#i’ve lived here since november but i do NOT want to hear it

[certifiedfae]

oh!! put up some art prints earlier. and made this whole lil wall yippeeeee

late hot summer nights who up

[warrioreowynofrohan]

This is one of the best articles I’ve seen yet on Trump, Trumpism, and the upcoming election. It’s directed at the right and centre-right (whereas most tumblr posts on this are directed at the left), but it’s saying – with detailed analysis and evidence – exactly what needs to be said, to everyone. This is not a normal election. How you vote this November determines whether you ever get the chance to vote in a democratic election again. This is not a game. Fascism is not a buzzword or a rhetorical device to hurl at anyone and everyone you disagree with. It is real, it is dangerous, and Trump is openly running on a fascist platform.

There are only two sides in this election: those who want the United States to be a fascist dictatorship and those who do not.

I live in Canada. I do not want to live next to a fascist state (especially since the Comservatives here are way ahead in the polls and their leader gives every sign of wanting to cozy up to Trump).

Please, stop this while you still have a chance.

Today we’re going to look at definitions of fascism and ask the question – you may have guessed – if Donald Trump is running for President as a fascist. Worry not, this isn’t me shifting to full-time political pundit, nor is this the formal end of the hiatus (which will happen on Nov 1, when I hope to have a post answering some history questions from the ACOUP Senate to start off on), but this was an essay I had in me that I had to get out, and working on the book I haven’t the time to get it out in any other forum but this one. And I’ll be frank, some of Donald Trump’s recent statements and promises have raised the urgency of writing this; the political science suggests that politicians do, broadly, attempt to do the things they promise to do – and the things Trump is promising are dark indeed.

Now I want to be clear what we’re doing here. I am not asking if the Republican Party is fascist (I think, broadly speaking, it isn’t) and certainly not if you are fascist (I certainly hope not). But I want to employ the concept of fascism as an ideology with more precision than its normal use (‘thing I don’t like’) and in that context ask if Donald Trump fits the definition of a fascist based on his own statements and if so, what does that mean. And I want to do it in a long-form context where we can get beyond slogans or tweet-length arguments and into some detail.

Now the response from some folks is going to be anger that I am even asking this question and demands for me to ‘stay in my lane.’ To which I must remind them that the purpose of history and historians is, as Thucydides put it, is to offer “an exact knowledge of the past as an aid to the understanding of the future, which in the course of human affairs must resemble if it does not reflect it” (Thuc. 1.22.4). This is my lane. Goodness knows, I’d much rather be discussing the historical implications of tax policy or long-term interstate strategy, but that isn’t the election we’re having. And if hearing about these things that happened is unpleasant, well, Polybius offers the solution: “men have no more ready corrective of conduct than knowledge of the past” (Plb. 1.1.1). We must correct our conduct.

The author, Bret Devereaux, lays out the history of the rise to power of Hitler and Mussolini and draws out the lessons

What I want to note here are two key commonalities: First, fascists were only able to take power because of the gullibility of those who thought they could ‘use’ the fascists against some other enemy (usually communists). Traditional conservative politicians (your Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham types) and conservative business leaders (your Elon Musks) fooled themselves into believing that, because the would-be tyrant seemed foolish, buffoonish, and uneducated that such an individual could be controlled to their ends, shaped in more productive, more ‘moderate,’ more ‘business friendly’ directions. They were wrong; many of them paid for their foolish error with their lives (Victor Emmanuel III paid for it with his crown). Mussolini and Hitler would not be ‘shaped,’ – they would be exactly the violent, tyrannical dictators they had promised to be – to the total and utter ruin of their countries.

Note that these men were not exactly subtle about what they wanted to do. Mein Kampf is not a subtle book. But they both knew how to promise violence to their followers while prevaricating to their temporary allies; be wary of the fascist who promises violence in his rally speeches but assures you that, if you just give him power, he won’t hurt anyone (except the people you don’t like) – because it is a lie, of course.

Second: once these fascist leaders were in power it was already too late to stop them. Precisely because fascists had no respect for democratic processes and the rule of law – things they had declared openly in seeking power – once in power, they were unconstrained by them and swiftly set about converting all of the powers of the government into a machine to keep them in power. And the conversion from democracy to dictatorship was remarkably swift, in Italy, Mussolini marched in October of ’22, rewrote the election rules in November of ’23 and by December of ’24 had effectively dropped even the pretense of democracy; just two years. Hitler was faster: appointed chancellor in January 1933, by March of that year he had suspended constitutional protections and ruled by fiat; just three months.

The time to stop an authoritarian takeover of a democratic system is before the authoritarian is in office, because once they are in power, they will use that power, to stay in power and it becomes almost impossible to remove them without considerable violence (and difficult to do even with considerable violence).

That, however, creates a tricky situation. With most political ideologies, voters can adopt a strategy of judging by outputs: “if you don’t like the current government’s policies, let these other fellows here have a go at it and see if they do better. If not, you can always vote them out next time.” But with fascists and other authoritarians there may not be a next time and this strategy fails: by the time the actions of the fascists make it clear they are dangerous, it is too late to vote them out.

This is why it is important to listen carefully to what fascists say and what they promise and most importantly to take their threats of political violence and authoritarianism seriously.

Which is not to say that everything on the right is fascism (just as not everything on the left is its own authoritarian variant, communism). Ronald Reagan was not a fascist, nor was George H.W. Bush or George W. Bush or John McCain or Mitt Romney. They were conservatives within the liberal tradition (again, ‘liberal’ here in the old Jefferson-Locke-and-Washington sense). Most Republicans today are not fascists, although a distressing number appear ready to repeat Franz von Papen’s mistake of assuming they can achieve their goals through an alliance with fascists. Only the devil wins such a devil’s bargain.

How is one to tell the difference? Listen to the things they promise to do and understand that they make speak out of both sides of their mouth: promising violence to one audience and then toning down their rhetoric to another. But politicians speaking from within the tradition of liberty don’t need to speak that way because they don’t promise violence in the first place.

Listen for the promises of violence, the promises to suspend press freedoms, the promises to persecute political adversaries and when you hear them believe them.

I strongly recommend reading the whole article, as the author goes on to lay out two of the more common definitions of fascism and analyze, point-by-point, how Trumpism fits them.

There is a reason why some Republicans, even some of the people who were in Trump’s inner circle in 2016-2020, have jumped ship now. The Republicans who are willing to vote for Kamala aren’t doing it because she’s conservative – they’re doing it because they’re anti-fascist. It would be deeply ironic if people on the left who have been calling themselves anti-fascists for the last eight years proved to be less so than those Republicans. This may be one of the most crucial moments in American history. Take it seriously.

[firefly--bright]

unearthed.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u., buzzfeed unsolved a.u.

summary ; you dont know just how many watchful souls listen to you and jean speak, waiting, watching. maybe it's just you, but the prison air feels warmer. warnings ; mentions of violence, a little horror (? literally just the tiniest bit), talks of death. cringe humor. a/n ; happy halloween my beloveds. crazy that halloween and diwali were on the same day. kinda poetic lowkey. im DEAD TIRED so ykw that means! happy fireflyfic day! (and happy diwali to those who celebrate :)) taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @zombiefiedskeivy

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

The prison wasnt eerie, which should’ve struck you as concerning. 

No, rather, the opposite, the fact that it was a little too comfortable, a little too lived-in to be considered ghostly was what you found…weird. Or maybe it was jean’s presence next to yours, the coldness of the air masked by his warmth and stolen jacket perched over your shoulders that made the air feel a little more breathable.

Connie and marco are huddled over the camera, speaking in hushed whispers - some technical jargon that your brain is too tired to recognize. 

Jean shifted from beside you, adjusting his own coat - not stolen - and thumbed the straps over his chest that snuggly held a smaller camera so it fit better over him. He cleared his throat when he caught you zoning out, “know your lines?” he asked, a prompt for you to speak your mind. 

You smiled cheekily, looking at him under the dim, sole flashlight. “By heart. Scared, jean-boy?” 

“Dont call me that on camera, please,” he says, eyes screwing shut when you shine your light straight into them. 

“Have i ever embarrassed you? You do that to yourself more than i do,” “okay that’s…intentional. It helps with the character im going for.” you snort. “Damsel in distress?” he scoffs, “i had to save you last time, remember?” “that was just an excuse for you to hold my hand, you can admit it. The cameras arent rolling yet,” you tease, bumping your shoe with his worn-out converses. He lets you. There isnt much he doesnt let you do to him. 

“Alright, cameras are gonna start in three…two.. One!” marco’s voice is characteristically calming, even at a higher pitch.

 

Your shoulders stand straighter as you look into the lens, placing the flashlight right under your chin. “hello, watchers! Welcome back to another episode of Unearth - a series where we try to gather evidence of the paranormal to see who wins - a believer,” you say, pointing the light under jeans chin briefly before settling it back under yours, “or a skeptic.” “it’s not a competition,” “right. Of course not.” you say, winking into the camera. Its jean’s turn to speak, his voice a low baritone, and you can see his breath becoming foggy into the now november air. “We are here today at the Marley Prison, rumored to be the host of seventy percent of the state’s most wanted criminals since the early eighteen hundred's. And we’re standing infront of it now and it’s fucking creepy,” “right, and it was also incredibly overcrowded, so-” “-so just, a terrible place to live in.” “yeah, but they killed people,” “...right. Most of them.” “i’ve heard it smells like shit,” you say, almost forgetting that this might get broadcasted, but jean’s eyes on you seemed to have that effect. forgetting the size of your own beating hear, forgetting where you were, melting away any proof of life except his.

He smirks, looking straight at the camera once more. “Right, that’s why i have-” he pulls out a small spray bottle. From what you could read, the text flashed, “FLOWER POWER!” and your smile turned into a laugh. “- this air freshener right here.” “right. That’ll protect us.” “if i get possessed i’d want.. It to smell, like-” “-like flower power-” “right.” now the both of you are laughing, shoulders shaking.

“Great. Let’s head inside, guys,” marco says, smile on his face, and eren puts the camera down to view what he had gathered. 

“After you,” jean says, his shoes scruffing against the harsh stones underneath, spreading his arm infront of you as a guide.

“Pussy,” you muttered, making him sputter.

-

“Alright,” you say, settling on the cold hard ground. Cell number 509, holding the last inmate of the entire prison who passed away in the very same, cramped room. Only a mattress and a sink to keep him company, a small, hand-sized window on the wall opposite to the door, meant to be locked at all times. 

“Dangerous people in this place,” you say, mostly to yourself. Your partner was on the ground floor of the vicinity, in another building entirely, investigating by himself. You decided to split up to see if that might spite any spirits to act, planning on asking questions to the different people that were barely alive, living in the space so freely disturbed. The camera crew were also downstairs, waiting on the two of you to be done. All you had was an old walkie-talkie that connected to jean’s. 

“You there?” his voice - filled with static and concern - reaches the confines of the prison cell. “Yep. where are you?” you ask, sitting in the middle of the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest, your flashlight flickering. “Im at the uh… that punishment place.” “ah. Im in Dean Cooper’s cell.” “oh,” he says. “Why dont we just use our phones for this part?” he asks, a beep following him. You smile. “I dont know, actually. Do you- should we?” “yeah that’d be.. I mean, better communication. Audio..quality - there are so many bugs here,” he speaks as you switch your phone on, dialing his number. He picks up not even a second in.

“Okay, can you hear me better?” he asks, and you rest your back against the thick wall. The door - heavy and cold - is fully closed so you could get a better experience, the full creeps. You nod, knowing he cant see it. “yep. Its crazy that people had to live like this,” you speak, holding the microphone part of your device close to your mouth, his voice on speaker. Something alive to fill the walls, more than your own presence. “Yeah. well it’s crazy that they committed so many crimes, honestly,” “i know.” 

You’re supposed to be filming. Your camera is rolling already and youre supposed to be speaking to a presumed dead person but a holy one is roaming downstairs without you and all you have is his voice as proof. “Hey,” jean calls out, and you thank good network reception and technology to have his voice be so clear, without cuts, real against your hand. “Im at the uh… what’s it called? The place where they could talk to their loved ones right now.” “ah,” “it feels weird.” a beat of silence. “Weird how?” you ask, your voice quiet. 

“Like-” theres a shifting sound at the end of the line, followed by a slight creak. “- weird in the sense that… i dont know, like, people still loved and cared for quote-unquote bad people,” 

You hum. Your head now also rests against the wall, too unaware to keep it up, too comfortable to find your own muscles. “I dont know. You’re always better with the words and shit.” he says, and you give him a small laugh. “Words and shit?” “yeah like, you know what to say.” “i mean, these people are dead, jean, theres a real small chance they can even hear us.” “i know, but like, even to alive people.” its almost 3 am, your phone says, and your heart increases in size, a little too comfortable against your ribcage. 

Have you ever felt that before? the muscle that’s supposed to be contained in a confined space now opens itself up and you have no choice but to let it. It grows, bigger, until youre body is tattered and all that remains as proof is your heart, big and timid, still beating, waiting for jean’s eyes to look at it. You havent. You wonder if any of the people half-alive in this place have. 

“I mean, love is alot of patience,” you start, your fingers fiddling with the end of your jacket. A stray piece of thread. You hear him humming in agreement and continue, “maybe they just… couldnt say it. How many times have you been able to not say that you love someone, y’know? And then you get the chance to but then it gets lost in all the other unimportant things and maybe that… maybe that’s love. The unimportant things.” you say. Your fingers feel funny, tingly, hearing his voice saying something at the end of your sentence. Youre too caught up to say something important as a reply.

So you settle. Listen. “Like, imagining this place alive… y’know. Like not in a creepy way but in like… it’s - like so much time passed, and so much was said here.” he says. His voice holds importance in your hands, and you trace shapes into the side of your phone with your thumb as if its the back of his hand and you’ve taken it in yours, cold and patient, unimportant. Tracing shapes that cant be seen. He hears them though. It’s in every pause he takes, every breath he hears on your end of the line and he wonders if you know how your alive-ness makes him braver than the night. Brave enough to know that speaking is something to be accomplished, that you’re listening.

 

He stares at the glass window in front of him, sitting on the chairs that prisoners used to sit on with hope in their eyes. At least, that’s how he imagines it. Theres a small hole in the window, enough only to catch a couple breaths and silenced sentences and he can only imagine how the other person mightve felt, seeing their loved one behind a blurry and unkept screen.

“Im not going to empathize with them, obviously, but, i feel like… i mean, obviously this place was built to be inhumane. The fact that they even included that section of the prison, though.. I dont know. it's kinda nice.” you say, and he closes his eyes to pretend youre in front of him. Its not that hard, in all honesty, because your voice fills his ears and he’d rather listen to proof of the living - with her shoe kicking his, with her voice teasing his shrieks - rather than the minute but present proof of the dead. He knew someone - barely alive souls, watching - had to be listening to your conversation but he also knew that he was listening to it too and he’d rather commit to the cold of your familiar hands than the unfortunately lived-in warmth of this place.

“It is.” he agrees, his chin tilting up, his shoulders relaxing. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone, microphone to his lips with the speaker on. He wasnt alone. His phone’s screen is blurry and unkept, but he wasnt alone. 

“Y’know that’s what i find kind of… i dont know, comforting? About like, something this hopeless. That, like.. There’s a recreational room that they had. Like the option was there for them to sit down there and talk, maybe. I dont know how that wouldve gone-” you say, voice ending in a self-aware laugh, making him smile, “-but it was there, right. Same with this communication room…thingie. Like the option of loving is there.” 

Your voice floats against the walls of the room, touches the glasses separating him and the world, before coming back to him. His chest feels funny, more aware that it’s there. Not just as an organ and something trivial that helps him breathe but now as something larger than himself. Something less candid, hidden under layers of clothing and skin built to be thick, raised to be soft, and it almost lays there, in front of him, inhaling the sound of your voice like it’s a new source of oxygen. And it grows. Alive.

“Option of loving,” he echoes, eyes now fluttering open and looking at the expanse of the tattered ceiling above him, spotting shapes. Option of loving. “Like even now there’s like.. Im sitting here, and there’s notches on the wall. Like the… four standing lines and then a slash through them. Like the hope of getting out isnt gone. Its… cool how humans just do that.” you say. He clings onto every word, his own little prayer against the dark, unsaid but important. Option of loving.

He looks back infront of him, staring at the glass window again. Theres gunk in the corners of it and spiderwebs claiming it as their home in a place as haunted as this. “And even if i dont… believe in ghosts it’s like…cool to think about in the sense that, i dont know, everything is a proof of life. Y’know?” you ask, ready for confirmation knowing that he’d provide it to you. Anything you’d ask.

“Thats… i didnt see it like that,” he admits, “i mean i just saw it as like… confirmation that dead people are dead and that if there’s an afterlife we have to chose a right way to live, something we’re proud of, so that we dont regret it when we’re… dead and roaming the halls, waiting to be found, yknow?” “like grief.” you answer, and he shifts in his seat, getting a bit more comfortable. He nods, knowing you wont see it. “Yeah. kind of.” “that’s…poetic. We should start a podcast-” “-shut up,” and both your voices are broken up by laughs, short and warm and proof of being alive and roaming the halls, waiting to be found.

There’s a dog howling in the distance. No light in the room that you’re in, barely any air, coolness of november flush against your skin despite your layers. His voice holds you, a little blanket, cocooning you around yourself. “Hey, you’re supposed to come find me,” you say, reminding him of his task of peering into the halls, asking ghosts and bugs to come closer to him. Whatever’s alive or half-dead or half-alive or half-already-living. “And you’re supposed to play twenty questions with your hot date,” “i think he’s pretty cold, actually,” you say, he laughs. Another shift in fabric, another creak - he’s gotten up from his place on the chair, now warmed, soon to be claimed by the prison’s musty air, but for now it’s there. Fully alive. 

“My battery’s gonna die.” he says, voice a little solemn, his footsteps squeaking against the floor, rubber on hard cement. “We have walkie-talkies,” you provide, your voice full around it’s edges with your own smile and jean almost asks why youre smiling, but refrains. He’ll ask when he finds you. Or maybe he’ll tell you he’s in love with you. Or maybe the words will get lost under all the other unimportant things that he has to say to you. 

Or maybe that’s just what love is. The unimportant things, layered, hidden, chest and heart, large, warm, growing. 

[ntmx8783]

Nakata's Sri Lanka Diary

Title: Nakata's Sri Lanka Diary Author: Nanako Tsujimura Originally Posted: November 26th, 2019 -- First posted in the The Case Files of Jeweler Richard Fanbook

TL under the cut in full. I had a lot of fun translating this one! I hope to translate some other short stories from the fanbook soon too, but it may take a while.

I suddenly have free-time.

Hey, Iggy here.

Just like the title says, I suddenly have some free time in Sri Lanka. The client I was supposed to visit had to go on an urgent trip, so it turns out I have the whole day off.

Since I have the chance to do whatever I want, and my Boss said I couldn’t study, I’d like to ask for your opinions on what I should do. I’m pretty sure there aren’t many people living in Sri Lanka that read this blog so general suggestions are fine too. Whatever you like to do to relax and stuff.

By the way, I usually like to cook when my friend from work visits me here, but I recently realised I don’t really cook for myself. The curry from Sri Lankan restaurants is just too good.

Ely_03 Heya, Iggy! I always have fun reading your blog here in Greece. My daughter is studying abroad in Japan right now so I’m interested in Japanese culture. I’m really happy I’ve found this blog.

1975Hallelujah Are there any nightclubs? Have you tried finding one? Greetings from Egypt!

BB_Typhoon How about cleaning your room? It’s probably surprisingly messy.

Archangel Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Iggy. If you’re in Sri Lanka, I've heard there’s a type of spa called an ‘ayurveda’. Because it’s a cultural aspect you haven’t experienced before, and because you happen to have the day off, wouldn’t you agree it’d be nice to go see what it has to offer?

I found this place online. I think it looks rather pleasant.

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Please take care on your day off.

I went to an ayurveda spa!

Hey, Iggy here!

Thank you for the comments on my last post.

I was super excited to try something new again, so I ended up going to the spa Archangel recommended. Those sorts of places have a bit of a reputation as being somewhere only women go to in my country, but it ended up being so relaxing that I wish I had visited one sooner…

Also, the masseuse there spoke Tamil! I wish I had been able to talk to her a bit more.

I feel really refreshed thanks to you guys.

Well then, until next time!

Archangel Mr. Iggy, there’s truly nothing better than having pleasant days. I consider the most effective method for your studies to be thinking of language and gemstones as two wheels on a bike. By learning about them in tandem, I hope that the study of both will become more enjoyable henceforth.

Punk_Of_England I always have a blast reading about whatever fun thing you’re doing! If there had been a ‘Like!’ button, I’d probably have spammed it by now. Take care of yourself, yeah?

Man, anonymity sure is convenient.

Three-Wheeler

Hey, Iggy here. Sorry for the lack of updates recently.

Does anybody remember the last time I posted, when I mentioned buying a small type of car called a three-wheeler? Well, I’ve become a bit addicted to driving it around lately.

I had a license back in my home country, but I was the type of person that didn’t own a car or bike or anything, so it wasn’t until I rode one of these here that I realised how fun it could be.

The one I have is the version that only has a canopy overhead instead of a roof. Feeling the wind on my face is great!

I drove past the water reservoir and spotted waterfowl on the lake there. Seeing that made me feel really content.

Well, I’m going to go study now. I might even go for a drive in the three-wheeler when I finish. It seems like it’ll be fun!

Archangel Hello, Mr. Iggy. I’m very pleased to hear that you’re enjoying your new vehicle. This may be a bit excessive, but if you’d allow me to express my concerns, I’d like to ask you to be careful while riding. Though it is a great casual vehicle, it is not suitable in preventing crime. What I mean by that is that there are no walls to protect you if an assailant were to come at you from the side while you were stopped. I suspect your senior and your boss have already told you that it’s better not to use a three-wheeler when carrying around valuable items, but please be careful regardless.

Iggy > Reply to: Archangel

Thanks for all your comments. I do recall my boss telling that to someone too…

I don’t carry any valuables when I drive so there’s no need to worry, but I’ll keep that in mind anyway. Thanks again!

Ilovestones I just read the post about buying the three-wheeler. How cute!! I never see those sort of cars in my country, but it looks fun to drive. I bet that’d be super convenient for when you want to check out all the strata near your house or something. I’m so jealous!!

Punk_of_England Man, I feel like peoples’ quirks really come through in their comments even though it’s ‘anonymous’. But I really can’t tell if he doesn’t actually know it’s them, or if he’s just ignoring the fact…

Men in Skirts

Iggy here. Just like the title says, I passed by a ton of men wearing skirts today. I guess it was some sort of traditional clothing? Anyway, it was so colourful and had such a casual look that it really surprised me! I can’t tell if I was staring rudely or not, so if I did, I’m really sorry! It was unintentional!

Archangel > Reply to: Iggy

Mr. Iggy, you are correct, that is a traditional Sri Lankan textile called a ‘sarong’. Please refer to the URL below for more information.

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It is my understanding that they’re used for formal occasions, so I would assume that the group of men you saw were part of a wedding ceremony. Please do not be discouraged if you were staring.

I received a sarong!

Iggy here! First of all, check out this image.

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It has a red and blue gingham pattern! It’s really nice!

I assumed it would be since the locals wear it, but it’s really breathable and prevents sunburns… and that’s not to mention how easy it is to walk in!

As you can see in the photo, it only reaches to my ankles. But it helps a lot that it’s longer than a Scottish kilt. I was told that these are often worn to weddings, which is awesome, but the best thing about it though is how suited it is to Sri Lanka’s climate. A sarong is definitely better than the bermuda shorts I’ve been wearing.

I received this one from my neighbour, but I like them so much that I plan on buying a couple more.

I probably can’t wear them daily though…

Singhalion Sri Lankan native here. The fact that you’re interested in my country’s traditional wear pleases me greatly. Sarongs have recently become very fashionable to the elite college students, so if you happen to live in a neighbourhood near one, the boutiques nearby will be your best bet in finding another. I hope you continue living a comfortable life.

By the way, I’ve noticed one user leaving a large number of comments. Are you alright? If they become a nuisance, there is a block button you can utilise. Well then, I’ll leave my concerns at that.

Archangel > Reply to: Singhalion

Singhalion, it is nice to meet you (I presume). Please cease saying unjust things about people you haven’t met.

Too Many Sweets

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I made way too much…

That’s a photo of coconut rolls, pudding, and date caramel.

I obviously can’t eat it all by myself, but my neighbour also refused to take any and got a bit mad, saying it’d be bad for their kid’s teeth… What on earth should I do now…

My Coworker Visited!

The excess sweets didn’t go to waste! Man, that’s lucky. What a crazy coincidence too! I’m really glad though. I wonder what I should make for him the next time he comes to visit.

Please leave a comment if you have any suggestions! Right now I only know about Sri Lankan ‘watalappan’ and the sweets sold at the Otoha Station kiosk. Rolls, cream bread, coconut dango… stuff like that. But even that’s delicious too.

Anyway, please let me know your suggestions!

Archangel Mr. Iggy, I’ve read your posts with great interest. However, I think it’s important not to forget the purpose of your internship. Please use your days in order to improve your skills, mind, body, and soul. For that reason, I believe the type of sweets you should make are the ones you already have skill in making. What do you think?

Singhalion > Reply to: Archangel

Overprotectiveness becomes a vice when taken too far. Haven’t you learned that already?

Archangel > Reply to: Singhalion

Singhalion, please stop speculating on things you know nothing about. You and I know nothing about each other.

Punk_of_England Whew! Things are getting interesting here! I’ll keep watching the events unfold!

Ilovestones Um, can you guys leave it at that? You’re probably bothering Iggy. This is his blog, after all.

Archangel I’ll be more careful in the future.

Singhalion My apologies.

Punk_of_England Sorry!

Mura_Shimo Yo, Iggy! It’s your good friend H.S. here! I came to check out your blog! Man, there’s a lot of comments here, fun! It’s pretty impressive considering you said you didn’t advertise it at all. Is this just part of your natural charm?? We gotta meet up and chat again sometime soon! Let’s catch up!!!

I’ll do my best with guitar practice ‘till then!

Punk_of_England The chance that he was overlooking it just plummeted to zero, didn’t it? Mr. A, are you okay? Or are you seriously gonna stay silent forever?

Archangel I have no idea what I should say, so I am hesitant to comment. Silence may be the safest option.

Archangel_of_Archangel Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Iggy.

I read your entire blog. It looks like you’ve been having a lot of fun, huh? That’s a big relief. Though it wasn’t Sri Lanka, I have experience working in a Southeast Asian country myself, so reading all the fun adventures you’ve had made me remember that time when I was younger, which in turn caused me to laugh and cry. What a wonderfully vivid blog to bring your colourful days to life.

Seeing all the people in the comment section watching over you brings tears to my eyes as well. Speaking of which, is it really true that the commenters have no actual connection to you, and are just watching over you from this blog alone?

> Reply to: Archangel Mr. Archangel, can I speak with you again?

Mail Account:

Sent From: Richard@xxx.uk Sent To: N_Yasuhiro@xxx.jp Message: I will contact you using the regular number.

Sent From: N_Yasuhiro@xxx.jp Sent To: Richard@xxx.uk Message: Understood. Thank you for always looking after my son.

The number of comments decreased?

Hey, Iggy here. Ever since my last post, the people who usually comment seem to have gone quiet… Did I write something weird? I guess this request will also be weird, but if it’s not too much trouble, please go back to being lively. Since I have a lot of times when I’m on my own, reading the comments gives me the energy to keep going.

The city is bustling with preparations for the Perahera Festival. It looks like there’ll be a lot of events happening in the summer! I wonder if I can experience them here too.

Until next time!

Archangel Greetings, Mr. Iggy. I will leave a long comment for you soon.

[starman-jpg]

You Gotta Let It Out Soon

slight tw: verbal abuse and attempted assault. Overall, it's just Steve's dad being a terrible father.

Please be kind to yourself if you choose to read this.

Title from "Daddy Issues" by the Neighborhood (Seemed fitting)

Steve was late.

Dustin is going to give him so much shit.

He didn’t mean to take a nap, honest.

He had to lay down because he felt a headache coming on, and he really didn’t want to deal with it.

Were his eyes closed? Yes.

Did he feel himself nodding off? Well… yeah.

But that’s not the point! He didn’t mean to.

He rushes down the stairs, his keys in his mouth as he awkwardly hops on one foot getting on one shoe before doing the same with the other one. It wasn’t until he looked up that he found he was being watched.

He stands up straight, taking his keys and shoving them in his pocket, keeping a tight grip on them.

“Dad…”

“Steven.”

“W-what are — When did-”

“For God’s sake Steven, stop being an idiot and finish your sentence.” His dad was already done with him.

“What are you doing here?” That’s a safe question.

“It’s my house, Steven. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Steve shrugs, “You haven’t been here for months. Haven’t seen you since February, it's November now. ”

His dad scoffs, rolling his eyes, “I’m a very-”

“Very busy man, yeah.” Steve finishes that same lame excuse his dad gives him every time, “You mentioned that once or twice.”

“Don’t talk back to me Steven.” His voice went stern, “You have the nerve to act out when the house isn’t even cleaned and the fridge is empty. How are you living Steve, like a goddamn barn animal?” His dad may have a point, the house could use some cleaning, and he definitely needed to go to the store, but honestly, he wasn’t expecting him to be home.

“My bad, I’ve been busy.”

“Do not make excuses Steven-”

“I’m not making excuses!” He talks over his dad, “I work 10-hour shifts and when I’m not working, I’m helping some of the kids I look after.”

“Like a babysitter?” The tone of his dad’s voice is condescending.

“Yeah, like a babysitter, sure.”

“You’re a grown man, Steven. You can’t even take care of yourself.”

“Well, I did though, didn’t I?” Steve crosses his arms, shrugging, “You and Mom weren’t around. Took good care of myself then.”

“Your Mother and I were around enough.”

Steve can’t help but laugh, “Seriously? You’re serious right now?”

“Stop laughing Steven! We are your parents. We raised you to be better.”

Now that caught his attention. “You raised me? Seriously?”

“Of course we did. We gave you a roof over your head and kept you fed-” His dad kept listing things, but Steve just heard white noise.

“You didn’t raise me.” Steve mutters, keeping his eyes down. His father stopped, clearly hearing him.

“Say that again?” He was clearly taunting Steve, and Steve fell for it.

“You didn’t raise me.”

“Steven Richard Harrington, do not talk to your father like that.” Steve cringes at his full name. Especially his middle name. A reminder he’ll always be connected to his father, even without his last name.

“I did though you left when-”

“I did not ‘leave’ Steven. I had work to do, and it was important.” “More important than your son?”

“You were old enough to take care of yourself.”

“I was NINE!” He screams, a tear falling down his cheek as he points his finger at his father, “You left me to fend for myself when I was nine!”  

“Oh boo-hoo, grow up Steven-”

“I have!” He screams again, finally letting out all his pent-up anger, “And you would have noticed if you were around. But you weren’t.”

He gets into his father’s face, “While you were off screwing every woman you laid eyes on and mom was drowning her sorrows at the hotel bar about her pathetic excuse of a husband, I was here. Growing up. I taught myself how to use the stove and how to buy groceries. I taught myself how to fix things around the house. I even taught myself how to drive. You did none of that.”

“I have paid for this life you are living. This house! That car! Those tutors, even though they were useless.” His dad runs a frustrated hand through his hair. It physically makes Steve ill. “God, I raised an insolent, unappreciative son.”

“You didn’t fucking raise me!” He yells, his throat already getting raw from the explosion of emotions.

His father stopped, staring daggers at Steve.

He senses it before it happens. He sees the anger on his father’s face and just knows. As his father’s hand flies up to slap him, he catches it. His nails digging into his father’s wrist, his knuckles turning white. The shock on his father’s face makes him smile.

He leans in close, taunting him, “You can’t fucking hurt me, I have fought worse things than you, and I have always won.”

Steve knows he has to look crazy, he can see it in his dad’s eyes. He’s scared of Steve. Good.

He shoves his father’s arm down to his side and walks by, heading up the stairs. He’s done and he means it. He grabs his duffle bag and shoves a bunch of his clothes and toiletries into it. He grabs his unused backpack and takes down all the pictures everyone hung up, carefully putting them in his bag. He grabs some other miscellaneous items that mean the world to him: like the rock Eddie gave him because it was pretty, the walkie Dustin gave him so he would always know everyone was safe, the little notes Robin would write on post-it notes and slap onto his wall. He took all of it.

With his backpack on and his duffle thrown over his shoulder he grabs his keys from his pocket and goes back downstairs. He sees that his father moved to the living room, so he tries to sneak out quietly.

Of course the Gods didn’t think he deserved a break.

“Where do you think you are going, Steven.”

Steve’s shoulders drop, and he turns to his dad.

“I’m leaving.”

“If you leave this house, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” He challenges. “No, seriously. What will you do?”

His dad looks him straight in the eyes, “I’ll sell this house, and you’ll be on the street. Your mother and I will never come back to Hawkins.”

“Good fucking riddance.”

Steve opens the door and walks out, he knows his dad is yelling at him. Probably calling him all sorts of names, but he was done.

He throws his bags into the passenger seat, gets in his Beemer and drives off. His shoulders relax as he watches the Harrington house get small in his rearview mirror.

---

Steve didn’t have a plan when he left. Just knew he had to leave.

He continued to drive aimlessly around Hawkins before pulling into a familiar trailer park. He parks next to the van and gets out, jumping the stairs and knocking, rather impatiently, at the door.

He hears Eddie mumbling to himself, most likely annoyed he had to get out of bed, before the door swings open.

“Stevie!” Eddie’s once annoyed face instantly lit up, but slowly it fell, “What happened?”

“Huh?” Steve can feel the lump in his throat, and he feels the tears on his cheeks. Shit, how long had he been crying. “Shit.” He furiously wipes away his tears.

Eddie ushers him inside and moves him to the couch. He envelops Steve in his arms, letting him rest his head on his chest, hearing the rhythmic beating of his heart.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Eddie coos.

Steve cries again as he explains what went down with his dad. Eddie comforts him the whole time, letting Steve take his time. When he was done, Eddie was furious.

“He kicked you out!” He softly yells.

“Technically no, I left.”

“But he just allowed you! And he almost hit you!”

“But he didn’t. I just was… overreacting or something.” He shrugs it off, but he knows Eddie won’t.

“Stevie, look at me.” Steve does what he is told and was a little shocked as Eddie gently took his face in his hands. “No parent should ever, ever hit you or even attempt to hit you.”

Steve slowly nods, “Yeah, but-”

“No buts. Steve, you can’t keep sticking up for your dad. He’s an asshole. You know it. I know it. Most of fucking Hawkins knows it. Why do you still protect him?”

“He’s my dad, Eds.” He says like that's an explanation. And it is, in some ways, but not the way Eddie is looking for. “We had good times, before the bad. Before he left. And I know he’s capable of that good. He has to be.” He feels himself choking up again, “He was a good dad.”

Eddie pulls him into his chest, letting Steve cry it out.

Steve sometimes forgets that there was good within his dad. That he actually had good memories with him. But that was before the Harrington business picked up.

His dad would take him to play catch in the yard. And shoot hoops with him. As a family they would go on drives and on picnics. They’d watch movies and listen to music and dance around. When Steve had a nightmare his dad would come in and read him stories as he fell asleep. They would get up early and make breakfast for his mom in bed on Mother’s Day, softly laughing as they brought up waffles and coffee for her. There was a time his dad would go to his little league games and cheer him on as loud as possible.

But then his business picked up, and it was like all those good times disappeared.

“Stevie, I’m sorry. I know he’s your dad-”

“You’re right though,” He croaks, “He’s a terrible father now. He’s a completely different man now than he was then. It’s- it’s just… hard to let go.”

Eddie nods, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I know, baby. I know.”

They stay on the couch, Eddie comforting him until Wayne gets home. Eddie briefly explains what happened with Steve’s dad.

“You stay here as long as you need to, boy. You got that? This is your home now. And you're safe here.”

Steve nods, another round of tears falling down his face as Wayne hugs him tightly.

Steve slowly puts his stuff around the trailer, not too much though. Just hangs his clothes with Eddie’s and puts his toothbrush in the holder.

He finally feels like he’s in a home.

And when he and Eddie drive past the Harrington house and see a “For Sale” sign in front, it feels like weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

[seraphic-sibyl]

I’m tired.

This is gonna be depressing, so for my poor mutuals’ sake I’m gonna put this under a cut.

I’m so tired.

I’m so, so tired.

An election should not have people having to log onto social media and beg their mutuals not to kill themselves. An election should not have people making posts about how to survive a dictatorship, which books are likely to be banned, to stock up on medication.

An election should not have people crying in the streets or terrified for their lives.

I log onto social media and it’s like a bunch of people in the brace position before a plane crash. Everyone is helpless, knows something Very Bad beyond their control is about to happen and can do so, so little to protect themselves. You can’t stop the plane from crashing. You can only brace.

And what? 80 million people are CHEERING for this?

I have a hard time believing all these people are that hateful. But they are uneducated, or selfish, or ignorant, and the Republican party just takes advantage of that.

And so many of them really are that hateful.

And when bad things happen that don’t affect those people, they cheer. And when the bad things that do affect them happen, it’ll be anyone’s fault but their orange god’s. They don’t realize they are a cult, and they willingly traded away EVERYONE’S freedom for this.

I just voted in my first election. I don’t know if I will vote again in an election that matters.

And I will be one of the last few that remembers civil, peaceful elections. I was a young child when Obama won reelection against Romney. Back then, the teacher could hold a mock election amongst us kids and it wouldn’t turn ugly. I can’t wait for the next election, I thought, it’ll be such a fun spectacle.

Nope. We got Trump 1.0 instead. And ever since then the rot has been so obvious.

There are kids alive today that won’t remember the world any different.

I’ve had some time to think about how people are this evil, or apathetic, or easily brainwashed (Gen Z is becoming MORE conservative??? Are you NUTS??). I have no good answer. I feel like I’ve truly lost the last of my innocence. I miss being 14 and just loving life, being optimistic and believing in the inner good of humanity.

And the worst part is, there is no comfort. People are consoling one another and trying to reach out and find solace in community, but there is nothing we can do to delay what is coming for us. And it is bad. People are turning to their friends and local communities because they are realizing that their government will no longer do anything to help them.

Look, I know there have been Bad Periods and Good Periods everywhere on Earth for all of humanity. It’s nothing new. But now I feel that I won’t see the good again in my lifetime. Things will never be as good as they were when I was a kid. If in the future there is ever someone here where I am sitting now enjoying our hard-earned freedoms, it won’t be me.

The climate is what scares me, too. If it weren’t for that I’d feel that at some point things would be good again, right? Right?

Now I just wonder if everyone, even the ones who played fair, even the ones a million miles away, have run out of time.

There are barely any memes. Tumblr was all prepared with the Destiel memes and then it turned out most people were too depressed to even use them. (November 5 will never hit the same, that’s for damn sure.) No one is laughing anymore. When I looked at Tumblr on Wednesday morning, no one was even saying what happened. They were just reblogging hope posts and cute animals and goddamn suicide hotlines. No one wanted to say it.

I can hear the bell tolling.

There’s nowhere to hide anymore. And I am SO. Goddamn. Tired.

Why are humans such a species?

[alitan99]

Hi everyone, I wanted to share something new with you all.

If you know my blog well enough, you probably know that I’m trying to produce my own album dedicated to the Resident Evil 4 Remake (2023). It’s a passion project so I had fully intended on putting my own personal funds into it but I realize that since I’m not rich 🤣 and can’t afford studio time as often as I’d like, I thought I’d begin a campaign and just put myself out there to ask for help from you all. Of course I will continue to invest what I can currently but if you feel inclined, please consider helping me out. I’m starting off with just 1 tier as of now at $3/mo. Which may not sound like a lot on its own but if even 50-100 people choose to support that adds up to $150-$300 which would be super helpful and would allow me to release quicker! Right now I do not have a projected date for release. But I anticipate at this current rate it will not be available to the public until at least March of next year. The circumstances may be subject to change but for now I will work as diligently as I can! I still have a full time job and a personal life so of course it will take some time but i’m excited for you all to experience this album. And hopefully when all is said and done you all enjoy the music I’ve created!

Thank you all for your support already ^^ i will keep posting updates as they come!

Oh! Also! If you’d like to hear what my music sounds like just to get an idea of how the music will sound, here’s some tracks I’ve written already that will appear on the album once they’ve been re-recorded. Enjoy!

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT MAGAZINE: January 2003

SUPERFREAK

Brace Yourselves: Big Poppa Pump and the Largest Arms in the World are Here

By Mike Fazioli

Go ahead and holla. It’s impossible not to hear Big Poppa Pump.

Scott Steiner, one of the most-anticipated signings in WWE history, boasts one of the most impressive resumes in sports-entertainment, with a record of dominance dating back to his days as an All-American amateur at the University of Michigan. The Steiner Brothers, Scott and Rick, were one of the greatest tag teams in history, with title reigns in WWE (twice in 1993) and the old WCW (six times), as well as two turns as IWGP International tag champs in Japan (1991, 1992).

Steiner’s first singles title came in WCW when he won the Television Championship in 1992. But his true singles dominance came to the fore after he shocked the world by turning against his brother Rick and joining the New World Order (nWo) in 1998. Calling himself Big Poppa Pump, Steiner won the WCW United States Championship in 1998, and fulfilled his long quest to become a singles World Champion on November 26, 2000, when he beat Booker T for the WCW World Championship. 

When WCW invaded WWE in 2001, most experts predicted that Big Poppa Pump would be at the vanguard of the invasion. But Steiner, whose loyalty to WCW ended once and for all when he joined the nWo, decided to bide his time instead. He would come to WWE when he decided the time was right now. That time is now. 

In addition to his incredible history of success, Big Poppa Pump possesses possibly the most impressive physique in the history of the business. He claims to have the largest arms in the world–a claim that has yet to be refuted. He still has the technical skills and knowledge that made him one of the nation’s premier college wrestlers, and he now augments that with what can only be described as superhuman strength and power. Add to that the fact that Big Poppa Pump is one of the most volatile and unpredictable men in the business today, and it’s easy to see why he was so coveted by both Raw and SmackDown!

WWE Magazine caught up with the one and only Big Poppa Pump recently, and the interview was everything one could expect from the “Genetic Freak”--wild, unpredictable and mesmerizing. There is no nonsense to Big Poppa Pump. He is extraordinarily blunt when he speaks about his ring skills, as well as his popularity with the “freaks”--his innumerable female admirers the world over. He may also very well be the future of WWE because, as he succinctly puts it, how can anyone be expected to hold their own against a genetic freak?

WWE Magazine: What have you been up to since the fans last saw you? What took you so long to get here?

Scott Steiner: I’ve been doing what I always do–working out, hanging with my freaks worldwide and having a good time. It was just a question of timing. When I wanted to come here, I came here. When they had WCW vs. WWE and the invasion, I never considered myself a WCW guy. I was a nWo. When I was in the nWo and I said WCW sucks, I meant it. That wasn’t something I wanted to be part of. 

WWE: There are probably some WWE fans who aren’t familiar with Big Poppa Pump. What can they expect from you?

Steiner: Anyone who’s not familiar with Big Poppa Pump has been living under a rock or in a cave. They can expect everything I’ve been doing before–being completely out of control. That’s what I do best. When I come to the arena, anything can happen. 

WWE: Some guys new to  WWE will come in and say they’re just looking forward to being part of the team and doing their best to fit in. But that doesn’t fit Big Poppa Pump’s personality. Are you looking to come in and make a huge, immediate impact?

Steiner: Of course. I'm here to make an impact. I’m a genetic freak. I’m the man with the largest arms in the world. Why wouldn’t I make an impact? As far as being part of any team. I’m my own man.

WWE: You were a WWE Tag Team Champion years ago with your brother Rick, and you competed on the first-ever Raw. How would you best describe how much you’ve changed in the eight years since you were last in WWE?

Steiner: I’ve changed a lot. When I was Tag Team Champions with my brother, I was just out of the University of Michigan for a couple of years. I was still naive to the real world. Things have changed. I’ve stopped looking through rose-colored glasses. The world is not the perfect place your parents make it out to be. People in this world suck. That’s the attitude I started to take. I evolved, and that’s what came up. That’s who I am. I’m not a nice college boy anymore. I've seen the world and come to the realization of what’s really out there. I started speaking my mind and haven’t stopped. 

WWE: When you look at the Raw roster, whose asses are you most looking forward to kicking? There are a lot of candidates.

Steiner: Yeah, there are a lot of candidates. You always have to look at who’s the champion. A lot of people–an average Joe Blow like you–might not be able to comprehend this statement, but when I wrestle Triple H, I’m going to make it look easy. I’m going to do it with style. There was a guy down in WCW who shaved his head and kept on saying, “Who’s next? Who’s next?” Well, when it was my time to be “next,” I took all his power moves and beat him. 

Power guys–the guys who rely on strength–play right into my hands. How are you going to rely on strength when you’re up against someone who possesses the power that I do? They do their best stuff, realize it’s not  good enough, and they’re putty in my hands. I love wrestling power guys. You cannot match power with a genetic freak. I have the largest arms in the world. I’m a genetic freak! How are you going to match power with me?

WWE: In addition to your power, you were also an All-American amateur wrestler at Michigan. Combine that with your superhuman  power and your natural aggression–is there anyone in WWE who can hang with Big Poppa Pump?

Steiner: It’s hard to hang with Big Poppa Pump. Let’s just put it that way.

WWE: Is there anyone here from the WCW days who you have unfinished business with?

Steiner: I don’t put people in categories like WWE or WCW. I don’t look at the names or the faces.

Steiner: I’ve been beating up people my whole life. I use up more energy at night with my freaks than I do beating people up. The in-the-ring stuff is easy compared to hanging with my freaks. They don’t call me the Big Bad Booty Daddy for nothing.

WWE: What’s your opinion of working for Eric Bischoff again?

Steiner: I never had a problem with Eric. He knew enough to stay out of my way. He didn’t try to hold back the reins. I just went in there and did what I had to do. I never had a problem with him. 

WWE: Are you worried about any limitations your body may put on you?

Steiner: Injuries are a part of the sport, you know. As you can see, I still look great. I’ve overcome the injuries. I’m still here, still on top, and there are no limitations. Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. I’ve had my share of injuries and overcome them. They’ve made me work harder, and I’m better because of it.

WWE: Some have called you volatile or unstable. How do you respond to that?

Steiner: I am. So what? That’s my nature. I never took any [crap] from anybody. Why should I? I wouldn’t say I'm unstable. I was born with a wild hair up my ass, and I've never had any reason to try to take it out. I like living my life the way it is–wild. Until I'm dead or in jail, that’s how I'm going to live; balls to the wall. In the ring, outside the ring–balls to the wall, always.

WWE: How hard do you have to work to get in that kind of shape? How much of it is just being a genetic freak?

Steiner: A lot of it is being a genetic freak and a lot of it is hard work. As you can see, someone like me only comes along once in a lifetime. I’m like lightning in a bottle. It’s rare. My time will come and my time will go, but like I said, people like me only come along once in a lifetime.

You tell me–who looks better than me? Who has ever looked better than me in this business? Who else looks like me and has my wrestling ability? You go ask my freaks how good I am. That’s the bottom line. You can only fight and wrestle for so long, but until the day you die you can reach the summit, reach the top of the mountain with your freaks. It’s Nirvana, man. Nothing’s better than being with a set of long legs.

WWE: Is there anyone Big Poppa Pump looks to for inspiration?

Steiner: Are you [freakin’] kidding me?

WWE: What would winning the World Heavyweight Championship mean to you?

Steiner: It would be nothing if I were wrestling Joe Blow. It all depends on who I’ll be wrestling for the championship. If it’s against Triple H, The Rock, Brock Lesnar or someone people see as a legend or a true talent, and I can kick their ass, then it's an accomplishment. But just being called a World Heavyweight Champion without having beaten anyone for the title wouldn’t mean [crap] to me.

WWE: There are a number of hot Divas in WWE, and you’re famous for being a ladies’ man. Have you taken a look at WWE’s collection of freaks? What do you think?

Steiner: Yeah, there are a lot of hot ladies here. Big Poppa Pump is like a chameleon. It doesn’t matter what nationality you are, or if you’re a blonde, brunette or redhead. It doesn’t really matter. The one thing about Women is, you take them to Nirvana, and they’ll never stop calling you. It’s always the same. If you treat them right, they’re yours for life.

WWE: What message do you have for all your freaks out there who may be reading this?

Steiner: Big Poppa Pump, the Big Bad Booty Daddy, is back in circulation. Holla if you hear me!

[afinepricklypear]

November 2024 - Update

Hello.

It’s been a while since I’ve put anything here. When last I was here, I was in a downward spiral, that much is clear. I tried to be reassuring and then I ghosted everyone. Which I know never feels good, whether it’s an IRL person or an online persona you only know through their words on a screen. I’m sorry. I’m alive.

I could say that the aftermath from Covid and the lockdowns hit me just as hard as everyone else and leave it at that, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Things started down a dark path before that. Politics in my country were getting…weird. Now they’re just outright scary. I needed to make personal life decisions too, regarding career and finances. I hadn’t made any headway in original creative projects. I lacked discipline or motivation or confidence to pursue what had been my dream since the fifth grade: to be a creative writer.

Then right before Covid happened, my friend died. I got a text message from him on Christmas morning, 2019, that he was waiting for surgery. They’d found a tumor in his brain. He was on the other side of the country. I couldn’t go to him. And I couldn’t say good-bye. Especially not through text message. So I didn’t, instead I made sure that he was surrounded by family and friends, and I drank the entire night and overexaggerated how ‘okay’ I was doing, while telling no one close to me what was happening.

A couple weeks later he was gone. He was an amazing person. Beautiful, sweet, and kind. He found good in everyone, he treated everyone like a friend, and everyone that met him loved him because all he gave of himself was love. My Odasaku, if you will. And as if the world knew that it should be mourning his loss, it shut down.

This is about the time I started writing the Release series. I’m always surprised and happy to hear when people say it helped them through things, whether it got them through the pandemic or other struggles in their lives. I guess in retrospect, it was my own therapy. More an escape. A way to run away from everything awful and disappointing about my ‘real’ world. I threw myself into it more than any other fanfiction or fandom I’d been a part of. BSD was the first fandom I wrote for on AO3, before that I used FF.net. AO3 is structured in a way that allowed me to build relationships with readers. I started this Tumblr, trying to form some semblance of a community. I wanted to feel like this was different.

It worked, until it didn’t.

It’s not the first fanfic I’ve left unfinished. If I look at my body of work, over the years and years and years (over 20) I’ve been doing this, the stories came to me when I needed them. All at once, the words and emotions would surge up. I’d find a kindred spirit in the character or characters I wrote about. For months or a year or two, they might sit at the surface of my consciousness, pouring out of me, like an endless fountain. Only to dry up just as suddenly and without much warning. It wasn’t because I didn’t need them anymore. It was because the problems I was using them to run away from would finally catch up.

I’d get restless. I’d convince myself that my life isn’t going where I need it, I’m falling behind, so I’d scramble to catch up, try to rededicate myself towards a finish line, not even knowing where it was, which direction, or what that finish line would even be. I’d try to refocus on original works, because I want to be a writer. The thing they don’t tell you about fanfiction, however, is that it’s junk food for the creative soul. It’s easy and convenient to write for, because the heavy lifting of character creation and world building is already done. The more fanfiction I wrote, the more those vital skills for original story generation atrophied in me. On top of that, there’s a ready-built audience in fandoms, it’s so much easier to get readers and feedback, because people are showing up for the characters they love, not necessarily the writings of a fic’s author. These are characters I didn’t create and these are not my worlds. So, I’d start to think ‘what’s the point’ and would inevitably sink into a deep depression. I’d give up, because the mountain is hard to climb when starting at the bottom. Only for a new fanfiction idea to find me at my lowest, and the cycle would begin anew.

My friend was younger than me by a few years. He had a lot of dreams and passions of his own. He’d survived a stroke prior (and likely precursory) to the tumor and used it as a wake-up call to go back for his graduate degree and travel to new places. Still, those dreams were cut short. I don’t know what regrets he had when he passed but his loss brought forth my own mortality, and I know that my regrets are many. This time, as the story left me, I was determined not to make the same mistakes. I felt certain that I could break the cycle. However, looking back, I don’t know that any of the choices I made were the right ones because I opted to just give up. I made career choices that prioritized finances over personal satisfaction. I shut off all social media. I got medicated.

For the past two years I’ve been on antidepressants and a mood stabilizer (because just the antidepressant was bad, bad, bad). I have a long history of self-harm. I thought I’d gotten past it, but it came back hard, and I realized I never really stopped hurting myself. I finally let someone close to me know (my sister) which has been a mixed bag.

I’ve checked AO3 comments regularly over that time. If you left me feedback there, I saw it. I appreciated it. It made me feel loved and I truly, deeply thank you for it. My lack of response wasn’t because I was tired of the feedback, or that it wasn’t seen, it was because I felt guilty writing the same thing over and over again and having no meaningful updates on my life and my stories to offer. I also checked Tumblr irregularly. I always forget how to use it, so I didn’t really notice the number of questions that had filled my inbox. I found them all recently, thank you for those. I’m sorry I worried so many people. Everyone here is wonderful.

A couple months ago, I got this very sweet comment on Wake Up. Overall, harmless enough sentiments, but it stuck with me for days to weeks to now.

Reading the words “…I would love to read your new works…” hit me hardest. Because I had no new works. I hadn’t written anything since my last update on AO3. For the first time since I was ten years old, I had gone over five months without writing anything creative. I journaled, essentially just bitching about my day, and that’s it. I stopped making art, also. That’s when I stumbled into a realization. It seemed the medication worked in that it worked to numb me. I was more in a fog than anything, a zombie going about the day-to-day. Even at work, my boss expressed concerns that I was different. Quieter and less engaged, and while there are other variables here, like I hated my job and was frustrated with the people I worked with, I could trace most of it back to this one thing.

This comment left on Wake Up made me realize, therein is the trade-off for ‘peace of mind’. I feel less like hurting myself because I feel less, period. In trying to find stable ground, I cut myself off from the source of my stories. Maybe at the time, it made sense, because I was certain I’d never be a writer. That I’d always forsake my original work for what came easier, and that, ultimately, I’d never have anything worthwhile to offer the larger world that couldn’t already be found in existing IP. I wasn’t prepared for that reality to hurt this much.

There’ve been benefits to the two years away, too. It’s given me space to breathe and reflect on what matters. The irony, or cosmic poetry, of this comment appearing on a story titled Wake Up doesn’t escape me. I know this one thing now, it’s certain and stronger in me than ever, I don’t want to give up on being a writer. I have so many original ideas in me, stories I’ve wanted to write for so many decades, and characters I want to give a chance to be loved as much as those characters I’ve written fanfiction for. I have this small, odd little dream that maybe one day the worlds and characters I create will inspire fanfictions of their own.

I stopped the medication a few months ago and been readjusting to emotions, thoughts, the colors of the world that had been gray for two years. I’ve started writing an original story, using a middle ground approach to springboard off by basing the story around characters I created for a fanfiction I wrote roughly a decade ago (First Patrol, if anyone is curious, originally posted to FF.net and one of only two stories on my AO3 account that is not BSD). The characters I’m using are entirely my own except two that have morphed out of the fanfic’s original source material. It’s arguable that the character I wrote for from the fandom source was so underdeveloped in the show (my impetus for writing First Patrol in the first place), that what I created for him in that story was entirely my own to the point that version of him became mine. The world that I’m placing them is my own and is far removed from the world of that fandom. It’s an idea I’ve had sitting in my drive for almost eight years now.

I haven’t thought much about if and where I’d share this story. At the moment, I’m just focused on finishing something original and having fun with it. There’s a loose plot to it, at the moment, that I’m still trying to carve out as I go. I’ve considered posting its chapters in progress here. Maybe you’ll want to read them. Maybe your interest in my writing only goes as far as BSD or some other fandom I’ve been a part of that you found me through. Both are valid feelings. I’m not going to tell you what to think or feel about the shift in my writing direction. I’m not going to ask you to stick around. This is my journey, and you are not obligated to follow me on it. My only ask is that if I do post it here, that you not leave comments to it or about it asking for the fanfiction instead. Writing original work is hard enough without constantly being tempted by an easier and less fulfilling road and being told I was better off there.

There are other parts to my decision here, like the advent of AI Writing Tools and what I see in this technology as an impending set-back to human growth and imagination, and a hack-job to language, culture, and the arts, that I believe can only be opposed through a radical rebellion of creating with only my own humanness and human experiences away from and in spite of AI. My greatest concern is where and how I can share my work without it being stolen by the monster I’m trying to fight against.

As for the fanfictions that I’ve left unfinished. I don’t know if I’ll get back to them. I never like to call something abandoned, because that’s not how it works. First, I don’t abandon the story, in a way, I feel like it abandons me. But that’s not right either, because the story never does leave me. It hovers in the periphery of my mind, every now and then it flits back above the surface. Sometimes I can catch and hold it there long enough to add a few keystrokes to a chapter, then it dives away again.

In Wake Up, as with every fanfic I write, I know where Chuuya was supposed to end up, and Dazai, and the rest. I know the emotional beats that they were meant to experience along the way. I wrote parts of the end of Wake Up. I had the second to last chapter written. The beginning of the last chapter written, and I’ve mentally played through the scenes that were meant to happen countless times. There’s a complete 18th chapter that I’ve never posted. I’ve known of fanfic writers that showed up ten years later to pump out the last half of a story and wrap it up beautifully. I’ve even popped up after eight years to add new chapters to a fic, only to disappear again. I hate to say “it’s done and expect no more updates” because I don’t know what will happen in the future. I just know this is where I am now.

However, I don’t want to leave anyone with false hope either. There is one instance in my mind that I have managed to go back years later and finish an unfinished fic. One among dozens. It’s not impossible, but the chances aren’t high. Do with that what you will.

This is my update, as of November 2024.

[foxes-that-run]

From the Dining Table

Note the subtle tattoo kiss. Like MMIH, Harry hasn't played FTDT live since 2018. Harry told the Grammy Museum:

Styles’ favorite track on the album is “From the Dining Table,” which he said is, “The one that makes me feel the most,” adding that, “it’s the most different than what I expected myself to write and it’s probably the most honest that I’ve been in a song as well.”

To Rolling Stone he said:

"The more vulnerable the song, he learned, the better. “The one subject that hits the hardest is love,” he says, “whether it’s platonic, romantic, loving it, gaining it, losing it  …  it always hits you hardest. I don’t think people want to hear me talk about going to bars, and how great everything is. The champagne popping  …  who wants to hear about it? I don’t want to hear my favorite artists talk about all the amazing shit they get to do. I want to hear, ‘How did you feel when you were alone in that hotel room, because you chose to be alone?'”

This quote is interesting because the song is self-aware of the wrong choice to be with be with someone who looked like his muse.

Why is it called from the Dining Table

When performing the album in his first ever solo show Harry introduced from the dining table by explaining it was written at the dining table in Jamaica and it kept the name.

Lyrics

[Verse 1] Woke up alone in this hotel room Played with myself, where were you? Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon I've never felt less cool

The open is remicinet of his comments to Rolling Stone above. So many One Direction songs, in particular Perfect portrayed that fun image of "trouble up in hotel rooms". FTDT strips it away to leave a lonely 22 year old guy who lost someone he loves and misses and does not feel cool. To me, what's special here is addressing some misconceptions about his life and what being that guy cost him.

[Chorus] We haven't spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won't you ever be the first one to break? Even my phone misses your call, by the way

Harry and Taylor sing a lot about never communicating, and have said in interviews that they can say things to an instrument but not each other.

[Verse 2] I saw your friend that you know from work He said you feel just fine I see you gave him my old t-shirt More of what was once mine

Taylor's friend from work is often thought to be Ed, however Ed was Harry's friend first, and more a personal than a work friend to both.

When Harry was starting his Debut album he worked with a lot of music producers, including Max Martin, who worked in 1989. Harry spent a week with him in November 2016 before starting to work Tom and Tyler.

There are several shirts of Harry's that Taylor's worn and could have given to Max. To me, it's this Genius Jumper, which Max has worn, she lent to to lots of friends before it disappeared. have no reason to think Harry ever wore it though, other than it is a UK high street brand and it looks like the Cardigan-cardigan.

[Bridge] Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too x3 But you, you never do Woke up the girl who looked just like you I almost said your name

1989 largely focuses on Taylors experience, in her later work she has reflected more on how things played out in tracks like Afterglow, Coney Island and The 1.

At the end of 2014:

October 1989 was released, Taylor jaded in interviews, November 1D released Four with Stockholm Syndrome and Fool's Gold. Harry and Taylor had been hanging out, made heart eyes at the AMAs

2 December may have left the VS Secret show together, (So it Goes, Pick you up). On that, this is the closing track, Ready for it is the opening track of the next album in order.

22 December - HS pictured with VS model Nadine Leopold, this was in NYC before he bought an apartment there. She looks well...

So I think this song is set in late 2014 rather than the boat, though I must admit I still imagine it in the Virgin Islands.

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW

THE NANNY: ONE SHOT

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Annie Johnson (OFC)

Summary: Annie’s goes to see a new doctor for a checkup.

Warnings: NONE.

A/N:  none.

Word count: 1961

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

GIF'S not mine, you can find the credits under the gif :)

                                     ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Sophie, Luis’ mom, was drinking her coffee at Annie’s living room. Their kids spend so much time together it was only logical they ended up becoming friends. Sophie was a freelance graphic designer, so she could stay home to take care of his son and the house.

“Did you made the appointment?” Sophie asked as she bit one of the cookies in the plate in front of her.

“Yeah,” she sip on her coffee, “it’s tomorrow, I will go after work. So I was hoping maybe you could pick up Jake for me.”

“Of course! No problem.” Sophie saw the worried demeanor in Annie’s face. “Hey,” Annie turned to see her, “I’m sure everything will be fine. Dr. Stevens is really good.” Annie offered her a tight smile and nodded.

It was Mid-February, 4 months after her ectopic pregnancy. Sophie recommended her to go to her obgyn, doctor Lucille Stevens. After finishing her shift at the Children’s Cottage she headed to the doctor’s office. She was sitting in the waiting room, her legs bouncing as she moved her hands.

“Annabelle Johnson-Barber.”

“That’s me.”

“Dr. Stevens is waiting for you.” Annie stood, “It’s the first door to the right.”

“Thank you, miss.” Annie walked the short distance and knocked on the door before hearing a soft “Come in”.

“Good afternoon,” She looked at her computer, “Annabelle.”

“Annie is fine.”

“Very well, have a sit. Before anything I need to ask you a couple of questions to start your medical file.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“When was your last period?”

After a couple of minutes of the doctor asking basic stuff related with her and her family medical history the real question hit.

“So, why are you here?”

“I… you see, I had an ectopic pregnancy and ammm,” Her voice broke and the doctor gave her a paper tissue and her eyes filled with tears, “Thank…you. I, My husband and I wanted to have a baby, and then that happened,” a few tears rolled down her cheeks, “And you know, I want us to try again so I wanna know if there’s something wrong with me.”

“Ok, first of all, an ectopic pregnancy is not something you can control, I’m sorry you had to go through that, but you must know you are not to blame for it.” Annie nodded as she cleaned her tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m just being silly.”

“No, you’re not. I understand how you feel. Now, did you drink water like I asked you?”

“Yes, I’ve been trying really hard not to pee. I don’t know how much I can hold it.” The doctor giggled.

“Don’t worry, as soon as we finish the ultrasound I’ll let you go to the bathroom.” Annie climbed on the bed and lifted her shirt. “Undo the bottom of your jeans too, please, and put them down a bit.” Annie did as she was told. “You gonna feel cold.” She placed the transducer on her lower abdomen. “So, four months, was it in September then?”

“Mid-September, yes. I didn’t know I was pregnant. I thought I was having my period, but the cramps were…”

“Unbearable.” The doctor kept moving the wand, “Was it on the left side?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Your fallopian tube is smaller on that side, but it looks healed. And you have a scar there.”  She said pointing with her sight to her lower abdomen.

“I always forget it’s there.”

She moved the wand a bit more, “Have you and your husband had any sexual activity since it happened?”

“I mean, it took a while. I think we started to be intimate again after 2 months, maybe, like in November. He was very understanding.”

“I’m glad, most husbands don’t get it.” She moved the wand again, “Have you been using protection?”

“Ammm, yes, I wanna know first if everything is alright so we can start trying again.”

“Hmm.” Annie saw as she pressed some buttons in the machine “Well, how you would feel if I tell you, you’re going to be a momma?”

“What?” Annie turned to see the screen.

“You see this little thing here?” Annie nodded as she saw a small bean on the screen, “That’s your baby.” Annie was speechless watching the little circle on screen, “You might be just two or three weeks along.”

“But we were careful.”

“Condoms can break.”

“But…oh!”

“Now you remember.” The doctor lifted her brow and Annie nodded and smiled. “They always say they were careful.”

“But I told you I had my period last weekend.”

“Yeah, and you told me it only lasted the weekend when it usually last five days. It’s called implantation bleeding.”

“Wait, is there something wrong? Is that why I bled?”

“No, it’s perfectly normal, and for what I can see, everything is fine with you and your baby, the size is perfect.”

“Am I gonna have a baby?”

“Yes, Congratulations!”

“Oh god!” Annie started sobbing, she heard a weird sound, “What’s that?”

“I’m just printing out the pictures for you. Here is a tissue.” Annie cleaned herself and arrange her clothes. The doctor walked to her desk and began typing.

“So, I need you to come again in 4 weeks, ok?” Annie nodded, “I need you to start taking this vitamins and folic acid.” She wrote rapidly on a prescription and handed it to her as she stood “Make the appointment with the receptionist.” Annie nodded again before jumping on the doctor to hug her.

“Thank you! Thank you much!”

“Don’t worry, we will take care of you and your baby.”

Annie was walking towards her car, and her phone ding with a text from Andy “Be a bit late today, new case, thought client.” That will give Annie enough time to plan a good way to tell Andy the news.

It was almost 10 and Andy wasn’t home yet. Annie had put Jake to bed two hours ago and she was drifting off on the couch when she heard the car pulling on the driveway. Not long after Andy walked through the door. His feet dragging on the carpet.

“Honey, are you up?”

“In here!” Annie said cheerfully and Andy walked towards her losing his tie. “Long day?”

“I need vacations.” He said as he sat next to her.

“I made you dinner.”

“Perfect! Cuz I’m starving!” They walked to the kitchen. Annie heated his plate and sat with him. After Andy finished, he began to clean the dishes. So Annie took the moment to go to the office and pick up the box and envelope she had hidden. Andy was finishing with the plate when he remember her wife was going to the doctor today. “Fuck! Honey! How was your doctor’s appointment?” he said without turning.

“You know, all good. I have something for you.”

Andy turned surprised when he saw the present box, “Valentine’s day was a week ago.” He giggled, “And I loved my present, you with a bow and those pictures of you in lingerie are so fucking hot!”

“Well, consider it as a late Valentine’s present.”

“Alright,” Andy took both the box and envelope and sat on the stool.

“You read the card first.”

Andy lifted his brow but did as he was told. He opened the envelope and took the card out.

“My love, my Andy. I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me ever since we met. Aww honey, no need to thank me. I do it because I love you.”

“Just keep reading.”

“Ok, ok! We’ve been through so much together and I cannot express enough how much I love you. I thank you for everything you did for me to cheer me up when the incident happened… Honey.” Annie just stared at him, “I thank god every day for putting you and Jake in my life. I won the lottery with you two. With all my love, Annie.” Andy paused and looked down a bit, “Oh! P.S. Hi, daddy! Can’t wait to meet you, mommy told me so much about you and my brother today. You two seem like so much fun! I know I’m very little right now, but I already love you. I’m sorry it took me a while to get to you but I was waiting for the perfect family and if everything goes right we’ll meet next November. Your rainbow baby.” Andy stayed in silence, and opened the box, a small pair of white knitted booties were inside along with the ultrasound picture. “Honey, don’t play with me like that.” Andy turned to see Annie who had tears welling in her eyes. “Is not a joke, is it?”

Annie shook her head as her tears fall to her cheeks. “I’m pregnant!” She said and her voice broke. Andy stood, hugged her and lifted her in his arms, spinning around the kitchen, “Stop, I don’t think this is good for the baby.” Andy placed her on the floor again.

“Wait, but we’ve been careful.”

“Well, not really, remember last week on valentine’s day.”

“Aha.”

“Well we didn’t used protection.”

“Yeah, but...”

“And remember our date night like 3 weeks ago. We went to the movies and then…”

“We had sex in the car.” Andy smiled remembering that night, “Are you sure, like 100% sure?”

“Yes, the doctor told me I’m only like 2 or 3 weeks along, she gave me a prescription and said everything was perfect!”

“God!” He hugged her and squeeze her hard again, “Shit! Sorry, honey, I’ll tried not to do that every time I see you!” Annie giggled and then began sobbing.

“Honey, come here.” Andy hugged her and rubbed his hands on her back. “You ok?” She nodded, her face hidden in his chest. “Are these happy tears?” She nodded again, “Oh I see hormones are kicking in.” He laughed, “Does Jake know?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone, just you now. I don’t want to tell anyone.” She sniffed.

“Why not? This is exciting news honey!”

“Well, what if something happens and then you know.” Andy stared at her understanding what she meant, “I just think we should wait, we could tell the news after the first trimester and if everything is fine.”

“It’ll be as you say honey.” He hugged her again, this time he was gentle, as if she will break if he touched her harder, “I love you, so, so much.” He stared at her with love in his eyes and kissed her. He broke the kiss, touching her forehead with his. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me for?”

“For being you, for making me happy, for making a baby.”

“Well, you helped with the last one,” she laughed, “It’s half you.”

“WE’RE GONNA HAVE A BABY!” Andy said at the top of his lungs.

“Andy! We said we were going to be discrete!”

“I am been discrete.” Annie shook her head, “So, can we celebrate?” Andy wiggled his brows.

“God, you’re impossible.”

“So, yes or no?”

Annie shook her head again and turned around walking towards the stairs.

“Are you coming or not big boy?” Annie winked at him and Andy quick walked towards her.

They were lying in bed, the white sheet covering their halves of their bodies. Andy was staring at the ceiling while Annie was long gone asleep. He was going to be a dad again! Not in his wildest dreams he thought he will have a complete family again. He turned to see his wife, peacefully sleeping when he notice her hand was on her tummy, right were her womb should be, she was already protecting their baby. He placed his much larger hand on hers and closed his eyes. That night he promise himself he will do anything and everything to protect them both.

[dailyexo]

[INTERVIEW] Kai - 230314 UPROXX: “Kai Doesn’t Care What You Think, ‘Rover’ Is His Reminder To Live Life Freely”

"When Kai debuted with EXO 11 years ago, he was already a fan favorite. His teaser featured him smoothly dancing across a puddle of water to the group’s jazz pop track “My Lady.” From then on, Kai, whose real name is Kim Jongin, became one of the attractors and magnets for potential EXO-Ls to be.

With a massive discography and awards accrued over the last decade with EXO (and SuperM), it was only November 2020 when Kai unraveled his own world to the masses and proved how much of an ace he is. With his debut single “Mmmh,” the EXO member checked off every tick on what it meant to be a whole package — and be rightfully called “Idol’s Idol:” a catchy R&B ear worm that’s easy to sing along; sexy, jaw-dropping choreography that went viral; and looks (including a jawline so sharp) that could kill from a glance.

His title as Asia’s First Love only continued to grow when he followed up with “Peaches” (2021), a poetic R&B serenade that highlighted his romantic side.

Fast forward to today (March 13), Kai unleashes the wild side of him in his upbeat, Latin-inspired single “Rover” off his third EP of the same title. Last week, we caught up with Kai to discuss his new project, and his success as a soloist and member of EXO.

We obviously think of a car when we hear “Rover.” But how would you interpret that?

Kai: “Rover” is about not caring about what people think or say. It’s about just going your way freely as a wanderer. But that is also the whole album overall. It’s also about social media as well. A lot of different people see what you post and it’s a place where a judgment or opinion could actually be easily made. There are possibilities you could also be jealous of someone, or look up to someone when you’re on social media. But it’s more about not caring about all those different perspectives, or those gazes at all. And it’s a message of just think free, so the message that’s here I think is let’s be free.

I have a lot of messages to share to the world but whoever interprets it or whoever sees it, are free to interpret it individually since it’s different for each person. But regardless, I want to say that I’m just going to do whatever I want to do, what I like to do, and just spread the message of freedom and show that I’m doing what I want to do and what I like.

It’s such a switch from your last two singles, what did you think when you first heard it?

Kai: The first impression for “Rover” was very good. I thought the melody and rhythm meshed well and was very addictive. The song has a nice rhythm that’s very fun and easy to dance to. And while preparing for “Rover,” I was excited knowing I can focus on showing a new side of myself.

Are you aware of your virality every time you make a comeback?

Kai: Well, actually I don’t focus on that that much. Nor do I feel it that much because it’s a fight with myself because of how time is actually limited. We only have 24 hours a day and there’s a lot of good that I want to do and show to my fans. But other than focusing on the virality that I bring or the popularity that I have, I do have a little bit of pressure to focus on making something good

In “Mmmh” it was the choreography, then “Peaches” the detail that went viral was when you twirled one of your dancer’s hair. What do you predict would be the viral moment for “Rover?”

Kai: I could honestly say that out of all the dances or choreography that I’ve done, this one was very much difficult. But difficulty [for me] is shown in a cool way, or I hope so. So I’m not going to be able to choose just one part because I like everything.

Actually, I’m actually looking forward to what the people, fans, and listeners would choose as the viral moment or the killing part of the song. So, I really wish and hope that people could choose for me.

Any behind-the-scenes moments you want to talk about in this album?

Kai: Particularly, I do like the track “Bomba.” It’s one of my b-side tracks for this album and one of the tracks that I actually considered as the lead single for my second album,Peaches — between “Peaches” and “Bomba.”

Especially for this album, rather than focusing on what others would like to see from me, I mainly focused on what I like and what I would like to show. As I was really enjoying that thought in the production process, I couldn’t even think about any difficulties. I think my third album is more of a result of the experiences that I had with my first and second albums. So if it weren’t for my first and second albums, I think that my third album wouldn’t be possible. And I think when I was shooting the song, preparing the album itself, I tried to be more bold and unique with the choices that I make and I tried to work on that.

Do you feel any pressure still, as you make these comebacks?

Kai: Sometimes. I did have some pressure creating this album because I really want to showcase a new and different side to my fans. However, all of that pressure was released in the process of this album, while also preparing for it.

I always want to do better and show the best to my fans. I try my best not to think too deeply about it because I ultimately want to solely focus on the stage. Because when I start thinking too deeply into things, then I won’t be able to concentrate and fully show my 100 percent.

Have you found any stark differences or discoveries about yourself as a soloist and you as a member of EXO?

Kai: Well, yes there are differences to this actually. So, when I’m in the group — as a member of EXO, I feel more comfortable because we’re able to share this pressure that we feel altogether. I tend to rely more on the members than relying on myself. And it’s also that I really do enjoy and like being in EXO when in a group altogether. Because there’s EXO, I exist. Because of EXO, there’s Kai.

But even as a soloist, it’s very fun. I enjoy it as well since it’s only about me doing well, and me doing the best that I could do. It can be comfortable in those terms, but sincerely do enjoy both. Because, once again, I think Kai exists because of EXO.

What’s the biggest thing you’ve learned as a soloist?

Kai: As a soloist, I’m honestly very satisfied to where I’m at but I still can feel that I really, and truly, miss my members, especially those who enlisted. I’m really looking forward to the album that we will release as EXO altogether.

I could say that I realized I still do lack a lot of skills, and I have a lot to improve on still. And since I had my members while doing a lot of different activities with EXO, I was able to share the pressure. As a soloist, all the pressure is on me. Everything really depends on how I show my performance, and how the outcome is done by me. I really came to realize that I have to do my best and do better.

And, this is actually not directed to me being a soloist but, one really big learning that I realized these days is that time is special.

One thing the world doesn’t know that Kai wants to share.

Kai: Actually, I really don’t know who I am still and I think it’s kind of definite for the world not to know fully about me too. It’s more so that the images that I show as a member of EXO and Kai are very different from who I am as a person.

And you know, the fans do know that you know on stage, I’m charismatic and you know pretty much cool but that I’m a bit different off stage but I could say that not a lot of people know this because you know I may seem a bit you know charismatic on stage and cool but I’m actually a pure and kind person and yeah that’s about it for the first question.

Anything else you’d like to say?

I actually went to go eat Kaljebi which is a mix of Kalguksu (hand-pulled noodles) and sujebi (flattened hand-pulled noodles, and that was my favorite place to go eat."

Credit: Uproxx.

[acourtofladydeath]

🎵💚 There’s frost on the moon and snow on the ground, but with you around there’s spring in my heart ❤️🎵

Hi it’s Santa!

I hope you’re doing well 🥰 Did you get up to anything for Halloween? (and if so what did you dress up as?)

Now that it’s November I’m personally so ready for it to be Christmas and I’ve been daydreaming about your gift.

I wanted to ask if you have any headcanons about the other Vanserra brothers, their relationship with Eris, Eris’s relationship with Beron and with his mom, Eris’s hounds?

And regarding Azriel, your headcanons about his shadows, his childhood, his mother, his time working under Rhys’s father, his relationships with Rhys and Cassian?

Lay it all on me. Do not hold back. Feel free to deviate and elaborate to your heart’s content. Your responses are what I’ll be harvesting details of their backstories from (I want to incorporate as many of your headcanons as possible since it’s your gift after all.) I’m always on the lookout for opportunities to ramp up the angst!

— Santa ❤️

Hi Santa!! So nice to hear from you!

I dressed as Peter Pan for Halloween this year, went to my lectures on campus, saw my professor's baby (he was dressed as an adorable little dragon. His parents were very excited for my costume but he, as a 10 month old, did not get it), and then did meal prep while watching ghost hunting videos.

It is 100% Christmastime, with a 3 day break for Thanksgiving mid-November and I'm so ready. I may start decorating this weekend.

Santa, I'm gonna need you to buckle up for the answers to these questions cuz HERE WE FUCKING GO.

**note that these headcanons do not always work together, at the same time, or in the same fic. I just have lots of feelings on how this could/would go. I have many thoughts on many characters, and my interpretation of a character tends to change from fic to fic. Personification is different between fics and I love exploring different histories and interpretations of characters to see all of the "what ifs" and "okay buts" of fandom. This exploration and variety is part of what I love most about fanfiction. Below are some of my recurrent headcanons for these characters and their history, again these are my own opinions and not mean to be taken as the only interpretation or even the only interpretation I like to read/write.

Eris & The Vanserras

Eris and LOA are very close in age, leading to a very close relationship between the two of them, but also a lack of parenting in favor of friendship.

Eris is considerably older than his other siblings, or at least much more mature, and basically had to help raise them. This led to animosity between the brothers due to his having to order them around for their own damn good and to protect them from their father. He did whatever he could to shield them from Beron. I love exploring how this plays out. If they reconcile, then how? (I think so, and I hope so. I personally explore some of this in my fic And So Our Life Begins, and more so in the ASOLB spin off A Second Chance. They all have names and personalities and ).

He has done more to protect his mother and brothers than they will ever know, and he would rather that they didn't know because he doesn't want them taking pity on him. (I explore this a bit in my fic: The Soft Heart & The Shadow)

Eris basically raised Lucien himself, but instead of animosity, it lead to a very close relationship between the two despite the age gap. I also HC that Eris saw Lucien had power that was definitely not of Autumn, and he and LOA got in a fight about it. Not because he's mad she did it, but because he's scared about protecting them both.

Eris loves his hounds. He's very strict with them, but they're also some of the only people (besides Lucien and occasionally LOA) that Eris can let down his mask around, and they're some of the only living things that have seen the real him before he eventually opens up to Azriel. Because of this Azriel interacting with the hounds allows him to see more of Eris when he's still very skeptical of the male, and is part of why he's convinced to trust him and be his mate. I feel like the hounds are trained similarly to service dogs. When they're outside Eris's personal cabin/room, they're constantly working and putting on their best behavior, but when they're in that personal space, they're the most loving little affectionate puppies that ever existed.

Beron hates his son. Let's get that straight right now. HOWEVER I wonder if he respects the lengths Eris is willing to go to maintain his own power and protect his brothers, even if he hates that he's doing it. Like he might hate what Eris is doing with that power, but at least Eris has the wits and desire to USE that power. Just food for thought there with that one.

Azriel & his past

Azriel hates his father and brothers, and I think this is likely a large part of why he feels about Illyria as strongly as he does. He saw the worst of Illyria in those males, and I wonder if he has a hard time dissociating that awful image from the image of what Illyria could be, and the positive males that already do exist within it (people like Balthazar).

Azriel was a pawn for Rhys's father. He wasn't a person, just a tool to be used, and I think he still sees that interpretation of himself and his worthiness to this day. I think it greatly affects his self worth and his humanization of himself and his feelings. He struggles to see his value as a person with valid thoughts and emotions, because for so much of his life his value was that of a "thing". He sees himself as a weapon because it's what he had to be to survive within Rhys's father's court. I don't think he's ever had time, opportunity, or even a thought that he could be something else. I feel like his experience going from prisoner to training camp to expendable Night Court tool has greatly affected his mental health and his ability to stand up for himself. He will do what's asked of him because it's what is expected, even if it will break him in the end.

Azriel's Shadows came to him to protect him from the shadows and to protect him from himself. I think the darkness he had to get to in his own mind to pull those shadows to himself is deeper than he will ever admit. I love seeing the shadows have their own personalities and actions separate from what Az asks them to do. They're pesky little beasts that he loves dearly, but also can annoy the shit out of him when they don't do as they're told.

Azriel loves his mother and will do whatever he can to protect her, but neither feels like they can fully open up to the other. They're so worried about protecting each other they don't feel like they can truly reveal their feelings. She won't talk about her traumas, and he wont' talk about his because they don't want to burden each other. But they both know the traumas exist and want to try and help the other the best they can even without having the full story.

Azriel is a chronic pain sufferer from his hands. He doesn't say anything to anyone, and he only goes to Madja when it's so painful he literally can't function. I feel like he hides this too well, and even if he didn't hide it, he wouldn't accept help. I don't think he knows how to accept help.

Azriel & The Bat Boys (& Nesta)

I feel like Azriel feels like an outsider in most relationships of his life because of his past, but truly loves his found brother. I wonder if because of Az's relationship with Rhys's dad, he sometimes struggles with the dichotomy of working for someone who does actually care for him and sees him as a person.

I'm not sure Rhysand actually knows the extent to which his father used Azriel, and I wonder if this affects their working and friendly relationship. This is not a fully fleshed out headcanon for me, but it's an idea I keep coming back to.

I definitely think that Cassian and Azriel are closer to each other than they are to Rhys. I don't think this necessarily in a bad way, but with the power/boss dynamic and the fact that Cass and Az spend more time out in the field, in Illyria, and spent the entirety of UTM together there's a closeness there that they don't have with Rhys.

Look, y'all can disagree with me on this, but Cass and Az have most definitely fucked. It's canon that all 3 fucked people in the same room together, but I feel like Cass and Az have fucked each other and fucked other people together. IDK how you're a 500 year old anything and aren't very sexually open.

If Azriel is going to open up to anyone emotionally it's going to be Cassian or Nesta.

Nesta is not a bat boy, but I HC that she and Az are best friends. I think they are the only two in the IC who can truly understand the depths of each other's pain. Their traumas are so deep and profound, and neither really wants to admit their weaknesses, but together they don't feel so alone and can maybe start to heal. I think Eris can also be this person for Az and Nesta. I'm so here for any type of fic that discusses their pain (I regularly inhale @kale-theteaqueen's fic The Whole Truth because it gives me all of the feels and is so accurate to how I see Nesta and myself in Nesta. The way Azriel and honestly most of the IC are depicted in that fic. I also feel like their fic Burning From the Inside Out also depicts them (Nesta and Azriel specifically) closely to how I view them. And as a chronic pain sufferer myself, it's near and dear to my heart. Basically just read their masterlist, because I also reread Of Death and Resurrection regularly for the same reasons listed above, and I love the Rhysta friendships they develop as well.

Okay. Could I keep going? YOU FUCKING KNOW IT. Should I? Probably not, I've spent way too long writing this up already and I've gotta cut myself off so I can work on my WIPs. I'm still probably forgetting something I'll remember later on...

Please let me know if it's okay to keep recommending you fics when I answer your questions, sometimes it just feels like the best way to address them. As usual, please let me know if you'd like me to further describe/elaborate on anything here! I hope you're doing well, and it's so great to hear from you!! I'm really looking forward to this reveal and the fic!!

[blck-drgn]

I slowly crawl out of my rat hole and drag Pie. The post is dedicated to those who say that she is young. SHE'S PENSIONED, BRING THE SCOOP AND BROOM A woman is 52-56 years old, what do you need from her haha? х) (For those who don’t know, it’s just a joke about age. I hear too often that Piper is very young or looks young :D)

SO HERE I’ve already made posts 100,500 times where I mentioned some rock band, and FD in general (it’s especially clear in the post with Viola), whose music I listen to 24/7, with extremely rare interruptions to third-party songs. Let me just say - Ghost. Anyone interested in what it is and why they listen to it will Google it. If you ask me to tell you about this group, some internal jokes of the fans, jokes of the musicians and the vocalist, and the whole plot of the group as a whole, spare your nerves, I will paint such a canvas for you. Four people got caught in the attack, I feel sorry for them, AHHA bullshit.

I was wildly pushed to create my own aushka, and to weave a couple of characters into this theme, that I couldn’t resist and this snake came out, a malachite snake. Since I decided to really get into this FD (that’s why one of my nicknames is Rat x)), I wrote down a few of my heads, and VERY BRIEFLY the plot of my characters. So far, only Piper has been distributed, so this is as brief as possible:

Since this is a headcanon and there is no title “Emeritus Mama” in the original or in real life, it will be here. Since the vocalist is referred to as "Emeritus Papa" in the Ghost fandom, the women in her line will be Emeritus Mama. Piper became Emeritus Mama I because before her, the title of Emeritus Mama Nihil (Nihil - designation 0 in Roman numerals) was held by her mother. Piper, like the original band, performs with a rock band. Unlike her mother and sisters (I will only take sisters for now, because I divided the groups by gender), her makeup refers to the skull of a snake. You can see her without paint on her face, but it’s extremely rare. Early in the morning or late at night, if she was in her chambers. But usually she puts on makeup and only then leaves her room. Before taking on the title of Emeritus Mama, Piper was a cardinal and wore a more simplified version of her makeup - an all-white face, outlined in black for her eyes and lips. Like the original, her musicians are ghouls, who obey her in the same way, helping to perform on stage, playing live music (I will show the ghouls much later, I have to draw them and their outfits). Ghouls are literally children in adult bodies, so on stage they can go crazy or get too close to the audience, but magical chains keep them from attacking, because in addition to childish pampering, they are wild and very dangerous creatures. I don’t have the outfit with me yet, I wanted to post today, but like the ghouls, it will appear a little later in two versions. Returning to the topic of song genre. Once upon a time, I was asked about her voice, whether there is anything similar among actors or musicians. Yes - In This Moment. Maria Brink's voice suits her and her type of characters perfectly. However, Brink's voice in real life does not suit her, because unlike the musical voice, it is sweet and not as rough and hoarse as Piper's should be. Therefore, if you imagine Pie’s voice, then rely on Brink’s songs.

That's all I can tell you for now. When I can get started and finish her outfits and ghouls, I'll be sure to post the story as well.

Also, I want to remind you that English is not my native language. I could easily make mistakes or incorrectly label the character's title as “Emeritus Mama”, because I cannot know exactly what this title would sound like in English and correctly. Thanks for reading! Also, I will be grateful if the fandom accepts me without aggression. I joined it not so long ago, only in November 2023, and I would really like to develop my headcanons and history. I will be grateful if there is no aggression towards me. If something doesn’t suit you, please just don’t read, but there’s no need to create scandals out of the blue. Let's be people, not animals, everyone has the right to imagination. And I want to say, there will also be headcanons on paps and ghouls at some point. I won’t promise a big asset from me just yet, because real life is too pressing, and posting posts with just text is boring and unacceptable for me. I just HAVE to attach art to them!

I will also publish my works only under two tags, so as not to be an eyesore to those who want to read posts about the fandom, and not some third-party projects, like mine! These are: ghost band art and blck drgn ghost (my personal tag, so as not to really clutter up other people's viewing of original content!)

Thank you! I love everyone💙💜

[peculiar-archives]

Below is a letter I received several years ago, and recently rediscovered in my drawers, dated 1711:

Ms. Starling,

I’ve come upon something most intriguing. Attached are photos relating to the mysterious events, and I hope that after reading, you could respond to me with advice. I’m rather at a loss.

I appear to have forgotten my manners. My apologies, here is an introduction if you’ve not heard of me. My name is Ms. Iryna Petrel, and I am currently in charge of a loop in Crete, Greece. We reside in a manor, which has since been destroyed through an arson, committed four days after I began the loop. As I and my wards have made a home here continually since November fourteenth, 1711, I’ve had many traveling peculiars stop here as not to age forward. Some famous, many simply looking for a place to stay and rest. It’s been almost two hundred years (In actuality, it has been one-hundred-and-ninety-nine years and three-hundred-and-thirty-five days since the loops beginning), and the most trouble I’ve encountered was a group of peculiar raiders. That is, until now.

Early yesterday morning, four peculiars entered my loop. They carried the body of another, very obviously deceased girl. The rest had sustained major injuries. At first, when I’d seen them enter our loop (The signal for entry is rather bright, and happens to be outside of my bedroom window), my thought was that they’d want me to save her. Even from two stories, it was clear that she’d suffered much damage to her stomach, nearly her entire body being drenched in blood. 

Their injuries were much worse in person than they appeared from the window. Upon running across the the manor to reach them, it was clear that they were in urgent need of medical assistance. I showed them to the west wing of the house, which is our teaching and medicine area. I then awoke three of my wards who excel in medicine, and the peculiars told me their story.

The three living were Georgia (appeared 23, true age 26), Xenia (appeared 11, true age 112), and Chrysanthos (appeared 17, true age unknown, assumed to be just under 190). The dead peculiar’s name was Artemis (appeared 9, true age 12). They had fled here from a loop in Cyprus, which had only been open for around three years. Xenia and Chrysanthos had been forced to flee from two previous loops, the second of which they were in together for over 70 years. Chrysanthos referred to Xenia as his younger sister, and was very concerned about her safety for the whole time they were in the medical wing. Georgia and Artemis were siblings from Cyprus who decided it was safer to reside in a loop than out in the open, risking Coerlfolc discovering and possibly killing them. By the time my wards had healed them appropriately, it was well into the morning, and I could hear a large collection of my wards waiting outside of the door to the medic room. I told them to come in, and the other fourty-two wards in my protection walked through the door. Since it could not do to to have them all in a singular room lacking much ventilation, I took my wards (as well as the three new arrivals), into the garden. Georgia required a chair to sit on, as whenever her bare skin touched plant life, it would grow up to ten times its original size. She apologized profusely for this, explaining that she couldn’t control it when she was stressed.

The three peculiars began to tell their story. I’d advise reading this outside of the company of any wards, as it is rather violent, and I would not like to be responsible for traumatizing anyone under your protection. I’ve written this part with help from Chrysanthos, so I missed no details.

They had lived in a loop in Cyprus for three years, led by Ms. Chukar. It was a small loop, occurring in a hotel basement just outside of Georgia’s village. Ms. Chukar was a young ymbryne, but a very powerful one nonetheless. On one night, she welcomed in a man who claimed to be an echolocator. He claimed to be named Jonathan, although, it could easily be a falsehood. His eyes were blank, so we all assumed it was true, and he was simply blind. He came with a gun, claiming that he needed to protect himself on his travels. He stayed for two days and became quite a favorite of the younger children, with a quiet and kind demeanor. That made it even more startling when he turned his gun at Ms. Chukar and fired on his second dinner in the loop. She fell out of her chair, assumed to be dead. There were sixteen peculiars (including Ms. Chukar) in the loop at that time. In my panic to leave, five other shots were fired. There is every reason to believe they were lethal, as only ten of us left from the only exit of the basement. They all attempted to leave the loop, scattering in many directions. The man walked casually towards the entrance to the loop, shooting two more wards in the process. None of them, outside of Chrysanthos and Artemis had peculiarities that would help with combat, so Artemis stayed behind to buy the rest of them time, while Chrysanthos protected the main group. She used her ability to create winds up to 150 km/hr to keep him pressed against a wall while we left the loop. On the other end, there was a sort of monster that waited for us. It was invisible for ten seconds, until it grabbed two wards with two long tongues, and ate them in one horrible bite. It looked like a rotting grey corpse, with loose skin folds, and oversized eyes. It moved using three monstrous tongues, and it had teeth that appeared over 25 cm long. It managed to eat almost all of the peculiars, only two (Georgia and Chrysanthos) making it back into the loop, even though we’d sustained injuries. We’d made it back through to see the man with white eyes slash Artemis’ stomach with a knife, him finally having overcome her miniature hurricane. 

The next paragraph is entirely written by Chrysanthos, as I (Ms. Petrel) know how difficult it is to put one’s own peculiarity through the words of someone else. 

After Artemis had fallen, held by her sister on the rock, I did something that I’d never known I was able to do. My abilities normally extended to simply telekinesis and in the past few years, I’d discovered that I was able to turn quantities of a certain matter into another - a piece of metal into the same amount of water - but only with intense concentration. I, in a state of panic, instinctively pushed the man to the ground. I held his arms above his head, and power rush through me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I felt the blood rushing through his body. There was a small cut on the back of his hand from where I’d pushed him down, and that was enough. I turned all of the blood in his body into stone. His mouth was frozen in a pained scream, and his eyes wide in terror. I’d no idea I could do that. I fell off his body. I was picked up by Xenia, who was yelling at us that we needed to go. Apparently, another one of us (who’s name I will not disclose out of respect for the dead, but I was very close with him romantically) had gone through the loop entrance again, dying, and told Xenia what happened. Xenia had a fight with Artemis earlier that day, and was too angry to attend dinner, but ran downstairs after she’d heard gunfire, fearing the worst. Artemis was still alive, but barely. Georgia carried her to a boat that we had, and Xenia piloted us towards Cyprus. We made it here in under five minutes, thanks to Artemis. It was this effort that killed her. We all stepped off of the boat, in shock, and found the loop, thanks to Xenia’s ability to sense other peculiars and loops, amongst other things navigational.

I (Ms. Petrel), am writing again. I beg for your assistance in future endeavors and advice with how do deal with the new arrivals. Xenia says that she can sense two of them from the loop on Cyprus alive, and I am going to travel there. While I am gone, my loop will be maintained by Ms. Phoebe Spoonbill, an injured ymbryne currently under my care until she is able to find a group large enough to start a loop. If I am injured and unable to return, she will be in charge of my loop. I will report to you with any changes. 

Please advise,

Ms. Iryna Petrel

P.S. - Attatched are some images that Georgia brought with her.

I - The loop entry in Cyprus, with a normal light flash

II - The strange light occurance in the hallway when the man entered, very abnormal

III - A picture taken of the hotel where the loop was

IV - A closer look at the hotel room where the man was rumored to stay during the day. Dark prints on the side wall are most likely blood

V - An unknown room, from the hotel, picture found on the dead man

[kaizoku-musume]

Put Your Hair Up

This is my first entry for @xxsycamore's Visions of Temtpation kinktober event. I'm definitely not going to get everything done by the end of October, but I wanted to ring in the event on the first day, hopefully I'll have at least written all the fics down by the end of the month so I can meet my personal deadline of November 30, but we'll see how that goes.

This first fic is for Birushana, For anyone confused about some elements of the fic, basically I ignore the ending of Noritsune's route and instead make up my own where Yoshitsune claims Noritsune as her concubine (still disguised as a man) and they go back and live happily in Oshu. Also, I headannon Yoshitsune as bigender and flip between using she/he pronouns. Link to the fic on AO3 here.

Prompts: Cowgirl Position | Doggy Style

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hot afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on Noritsune as he walked among the outdoor stalls toward the end of the street, finally done with their shopping. He sighed and adjusted his ponytail with his free hand, knowing it wouldn’t give him any true relief but helpless to do anything but try anyway. He tightened his hold on the bag of groceries, careful not to let his sweaty palms cause it to slip. Maybe he should start putting his hair up like Yoshitsune-surely raising it in a high ponytail would provide more relief to his neck than his current style, even if he tossed it over his shoulder as much as he could.

Speaking of, his husband took the opportunity to run a finger along the back of Noritsune’s neck, brushing against his hair. Yoshitsune murmured something Noritsune couldn’t hear, sounding lost in thought. Curious, Noritsune glanced back. Yoshitsune’s eyes were half-lidded as she gazed at his neck, mouth slightly parted, before she noticed Noritsune looking at her. “What?” she asked, and whether she was feigning innocence or not, Noritsune couldn’t tell. Yoshitsune had developed a bit of a devious streak as he grew accustomed to their relationship (or did it start as early as announcing Noritsune as his concubine that fateful day?), and he found that she was often keeping him on his toes out of battle as much as she did in it.

“‘I’m covered in sweat and my hair is a mess. That can’t possibly be doing it for you,” Noritsune knew as he said it that it wasn’t true-he recognized the way Yoshitsune was looking at him, as he’d seen it all too often. He just hoped Yoshitsune didn’t call him out on his hypocrisy; how often had he told Yoshitsune how attractive he looked after a heavy training session?

Yoshitsune blushed, caught out. “I don’t know why you’d think that,” he said, “since you usually look like this by the end of our nights together.”

Ah, so that was it. “So I’m just reminding you of what state you leave me in?” Noritsune teased. He did end up quite unraveled afterward, didn’t he.

“Well, there’s that, but also,” Yoshitsune chewed on his bottom lip, fighting off embarrassment, “I’ve told you how much I like seeing your hair like this. I know back then I said it was because it was nice to see you relaxed and comfortable. But it’s also . . . There’s just something really enticing about the way your hair falls over your shoulder, and how it bares the back of your neck. It makes you look . . . vulnerable, I guess.”

Noritsune understood. It was part of why he liked seeing Yoshitsune let his hair down at home-part of it was getting to be the only one to see Yoshitsune like that, but part of it was because it was Yoshitsune at her simplest and truest, without having to put herself together for propriety’s sake or keeping up tradition or the like. But Yoshitsune wasn’t done speaking. “And it’s even worse now,” he continued, “because it does remind me of-you know.” She side-eyed the marketplace, wary of the families with kids around that didn’t need to overhear them talking too graphically.

“Well, in that case,” Noritsune leaned over to whisper in her ear, “when we get home, why don’t we make it so that you’re the cause of me looking like this instead of the weather?”

Yoshitsune inhaled sharply, staring at Noritsune with open desire. It should be ridiculous, the fact that the pair of them could get each other worked up even in this oppressive heat. They weren’t even a new couple anymore, and yet Noritsune found himself just as hungry for Yoshitsune as he had been when he first began fantasizing about his former rival.

Spirits renewed, the two hurried home hand in hand, offering brief greetings to people they recognized on the street. It was by some miracle that they didn’t encounter one of Yoshitsune’s vessels or the merchants Noritsune regularly protected. Upon arriving home, they dumped the groceries on the closest table to be put away later.

Thus unencumbered, they collided together, ignoring the high temperature to mold their bodies to one another. Yoshitsune used her height to her advantage to lay kisses over Noritsune’s neck and jaw until she reached his mouth. Noritsune wrapped his arms around himneck as he kissed him back, clumsily backpedaling them to their room while trying not to trip. They hurriedly shoved each other’s clothes off, leaving a trail behind them, their mouths staying stubbornly pressed together. Noritsune almost sent them crashing to the floor when Yoshitsune’s tongue pushed past his lips, wrapped around his own, and sucked.

When they reached their bedroom, they hastily dug through their things to get what they needed to prepare. Noritsune knelt down to help Yoshitsune step into her strap, tying the leather bands around her legs as she took care of the ones at her hips. Once he was all situated, they collapsed on the futon. Noritsune twisted open the cap to the oil, moving Yoshitsune’s hands away when he reached out to help. “You just sit back and watch for now,” he ordered, “I don’t need you crowding me in this heat just yet. I know you’ll do it plenty later.”

Yoshitsune pouted but relented. She watched, near vibrating with impatience as Noritsune poured the oil over his fingers before bringing them down to his hole to start fingering himself open. Yoshitsune had a gorgeous view of him laying down on the bed, his pink hair a stark contrast against the white sheets, his arm crossing his body as he sunk one finger inside himself and started stretching himself. He slipped a second finger in as soon as he was loose enough to handle it, scissoring them with practiced ease. Yoshitsune’s hands clenched on top of her knees as Noritsune prepared himself, breathy sighs escaping him, his free hand pinching at his nipple. She glanced up from the show to meet Noritsune’s gaze, shuddering at the passion that met her head on, the amused challenge as Noritsune expected her to wait for him to finish. Yoshitsune hoped he looked half as composed, because he felt like he was at the end of his rope, even though Noritsune was the one with what was now three fingers drilling into him.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Noritsune tore his fingers away. Within seconds, Yoshitsune was on him. Noritsune laughed and gently pushed him back. “Hold on, hold on, I have a plan,” Noritsune guided Yoshitsune onto his back.

“You’re going to ride me?” she grinned up at Noritsune.

“Something like that,” Noritsune said. To Yoshitsune’s surprise, he turned around before clambering onto her lap.

“What are you doing?” Yoshitsune asked, confused. They almost never had sex facing away from each other-for Noritsune to suggest such a position himself, he must have a really good idea.

Noritsune glanced back coyly. “Since you’re so obsessed with my hair and neck, I figured I’d give you a good view of them,” he explained as he playfully tossed his hair, arching his neck in an alluring way. Oh, Yoshitsune mouthed, thoroughly enraptured-he was so transfixed that he almost missed it when Noritsune situated himself over his wooden cock and sank down. Noritsune groaned as he took in inch after inch until his ass was settled squarely on Yoshitsune’s hips.

“Take it easy,” Yoshitsune said, running soothing hands up his back. Noritsune sat still, breathing evenly to help him adjust to the stretch and fullness. When his body had calmed down enough, he began to move, gripping Yoshitsune’s knees as leverage as he started a shallow, gentle slide up and down Yoshitsune’s length. Yoshitsune propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look.

Noritsune was right, it was a good view, and Yoshitsune made sure to tell him as much, even if he kept the details to himself. Noritsune’s ponytail bounced along with him, a few free strands brushing against his neck enticingly. The muscles in his back shifted with every movement he made, and Yoshitsune could see every time her cock was swallowed by his ass, rim stretched wide to accommodate the intrusion, his cheeks jiggling as he shoved himself onto her cock.

Yoshitsune lasted only a minute or so of watching and letting Noritsune set the pace before he was overcome with the need to participate. The next time Noritsune rocked down, Yoshitsune bucked his hips up to meet him. The action tore a surprised gasp from Noritsune, so Yoshitsune did it again, and again, and again, matching Noritsune’s pace. Yoshitsune ran a hand up and down Noritsune’s spine, her other hand latched onto his hip to help guide him up and down. Her attention was torn between Noritsune’s flushed nape and begging-to-be-tugged ponytail , his flexing back, and his bouncing ass. “Are you touching yourself?” Yoshitsune asked. She had to know if Noritsune was as affected as she was-if the idea of her watching him like this drove him equally mad.

Noritsune shook his head. “I don’t want to come too fast,” he said.

Well, that wouldn’t do. “I want to watch,” Yoshitsune blurted out, “I want to see what it looks like from here.”

Noritsune groaned, that simple sentence all he needed to give in. “I don’t know if I can touch myself and ride you like this at the same time, Yoshitsune-not if you don’t want me hunched over too much. I don’t have a lot of leverage.”

“I can fuck you harder if that helps,” Yoshitsune offered. Noritsune laughed, the sound shifting to a moan as Yoshitsune’s cock grazed his prostrate on the hard thrust he gave as an example. Yoshitsune shifted, raising his legs and planting his feet on the bed, bringing his knees close to Noritsune’s chest. “There, does that help?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’ll work,” Noritsune gripped her left knee and used it to help him grind and bounce on her cock, using his right hand to start stroking his own dick. Yoshitsune’s view was limited, but she could see his arm jerking up and down, and there was something about only seeing that motion and not him actually touching his cock that added to the experience. It added to the tease and built up anticipation, made him ache more for what he was missing out on.

With better leverage, Noritsune rode her cock much easier, sliding up and down quicker and harder. Whines mixed in with his panting as he slammed his hips down to meet Yoshitsune’s, hand clenching on his knee each time he dragged himself up. He was getting close-even with his limited view, Yoshitsune could tell. Not wanting to miss it, Yoshitsune raised herself up and plastered herself to Noritsune’s back, hooking her chin over his shoulder to catch the action.

“Haha, see?” Noritsune chuckled, “I knew you’d be all over me.” Yoshitsune fucked up into him sharply in response, hiding a smile against his shoulder. “Fuck, okay,” Noritsune picked up the pace, stroking himself faster. Yoshitsune gripped his hips tightly, using her hold to help fuck up into him harder, feeling the strap drag deliciously against her clit with each thrust. He watched as Noritsune fucked into his fist, dripping precum easing the way. Noritsune’s breath wheezed out of him, his thighs clenched, his cock twitched, and Yoshitsune knew this was it.

With a moan, Noritsune tossed his head back onto Yoshitsune’s shoulder and came. Yoshitsune soothed him through it, running his hands up his sides, kissing his shoulder and neck. “That was amazing, Noritsune,” she praised when Noritsune’s breathing had returned to normal and his body had stopped shivering from the aftershocks.

“I knew you’d love it,” Noritsune grinned. Yoshitsune hummed in agreement, scraping her nails along Noritsune’s skin, nipping at her husband’s neck. Noritsune sighed and submitted himself to the sensations-he knew Yoshitsune was winding him up for a second round. She hadn’t come yet, and she was almost never satisfied with making him come only once. She’d better be okay with him laying down or something, because he was not going to be able to ride her again. Eventually, his cock stiffened back up, half hard and apparently enough for them to be ready to move on.

Yoshitsune began repositioning himself, bringing his knees back down to the bed and raising himself up, nudging Noritsune forward until he all but fell out of his lap, hands and knees planted on the bed and Yoshitsune right behind him, standing up on his knees, one hand still clinging to his hip and cock still buried in Noritsune’s ass. The transition was so smooth that Noritsune needed a second to realize what had happened. “How long were you planning this move?” he accused good-naturedly.

“I don’t know, it was more like instinct,” Yoshitsune said. Without any fanfare, he started rocking into Noritsune, dragging his cock out until only the tip remained before nudging back inside, setting a slow, gentle pace so as not to instantly overwhelm Noritsune just yet.

“I hope you know how terrifying you are,” Noritsune said amidst his panting. He pitched back into each thrust, easily matching her energy. “It’s scary how much of a natural you are at this.”

“So are you though,” Yoshitsune finally gave into his urge to play with Noritsune’s hair and grasped a fistfull of pink strands above his hair tie, using that grip to help tug Noritsune back onto his cock.

“Just undo it already,” Noritsune huffed, amused, head tipped up slightly to lighten the strain against his scalp while still keeping his neck on display enough for Yoshitsune.

“It looks good like this, though, and I thought that was the whole point,” she argued, picking up the pace. All of him looked good, really: his back had a delicious arch to it that showcased his powerful, lithe body, the sweat coating his body casted an alluring glistening effect to his pale skin, his hole was clenched tightly on her cock, and of course, Yoshitsune’s own hand buried in in his hair, fingers tangled with hot pink strands added to the obscene sight.

It all had Yoshitsune moving faster, adjusting to angle the strap better against his clit gut tightening as the knock of leather against the sensitive nub had him drawing closer to release. He must have skimmed across Noritsune’s prostrate, too, because his husband jerked with a moan before aiming his thrusts back against that spot. Yoshitsune helped make sure both bundles of nerves were being hit dead on, hand a bruising force on Noritsune’s hip, her pelvis slapping against Noritsune’s ass. “Yoshi-Yoshitsune! Fuck, right there, keep going! Noritsune babbled. All Yoshitsune could do was obey, ramming her hips forward desperately.

A few more thrusts and Yoshitsune was there, fire licking up her spine, stars bursting behind her eyes. His hand tightened in Noritsune’s hair, unbidden, in his pleasure, nearly yanking his head back, and that seemed to be enough to set him off too, groaning and jerking his hips erratically as he rode his orgasm out, which in turn helped Yoshitsune extend hers.

At last-sated, exhausted, and thoroughly drenched in sweat-they collapsed next to each other in bed, Yoshitsune taking care to gently pull out of Noritsune. His hair tie had come undone at some point, gossamer hair fanning out freely, and Yoshitsune couldn’t help but run her fingers through it a couple of times. Noritsune allowed the indulgence before he turned around to face his wife.

Looking at Noritsune head on after only getting teasing glimpses earlier, Yoshitsune felt, weirdly, like he’d just come home from a long trip. Noritsune must have felt the same way, because he sighed at the sight of him and stared back like he was drinking him in. Later, they’d take care of the mess, put everything from the market away, and find some way to deal with the heat. But for now, all that existed was them and the space between.