. Your uncle turned out to be the most caring person you’ve ever met, always making sure that those around him are in a good mood even if he himself wasn’t.

However, it’s best to be cautious of somebody. Your mind flashed back to Wilbur and Dream, the two men rotting away in Pandora’s Vault together until either their time alive is up or time itself expires. They were charismatic and kind on the outside, but on the inside, they are two of the most heinous men you’ve ever met. 

It seemed like your mind was running in circles, bouncing between both conclusions like it was being slammed between two surfaces.

“...Do you think you’ll see her again?” Philza asked you, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles and squeezing it comfortingly when you didn’t respond immediately.

You sighed, standing up and walking out of the room, “if the odds are in our favor, we won’t see each other any time soon.”

                                          ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

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