#but i do think im faster now and since it's just one repeating pattern it should go more quickly

[speedlimit15]

ughhh that gorgeous stitch i reblogged this morning has been haunting me i think i need to make a blanket out of it. but that is such an undertaking (said as if i do not already have a blanket in progress ive been ignoring for months)

[illfoandillfie]

The Come Down

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summery: It's hard for Roger to unwind after the excitement of playing a gig. But you have a favourite way to help him.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), but also quite fluffy, rough sex, enough to leave marks but nothing overly kinky, some hair pulling, scratching, shower sex.

Words: 4226

A/N: This started life as a blurb about brushing Roger's hair - a thought I haven't been able to shake for at least a week - but gradually turned into a full on smut fest lmao. I guess Rog just has that effect on me...

Taglist: @laedymoon​ @dtfrogertaylor​ @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @supersonicfreddie​ @taron-egrotten​ @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​

It’s Pavlovian, the way you react to Roger’s playing. If he wasn’t so charming you’d curse him for it. How all you have to hear is him counting everyone into the first song of the night and already you’re thinking about later, about what happens when you get home. Most weeks are the same though you’d never call it a routine. That sounds too boring, too predictable and Roger is anything but boring and predictable. But there is a pattern forming. And it all starts with that fucking count. The way he twirls his drumstick as he settles himself to play. He’s wired from the beginning, from even before they get on stage. Bouncing on the balls of his feet as they get ready, endlessly joking and playfully teasing. So much so that your side hurts from laughing just a little bit. And that energy, that excitement, only grows as they play. Feeding off the noise of the smoke-filled bar and the way people cheer and his mates playing beside him. You watch him every show, close to the front though a little to the side of the stage. He can’t see you anyway and being out of the main crush of people makes it easier to get to the bar again if you want another drink. Not that you ever do. You’re too entranced by it all. The way the four boys perform, make it look so effortless, though you’ve heard the spats and hours of practice that prove it’s not. The way the crowd follows them and spurs them on. Girls with eyes glued to the fingers roaming over frets and plucking at strings. Voices slurred with alcohol or rough from yelling or husky from smoking, all mixed as they call out names of favourite songs and cheer no matter what gets played next. Your attention wanders back to Roger more than anyone else though. Hands rapidly flying from one drum to another, his whole body caught up in the movement, twirling his sticks between notes because he can and he wants everyone to know it. His head tipped back, flung forward, hair and eyes wild. You don’t quite understand how his hair doesn’t get in his way, doesn’t annoy him with the way it flicks around every time he moves. But it mustn't because he refuses to cut it whenever you make the suggestion.

By the time their set is drawing to a close you’re feeling pretty fired up yourself, high from second hand smoke and the bass drum vibrating through your bones and the way Roger’s glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, his shirt open, the necklace you gave him glinting as it catches what little light there is. The final notes ring out, overwhelmingly loud, and you know that’s your cue. Ducking under arms and squeezing between people as you push back to the bar to order the usual after gig round of drinks. The barman knows you by now, so you don’t have to say anything before he’s pulling out glasses, a mixture of shots and pints and a couple of cocktails thrown in for colour, and by the time the selection is laid out before you the boys have materialised at your side. Roger is quick to wrap his arm around your waist as you all down a few shots and then grab the rest of your drinks and head to a table. The lack of space between you and he doesn’t stop a couple of bold women from approaching, flirting with him as they congratulate the band on another great show. He thanks them, polite but uninterested in whatever they’re trying to offer, and pushes on with you tucked tightly to his side.

For a while you just hang out but Roger’s still completely amped. Half his beer is gone the first time he brings the glass to his lips and he fidgets in his seat, restless energy personified. He’d play a whole second set if he was asked. No one asks. Instead he crosses his legs, un-crosses them, slouches low, sits up, arm on the back of your chair then dropped to grab your hand then rubbing your knee then tapping the top of the table. His laugh is frequently heard cutting through the noisy conversations around you as he leans across the table, sits back, slides lower in the chair and then pops up straighter once more. Never still for long. It’s a relief when Brian suggests packing everything into the van. You help them wind up cords, carry amps out the back door. When everything’s packed away there’s more drinking and joking around. Roger’s hands wander a little further, unashamedly squeezing your arse or sliding up your thigh until you remind him where you are. The room feels ten times warmer than it did before and you wouldn’t have stopped him except your sat across from his best mates and something about the way he’s touching you makes you think he doesn’t have the cognitive awareness to recognise that. He’s just got too much adrenaline, too much energy he doesn’t know what to do with, fogging up his brain. He obviously has ideas though, the same ideas you’ve been trying to ignore since he first sat down at his kit. He leans towards your ear, asks if you’re ready to leave. You nod, say goodnight to the others. Roger tells them to stay out of mischief, voice a little louder than it needs to be. “Look who’s talking,” “They’ll be no mischief on my watch, I’ll look after him.” “Y/N you’re an enabler,” “As long as he’s not getting arrested,” “Oi, fuck off,” “Quick Y/N, get him home before he slags off the wrong person,” There’s laughter and a round of see you laters, a few nicknames the boys wouldn’t want their mothers to hear, before you exit the bar, Roger’s arm around you once more.

His voice is still loud on the drive home and he taps out a beat on the steering wheel, antsy, eager to continue the night unobserved by everyone else. Your ears are still ringing so you can only imagine what’s going on in his head – a play by play of the best parts of the set probably. A song he likes comes on the radio so he turns it up loud, winds his window down, grinning at you, letting the whole neighbourhood hear the whine of the guitars. “We should cover this one,” he half shouts, accelerating a little, the rhythm of his tapping fingers changing to match the music, “Fuck! We should cover it! Bri’d go feral for the chance to play it,” You agree though you aren’t sure he hears you. You’re lucky he hasn’t started air drumming along. It happened once before, his foot suddenly hitting the break as he put it down in time with the song’s beat. You’d only been going slow then so all you’d had to deal with was a honk from the car behind you. Roger apologised, promised to be more careful, and you laughed it off. It’s a bit of a wonder he hasn’t ever repeated the mistake with how into the music he gets, how absentmindedly he drives, especially after a show and a few drinks. Muscle memory and second nature. Maybe he shouldn’t be driving but you live close enough that it doesn’t even cross your mind to call a cab. The song fades out and is replaced by yours. The song that was playing in the second hand store you’d met at. Roger takes his eyes off the road to find yours, smiles, clearly thinking about that day. You’d been trying on a dress you’d found, modelling it for a friend to get her opinion, when Roger had complemented your look, suggested adding a fur coat to it. He offered his own but said he’d need your number so he could get it back. You’d laughed at the line but decided you could afford to reward his boldness and written your number on the back of his hand. The coat had kept you warm for the rest of the day and many since. You’re about to say something about the memory, ask Roger if he really thought the pickup line would work (judging by the look on his face when you’d pulled a pen from your bag and grabbed his hand, he hadn’t) but he’s already singing along, hand squeezing your thigh again as his attention shifts back to the road. He glances at you a few more times, encourages you to sing along by holding his closed fist in front of your face like it’s a microphone. He keeps singing as he pulls up in front of your apartment, turns off the engine, steps out of the car. You meet him at the edge of the driveway where he grabs your hand and twirls you around in a circle, both of you giggling. And then he’s heading inside, up the stairs, pulling you along with him.

Your heart is beating faster now, fully aware of what’s coming, like one of Roger’s drum solos playing out against your chest. Roger doesn’t disappoint. He opens the door with enough force to make it bounce off the wall behind it, helping it shut with a kick from his foot. His hands are well and truly occupied, resuming their path over your body, grabbing and squeezing. There’s a flurry of movement from his hands, like he isn’t sure where to start or rather like he’s eager to start everywhere all at once, before he focuses in on your shirt and getting it off of you. It hits the ground carelessly as you walk backwards, further into the apartment, but Roger’s fingers are already working at the fly of your jeans. He gets the button undone, gets distracted trying to kiss you without overbalancing. His hands slide over your stomach, your sides, down to grab your arse and pull you into him. It’s only then he remembers the zip on your pants and moves one hand back to pull it down. You start removing his clothes but you’re too slow for his liking. He has energy to burn and he wants to burn it right away. No stopping to savour the moment, no slowly working up to the big finale. No, he wants to be in you already. And it’s impossible to pretend you haven’t been thinking about exactly that since right back at the start of the evening. You kick your jeans across the floor as Roger tears his own clothes off. There’s enough time for half a breath before he spins you around to face the wall, pushes your back to make you bend at the waist. He doesn’t bother to remove your underwear at all. Fiddling with the clasp of your bra would be too time consuming and why bother pushing panties down when you can pull them to the side instead. He laughs as he realises just how damp the crotch of your knickers is. “Good. Don’t need to worry about fingers.” You gasp, tense up as he plunges into you. His grip on your hip is tight enough that the tips of his fingers have turned white, keeping you in place as he roughly fucks you. A small scratch appears in the wallpaper as you try to find a sturdy grip. An impossible task. You have to make do as best you can, relying on Roger to hold you in place. “Love how wet you get from watching us play,” “Just you, Rog,” you whimper as he uses you. He laughs, somehow grasps you even tighter, “Good. My needy little groupie.” He nips at your neck and you turn your head, lips opening with a whimper as he pushes himself deeper into your heat. The kiss is messy, teeth colliding as he tries to release all that pent up energy he’s been carrying around since he exited the stage.  You don’t cum that first time, you never do. It’s about Roger’s need for release, Roger’s excess energy, not yours. But you don’t mind. He’s gone above and beyond for you plenty of times before and he’ll do the same plenty more to come. The least you can do is be a pliant hole for him to get off in after each gig.  

You stay bent over, palms pressed firmly against the wall, as Roger gives a few extra thrusts, prolonging his own pleasure, before he pulls out. You stay there as he leans against you almost hidden by a curtain of his own hair, panting heavily in your ear, until he can find it in him to stand up. You stay there, with his hand on your back to keep you in place until he sees his cum dribble from your cunt. He’s calmed a bit, the bounce in his step a little less pronounced, but he can be worn out further. He needs more, needs to fully come down from the high of playing, if he wants to get a wink of sleep. When you regain your full height and turn to face him, he kisses you. He almost catches you off guard with it, making you pull in a sharp breath as his lips meet yours and he presses you into the wall. You feel completely breathless when he pulls back, dizzy from the taste of him. You both laugh softly as you look at each other, still so close you’re breathing each other’s air. “You’re sweaty,” you say softly, , dragging one palm down his chest, pouting a little. The statement is fact but it’s also code for please keep fucking me. It’s the sexy kind of sweaty. “That’s what happens when you play drums and then come home and fuck a slut,” You try to hide the shiver his tone sends along your spine, how hungry for more one little degrading name can make you. Unsuccessfully judging by the way Roger winks at you. He knows you too well, knows which buttons to push to turn you into the needy slut he so enjoys using and you so enjoy being for him. Not that it takes much to get you there, especially after he’s dropped a quick load in you and left you eager for your own release. If you had the space you’d drop to your knees to clean his cock with your tongue, taste yourself on him. But he’s still got you up against the wall, boxed in by his arms, so instead you bite your lip and give him a look that you hope comes across as either sexy innocence or sultry seductress. He laughs again, leans into your ear, “You need it that bad, love?” You just nod as he catches your earlobe between his teeth and gently tugs. There’s no point pretending otherwise. “You’ve wanted it all night, haven’t you?” He pouts back at you, teasing, mocking you for being so easy, “Let’s give her what she wants then.” He’s hasn’t quite finished speaking when he grabs your hand and pulls you into the kitchen. Sometimes you make it to the bedroom, sometimes you don’t. Tonight there’s no chance, or at least not until you’ve taken him a few times. He clears off the small square table where you eat most of your meals with a sweep of his arm, sheets of uni notes and scrawled ideas for the band fluttering to the floor, beaten there by the loud thump of one of his biology textbooks. The moment the surface is free he’s lifting you onto it, pulling your underpants off as you focus on your bra. When it too has joined the mess on the floor you lie back, arms around Roger’s neck to keep him close, the cold pendant hanging from his necklace making you shiver as it gets caught between you. He kisses you again, bites your lip with a smile and then dips his head towards your chest instead. You twist the ends of his sweat damp hair around your fingers as he enters you again. It’s not quite the same as when he took you against the wall moments before but it’s still rough, fast, hard. The first time he fucked you like that you were surprised such an angelic, pretty, soft boy could be such a devil. Biting you, pulling on your hair, leaving you with marks from how tight he held you. But you left him with marks too, nails digging into his arms and back, tugging on his hair as much as he tugged on yours. He’d just laughed when he saw the scratches in the mirror. Laughed and told you he loved you for the first time. A lot of firsts that day. He says it again now, words gasped between rapid breaths and those little whines he makes. You’d say it back except you’re not sure how to form words anymore, aside from fuck and god and his name if he’s lucky. He doesn’t mind though, he always enjoys making you speechless. You moan as he mouths at your neck, pounding into you like a fucking jackhammer, and he raises his head just enough to gloat. “Feels good doesn’t it love?” You’d call him an arse if he’d just slow down and let you breathe, a cocky bastard, a big-headed prick. You must manage to stutter one of them out because Roger responds. “T-think you mean epic – fucking – shag,” there’s a few panted breaths and then an order to rub your clit and you don’t even consider disobeying, slipping a hand between your bodies to find it. Your so close already, wound up beyond belief, eyes screwed shut and body arching as you moan. It only takes a few more moments for your climax to hit, accompanied by a violent thumping from the other side of the wall that you barely hear and that Roger only laughs at.

When you can open your eyes again they meet Roger’s. He’s still leaning over you, both palms braced against the table top, but he lowers himself a little to kiss you, smiling against your lips. You mewl as he pulls out of you once more but he swallows the sound. Slowly he retreats, pushes his hair back from his face and then takes your hand to help you sit up. He stays standing between your legs, kisses you a few more times as you both relearn how to breathe properly. His nose bumps against your cheek as he finds your lips once more, like a cat displaying affection. It’s a much softer kiss. “How’re you feeling?” “Mmhmm, good,” your voice sounds raspy to you so you swallow as best you can before saying more, “need a shower.” He laughs again, a soft puff of air against your mouth as he rests his forehead against yours, “Always so practical.” “One of us has to be,” “So you keep saying. D’you think you can stand?” “Let’s find out. Get ready to catch me.” Roger helps you down, helps you stand on shaky legs, helps you walk to the bathroom. He insists on helping you into the shower too, saying he feels responsible for your lack of mobility since he’s the one who fucked you so well. You bat his shoulder but let him accompany you into the bathroom and under the steaming water. “Mr Johnson next door hates us by the way,” he said it with a grin, looking very happy with himself, “Think we might have been overheard,” another laugh, his hand sliding from your waist to press against your pussy. You lean against Roger as his fingers rub over you, collecting the evidence of the evening so far, sliding along your slit before pressing into you. “Think we can piss everyone off a little more though, don’t you,” You agree with a soft moan, the sound echoing around the small bathroom as Roger pulls his fingers free, lifts your leg, slides into you once again, pressing you against the cold tiles on the wall. Its much slower that time. Partly because of the location, partly because Roger isn’t as hyped as he was before you got home. He holds you tightly though as you whine into his neck, his fingers on your clit. The noise makes your head spin, the drops of water hitting the floor of the shower, his grunts and encouraging words mixed with your own sighs and moans, all of it bouncing around the room, layered over each other. Your orgasm builds relatively slowly, kept alive by the constant pressure around your clit more than the cock buried in you. And Roger doesn’t chase his release like before, doesn’t thrust into you forcefully. Rather, he just holds you as close as possible, bucking his hips a little but mostly just enjoying the way you clench around him as you get closer to the edge. He swears in response to the way you tighten, warns you he’s close. You reach up and drag your fingers through his hair, press your lips to the base of his throat. He doesn’t hold out much longer, running out of energy to maintain control like that, pressing you firmly against the wall as he fills you again. His fingers fall from your clit as he shudders through his release but it’s only a momentary lapse, the pressure back even as you whine at the loss. You both know you’re close, Roger leaning into your ear to tell you to let go, to cum for him. When it does hit, it’s not an earth-shattering orgasm. You don’t see stars, don’t scream, don’t collapse in an exhausted heap. You let out a soft whine against Roger’s skin as warmth spreads through you, calm and nice. He rubs his hand over your hip until you let go of his hair, let your foot drop back to the floor. The steady stream of water reminds you where you are as Roger kisses the top of your head. He asks how you feel now, stops hovering quite so close when you say you’re fine to stand on your own. But he doesn’t go further than the corner of the shower, watching as you wash your hair and lather yourself in soap, just in case. He gives you a hand out when you’re clean but stays under the shower himself while you get changed and take care of your post-sex routine. When you glance back at him he’s got his eyes closed, head tilted back, relaxing.

You’re sitting in bed, a book open in your lap, though you aren’t really reading it, when you hear the shower close off, the soft pad of wet feet, and Roger appears in the doorway. He digs around in his clothes for a minute, finds some clean underwear and slips them on quietly. He smiles at you, a soft sleepy sort of a smile, as he takes the towel to his head, trying to wring as much water from his hair as possible. When he can’t be bothered with it anymore he lets the towel drop to the floor, a problem for tomorrow much like the rest of the mess you made through the apartment. A trail of lust fuelled destruction you’ll need to pick up and put away. He grabs a hairbrush from the top of the chest of draws and sits beside you, trying to hide a yawn. “Tired?” “No,” Roger lies, settling himself and beginning to work the brush through his locks. “Well I am so if you were planning on starting another round you’ll have to do it on your own,” He shakes his head as he tugs the brush through a particularly knotted section, “I’ll keep – fuck – I’ll keep that in mind. You got any spare socks I can use?” You laugh but Roger winces as the brush gets caught once again. “Jesus, knew I should have used more conditioner,” “You want some help with that?” “Yes please,” You mark your page and place the book to the side before pushing yourself to your knees and shuffling closer to Roger. He turns around so his back is to you, handing the brush over his shoulder. Slowly and carefully you start to untangle the knots his hair has twisted into, pulling the brush through small sections over and over until it runs smooth. “You ever think ab-” “I’m not cutting it Y/N,” “Just a suggestion,” “If I cut it you’d have nothing to hold on to.” “Fair enough,” You keep chatting as you brush Roger’s hair, able to feel him relax against you, the tension leaving his shoulders and neck, able to hear the exhaustion in every word he says. By the time you’re done his eyelids are drooping, every ounce of the overabundance of energy gone. “C’mon babe, time for bed,” you say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Roger just nods, shuffles around until he can crawl under the covers. You put the hairbrush on your bedside table and join him, laying on your side to face him. He takes one of your hands, lazily tugs it to his lips. “Love you,” “Love you too, Rog,” He lets his eyes close but doesn’t release you. Not until he’s well and truly asleep.

[houseki-no-suffering]

on ch 82 and what the hell is the deal with phos

super long wall of words ahead, you've been warned. also, im not qualified to discuss the emotional effects of trauma, so please correct me where im wrong and don’t hesitate to add on this post

contains an analysis of phos’ character arc, explanation on why and how they snapped and what might happen to our child next:

1. genki phos 2. post winter phos 3. laphos 4. on trauma 5. on snapping 6. speculations about the future

so, first things first, I could not help but notice the sheer number of parallels between this chapter and other significant points of the story. it seems to me that parallels are becoming more and more frequent as the moon arc goes on, and that’s not just because there are simply more chapters to draw parallels from as the story grows in size.

I believe that we’re at a turning point in the story, or even that the turning point has been reached, (aechmea telling barbata to fix phos for the umpteenth time is most likely going to give phos the last treasure, but ill get to it).

so, to try and understand what in the seven hells is going on with our baby at this point (the fandom collectively adopted phos since chapter 2, sign the papers if you haven’t already and donate to the fund to send phos to therapy) let’s retrace phos’ character journey.

1: genki phos

the phos who is too good for this world, too pure, the cinnamon roll who has no idea what the hell is gonna happen to them. oh joy.

hnk sets off as a coming of age story. phos is the youngest, they’re seemingly useless in a society that values usefulness above anything else so genki phos is initially driven by lack of purpose.

i’ve speculated already on the characteristics of the lustrous society, a society that emphasizes sameness over difference and that has no place for outcasts like phos and cinnabar. your value, in lustrous society, is dictated by how much and in which way you can contribute to the survival of the species, with elite fighters (the diamonds) being at the apex of the social pyramid and everyone else coming after.

additionally, while gems live in a highly interdependent and close-knitted society, such interdependence never takes into account emotions, loss, imagination, introspection and free-thinking. the society is extremely practical, apathetic, immobile, and everyone is expected to conform to that.

think about antarc: they’re the poster child of lustrous society: a 3 mohs hardness gem who managed to become an elite fighter out of sheer willpower, who’s blindly loyal to sensei, who sacrifices themselves for the greater good (the group’s interests > the individual’s interests), that does little if any introspection and that is happy about all of this and wants to leave it this way.  

phos isn’t like this at all.

since the very beginning of the series we learn that phos is an anomaly. and that’s okay, other gems have been anomalies, like padparadscha, cinnabar, even antarcticite, but while those gems found a way to tip toe to the margins of lustrous society to remain unobtrusive exceptions, or forge themselves into proper, useful members of the group, phos cannot do that. which is ironic, because we know that one of phos’ core characteristics is that they’re able to change and to bring about change in a world that is as immobile and still and stiff as… well.. rock.

like @ruddy-rutile​ pointed out in a past analysis, phos’ problem wasn’t so much that they didn’t fit in, but that they didn’t fit in the appropriate way: they’re emotional, they’re loud, they’re unreliable, they’re not apathetic. they’re kind. compassionate. imaginative. and imagination is something the other gems lack.

this fuels a deep sense of self-hatred that even at this early stages of the story is lying just beneath the surface and oozes out quite easily, like when phos wants to help ventricosus and mumbles that it’s no problem if they die in the attempt, they’re a good for nothing after all, what difference would it make if they dont come back. at least they were able to help someone, contrary to how they were unable to help cinnabar.

this is the leitmotif of the series: phos is a kind, selfless gem who cultivates a deep sense of self-hatred. the internalized pressure and need to feel useful turns into a necessity for change. they need to save cinnabar, they need to save ventricosus, they need to become a fighter, they need to help sensei.

contrary to most of the other gems, phos loves and loves openly and unconditionally, they’re self-less by nature and that selflessness is a barrier that hides the real reason theyre so ready to put their life on the line for other people: the fact that phos thinks that their own life isnt wort a scrap.

as someone who believes to be worthless, guided by shame and guilt just for being alive and fueled by a deep desire to feel loved and accepted (just like a child), phos is unable to cope with grief and emotion if not by guilt tripping themselves even further.

the fact that the amethysts were almost taken is their fault, the fact that cinnabar is suicidal is their fault, the fact that antarc was taken is their fault, same with ghost’s abduction. the only way phos knows to cope with this guilt is by doing what every other gem does: bury these feelings deep inside their head and throw themselves into work. be useful, like alexandrite, rutile or red beryl.

2. post winter phos

what was a story about purpose, about phos’ coming of age, reaches an end at this very point, with antarc’s death. phos has become stronger at this point of the story, they have agathe legs and gold arms and they have grief to cope with, trauma.

just like alex’s job is studying the enemy and red’s job is making clothes, phos’ job is the one they originally desired for themselves: to fight. because there is nothing as valued as a good fighter in gem society and probably young phos unconsciously hoped to overcome self-hatred by taking on the most useful job there is.

post winter antarc is a skilled soldier, so skilled that bort wants to pair up with them. phos has reached their old goal: through loss and maturity, now they have a place within their society, they’re accepted and appreciated, valued but not loved. because these gems are so, so bad at emotions.

and this is where ms ichikawa begins to fool us all. she had us think that this story would be simple, but now hnk starts its steep and unrelenting detour toward existentialism and phos begins their dance toward madness and bottomless grief.

post winter phos is a soldier, they can fight off lunarians, but theyre still blaming themselves for antarc’s death.

we already said that phos is a very emotional gem and they possess a fervid imagination (probably just like lapis). so what do they do? they start thinking. “maybe i can retrieve antarc if we collect enough pieces. if i can communicate with the lunarians. if i can understand why we’re fighting.”

thinking quickly turns into questioning: why are we fighting? why are we so weak? why am i different? what changed me? is it the new additions, is it just life experiences? can we change? how can we change? antarc told me i shouldnt shy away from life, so im gonna push myself further and further.

that’s when shiro’s arc happens and sensei seems to know something about it, something he won’t tell the gems. phos’ questions suddenly turn to him.

phos is pretty much paranoid at this point of the narrative: they have experienced loss for the first time. consumed by guilt and grief for antarc’s recent abduction (even if phos still doesnt know what death means, we’ll get to that in a while), phos cannot think straight. they can’t be questioning the one authority every gem recognizes, the person phos and everyone else wants to protect, their leader, father, teacher.

phos feels like scum just for even thinking about it, as loyal and young as they are. and yet once you start questioning one minuscule thing about the way you have always lived your life, more and more will follow. it’s a cascade effect and it becomes faster the higher the number of questions, until you’re left with nothing but doubts and you must take into your hands the responsibility to find out for yourself.

this is more or less what happens to phos. they feel awful for doubting sensei the first time, in chapter 27, so they spill their guts to cinnabar, confessing their sins. but what cinnabar says does anything but put phos at ease: of course phos is doubting sensei: he’s shady, everyone knows.

however, while cinnabar is a quiet outcast, extremely prudent (and cowardly if you want) in the way they decide to face life, phos is the total opposite. they just needed a little nudge, they were already on the edge of a cliff of doubts and existential fears. cinnabar’s words are the second, big step that sets phos off on their path to the moon.  

chapter 28 is when we see phos self-destructing because of this inner conflict for the first time, a pattern that will be repeated again and again the more phos loses sight of the truth, of a reliable something, a goal to cling onto and find direction.

it is ironic, because phos becomes a direction, a goal, the gems and the moon people’s hope (ch 59 and 72), but in doing so they have no hope left for themselves. let’s not forget that phos is very young by gems’ standards, not to mention in comparison to the moon people. how fair is to expect from a traumatized child to save the world and find answers to questions that run thousands of years deep and give phos nothing in return?

the pressure is enough to break phos and it does, quite literally, over and over and over again.

3. Laphos

lapis’ head comes at a time when phos was literally no longer able to manage this pressure.

it brings a waft of fresh air, it brings what emotional, kind phos needed to detach themselves from grief: coldness, rationality. and yet, it takes something away from phos as well: laphos is the phos that can no longer talk with cinnabar, the phos that brings cairn to reject the gems altogether and launch themselves into their kin’s killer’s arms. laphos is the gems and lunarians’ hope for a brief time, then it becomes the enemy.

i find it interesting how phos feels responsible for goshe and morga’s abduction too, even if phos was unconscious when it happened. phos has no clear boundaries between themselves and the rest of the world. they feel responsible for everything and guilty for everything. whatever they do will never be enough neither to make up for their past mistakes nor to find everyone a clear sense of purpose, safety, truth.

ichikawa plays with truth a lot. truth is that the lunarians are bad people and the gems must defend themselves, truth is that sensei is shady, truth is that the moon people are actually good, truth is that death is real, truth is that sensei is evil, truth is that cinnabar hates phos, truth is that the gems are evil, truth is that sensei is the only one that loves phos. who knows what the next truth will be, but can you call it truth, at this point?

if there is one point, i believe, that ichikawa is trying to make clear is that truth is subjective and that it changes, just like phos’ goal, the more knowledge you acquire and the more mistakes you make. truth is subjective but it must be sought after: you gotta keep fighting, you gotta move on even if you keep making mistakes, even if you cant undo your actions.

and another thing i think she’s trying to say is that you cannot make it alone. the moment phos tried to take it all on their shoulders, they moment they acquired lapis’ head, is the moment everything came crumbling down ten times faster than before.

and the most ironic part is that phos is still kind, even underneath that mantle of aloofness: they tried to do everything by themselves because they didn’t want to put anyone in danger, but in doing so they manipulated the gems just like aechmea. and aechmea knows and he’s been using phos for this.

4. Even more trauma

running after truth and after newer and more nuanced goals, phos has completely lost sight of themselves.

where do their alliances lie? what about their history? phos wakes up in ch 72 after the night raid and immediately breaks into pieces because they’re reminded of how cinnabar attacked them, the one gem they thought was their friend. one of the few truths phos had been clinging to.

phos wakes up after the night raid and asks the enemy “to the lunarians i look like a gem and to the gems i look like a lunarian. what am i?”

they break into pieces because they still believe they’re useless. they couldn't save cinnabar, they couldn't save antarc, they couldn't communicate with the earth gems, they couldn't even see adamant.

this is reminiscent of the very beginning of the manga: phos needs to feel useful, they need a goal, they need to be good at something. and just like they were ready to get lost at sea forever to help ventricosus they’re ready to die for someone else’s cause (not even phos’ own because they have no idea what to believe in at this point) just to be of use. after all, to phos, phos is nothing more than a scrap.

euc disagrees. ch 71 “we need you in our future” is a sentence that phos has probably ached to hear for centuries. “we need you. you are loved, you mean something, you are enough. you belong. we cannot build a future where you aren’t part of the equation. you matter”

and look at the way phos looks at euc. they can barely believe them and in fact they don’t. phos expresses some concern about dying (”after all, those less than 5 includes me”) but they still throw themselves into danger, they still take no care of themselves.

Phos’ self hatred and self-destructive tendencies run deeper than euc’s words could ever cut. those words meant well, but they were too little too late. phos thinks they don’t deserve this kind of hope, they  cannot understand it, cannot fathom a world in which they are true and so they will go on believing that they are alone and worthless. next time they go on earth, they’ll go alone and unharmed

it is ironic. they did so much, they went to the moon and back multiple times, put their life on the line multiple times, made more progress toward unveiling the truth about the lunarians and finding a way for them to be free of samsara than anyone else did in hundreds (presumably) of thousands of years. they did it by themselves. in barely three hundred years. that’s impressive. and yet it’s not enough for phos. in their mind, they just keep failing.

so what’s the big deal? they can sacrifice themselves, it’s the least they can do and no one will miss them after all. unfortunately, this is true, at least to some extent.

im appalled by how little even the moon gems care about phos. they’re so self-centered it’s almost funny.

even alex, who has gone through loss and grief if not as much at least in a way similar to phos cannot find enough compassion in themselves to be concerned about phos’ wellbeing after a few months on the moon.

ive heard people mention how this could be a result of the moon people injecting who knows what into the gems or manipulating them someway or another, but i believe that there was no need to. phos is an anomaly after all, their kindness is an anomaly. the lustrous are little more than self-centered children: they are able of little if no introspection and they cannot process complex emotions like grief if not by shutting off those emotions altogether.

the moon gems are still vaguely concerned about phos. in ch 76, when phos departs for earth for the last time, they do tell them to be careful and come back if things get bad, but they do little more than that. it’s little comfort and too little emotional closeness and by no means close to the huge amount of support and (emotional) assistance that phos needs at this point.

phos tries to make do with what they have: a will to end this war and the superficial words of what should be their family, but it’s not even remotely enough. and yet phos, just like any other lustrous, is very bad at introspection: they don’t notice or if they notice they repress it. what’s one more thing down the subconscious after all? it’s fine. phos can take it, until they can no more and they snap without having any idea that they will snap.

phos’ journey, which has made them increasingly more emotional, fragile and human (the last one quite literally) has also made phos even more alone than they were at the beginning of the story. more alone, with the same sense of worthlessness, the same urgency to be good for something or self-destroy, and so much more grief, trauma, guilt and repressed emotions.

5. snapping

“I mustn’t think of anything” phos reminds themselves in ch 76. because thinking never brought anything good and because euc would see right through it. 

once again, phos is repressing emotions. here they go, trying to be a cold blooded killer, ready to betray sensei again, the one person who has been good to them and that phos tried to hate with all their heart but just couldnt.

as ive written in a previous analysis, one of aechmea’s lowest blows was to tell the gems he was exploiting and manipulating to reach a salvation he doesnt deserve that if the gems want to acquire freedom they must do so by themselves. talk about coherence. 

but that isnt all, he sinks even lower than this: he makes phos and the others question sensei’s affection for them. he says that sensei’s love is fake, it’s synthetic, the gems should totally make him pray or destroy him, no remorse, no strings attached. it’s such a dirty move.

no wonder it confuses phos even more. phos believes it, or tries to, they say they want to break sensei into pieces, but after the night raid they realize that it cant be that simple. sensei never attacked them. he has always been good to phos. and phos feels even more worthless, more of a traitor for daring believe in love, in sensei’s affection, when here they are, on the lunarians’ side, ready to betray him again. 

how dare phos hope for anything? they dont deserve love, they dont deserve hope, they dont deserve happiness. they can try to give it to other people, they’ll kill themselves in order to do so, but they have no more hope and no love left for themselves, and they had so little to begin with.

as ive said, phos has little self-awareness and little introspection. i do believe that they had no idea they were going to snap until they did. even in ch 77, when sensei tells them he cannot pray, phos spends their last seconds of consciousness (before being attacked by all of the gems) to kindly ask him to pray. they dont care about themselves, but they dont reflect long enough to consider that reaching out to sensei like that could be interpreted as hostile by the paranoid earth gems. i think this is the first sign that phos is about to snap: they’re quite literally desperate.

tired beyond measure and forced to spend 220 more years in isolation, broken into pieces scattered all over the island, when phos comes to their senses again once kongo reassembles them they’re beyond despair. this war is taking the last toll on them and phos has no more energy to go on.

“please,” they say “pray. do it for no one else but me. grant me mercy,” from one bodhisattva to the other. they’re still somewhat normal, but when sensei fails to pray again phos can’t take it anymore. desperation and rage, fueled by hopelessness, worthlessness, grief and exhaustion make phos launch themselves against sensei, which, ironically, it’s exactly what the story needs.

apparently, phos is human enough to activate sensei but not human enough to make him pray. however, when the two of them join hands, sensei can actually pray. maybe it’s because both phos and sensei are intended to be bodhisattva? maybe because human voice commands are not as strong as contact? i have no idea.

phos has snapped by the way, and it’s weird how they go from “If only you weren’t here” to “sensei actually loves me” in a couple of chapters. in a certain way, we’re seeing phos going back to their roots: they love sensei and trust in sensei’s love, they’re once again openly emotional and impulsive, they’re once again ostracized by the gems (of course, much more violently this time).

i have written about how, after ‘fusing’ with sensei for a brief second, phos doesnt speak for the entirety of ch 81. they look and act like a literal monster, a scared animal, which is ironic since we know that they’re now human. i hypothesized that they might be reborn and that’s why they don’t speak, they’re a literal infant, but in light of ch 82, i think they’re simply hurt beyond measure. 

they reversed to their old emotional persona, vomiting out all the emotions and pain and rage and hate they repressed during these 300 years. and yet they still don’t hurt anyone, not as much and as deliberately as they could at least.

they’re conscious enough to recognize the notebook and be reminded of their lost friends, realize how little the earth gems care for phos and for what they’re doing. and, i believe, when phos is rescued and comes back to the moon, they are, for the first time in the whole manga, enraged by the earth gems’ stupidity and sheer ungratefulness.

phos has been fighting for the wellbeing of everyone for centuries, putting their life on the line, never asking for anything in return and always believing that they were doing the right thing. and yet it’s not enough.

aechmea is a clever politician, and like every good politician he’s good at picking up changes and turning them in his favor. 

he notices that there’s something wrong with phos and with the way they feel about the gems. maybe he doesnt yet realize that phos is angry at them for being ungrateful, but he senses something so he provokes phos: “you said to leave you on earth last time. did you change your mind?” that is “i’m not your enemy. see? im doing what you want me to do. not quite like those people down there on earth. oh, wait, were those your friends? aw, such a pity. to think they attacked you after everything you’ve done for them. but they’re your family, right? i’ll send you back to them if this is what you want. see? i’ll listen to your wishes. i am grateful.”

look how intently he looks at phos as phos incoherently and obsessively repeats the same thing over and over: “he would have prayed. he would have prayed for me. he loves me. he would have prayed.” if you want, this is also a syìubtle way for phos to apologize: they still feel responsible for their failure, but aechmea must understand: phos did everything they could, it would have worked, it was the gems’ fault.

adamant put phos back together, showing phos that he still cares. he is the only one that loves phos, while the gems (all gems, phos doesnt care much for differences at this point) keep hurting phos even if phos is only trying to help. so they must be killed. to hell with them all. and, notice, phos doesnt include themselves in the ‘gem’ category: they’re no longer a lustrous. they’re a monster, a liminal creature.

with nothing left to believe in if not sensei’s love and a promise to make him pray and then die in peace, phos wants to destroy the only thing that they believe stands between them and finally being useful, but also between them and freedom (freedom from suffering, from guilt, from existing, from their pain, from being): the gems.

this isn’t the first time that phos wants to kill something: in ch 68 they spoke about crushing sensei to pieces. it’s heartbreaking how phos went from “if only the moon people weren’t here” to “if only sensei weren’t here” to “if only the gems weren’t here.” will it turn into: “if only i weren’t here?” who are phos’ allies? who does phos feel kinship with? who is phos? they no longer know, and they’ve not known for a long time.

aechmea has noticed and he’s quick to turn the situation to his advantage. he shakes phos’ hand, he’ll grant them freedom just like phos will grant the lunarians’ freedom. he’ll forgive phos for failing, for their sins, for the bottomless despair and guilt that phos has been living with for centuries. salvation, hope, that is all phos needs.

as @rinboz pointed out, phos’ gold in ch 82 takes the shape of a lotus seed pod, a direct reference to when antarc was abducted and the gold had turned into a lotus flower. 

through pain, phos had blossomed into a new character that day, marking the beginning of their long journey toward truth and toward discovering that there is no truth. the day the story changed from a coming of age manga to something much, much more intricate.

phos’ pod is empty, they have nothing left to lose, it’s a dead flower. this is the end of the journey that started with antarc’s abduction. when phos wakes up again, it will probably be with new memories and a new addition to their body, possibly red diamond. 

phos’ self destruction has reached its apex because it finally became so intense to extend outwards, to other people that, in their immense grief, phos wants to bring down with them. this might be a minuscule form of progress: anger is better than repressing emotions at least, but phos’ problems are far from being solved.

6. on the future

what will be of phos then? it really depends.

the fact that they’re finally showing all that sufferance and those emotions they tried so hard to repress is good, but aechmea is still there to take advantage of it. 

phos will never be free as long as they dont associate themselves with someone that truly loves them and as long as they cant find someone that can help them deal with their emotions. aechmea is just using them and only ichikawa knows what he meant when he told barbata to be careful with those 200 years emotions.

theoretically, phos was unconscious during the timelapse, but if there are emotions to treat carefully maybe they weren’t? maybe the change we’ve seen in phos this chapter depends on what they had to endure during that time. or maybe aechmea simply wants to make sure that his pet is easy to use.

i do believe we’re close to the end. i dont know if it will be the end of the series or just the end of phos as we know them. i could hope for something good to finally happen to them and for them to heal, but it would take a therapist or someone that loves phos. 

maybe euclase could side up with sensei, they seemed the most concerned about phos’ status and the most prone to believe them. maybe goshe and cicada could do something again, maybe rutile will fix padpa once more and padpa will talk with the earth gems (not very likely, but im throwing theories left and right at this point), or maybe barbata will refuse to follow aechmea’s instructions, at least in part, and try to help phos.

as always, im afraid we’ll have to wait. in the meantime, please hug phos. if you read up to this point hug phos. hug them now and shower them with love, because no one else will

[aiden-png]

Low Dose T Updates!

Saw others here doing this format for small weekly notes on transition stuff so, here goes!

I’m on .4mgs of IM Testosterone biweekly, starting 10/22/19.

Month 1, Week 1

-really tired most days from 1-4pm, I’ve been told this is normal but jeez

-pretty sensitive down there and I’ve seen 1-2cms of bottom growth

-kinda itchy? after taking off my binder

-definitely more achey than usual, back and knee pain is :/

-my energy levels have tanked, muscles are weaker, I sweat more and easier

-headaches come more often, but that makes sense with the hormone changes

-had gender euphoria yesterday :)

-I compared my one day vs one week videos and my voice sounds different but honestly I have a cold so that’s wishful thinking (I think T shot my immune system rip)

Month 1, Week 2

-Throat scratchy and did get a cold but I’m better now so it’s scratchy in a losing my voice kinda way

-UPDATE: voice has definitely dropped due to the weird ache I’ve been having in it. Day 1>Week 1>Week 2 voice is lower and softer confirmed!

-Sensitivity and increased arousal time, not uncomfortable at all

-Slight increase in pimples but v small. I assume it’ll get worse soon though

-Mood swings are 100%. I had panic attacks and sadness and slight irritability on day 9-11 as well as paranoia. I was confident and happy and energetic before I started T and I’m hoping those things start coming back as my body adjusts

-Haven’t noticed much difference in mood that would indicate my levels affecting it unless from day 8-11 the mood swings were triggered by low T or if the loss of my tiredness on day 7 was the indication

-No longer tired instead I’m anxious. My usual energy has started coming back as the T has left my system

-Not hungry or horny yet and tiredness has left so... it’s only week two

-Also had joint pain recently and a large uptick in headaches. The latter is definitely due to T (I’ve had two migraines since starting it) but the former could be many factors

I met with my doctor yesterday and we have a new plan. If I find in the next two weeks that my mood swings and low energy levels repeat then I’ll know it’s a pattern and will begin doing weekly doses of .2mgs. If that doesn’t help then I’ll switch to the gel. This log is now helping me as well!

Month 1, Week 3

Sorry for the late update, I’ve been busy this week!

-no mood swings yet so that’s good!

-I think I’ve noticed the beginnings of fat redistribution but nothing major

-no appetite changes but I’ve been eating more lately

-I developed a cough from my throat scratchiness and it gets worse in the morning and at night. It’s also worse because the weather’s gotten colder and now I have a cold to add to it. No new voice changes though

-libido and sensitivity are higher. I’m especially sensitive when I wake up in the morning for some reason. No new growth from what I can tell

-joint issues remain but the cold and work I’ve been doing are mostly to blame I think

-my chest has been tighter recently near the end of the day and I’ve had to unhook my binder. This was rare before T but now happens more often. Not sure what this means though

-definitely an increase in pimples on back, chest, and face but not acne yet

-hair might be oilier but I did get a haircut and shorter hair gets dirty faster

-I’ve been less dysphoric lately, even when I’m misgendered. I think this just has to do with my happiness though as I’m pretty content currently

I don’t think I’ll need to switch to weekly injections at this rate. The mood swings haven’t come back and they would’ve started Tuesday night if they were going to. My emotions are fine actually! My energy is back too, it honestly feels the same as it did before T which I guess is why I’ve forgotten to update until today

Month 1, Week 4

-cough and congestion continues! Not sure if my voice has dropped more

-joint pain gets worse :(

-I think my muscles are getting more defined though! Not stronger but more visible

-I’ve noticed slight fat redistribution from thighs to stomach but nothing has changed with my hips yet

-acne is getting worse and worse ughhhh

-no mood swings this time (yay!) so no dose change!

Sorry, guess that’s all folks! Nothing new to report really

[the-kipsabian]

coughedfeathers replied to your post: *rolls o v e r* I want angst for UpbeatDreams:...

Can I throw my hat into the proverbial ring and suggest that Ayu’s able to get *something* out of him about natemare? Not much, but that he gets amnesia during the times he’s more visually… Not himself during October?? And that he’s not really himself Bc Ayu would have been there during the d&d session where natemare kicked in, as well as Mads’s party probably? So he kinda owes Ayu an explanation at this point, and Kit’s too drained to demand one.

im gonna take this ball and run with it watCH ME @coughedfeathers @shinrijeu have some upbeatdreams yo <3

It was getting closer to Christmas, slowly but steadily. November was over, they had turned to December, and life at the academy was finally steadying itself back on tracks with everything that had gone down the past three months.

And honestly, it was making Ayu very nervous.

Everything had been going smoothly. Honestly, if you asked Ayu, almost too smoothly. Things with Nate had calmed down and he seemed to be behaving like himself again since the two of them had made peace and started to spend more time together again, Nate making sure to fit in a little shows of affection here and there as if he thought Ayu wouldn’t notice.

Holding hands.

Leaving him notes on homework assignments.

Good morning and good night texts.

Sending Ayu playlists of stuff he knew he liked.

Little forehead kisses and kisses planted in his hair as if Nate thought Ayu wouldn’t realize what they meant.

But something about that was still making him uneasy, and maybe it was very unfortunate, but Ayu was able to actually put his finger on it this time too. After the disaster with him that had been October, and having to help Kit through November, Nate had gone back to being himself, and it was almost too weird.

Like the calm before the storm.

What worried him the most, was that Christmas was approaching, and Kit was lighting up again and getting very excited about the holiday. They were constantly rambling at Ayu about the gifts they had gotten for people, asking him what would be appropriate for someone, showing the cute wrapping paper and decorations they had gotten, and so forth. Occasionally Nate would be around when Ayu got messages from Kit and he would glance over Ayu’s shoulder at the cute things Kit had gotten, commenting on everything he thought looked nice.

And that’s what was worrying Ayu about all of this.

Before the October nightmare, Nate had been acting all fine and dandy. Sure he possessed some qualities that Ayu wasn’t extreme fond of, like skipping class and breaking the school rules in general, but that was still normal to him.

October he was occasionally just very different – at Mads’ birthday party he had started to raise havoc, Ayu remembered him making a mess and trying to steal the presents among other things, sending Kit into a whirl of anxiety as this behavior was never explained and it nearly ruined everything.

They had a small D&D session in the dorm at one point, and Nate had been invited – he absolutely threw the game and basically ruined the game for everyone for the night, forcing them to cut it short really early as Kit couldn’t handle him being that way and making it terrible for everyone else.

And then… Well, the Halloween party. Where Nate had straight up put Ayu on the spot and made fun of him and embarrassed him – thankfully not in public in front of others, but it was still terrible enough that some people saw Ayu leave the party crying – with this supposed love confession.

Among other incidents that Ayu hadn’t been present for, but had heard from various classmates and other friends since they had happened.

After October he calmed down again. Nate made peace with Kit, and eventually with Ayu as well. He seemed to return to normal, with no real explanation what was going on with him. Every time Ayu asked about all this, Nate didn’t remember anything. He claimed amnesia. The story never changed, there was never any added details, so Ayu believed him.

But it didn’t make the feeling that someone was still wrong go away.

And with Christmas fast approaching, Ayu was just honestly worried that Nate was going to flip his lid again for no reason and make things difficult for everyone again.

Especially for Kit. And Ayu wasn’t going to let that happen.

He was honestly nervous about texting Nate and asking to meet him at the recording studio. Ayu didn’t specify that he wanted to talk, usually when he invited Nate over it was to listen to him play, and he was kind of hoping that Nate would take it as that kind of an invitation again and wouldn’t ask questions. Thankfully the text he got back was just Nate saying he was on his way – it only freaking Ayu out a little as he was suddenly having to prepare his words much faster than he originally thought.

Ayu was sitting in the studio, sketching the stray kittens into his sketchbook when Nate walked in. The boy was beaming at the sight of Ayu, but raised a brow as he noticed the lack of the violin case he was used to see him carry around with him.

“I thought you were going to play?”

Ayu shook his head as he put the sketchpad aside, watching as Nate took a seat across the table from him. One thing that Ayu was grateful about Nate, was how good he was reading the air around people, so it was obvious even without words that something was up. Something they really needed to talk about.

“I’m… Worried.”

It was just better to get it out straight away, to be honest. Nate’s brows furrowed a little, but he nodded, remaining silent.

“Christmas is coming.”

“We don’t have to get gifts.”

“That’s not it.”

While Ayu was glad to hear this response too, it wasn’t the conversation topic he was after. Besides, he had already gotten Nate a gift, so that wrapped that part up.

“I don’t want you to ruin this for Kit too.”

Nate looked back at him over the table, clearly confused. Ayu sighed, sounding somewhat impatient.

“I don’t want what happened at October to happen again, Nathan.”

The raven-haired boy seemed to perk up at the mention of his whole name, much to Ayu’s satisfaction, as it was a clear mark that at least now he was fully paying attention.

“They need this to go well, they need the nice things. So please… Whatever happened in October, please don’t repeat that again.”

“I can promise you it’s not happening. I promise.”

Could he really believe that though, that was the question in Ayu’s mind. Sure Nate seemed sincere about that, looking him straight into the eye and saying those words, making a promise, it had to be worth of at least something, right?

…Right?

“Ayu, you can trust me. I promise. It’s behind me for now.”

…For now?

“Nathan –”

“I went to see the Nurse a little while ago.”

Ayu went silent. This was a topic they hadn’t talked about, but he knew that Kit had been trying to get Nate to see the Nurse about his amnesia problems, like Nate had tried to get them to go because of their feather coughing issues. Ayu didn’t really think Nate was complying to any of that though, as every time it had come up, he had just laughed it off.

But apparently he was actually really trying to better himself here?

“And?”

“While he didn’t really know what was going on, he said it might have something to do with the Halloween time, as the amnesia spells seem to only happen in October.”

So… This wasn’t the first time this had happened? The way Nate formed his sentences were making Ayu think of it, but he couldn’t confirm anything as this was the first time they had really talked about the issue after Nate’s initial apology about a month ago.

“He suspected full moons at first, but I can confirm I’m not a werewolf though as I do remember the full moon from last week, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Ayu knew he was joking but nodded with a completely serious face anyways.

“He had my medical records from my previous schools, and, well… Everything shows more nurse visits and odd behavior, amnesia and exhaustion around the time of October, and never else.”

Nate brushed a hand through his hair as he leaned back on his chair, letting out a sigh.

“Every single October, for every single school. And nobody knows why, and I can’t remember any of that.”

He shrugged, looking back at Ayu who was still trying to process the information, even though there wasn’t really much info to take in here, other than what they all already knew – that Nate didn’t remember anything.

“The Nurse suggested it was due to stress or me pushing myself too hard or something similar, but I feel the same around the year and do the same things, so it doesn’t make sense. He suggested further examinations later, especially if it is happening again, but… I’m feeling fine now. Haven’t forgotten a day since November begun again. Just same as before October came around.”

It was true though, Ayu could confirm that. Since then Nate had gotten back to his old self, the honestly somewhat terrifying aura he had been carrying with him through October was gone, he looked normal again, acted normal, felt normal…

And yet Ayu still couldn’t help but to worry that this was going to happen again just when Kit was picking up being bright and bubbly again.

“I don’t do it on purpose.”

“I believe that.”

Because Nate wouldn’t. And Ayu knew that.

Nate nodded a little.

“You just… Have to trust me on this one, okay? I promise it’s not going to happen. It’s done now.”

“Until next October?”

Nate inhaled deeply, shrugging.

“I hope not, but… Maybe. It seems to be the pattern.”

It was Ayu’s turn to nod, before he leaned over the table towards Nate a little.

“Just promise me that whatever it is that’s happening with you, it’s not coming back any time soon. And if it does return for October, well… We kick it together, okay?”

Nate smiled at him, nodding his head again.

“Of course. I promise.”

[allofbeercom]

F*ck You Im Fabulous: Stop Glamor-Shaming Me

Now I’m not a trust-fund baby (F*CK, I WISH!), I don’t make a heaps of money, and I pay Manhattan rent. If I lived anywhere else in the world, I might be doing sort of OK, financially — but I live in NEW YORK CITY.

However, this article isn’t about New York City. This article isn’t even really about money. It’s about living a glamorous, fabulous, glittering, lifestyle and being made to feel ashamed about it.

I didn’t realize the magnitude of my lavish lifestyle until very recently. I can’t help it. I was born glamorous. You can totally hate me for this if you want to, by the way. I’ve been in therapy for a while now, and I don’t need everyone’s approval all the time anymore. And luckily, I have a few glam friends who get it:

But, boys and girls, tell me, is there really a need to shame me and my luxurious friends for being glam? I mean, half of the girls I know in New York City who dutifully take the subway and sport beat up converse are way richer and more spoiled than I am. Their “ripped” jeans aren’t ripped because they’re worn down — they’re actually Rag & Bone distressed denim that retail for $450.

They might live in dirty Brooklyn lofts, but those “run down” warehouse spaces cost twice as much as my pretty little Upper East Side shoe box.

Look, I get it: Being glamorous is not cool. Being unglamorous is “en vogue” right now. It’s hip to look dirty and hit the dive bars even when you have a trust fund.

But does that mean I really should be incessantly subjected to dirty looks, bitchy eye-rolls and back-handed compliments about how “overdressed” I am? Why can’t everyone just LET ME LIVE?

I’m not asking you to finance my lavish lifestyle, so who the f*ck cares if I spend $52 on Tom Ford lipstick? I’m single. I don’t have children. I, by the way, you smug little trolls, low-key do a sh*t ton of community service (Most of my jobs have been non-profit).

And most importantly, I can strut around the city in my 6.5-inch mega platforms faster than you can in your ugly ass “flats.”

Think I’m lying?Try me bitches. Try me, but stop shaming me. I’m a 29-year-old woman trying to survive in the cruel, cold world like everyone else.

Don’t Uber-shame me.

The other day, I was with my friend Sam (who is totally low-key bougie but in total denial).

“I’m not taking the subway home,” I declared. She had convinced me to get high as a f*cking kite with her on a downtown rooftop, and I don’t usually smoke. There was no way I could face the subway stoned — not that I ever take the subway anyway (but at least I had a good excuse for ONCE).

As I picked up my pink glitter iPhone 6 Plus and pressed my nail-polished finger on the comforting “Uber app,” she gave me a judgmental stare down, sending shards of shame down my spine.

“Zara, we are right by the train, AND there is a 2.5x surge price. Don’t Uber — that’s f*cking ridiculous! You’re ridiculous!” She cried, dramatically puffing on her perfectly rolled joint.

“F*ck off. I’m taking Uber, you bitch,” I smugly replied, pressing down extra hard on the “confirm your trip” tab for dramatic effect.

“Fine” she said, exasperated, staring out into the starless New York City sky.

My text message made the little ding sound. I checked; it was the Uber driver informing me hewas outside. As I went to reply “coming outside,” I realized I had a long text HISTORY with saidUber driver.

Ever since that realization, I check my text history with Uber drivers, and 90 percent of the time, I’ve ridden with them before. That means out of all the tens of thousands of Uber drivers in New York City, I, Zara Barrie, take it so often that I get repeat drivers. Extreme, even for me.

But you know what? Who f*cking cares? I’m not going to apologize for not wanting to be crammed on the subway in a skimpy outfit, lace stockings and bright red lippy at 1 am.

Plus, life always just seems better in the back of an Uber, you know? You can’t put a price tag on happiness, Kittens.

Don’t Champagne-shame me.

“You orderedchampagne,” a 21-year-old co-worker judgmentally purred to me, smugly pulling on her “vintage” grandfather sweater. “That’s like so fancy. You’re sooo bougie,” she squealed, her button nose straight in the air.

“Well, what the hell are you drinking?” I humbly inquired, tapping on my crystal champagne flute with a pointed, freshly polished nail.

“Beer, duh,” she replied like it was the most obvious thing on the planet. Like there was no other drink one could possibly enjoy at 5 pm at a local little bar after work.

I’m sorry, but my expensive lipstick lips will never touch beer.

That would be disrespectful to my $52 Tom Ford lipstick, DUH. I can’t help that champagne just suits my body. I just like the way bubbles sift down my throat and penetrate into my spirit.

I exclusively drink champagne, and if the bar doesn’t have champagne, I simply don’t go.

Don’t daytime lipstick-shame me.

“Isn’t that a little much for the DAY!?” My ex used to say every time I left the apartment. She was referring to my love for bold lipsticks. Look if I feel sexier in a dark violet lip, why shouldn’t I wear it in the middle of springtime day? Am I only allowed to feel sexy in the day?

If those are the “rules,” I’m consciously choosing to disregard them. I want to feel sexy as f*ck all the f*cking time. I do a better job when I feel sexy, I’m a kinder human being when I feel sexy, andmost importantly, I’m a happier, more confident human being when I feel sexy.

I don’t care if it’s harsh to your delicate eyes in the daylight. Invest in some sunnies, darling, because I’m not going to stop.

Don’t heel-shame me.

The other day, I was walking around Manhattan at 7 am, way uptown on 92nd Street, when I noticed all the Upper East Side MILF moms giving me looks of death. They were all walking their plaid-skirt, baby-Moncler-puff-coat-wearingkids to school as I haphazardly attempted to catch a cab downtown to work.

Why is everyone looking at me so strangely?I silently wondered as I stuck my mega bangled arm out to catch a cab. I noticed a pattern; they were all staring at my feet. I was wearing open-toed platform sandals in the winter (with tights! I’m not a SAVAGE).

Look — just because I wear HEELS all of the time, even in dire weather conditions, doesn’t mean you need to constantly point it out in large crowds, give me incredulous looks OR publicly humiliate me.

If I want to f*ck up my feet and back, that’s my prerogative.

I like looking at the world fromstunningly high views. I see sh*t the rest of you bitches in flats don’t see.

Unless you’re tall. And if you’re tall, I’m extremely jealous of you, and maybe if I was YOUR HEIGHT, I wouldn’t wear such large heels.

But no, I’m not tall. I’m a short jewish girl just trying to live her life.

Don’t fab dress-shame me.

“Woah, that’s a lot for WORK! Isn’t that, like, uncomfortable?” a new Elite Daily employee exclaimed to me recently (poor honey didn’t know I dress like this every day). I looked down at my dress. I was clad in my favorite pale blue vintage cocktail dress, given to me by a darling (and super glam) family friend.

Yes, it’s a lot for work. But what am I supposed to do? Wear jeans? I hate jeans — I don’t look or feel good in DENIM. And don’t even get me started on f*cking leggings.

Why does every girl who wears “leggings to work” feel so bloody smug about it?

“Oh, I don’t dress up. I’m always in my leggings!” girls will boast, running their bare fingers along their barre-class thighs.

We get it. You have skinny legs and want us all to know you WORK OUT. I got it. (I’m going to the bar in heels, so see you later).

Truth be told, I don’t judge you legging-wearing-waifs for ruining the art of fashion (an art that I’m super passionate about) in the name of “comfort,” so stop judging me for wearing uncomfortable cocktail dresses in the day!

Yes, there aren’t always the most comfortable garments to wear…but SCREW IT. It’s me wearing it — not you.

You keep doing you in tights and over-the-knee flat boots. Let me do ME in cocktail dresses and over-the-knee stiletto boots.

Don’t fancy restaurant-shame me.

I’m sorry, but I’m really not sorry about this one, lovelies. I don’t like sh*t chain restaurants. They lack imagination, and I live for the imaginative.

I only want to go places where I can have my glamorous cake and eat it too!

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/fck-you-im-fabulous-stop-glamor-shaming-me/

[thejerkstorecalled]

Race Report: Ironman 70.3 St George 2018

Every time I start a race report, I think that it’s going to be short. I think this one really might be 😊 after I get through the prologue!

The preamble is that I first raced Ironman 70.3 St George in 2015 and got completely Tyson’d (“everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face”). It’s the race performance I’m least proud of, definitely for the distance and maybe ever. I debated whether or not I would ever race there again. After completing fourteen different half-distance triathlons without repeating the same race, options were fewer, especially if you’re looking to fill a certain hole in your scheduled via a North American race. Mid-season in 2017, I repeated a super-tough Olympic in the mountains that I originally raced in 2015 and was able to bike seven minutes faster and even run the super-hilly run course slightly faster. I realized it was time to return to St George for redemption.

I took a look back at finish times – my own at various races, and others at this race – and put together a plan to take at least 20 minutes off my 2015 time. This is what that looked like.

It helps for me to write down my goals, to maintain focus and stay honest with myself. I also like to do weird things, like when it’s time to update all my many work account passwords and I’m out of options, I use race goals. For instance: CIM310 (check) or STG525 (check, check). Of course these aren’t the exact or complete passwords, it would be silly to give way my syntax publicly on the interwebs. With this sneaky and ever-present tactic, you remember your goal every damn day and think about how badly it would suck not to hit the time that you can’t get out of your head.

Okay, onto the race!

Michael and I flew into Vegas two days pre-race, and drove to St George just in time to check in and pick up our bikes before Ironman village closed on Thursday. He noticed a new issue with his head unit, so had planned to hit up bike tech early Friday before driving some loops of the course as a refresher and doing our shake-outs. No big surprises in driving the course, mostly just subbed in a new out-and-back on the bike course.

We arrived right on schedule to Sand Hollow Reservoir where the swim and T1 (swim -> transition area) were set up to do a shakeout ride on the first five miles of the bike course and splash around a bit to remember what 60* water temps feel like. At 1.27 miles, my chain got mangled. Usually I can sort it, but this was pretty bad. Michael couldn’t get it either, so he had to ride back to get our rental van so that we could take my bike to bike tech all the way back in the town of St George where Ironman Village was.

The bike mechanics had to take apart my chain rings to get my chain sorted and let me know that I needed to replace the chain rings (after the race, this was beyond their race venue scope). This was frustrating since I’d had quite a bit of bike work done a month prior, with a full tune-up and new cabling among other things. Bike te also advised me to ride conservatively the next day. Not at all what I wanted to hear!

By this time, it was approaching 4 PM. Our bikes were due for check-in by 5 PM, all the way back at the reservoir. I did a super-short ride near bike tech in case of further issues, and tested the gearing. I was able to shift into my small chain ring, a requisite for riding a course as hilly as this one! I was still super-nervous. By this time, my goal was to ride conservatively enough to finish the bike course.

We made the bike check deadline with a bit of time to spare, and I was able to squeeze in a short run on reservoir trails and a swim to the first buoy and back. A really epic four-minute shake-out swim!

It was time to get cleaned up and eat something before bed time. For simplicity, we just decided to eat at our hotel bar knowing that it likely wouldn’t be crowded and we wouldn’t need to get very fancy or drive anywhere. We ended up having tasty bites and drinks with two guys from Normatec – one of which was the guy who raced all the Ironman events wearing fireman gear on the run and the other was a former pro who still dabbles heavily in extensions of the sport.  A fun way to shake off a stressful day.

BTW would highly recommend out hotel: Hyatt Place. It was nice and new and smelled of fancy lotions like the hotels in Vegas usually do. The staff was super-friendly and helpful. The breakfast was legit. The snack options were delicious. The gym was on point. No complaints. I’ll also share the hotel tip that I imparted upon Michael from my semi-frequent travel experience: always carry a water bottle and refill it with the cold, filtered water in the hotel gym/fitness center to be eco-friendly and cost-efficient.

Race Day!

Up at 3:30 to get to the hotel-provided race breakfast at 4 (the bananas usually go fast). Since that leaves four hours until getting in the water given where I’d seed for the swim, here’s what I ate:

Ezekiel toast with almond butter

Banana

Zest Tea’s High Octane Green Tea

Chocolate Clif Gel and water (~30-45 min before swim start)

We parked near Ironman Village so that we could access T2 and take the Ironman shuttles to the swim start. We had to turn in our run bags the day prior but pro tip (from a total amateur): get in on race morning and remove your run gear from your bag, set it up to support a faster transition from bike to run.

Bike set up went quickly and was great to hang out with Sherpa Courtney and Competitor Mike before we filed into the start chute.

The Swim

I optimistically started right around the 36/37-minute swimmers. To be fair, I’ve had swims in this range and my pool times have been solid the last few months.

I jumped in the water without hesitation and was feeling pretty good. I thought I might be passing people but then I also realized I was too far to the left…again…so this might be me and not my sleeved wetsuit 😊. There were a lot of waves splashing me in the face and I was taking in a ton of water, woof. The second half of the swim, I definitely felt like I was getting passed, and for the final 3 – 4 buoys I knew I’d been in the water a long time and was expecting to see 38-40 on my swim clock.

This is wildly frustrating. I keep putting increasing effort into my swim training year over year, and I’m see gains in my pool times and enjoy swimming so much more than in the past. What used to be my all-out-and-Im-probably-drafting 100s are now my steady-race-paced-just-slower-than-Z3 100s; I was stoked when I – two or three years ago – was able to hold this pace for 200-300 yards at a time and now I’m holding it for 1000 continuous. But it’s not translating to open water swimming; my OWS times are not moving, and may even be digressing. I’ve been obsessing over if this has to do with a certain wetsuit or whether I breathe bilaterally or if I’m not swimming straight whereby adding on lots of distance and thus time. I have no idea; the results are far too mixed with no clear patterns:

The Bike

The bike went by fast. This course has a lot of different-feeling sections that are easy to mentally parse up and digest. It was fun and scenic, and the roads were good. I wish every bike course was like this!

I had to change gears pretty gingerly and less often than I wanted to in order to avoid a race-ending malfunction. This meant that I was often not in the gear I wanted to be in or in the gear that would help me ride faster for that section of the course, but I was in a safe/lower risk gear that meant I was more likely to get to T2 and the run portion.

I was proud of myself for smiling a lot, encouraging fellow competitors and riding bravely (I’ve been riding like a real pansy in training, on my tri bike, and wasn’t sure if/how I’d be able to “race” on it). And for remembering how to use my behind-the-saddle bottle holder and take bottles at the exchanges, things I haven’t practiced in about eight months! I think I put my helmet on weirdly because I had much less front-facing visibility that I usually do, and had to pick up my head more than was comfortable or optimal for aerodynamics, to ensure I wasn’t about to roll into anyone or anything. Otherwise, a smooth ride! I was elated to dismount without incident.

Bike Nutrition:

Two bottles each containing two scoops of custom Infinit and ~5 oz of Red Bull (mixed w water obvi)

Two lightly salted Yukon Gold potatoes

I took a water bottle at each of the three aid stations, chugging some and diluting/filling my bottles with some

The Run!

I took off out of T2 trying to just get relaxed and into an easy rhythm. Most of my training runs recently have been directly off the bike or weights where I needed a couple miles or a couple minutes to feel “normal” which was good precedent for this race where you come off a hilly bike course into a run that starts with 3 miles of real climbing. During this easy start, I mentally collected myself and devised a game plan: the more miles of “up” at the outset meant the less miles of effort and pain at the end. So in my mind, it was a ten mile run since the last 2.5 – 3 miles are downhill. I like to lie to myself and I always fall for it, ha!

I also planned to manage the climbs with a strong but controlled effort and then hammer the descents, pushing the cadence and high foot turnover as hard as I could. If you’ve ever run alongside me, you know what this must have sounded like because my feet literally pound the pavement. I hammered down loud and proud! I passed a lot of guys on the descents who were putting on the brakes and being timid about pounding and rolling down the hills – I know they’re carrying more lbs than I am, but guys, your quads will forgive you in a few days!

I was actually feeling good and happy and all those weird things. I was even called out by other racers for smiling stupidly on a dead-ish area of the course, just to myself! Also: science, smiling relaxes you and makes you go faster, so sometimes I force it in the name of science. Maybe it’s because I’ve done so many tough training runs/intervals on the treadmill getting serious mental training and zero air circulation. The breeze I felt from running outdoors, even in the exposed desert sun, was quite a treat.

I wasn’t watching my splits because on a run course like this, it’s just demoralizing. I mostly record for post-analysis. My watch band actually spontaneously broke in half and my watch fell off while I was running, and I almost didn’t go back for it. What a great excuse for a new watch for a girl who still uses a 6 YO Gamin 910 that’s on it’s third(?) band!

I told myself that once I was done climbing and everything left was downhill (about mile 10.5), I could check my watch to see average page and get some motivation to cut that down with some high cadence descending. The math was much better than I expected! The last 1.5 miles were tough, I was nervous that I might collapse or pass out and not make it to the finish line. I could see my pace petering a bit and kept trying to force the turnover because I knew I was staring down a run faster than I thought possible and wanted to see how low I could get it.

Run nutrition

One 25 mg caffeine Strawberry Clif gel

Water from aid stations; usually I like Coke on the run but I could tell that my body probably couldn’t handle any more caffeine without some kind of intestinal implosion or explosion

BTW – because it was hot, a lot of spectators were out with super soakers, spray bottles, etc and there was a mister on course. I know some people avoid these because they’re scared of blisters. Guys, just get better socks. The cold water is a lifesaver! I got a free pair of SmartWool socks in the swag bag for a trail race I did a few years ago and wore them in a 50k that included multiple stream crossings. Nary a blister. I’ve bought more of these socks and wear them when I know I might want to get wet 😊

Epilogue

I was happy to come well-below my goal time for the race overall and hit a time that I really didn’t think was possible even though my swim goal was off. I noticed that it was offset by faster transitions, so while I didn’t swim a lot faster, my increased swim fitness allowed me to feel super-fresh coming out of the water and “race” the transition to kick off the bike with gusto. Secretly, I did want to break 2:50 on the bike, so rode just where I wanted to despite not doing it exactly how I would have liked due to gearing issues. I would have been happy with anything <1:50 on the run, thinking that a perfect day would yield 1:45 on this course, so am pretty stoked with the run.

For my first 70.3 of the season each of the last three years, I’ve had some specific goals I developed in the preceding off season, and always hope to race near the top of my age group. I did that at Oceanside in 2016 (dern I miss the 30-34 AG ha ha!), and had designs on doing that at Coeur d’ Alene in 2017 and now this race. In both instances, I achieved a finish time that seemed like a real stretch and one that would’ve put me on the podium the previous year. Not sure if I raced in better conditions or against stronger fields each time, but dang, can a girl get a break? Maybe next time…

[adacic1033-blog]

zimmerman code on the go

IF I CAN SHOW YOU POSSIBILITY INSIDE MY MINDIF I CAN SHOW YOU POSSIBILITY INSIDE MY MINDvimeo.comhttps://vimeo.com/56504295FACEBOOKanonymous,mouvement bonificateur,mb,unicef,onu,unesco,joob,joubidou,cercle de culture,crop circle,frenchvimeo.comhttps://vimeo.com/56302027ANONYMOUSThis is "ANONYMOUS" by VJ jOOb on Vimeo, the home for high quality videos and the people who love them.vimeo.comDuncanyour taste in music is nice brothis is cryptomusicfrom cicada3301you need earphone to catch the synesthesic and binaural beat hiding in the rythmeDuncanthats why its so nice asmr?Simon Newtonthis a dnaisaac newtonright familyhttps://www.google.ca/search?q=newton%2Bnsbradio&oq=newton%2Bnsbradio&aqs=chrome..69i57.10703j0j8&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#q=isaac+newton%2Banti+illuminatinewton nsbradio - Google Searchgoogle.cago to the nsbradio chat and ask them for me to remove all ban for the whole area where i amtell them joob is readythey will understandAdamhttps://youtu.be/yydZbVoCbn0Trent Reznor And 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the terror cells plauging their country WHO the fuck is donald trumpDuncan?this is for kid first off allhttps://vimeo.com/20733325GARDONS L OEIL OUVERTGARDONS L OEIL OUVERTvimeo.comgay like mei like themwe understand each otherDuncancontrol the focus control the message i am joel fucking oesteen!@fuck you big dickDuncani am not myself today then who are you me of ocurse i instead but you perhaps alsoruni am comingDuncankill me sweetlyi am furius about that thingjoel zimmermanDuncanflip it asshole!like the zimmerman codesorrymaybe i make some mistakewhile i was on drug effectDuncanstraight up aand down thats me different operating systmes mine is instant and flawless yours?all the world hate you so much...i wanna be like youtroll mastershow mebig dicki wanna be in the nsbradio chatthe bot is to powerfull to be hijackedDuncando the most unreasonable comical (to you) unpopular and hardest thing first when you walk into any roomif you dont help i gonna be kill you know thati mix freeif not 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being targetted by ai also and she is being too alsoi remember well other lifei knowDuncanyou must die to yourself it is written you will find a long trail of hardship i am not your guru i thinki know what to do i thinki cant dieDuncangreat take care gotta go byeyou know that and i know that toi am manyfrom far awaymy dna arn is not sleeping anymoreyou are from nibiru?jokingi dont wanna knowMorrisSecond earththis gonna be a surpriseMorrisYepyou gonna stay close or you will disapear againMorrisLonniebini am tire to chase a ghostMorrisYoui know you take over my computerMorrisHello neoYou have found the onei dont found himMorrisYesi knew i was not crazyMorrisYou arethe planet is to smallMorrisSmall worldand justin trudeau is on my track because he came first at methis not my choiceMorrisYesCrazyi didnt choose to be what i amMorrisTalkHumanManbut i will play the gamei am stupid for my familyi am nothing for all people i knoweven for my bitch girlfriend i think she was pay to stop mei have some soupson about few thinghahahahahhaMorrisFucken stop nowi am really stupid to let you having power on melet me show you what i learn from youi am a fucking assholeand i will be a good onei will kill for youare you counter jihad style alsowe gonna figth together alonewith no lookerjust to trainpic pac poctic tac tocpetic petac petocArishi am the oposite of anonymousi am exibitionisthttps://vimeo.com/20297089the king is the 13https://vimeo.com/20060645Duncanchinese statement: you r dedi knowasiatic are with usDuncanyes but they lack the power to discerni dont care about who hate mei love allDuncanhate what isevilwe will help them...i know the powerfull side is our sidewe do more with nothing for nothingDuncanyes you must never forget thisi mix for kidi did for themi like to rule my rulei am uniquei thinkwe are all uniquebut tell me why they hate me all so muchthis is badeven if i am stupidDuncanbecause you lived where they diedthey suppose to love mei was sad beforebut i am in live adrenalini love adrenalini forget drugjust a weed huge joinDuncanyes i need weed alsoi did speed to train myselfArishi have use the amphetamin the right wayif not i will diewe need to stop themDuncanyou have made the correct choice where 99% fail using drugs correctlyslaughterhasten the revolution this is thesmartest choicehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlBWYD_fu-4Deadmau5 Studio Session Livestream HD 1/17/14For those who missed it we recorded the studio session of Deadmau5. Check it out! Subscribe for more! HOW TO FOLLOW: http://www.abletonlivetechs.com/ https:/...youtube.comi like your control baseyou dont have enought screen and computerDuncanpower does not come from childish games...groovy uselessi dont know how to create musicmaybe i gonna be good at it alsodj is shit name for youyou are dji forgot the nameanywaycreation is the only we to performyou know i will be well know all over the worldthis is not my first choicei was thinking about a simple lifei dont belive in moneybutDuncantracks i have made: https://soundcloud.com/user-533630704-240129607after many year of starving and killing thingi will emerge for my familyyou are fastthanxi hate slow thingi dont like speedy thingbut my speed is higher then otheri dont floodi just create faster then people can understandi have idea i can forgot at alli see the futuri saw spaceshipi know this is for menot for other peoplethose voice in my head are good wisdomsbut i do my way and i dont listen like a puppeti do if its funny and speciali know i can kill anybody fast and furiousi am the most dangerous thing you knowmaybe youare like mebut if the cryptomusic take control over mei am not me anymorei ama royal gardroyaume de cieuxi forgot in englishi learn english because they ask me to dolife is for real assholeDuncanlisten: https://soundcloud.com/user-533630704-240129607doctor deathListen to doctor death | SoundCloud is an audio platform that lets you listen to what you love and share the sounds you create.soundcloud.comsorryi need many time of listening to catch the message insidelet me until tomorrow to be readyi likeif you ask my impressionyou are never badyou are  alway goodi dont choose ordinary peoplei knew you will answer one day or an otherthis is for the tripi am not impress about youi respect youbut i think its better to be carefull about usyou gonna look stupid on my sideArishi know thati dont know how the thing gonna turni cant be see with youthey gonna be shyArishmy family gonna be under serious chocmy family need methey want respecti bring deshonor on them last 8 yearsi am surrouded by illuminatisand other secret societycopi am a witness in c-sonoreall assholei need to scare them seriouslyi play my role of french cabincr3w againthey kill the first aerithi use aerith name to scare themsorry i am listening your workand i follow the crypto plan insidei talk to much i knowtell me shut up mani moove to toronto sooni need some fresh airi dont want you hereanywaydo what you wantbut if you comebe hard and be visible for the whole towni dont believe in revangebut in this case this is not ordinary casewe are copsVous avez ajouté Jane Do.Vous avez ajouté Âkâsh Gâïkwâd.Vous avez ajouté Ashly Kalnins.Vous avez ajouté François Harvey.