#'china just made a ROAD TO THE WORLD'

[lokigodofaces]

before i had star wars bad lip reading stuck in my head, now i have the jingles from history of the entire world, i guess stuck in my head

#'THE SUN IS A DEADLY LASER' 'not anymore there's a blanket' #'something's alive in the ocean' #'it's a bird it's a plane it's the seljuk turks' #'EGYPT also CHINA also INDUS RIVER VALLEY' *list of civilizations being mesopotamia egypt china indus river valley & now norte chico 'NORTE #CHICO' #'merchants probably. and they've got SPICES' #'AFRICA' #'taste the sun' #'space dust' 'EVEN CRAZIER SPACE DUST' #'china just made a ROAD TO THE WORLD' #'is loving jesus legal yet?' #'IT'S THE ISLAMIC GOLDEN AGE' #'SOCIETY' #'the mayans have FIGURED OUT THE STARS' #liv won't shut up #history of the entire world i guess #'time to conquer all of india. or most of india.' #'NEW ARRIVALS IN INDIA. maybe they're those horse people i was talking about or their cousins or something. & they brought hymns and #mantras and stuff' #'sike they both get angrier' #'THAT'S LAND' #'bye bye ocean'

[dykepuffs]

How Do I Make My Fictional Gypsies Not Racist?

(Or, "You can't, sorry, but…")

You want to include some Gypsies in your fantasy setting. Or, you need someone for your main characters to meet, who is an outsider in the eyes of the locals, but who already lives here. Or you need a culture in conflict with your settled people, or who have just arrived out of nowhere. Or, you just like the idea of campfires in the forest and voices raised in song. And you’re about to step straight into a muckpile of cliches and, accidentally, write something racist.

(In this, I am mostly using Gypsy as an endonym of Romany people, who are a subset of the Romani people, alongside Roma, Sinti, Gitano, Romanisael, Kale, etc, but also in the theory of "Gypsying" as proposed by Lex and Percy H, where Romani people are treated with a particular mix of orientalism, criminalisation, racialisation, and othering, that creates "The Gypsy" out of both nomadic peoples as a whole and people with Romani heritage and racialised physical features, languages, and cultural markers)

Enough of my friends play TTRPGs or write fantasy stories that this question comes up a lot - They mention Dungeons and Dragons’ Curse Of Strahd, World Of Darkness’s Gypsies, World Of Darkness’s Ravnos, World of Darkness’s Silent Striders… And they roll their eyes and say “These are all terrible! But how can I do it, you know, without it being racist?”

And their eyes are big and sad and ever so hopeful that I will tell them the secret of how to take the Roma of the real world and place them in a fictional one, whilst both appealing to gorjer stereotypes of Gypsies and not adding to the weight of stereotyping that already crushes us. So, disappointingly, there is no secret.

Gypsies, like every other real-world culture, exist as we do today because of interactions with cultures and geography around us: The living waggon, probably the archetypal thing which gorjer writers want to include in their portrayals of nomads, is a relatively modern invention - Most likely French, and adopted from French Showmen by Romanies, who brought it to Britain. So already, that’s a tradition that only spans a small amount of the time that Gypsies have existed, and only a small number of the full breadth of Romani ways of living. But the reasons that the waggon is what it is are based on the real world - The wheels are tall and iron-rimmed, because although you expect to travel on cobbled, tarmac, or packed-earth roads and for comparatively short distances, it wasn’t rare to have to ford a river in Britain in the late nineteenth century, on country roads. They were drawn by a single horse, and the shape of that horse was determined by a mixture of local breeds - Welsh cobs, fell ponies, various draft breeds - as well as by the aesthetic tastes of the breeders. The stove inside is on the left, so that as you move down a British road, the chimney sticks up into the part where there will be the least overhanging branches, to reduce the chance of hitting it.

So taking a fictional setting that looks like (for example) thirteenth century China (with dragons), and placing a nineteenth century Romanichal family in it will inevitably result in some racist assumptions being made, as the answer to “Why does this culture do this?” becomes “They just do it because I want them to” rather than having a consistent internal logic.

Some stereotypes will always follow nomads - They appear in different forms in different cultures, but they always arise from the settled people's same fears: That the nomads don't share their values, and are fundamentally strangers. Common ones are that we have a secret language to fool outsiders with, that we steal children and disguise them as our own, that our sexual morals are shocking (This one has flipped in the last half century - From the Gypsy Lore Society's talk of the lascivious Romni seductress who will lie with a strange man for a night after a 'gypsy wedding', to today's frenzied talk of 'grabbing' and sexually-conservative early marriages to ensure virginity), that we are supernatural in some way, and that we are more like animals than humans. These are tropes where if you want to address them, you will have to address them as libels - there is no way to casually write a baby-stealing, magical succubus nomad without it backfiring onto real life Roma. (The kind of person who has the skills to write these tropes well, is not the kind of person who is reading this guide.)

It’s too easy to say a list of prescriptive “Do nots”, which might stop you from making the most common pitfalls, but which can end up with your nomads being slightly flat as you dance around the topics that you’re trying to avoid, rather than being a rich culture that feels real in your world.

So, here are some questions to ask, to create your nomadic people, so that they will have a distinctive culture of their own that may (or may not) look anything like real-world Romani people: These aren't the only questions, but they're good starting points to think about before you make anything concrete, and they will hopefully inspire you to ask MORE questions.

First - Why are they nomadic? Nobody moves just to feel the wind in their hair and see a new horizon every morning, no matter what the inspirational poster says. Are they transhumant herders who pay a small rent to graze their flock on the local lord’s land? Are they following migratory herds across common land, being moved on by the cycle of the seasons and the movement of their animals? Are they seasonal workers who follow man-made cycles of labour: Harvests, fairs, religious festivals? Are they refugees fleeing a recent conflict, who will pass through this area and never return? Are they on a regular pilgrimage? Do they travel within the same area predictably, or is their movement governed by something that is hard to predict? How do they see their own movements - Do they think of themselves as being pushed along by some external force, or as choosing to travel? Will they work for and with outsiders, either as employees or as partners, or do they aim to be fully self-sufficient? What other jobs do they do - Their whole society won’t all be involved in one industry, what do their children, elderly, disabled people do with their time, and is it “work”?

If they are totally isolationist - How do they produce the things which need a complex supply chain or large facilities to make? How do they view artefacts from outsiders which come into their possession - Things which have been made with technology that they can’t produce for themselves? (This doesn’t need to be anything about quality of goods, only about complexity - A violin can be made by one artisan working with hand tools, wood, gut and shellac, but an accordion needs presses to make reeds, metal lathes to make screws, complex organic chemistry to make celluloid lacquer, vulcanised rubber, and a thousand other components)

How do they feel about outsiders? How do they buy and sell to outsiders? If it’s seen as taboo, do they do it anyway? Do they speak the same language as the nearby settled people (With what kind of fluency, or bilingualism, or dialect)? Do they intermarry, and how is that viewed when it happens? What stories does this culture tell about why they are a separate people to the nearby settled people? Are those stories true? Do they have a notional “homeland” and do they intend to go there? If so, is it a real place?

What gorjers think of as classic "Gipsy music" is a product of our real-world situation. Guitar from Spain, accordions from the Soviet Union (Which needed modern machining and factories to produce and make accessible to people who weren't rich- and which were in turn encouraged by Soviet authorities preferring the standardised and modern accordion to the folk traditions of the indigenous peoples within the bloc), brass from Western classical traditions, via Balkan folk music, influences from klezmer and jazz and bhangra and polka and our own music traditions (And we influence them too). What are your people's musical influences? Do they make their own instruments or buy them from settled people? How many musical traditions do they have, and what are they all for (Weddings, funerals, storytelling, campfire songs, entertainment...)? Do they have professional musicians, and if so, how do those musicians earn money? Are instrument makers professionals, or do they use improvised and easy-to-make instruments like willow whistles, spoons, washtubs, etc? (Of course the answer can be "A bit of both")

If you're thinking about jobs - How do they work? Are they employed by settled people (How do they feel about them?) Are they self employed but providing services/goods to the settled people? Are they mostly avoidant of settled people other than to buy things that they can't produce themselves? Are they totally isolationist? Is their work mostly subsistence, or do they create a surplus to sell to outsiders? How do they interact with other workers nearby? Who works, and how- Are there 'family businesses', apprentices, children with part time work? Is it considered 'a job' or just part of their way of life? How do they educate their children, and is that considered 'work'? How old are children when they are considered adult, and what markers confer adulthood? What is considered a rite of passage?

When they travel, how do they do it? Do they share ownership of beasts of burden, or each individually have "their horse"? Do families stick together or try to spread out? How does a child begin to live apart from their family, or start their own family? Are their dwellings something that they take with them, or do they find places to stay or build temporary shelter with disposable material? Who shares a dwelling and why? What do they do for privacy, and what do they think privacy is for?

If you're thinking about food - Do they hunt? Herd? Forage? Buy or trade from settled people? Do they travel between places where they've sown crops or managed wildstock in previous years, so that when they arrive there is food already seeded in the landscape? How do they feel about buying food from settled people, and is that common? If it's frowned upon - How much do people do it anyway? How do they preserve food for winter? How much food do they carry with them, compared to how much they plan to buy or forage at their destinations? How is food shared- Communal stores, personal ownership?

Why are they a "separate people" to the settled people? What is their creation myth? Why do they believe that they are nomadic and the other people are settled, and is it correct? Do they look different? Are there legal restrictions on them settling? Are there legal restrictions on them intermixing? Are there cultural reasons why they are a separate people? Where did those reasons come from? How long have they been travelling? How long do they think they've been travelling? Where did they come from? Do they travel mostly within one area and return to the same sites predictably, or are they going to move on again soon and never come back?

And then within that - What about the members of their society who are "unusual" in some way: How does their society treat disabled people? (are they considered disabled, do they have that distinction and how is it applied?) How does their society treat LGBT+ people? What happens to someone who doesn't get married and has no children? What happens to someone who 'leaves'? What happens to young widows and widowers? What happens if someone just 'can't fit in'? What happens to someone who is adopted or married in? What happens to people who are mixed race, and in a fantasy setting to people who are mixed species? What is taboo to them and what will they find shocking if they leave? What is society's attitude to 'difference' of various kinds?

Basically, if you build your nomads from the ground-up, rather than starting from the idea of "I want Gypsies/Buryats/Berbers/Minceiri but with the numbers filed off and not offensive" you can end up with a rich, unique nomadic culture who make sense in your world and don't end up making a rod for the back of real-world cultures.

#worldbuilding #world building #fantasy races #racism in fiction #nomads #romani stuff

[kingkatsuki]

Just more silly little Bakugou thoughts because I’m insane :)

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant.

Bakugou has such big, rough hands but he holds you so cautiously when you’re pregnant. As though the same hands that were built to protect you, could do you the most harm. It’s cute really, the way he treats you like the finest bone china, enveloping you in bubble wrap to try and shield you from all the horrors of the world. Protecting the now two most important things in his life.

“I’m not even showing yet, baby.” You laugh when he places a protective palm over your tummy as you prepare to cross the road together as a bike races by, “The paps are gonna find out before we’ve even told anyone.”

“Don’t fuckin’ care,” He scoffs, letting you lace your fingers with the hand that was against your stomach as you begin to cross the road together, “You’re the most important thing in my life— both of you are— of course I’m gonna protect you.”

“You’re such a sap,” You tease, squeezing his hand softly as he shoots you a playful glare.

“A sap that fucked a baby into you.” He gives you a smug grin when you reach your other hand up to smack his arm, shrinking back as he pretended to be scared of your assault, “Oi! Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean I won’t bend you over my knee, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that how we got into this in the first place.” You laughed as he rolled his eyes at you playfully.

Bakugou pushed the door to the doctors surgery open with his free hand as he held it high so you could walk in beneath his arm, waiting for you to get checked in as he slid into the seat beside you, “We get a photo of her this time, right?”

“Her?” You turned to Bakugou with curious eyes.

“Yeah, I mean or him,” He shrugged.

“Dynamight wants a little girl, huh?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” He smiled, “But anything would be perfect if it’s with you.”

Most would think that the Dynamight wouldn’t take to fatherhood; a man who was far too brash and volatile to take on such a nurturing role. You were certain you could see the scathing headlines now, watching and waiting to see him fail. But you knew better— you got to experience the way he protected you.

Bakugou is there to help you out of the tub after enjoying a bubble bath that he prepared, because although you always deserved to be pampered it’s tenfold now that you’re carrying his child. Wrapping a towel around your frame as he presses a kiss to your forehead, drying off your skin as he stands with you in the steamy bathroom. Taking in every gorgeous curve that’s more accentuated and pronounced now you’ve got that ethereal, dewy glow that you get when you’re creating another human.

He’s so gentle when he drops down to his knees, as though he’s ready to worship every inch of you— and he is. Slowly smoothing lotion into the ever growing bump that’s starting to show more and more each day, confessing your worries about stretch marks to Bakugou who now made it his mission to massage your bump each evening, “We’re going to have to tell your mum soon, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbles, smoothing the cream into your skin as he presses his lips against the ever-growing bump.

“I won’t be able to hide it much longer, and she’ll kill you if she finds out from the news.” You carded your fingers through his messy spikes as he nuzzled your tummy, creamy hands still smoothing along your skin as he stared up at you with crimson eyes.

“I just want to enjoy you like this a bit longer,” He mumbled, pressing a kiss against your ever growing bump, “Then we can show her the scan.”

#soft bakugou

[cheriladycl01]

Surrounded by Ice - Kimi Raikkonen x FigureSkater! Reader

Plot: The Iceman just surrounds himself with Ice in every aspect of his life

A/N: Just a short little Kimi drabble, more exciting stuff coming soon, just been swamped with Uni!

Credit to summerblueringo for the GIF

"How does it feel to bring home a gold medal for your country, again?" the interviewer asks and a big grin appears on your face.

"I mean, i love the sport and I've worked hard to get where I am. I think this year there were many other contestants who also deserved gold and everyone who took part today were amazing!" you keep smiling, it had been a really amazing set for you today. You'd even broke some records while here.

"And now what is your plan?" they ask holding the mic closer to you.

"Well my husband is waiting for me, just over there. So i think he wants to give me his congratulations" you say pointing out our stoic looking husband who was waiting in the background, keeping to himself watching the world go past.

"Ah yes, Kimi Raikkonen! The Ice Man, who arguably married Queen of the Ice" he jokes making you laugh a little. You had heard similar jokes many times since you'd married Kimi.

"Yes, obviously being here in South Korea for the Winter Olympics has been amazing, and I'll be sure to train hard for 2022 but now I'm needed to go support my lovely lovely husband in his fast cars" you exclaim, knowing that the Australian Grand Prix was round the corner.

"Ah yes, it's looking like a good season for Ferrari! And we can tell from your outfit today they already have your support"

"My support is for whatever team my husband is in, so Ferrari have had my support since Kimi has raced with them!"

You left the interview thanking your team before finding Kimi waiting for you quietly.

"Home?" you ask and he nods silently grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the arena.

"You were fantastic today!" he smiles, holding you and pulling you into a kiss.

"Yeah? You liked the new twist i did?" you ask, your routine today being one of the hardest you'd ever done. You mascara had infact started to run, from the sweat building on your forehead throughout the day.

"I like everything you do"

You guys both went back to the hotel, packing up all of your gear that had been here for the past month you'd stayed in Korea for. Once you were sure you hadn't left anything behind you made your way to the airport.

Kimi now only had a month until Australia, his personal trainer had come with you to Korea to help him train while he was out there supporting you.

Now, you'd train while you were travelling with Kimi. Finding ice while on the road with him was always difficult, but finding places to just work out and keep your fitness up was never hard as you'd train alongside Kimi. It was one of the ways to spend extra time with him during the season when he was most busy.

In the free month before Australia you started your research on where you could go in Melbourne to skate, you found somewhere that Kimi was happy with you going too as it wasn't too far from the hotel you'd be staying in or the race track for if anything went wrong.

"Will you watch me on the Sunday though?" he'd asked you as you were both lying in bed the night before you were due to fly to Australia.

"When have I ever not?" you ask, turning over in bed to look at him.

"Hmmm, I can for sure think of one time..." he smirks looking over you.

"If your talking about China, almost 10 years ago that doesn't even count!" you laugh, poking his cheek a little.

Your husband never failed to amaze you, his striking blue eyes and his soft blonde hair was what initially drew you in. But it was your first interaction with him that made you fall for him fully.

It was the Autumn of 2008 and you were 22 and you had just won your second Gold Medal in China, you'd stayed there for the months after the games as they left the Beijing Olympic Park open and it seemed like a good place to stay and to train.

You managed to get tickets to other sporting events in the months you stayed there such as Snow Boarding, Golf but the best one was when the Chinese Grand Prix came about.

You were active on the socials you had back then, and so it wasn't hard for Sauber BMW to reach out to you and give you a guest pass.

You'd been walking round the paddock, just investigating when you'd bumped right into the Finnish Ferrari driver. He had just stared at you while holding a tight grip on your wrist so you didn't fall over.

You remember him asking if you were okay, and some other questions that you hadn't heard fully as your brain had gone foggy at the sound of his soft, yet deep voice.

It was a little embarrassing, when he'd tried to speak Finnish to you, and then decided on English, but with no reply he was left stumped and awkwardly standing there.

He'd soon left after that but you were on each other's minds for the whole day. You tried to keep up conversations with the BMW drivers Robert and Nick but your mind kept drifting the the Finnish Driver for Ferrari.

He found you after the race, and just stared at you for a while before you made the first move speaking to him. And the rest was history.

You spent the next 5 years together as partners, it was convenient for someone like Kimi who raced all through the year apart from summer and winter to end up with someone in a sport who only competed for a month in the summer and winter. It meant that they also still got a break with each other.

After 5 years, Kimi let the big question unload and now you'd been married for 5 years.

"Of course, my love! You know that!" you smile, pulling him closer to you. You tuck yourself into his surprisingly warm embrace, considering his nickname was 'Iceman' he was the warmest person you'd ever had the privilege of meeting.

"I was thinking ..." he breathes, his voice a little higher and whiny than normal.

"Mmmmm, you don't do that often?" you tease, a hand running up and down his back.

"Well, I'm the ice man, your the Ice Queen... i was thinking maybe it's time we have an Ice Baby?" he whispers in the softest most unsure tone you'd ever heard.

"You think now's a good time?" you ask, and thinking about it... it was. You yourself had two years before the next Olympics in 2020, and Kimi was at a point in his career where he could leave and live comfortably if he needed and wanted to.

"I haven't told you this, but they want the Sauber kid in my spot. I'll be going to Alpha Romeo next year. I feel like I've done what i can and I've had my time in the sport... and we aren't getting any younger. Especially me..." he jokes, being 44 now.

"Mmmmmm I think now is the perfect time" you smile.

Flash forward to the Austin Grand Prix and you were 6 months pregnant. You'd already announced it and so many people were excited for you and Kimi, through the season he had loads of interviews. All against his will of course but people saw a different side to him when he talked about you and the soon to be baby.

It was a great race for Kimi in Austin, he pulled through with his first win of the season, valuable points that helped contribute towards his position in the drivers standings.

"So Kimi, first win of the season today! How are you feeling?" an interviewer asks, he was sat in a panel with some of the other drivers in a debrief.

"It was good to get a win, this season has been tough. We've had an interesting year with veteran drivers like myself, Seb, Fernando and Lewis being pushed by newer or younger drivers who are proving to be good competition like Charles, Max and Pierre" he answers.

"There have been rumors that you wont be here with us next season?" he pushes and Kimi roles his eyes.

"If I'm not it's not an issue... racing is my hobby that i get paid to do. I'll leave when i want to" he admits without letting anything slip that Ferrari wouldn't want to come public knowledge.

"Lets move on to you Lewis..."

And for the rest of the interview all he could think of was coming back to you.

Once your daughter was born in January before the start of the 2019 season and Kimi moving to Alfa Romeo everyone on the grid wanted to meet her. So of course, you were obligated to come to Australia for pre-season testing. Your 3 month old being so intrigued at the busy rush of everything around her.

She was a fan and driver fav around. Everyone had a picture with her and introduced themselves as her uncle and that they would look after her. People like Lewis, Seb and Charles all came with little gifts for her, Seb even had someone make her a custom team Ferrari top so she could fit in with her father and her Uncle Sebastian.

"Today was amazing!" you sighed as you leaned into your husband who currently held your daughter against his bare chest.

"Mmmm, I think you should both take a break though, at least until Summer break and join me afterwards" he smiles, knowing that the heavy time change from Monaco to Australia wasn't good for your or the baby.

"Well, I may as well come to Bahrain with you... its on the way back. But I will leave after that" you smile, pulling him in for a kiss.

"I love you, thank you for giving me this life" he smiles looking between you and his daughter.

"I wouldn't have it any of way" you grin.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkönen #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen one shot #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen imagine

[lunarw0rks]

Old Bones | Chapter Eleven

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): PTSD/abuse themes, explicit content (18+), strong language, depictions of nightmares/panic attacks, hurt/comfort, smut, p in v sex, unprotected s*x, hehe

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: Watch by Billie Eilish + Fine Line by Harry Styles inspired this chapter. Not proofread entirely, so don't mind mistakes. Enjoy!

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | ao3 ver. | playlist ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

Watch Me Burn

“Think this is the last of it.” Simon huffs, setting down the last box.

You were finally back there, standing in the middle of the home Cal and you once shared. Selling it was too much of a hassle, and it was decently sized. Perhaps it was a calm before a storm; how tranquil you felt standing in the middle of the entrance hall. Or the kitchen, the dining room, worst of all—the bedroom.

But you were here now, and he was soon to be cremated. There was no room for dwelling, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. And Simon? His awkwardness has been well disguised if there is any left by now.

The drunken kiss—it was just that; a drunken kiss.

With the horrible shit you two had been through to land you here, unresolved tension became the new way of communicating. You began to think you both fed on the chaos like if things were too calm, the world would implode.

“Thank you.” You say, playing with the new house keys. Internally, you were showing gratitude for more than just him moving a few boxes, it was how resilient he had been, despite all your baggage and unpredictability.

He merely nods, reaching into his pocket for his carton of cigarettes. He was going to leave you to do… whatever it was you needed to do in order to be comfortable here. Simon hadn’t expected you to ever want to be back here, to want to spend your new riches on travel.

However, if Simon learned anything about you during these months; life on the road didn’t suit you, especially not with him. And in truth, he had no plans once you got settled here. At first, he was going to move straight to his next op, forget about this one.

It was abundantly clear he was well past self-control, though. That’s what frightened him the most.

You turned yourself in a circle a few times, admiring the high ceilings and decor still left behind. It was the same as Christmas Eve, only the evidence of Cal’s tantrum had been long cleaned up. He really wasn’t here when he was hunting you—he had sent a housesitter, most likely, given the fact that there wasn’t a speck of dust in the main living area.

There were only small reminders; the scuffs on the hardwood, the dents by the china cabinet, and a nasty scratch in the dining table from the night you left. You’d be lying if looking at the damages didn’t paint a vivid image of each blow that causes them.

When you gazed at the scuffed hardwood, you remembered the way he flipped the table the first time you fought. Then, the china cabinet—merely a cabinet of things for him to hurl in your direction. Worst of all, the dining table with a scratch from the knife you grabbed, scraping across the oak when he dragged you across it.

In each small area, you were rewatching the moment as a numb spectator, as if you had a third-person viewing of your fight for your life.

You hadn’t realized, but you had been literally walking down memory lane, physically tracing your fingertips along each reminder. “Found this in the truck, must’ve fallen out of your bag.” His sudden presence startled you, but it was a blessing. Any longer, and you would’ve probably ripped up the real estate papers and kept moving.

He was outstretching one of your necklaces, one you definitely didn’t want to be left behind. “Thank you,” you said it again, a double entendre barely concealed with your wavering voice. His poker face made it hard to decipher his awareness—for all you knew he could be feeling nothing towards you.

Simon’s eyes found the dent in the wall, recalling just how long your fingertips skimmed it, the nauseous look on your face. He debated on this next move, but his feet found a position behind you anyway since you didn’t take the jewelry from him yet.

“I hate the carpet. And everything in the dining room.” His subtle breath was the only thing alerting you of his close proximity, or you probably wouldn’t have even noticed. Two hands came in front of you, opening the necklace and slowly wrapping it around the base of your neck. If you hadn’t just been morbidly reminiscing, perhaps your breathing would’ve changed a bit.

He clicked the necklace in place, his gruff voice gentle and appreciative, “so get rid of it all.” It was almost a whisper like he was giving you the permission you didn’t need but were so obviously asking him for. It was your home to renovate, not his.

Simon’s breath smelled of fresh cigarette smoke, lingering in a cloud around you even after his simple words concluded. A hand lingered on your shoulder, giving it a small pat, before he retreated out to the untouched living room.

There was no sense in keeping the reminders, and none of it was to your taste. It was time to get to work if you had any shot of moving on from Cal.

Once you got started, you found it hard to stop.

Tearing out furniture and ripping up the carpet was surprisingly therapeutic, even with the emotional baggage the material things carried. The place was empty, but not understimulating. To you, it was a pleasing blank canvas you had full power to refurbish and leave the old behind. Cleaning up the mess was just an afterthought, but soothing to your soreness from all the handy work.

Of course, Simon would carry heavy things out, or assist in moving something for you. But when you were aggressively hammering a nail and grunting? He… found it beneficial to stay out of your way, with no clue whose face you might’ve been picturing while doing it.

The kitchen was shockingly tidy; the fridge was empty, as were the cabinets. You tackled that room last, disinfecting and placing the few food items you brought with you. Of course, it was a depressing sight; all those cabinets with only a few canned items and some granola bars. On the bright side, you’d only ever seen Simon eat once, so he wasn’t your worry.

Groceries would be a task for tomorrow. For now, you need to rest your legs and feet.

Simon claimed the spare room, which once was Cal’s office. You peered inside of it when you strolled down the hall—he had already laid out a blanket and pillow on the daybed. It was nice enough, for someone like him, at least.

You were taking advantage of the king-sized bed, though. Not one night in your marriage, did you ever get it to yourself. Sometimes you would snuggle in it, hopeful that this would be the night Cal didn’t come up the stairs and join you—or more commonly, that he would be too drunk to drive home.

He never was, of course; a natural buzzkill and energy vampire.

But it was yours now, the whole master bedroom. It had the nicest view of all the rooms; two large windows above the nightstand that overlooked the street, the bed in between them, and a fireplace seating area in the corner. Not that you ever needed this much room, or could even fill the space with all your belongings, but you had earned the right to spoil yourself. It was your home as much as it was his, even though it didn’t feel that way with Cal.

You practically expelled all the air in your lungs, the second your back hit the plush mattress. You sprawled out, almost in a starfish position as you looked around at your new room. The walls had always been kept white, as did the sheets—allowing you to picture it entirely renovated, to your design taste.

Though, if you had another minute of thinking about renovation, you would’ve lost your mind. You hadn’t even taken off your shoes, and your eyes were fluttering shut. In all honesty, you were too worn out to care about the position you were in, or the shoes still on your feet.

—

You sat up in the bed, feeling yourself in the exact position you had snoozed. You looked at the alarm clock to your right, red numbers being one of the only sources of light.

12:32 AM

Clearly, you needed it, because you hadn’t even moved in your sleep, or pulled the covers up. You reached up a hand, rubbing your tired eyes. Of course, you were now wide awake at midnight. Just your luck.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, embraced by the softness of the bed beneath you. A warm tingle was overtaking you like you were taking a soothing shower or bath. It was perfect… Too good to be true, right?

The bedroom was the same, nothing disturbed. But, as comforting as it was, something was off balance. There was no faint sound of the TV downstairs or the occasional clearing of his throat, only the white noise of the AC.

Now that you’ve moved and gathered your bearings—it was icy cold, more than what could be blowing from the vents. And… there was a mumble growing louder; a man’s voice you couldn’t decipher from your room.

Your legs swung off the edge of the bed, taking an instinctual look over your shoulder as if searching for the source of this ill feeling. There was no monster in the shadows, or a hand from under the bed grasping at your ankle. Not even the feeling of a presence—but you knew there was one. Who was talking, at this hour? The confusion made your brows knit, and your mouth hang open slightly.

Normally, you would’ve just got up and investigated the sound. But, getting to your feet was taking some courage right now, and you were moving about half the speed you would any other time. When you turned your head toward the bathroom, the door was still open—the washroom was nothing but a pitch-black abyss right now.

And the closet? You were too shaky to go in that direction, shaking your head at the idea immediately. That left the door in and out of the bedroom, where the muffle was coming from somewhere in the home.

You fingered the brumal knob, feeling it sting against your steaming flesh. The air was cold, causing goosebumps, but you were simultaneously burning up from a feeling of impending doom. The hinges cracked, almost sounding similar to the low-octave male voice still audible.

The door opened and it was… the hallway. The same way it was when you went to sleep, only illuminated by one of the sconces. Still, the sound was coming from the spare room. When you looked, there was a near-blinding light coming from under the door.

A hushed, growly whisper went past you—no, through you, like a stranger passing you on the street while speaking. You shivered again, eyes darting down each side of the hall. Down the steps, it was like the master bath, a dark abyss you didn’t want to trek through.

That left the spare room in all its blinding glory, and whoever, whatever was behind the door. This time, you pushed forward with all the speed you could muster. Not even a light jog, as if you had the weight of the Earth constricting your joints.

The muffle got louder, even overbearing when you opened the door to the spare room. It wasn’t the empty room with stray boxes and tools—it wasn’t your house at all. You squinted and held up your forearm to shield the light, taking several seconds for your eyes to adjust. It was the large windows—those large windows from the office building. And now, you could hear the voice clearer now.

You turned the corner and saw yourself. The moment Cal was creeping up on you, touching your waist. Though you were watching it from a different angle, seemingly watching it play out the same way it happened—it wasn’t. The woman you were watching, she wasn’t moving, not budging against his hands. She was… just standing there, white-knuckling the glass of whiskey her husband poured for her. He leaned closer, and as he tightened the grip on her waist, you felt two hands on yours, two that felt very lucid. So tight you felt like the assailant had sharp claws.

You could smell him; the stench of whiskey and cruelty warm on your neck. But you couldn’t speak, not scream, or resist. Just like the replay of the day he died, you were standing there like her, the guilt of being weak-kneed made you sick.

He could’ve clawed you in half, how harshly he was holding you in place. It was like a mockery of watching what would’ve happened if you didn’t break the glass over his head—and he was making you watch. Every second, every struggle, every cruel thing Cal would’ve said if you let him touch you.

This wasn’t you. You wanted to bellow at her to fight him, and more so at yourself for not making a run for it. Why couldn’t you move? Despite his hands feeling like they were going to tear you in half? It was pure humiliation—the woman in front of you that once got off the kitchen floor on Christmas Eve, now a face of blood and bone.

You turned around slowly, feeling salty tears go from your face all the way down to your lips.

His sneer would’ve been seen for miles—the sadism written on Cal’s face as if he was still feeding on your tears, even in death, even in your dreams. It wasn’t just his mortal face, it was the one he was left with in death—a spewing bullet wound through the forehead soaking you in his blood.

You could taste it after a few seconds, the metallic taste coating your face and body the closer he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, just like the day they did in the office. The crimson was filling your mouth, causing you to hack and reach for your throat.

Your shoes squeaked against the marble floor of the office, looking down and seeing gallons of the stuff pooling. You could feel his blood trickle and seep into the fabric of your clothes, in the whites of your eyes with an excruciating burn.

As badly as you wanted to call out his name, your mouth was too coated to get the words out. It was hot, so hot it made you stumble. Your vision was gone—replaced by the blood that flooded your irises. You felt yourself nearly fall, as you ripped yourself from his grip.

You were palming through the ruby of your vision, arms outstretched. Though you couldn’t see, you could still feel him looming over you, watching in amusement as the pools of blood squelched under your feet.

Then, you felt your hands grip something, or someone. You hung on for dear life, blinking away the currant that washed your vision. It still seared, still coated your throat and face, but you could finally make out the figure; Simon.

You blinked rapidly, a chest cough followed by more blood as you watched him. He was staring straight ahead at first, until he felt you beating on his chest, yanking on the fabric of his clothes, just like you had done when strangled. The lifeless version of Cal, he had fizzled out the second Simon approached, nowhere to be seen in the shadows of the office anymore. As well as the alternate version of Cal and you—they were gone too.

Left in the room, it was you and Simon. One soaked with blood, gasping for breath. The other was tattered and seething at the sight.

Simon’s eyes widened as if he had just now noticed you. His hulking, veiny hands are outstretched, cupping each side of your saturated face, taking a step closer to you. Under the mask, you could see the fabric move, like he was speaking to you—but your sound was muffled again.

You plummet from a great height. Adrenaline-fueled rush courses through your veins, instantly jolting your senses awake. The wind roars past your ears with an ear-piercing howl. Your stomach clenches and churns, a sensation that feels like a roller coaster taking a wild descent. The feeling of weightlessness washes over you as if gravity has momentarily lost its grip, leaving you suspended in a free-falling void.

The pit of your stomach seems to drop with each passing moment as if trying to catch up to the plummeting rest of your body.

The blackness seizes hastily—your view is of widened amber eyes, and you can feel the same hands cupping your cheeks, just like the nightmare. The burn in your throat wasn’t from blood, it was from your screaming. The searing in your eyes, it was stemming from the tears streaming down your cheeks.

For the first few seconds, you were still half-in, half-out, pounding on his chest with all the shaky strength you could muster.

“Look at me, look at me.” Simon kept repeating it, only gripping the sides of your face faster. If he wasn’t restricting you, you were surely going to hurt yourself or him, so he had to. You were hyperventilating, still stuck in that dream-like state of terror and the threat of him attacking you. His pressing weight was caging you in place, no matter how much you yelped and thrashed to get running.

In a swift movement, Simon tugged at the edge of his mask, pulling it entirely off his head. “It’s me, it’s me!” He raised his voice, his identity now in your full sight. When he was wearing the mask, he probably appeared more like a masked intruder than a comforting soul—he had to snap you out of this, even if it meant breaking his own rules.

You could see him now; a chiseled jaw and protruding eyes cloaked by years of dark circles, a faint stubble across his chin, and that scar you had touched a few nights ago. It wasn’t an assailant or Cal, it was Simon.

Your hollers halted, now only quiet sobs against his chest. Everything in the dream felt so vivid, so real, lucid enough you were controlling your every movement, but not enough to rid yourself of the threat. The adrenaline you felt during the night terror left you unable to shut your eyes or stop wailing as if you were being actively hunted for sport.

“I’m sorry. It felt too real, Simon.” You whispered against his chest, one hand digging your nails deep into his bicep. His knees were on either side of your waist, anchoring you up enough to use him as a pillow. It seemed the only way he could successfully wake you was to straddle your frame, to cup your cheeks.

What he had done in the present, injected its way into the night terror—perhaps the reason it all felt too real.

“I know.” A calloused thumb stroked your cheek, his head resting against the crook of your neck. He didn’t need to ask the source of the nightmare, and he wasn’t going to. It was a natural reaction, being in this house all day reminded of your worst memories. You tried to hide it throughout the day, but Simon was too observant for his own good.

When he heard your shrieks in the next room, half-asleep on the daybed, he knew. This would’ve happened eventually. Just because Cal was dead, didn’t mean he was dead to you. His ghost still loomed in every room of that place, a constricting weight on your shoulders.

He had witnessed his fair share of adrenaline highs and experienced plenty on his own too. Only then, he didn’t have the luxury of a shoulder to cry on. There was no way in hell he would damn you to that same loneliness he had, no matter how much his inner voice bellowed at him to put the mask back on.

“Sit up, you won’t be so shaky.” Once hovering over you, he eased up, a gentle tug on your wrist to get you sitting up. Eyes still wide, tear stains on yourself and the fabrics of the bed. He looked behind him, seeing the armchair by the fireplace. Simon guided you to it, allowing you to sit down somewhere other than the bed occupied with memories.

He dropped to his knees in front of you slowly, a fist finding your ankle. You flashed a look of confusion, but you weren’t in any position to protest. It felt safe, despite the outward appearance Simon had—broody and dripping with masculinity.

His fingers found the tongue of the shoes you fell asleep wearing, pulling them off slowly.

“Better?” He asks, figuring out the answer quite quickly based on your silence. You nodded in response, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve. It felt the same as it did when you were younger; embarrassed for being afraid of a nightmare. It was just that—a nightmare, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel every bit of it.

The light from the hallway was the only thing allowing you to see his face; washed out by the golden tint of the light bulb, but pleasing to look at. “Thank you, Simon.” God, how many times you said it that day, probably too many times. He would never accept it, not since the beginning of this road, and especially not after what happened at the apartment.

But, without his mask, he didn’t have his usual safety net of anonymity. His face was as blank as you expected it would be, aside from the slight scowl on his lips. “Stop sayin’ that.” He wanted to get up, but his palm remained wrapped around your calf, gazing at you with confliction.

You tilted your head to the side, leaning against the backrest of the armchair, “yeah, but I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he replied, his speech still a mumble even without the mask, “that’s why I said not to.” Simon didn’t deserve the gratitude, as far as he was concerned. Especially not from you. The last thing on your mind should be thanking him, being kind to him, and even looking him in the eye. But you did—every single day.

“You know you don’t have to stay, right?” You asked, the flicker of the hall light still concealing his pout slightly. You didn’t mean here, you meant in general; he didn’t have to, but he always did. You inhaled sharply, feeling his thumb still caressing your calf soothingly. “And… I’m not upset with you. You have to know that, at least.”

Perhaps it was the fog in your mind or the nerves still working overdrive, but his silence was too still for your liking. It wasn’t distaste, it was his old habits keeping him from indulging.

The hand was removed quickly and placed back on his own knee. You heard the shuffle of his pant fabric like he was going to stand up and leave the bedroom. But he didn’t—his head dropped in the direction of the floor.

“Simon?” Your tone was hushed, eyes squinted with unsettle.

“Stop it.” He grumbled, the whites of his eyes still glowing within the dim lighting. Simon blinked slowly when he met your gaze again, unable to accept the perturb. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t. That much was obvious.

He heard you stammer, a sentence cut short when he spoke so firmly. “Stop being so fuckin’ nice to me.” Though the words themselves were harsh, it was nothing more than a defeated whisper—a plea to halt your tenderness before he lost all self-control.

What he desired was to find the mask he flung only minutes ago, slip it on, and slam the door behind him. His presence remained; a commanding voice, despite being the one kneeling in front of you. And you? Ever persistent, and he despised it with every fiber of his being.

You scoffed, but it was coming from a place of intense empathy.  “Am I supposed to scream at you? Beat you bloody?” The question hung in the air for a few seconds, followed by a snappy retort. He would never let himself relax, even feel, could he?

“No, you need to stop treating me like someone you deserve. You’re not that stupid.” Simon hissed with a slight roll of his eye. You clutched each armrest tightly, mouth slightly hung open from his self-pity.

His shell was breaking—the umbrage was just the last futile attempt at restricting you before it shattered completely. When that happened—and it would—he had but a clue about his next step. Why had he remained in this spot for so long, kneeling so closely to you?

“Why did you stay then? The night at the cabin, after Cal?” It surely wasn’t because he had to. You were onto him, and you weren’t going to let him go now, not unless he packed up and left right this second.

His stammer said enough, the tightened grip on his own appendage as if he was squeezing the reply from his own body. If he said what he wanted to, it wouldn’t be something cruel. He couldn’t be cold to you. That’s what frightened him the most.

You hunched forward slightly, a hovering hand on his shoulder. Simon tensed out of reflex, but didn’t physically stop you—he couldn’t anymore. Tonight was a breaking point, and his face had been in your sights for several minutes now.

“Don’t do this.” Finally, he gathered his bearings and clamped a hand around your wrist, the sheer size of his hand swallowing yours entirely. He let out a heavy breath, his glowing eyes burning holes into yours.

Your reply was as simple as blunt as you could muster; a one-worded question you’ve had for a long time. “Why?”

His fingers clenched a little tighter, expecting you to squirm. But you didn’t. “Because I won’t be able to stop myself,” he blinked slowly, eyes drooping with the small sliver of weakness he was showing you right now. Who said you wanted him to stop? In fact, nothing about you did. Not even your reddened eyes, or the tension you carried. It was a simple concept to grasp, but someone as stubborn as himself hadn’t. Yet.

This time, it was you who initiated the intimacy. It wasn’t sensuality; it was reassurance—something Simon needed desperately. You pressed your forehead against his, fingers finding the stubble you could finally touch.

He breathed heavily into the kiss, an instinctual hand protecting the back of your head when he pushed your weight back into the armchair. Somewhere in it, he had stood up again, able to deepen the lip contact by hovering over you. Simon should’ve fought it, but he didn’t. He wanted you to pull away and realize how ridiculous he felt against you, but you did not.

His lips pulled away with a moist squelch, still a hand on the back of your head. The drunken kiss was messy and heated. This was stone-cold sober—much needed and full of feelings. Simon seemed to be searching for hesitance, any excuse to halt his desires. You only breathed heavily from the loss of air, unblinking and desperate for more.

You nodded slightly, an unspoken plea for that part of him that couldn’t stop himself. Though it seemed like you were leading things, you didn’t have a clue what the hell you were doing either. It just felt right at the moment. After the nod, his free hand clasped the collar of your shirt, pulling you to your feet. He scanned the room around him, though he already memorized the layout the first time he walked in. It was as if he was searching for prying eyes that weren’t there—an instinct when his face was visible.

Instead of the sides of your head, his fingers found your waist, digging into them as he backed you against the dresser. Without a struggle on his end, he lifted you on top of it so he could stand between your parted thighs.

It couldn’t be the bed; it was too domestic for the both of you. He needed somewhere you could easily pull away from him and walk away, as he’d convinced himself you were going to. There was no way this act would carry out completely, right? The rational portion of you had to be buried deep in your lust.

Simon’s fingers gave your waistband a tug, pulling your bottoms off entirely. His eyes remained trained on yours the entire time, expecting some sort of resistance. Hell, he was expecting a slap on his cheek that never came. You wanted this; you wanted him.

The pad of his finger found your swollen clit, rubbing paced circles on the nerves. You felt your breath hitch at the sensation, a clench around the wooden edge of the dresser. Despite how much you wanted this, it was like an out-of-character blur. Simon, being the face to match the lustful hands? You never thought of that as a sight you’d see, never in a million years.

His heavy breathing was just as arousing, how lustfully he was watching despite not being the one being touched. Words weren’t coming out, but the language of stares was all the two of you needed right now. Simon could keep searching for refusal, but he wasn’t going to find it. Not while he was massaging your clit so intimately.

The pleasure built rather quickly, as did the pace of your hips rocking against his hands. It had been so long since you touched yourself, let alone a sexual partner doing it for you. When his finger ceased, you let out a small mewl from the emptiness.

From the moonlight illuminating his features, your eyes wandered at the sound of his belt unbuckling. He did it with such haste, such experience. He unzipped his jeans next, pulling them down to his knees to allow access.

Instinctively, you outstretched a hand to palm him through his boxers. It was what you were used to: I do something for you, you have to do the same for me.

“No.” Simon hissed, placing your hands back at your sides. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you to stroke him—he didn’t want the focus on him. You seeing his face was all the focus he could handle right now.

You kept your hands on either side of you, respecting the boundary he had put up, though you didn’t understand its purpose. He pulled down on the waistband of his black boxers, stroking himself for a few seconds, followed by another hiss. Simon stepped back to his original position between your thighs again, only he pulled them further apart—enough for his wide frame to fit comfortably.

You felt his length pressing against your folds, the knuckle of his hand on your inner thigh as he guided it into position. Before he did, he searched for a nod again, or anything, really. You obliged, bracing yourself by clamping down on his shoulder. It had been a long time since you had sex, so it wasn’t going to be particularly comfortable at first. A man of Simon’s stature, no matter the amount of arousal that pooled—you would have to be eased into it.

He guided the tip in first, eyes darting up and down as he slowly pushed his hips forward, his length coated in the lubricating slick caused by his fingers. You let out a pleasured gasp, not yet feeling the stretch that was coming.

When he was sure of the next phase, he placed his lips against your gasping ones, silencing the inevitable whine of discomfort. Still at a snail's pace, he entered even deeper, enough that you needed to sit with him like that for a moment. It was just that; discomfort, not pain. Yet another factor of intimacy you weren’t accustomed to as of late. “Is that… good?” He whispered against your mouth, still only thrusting a portion of himself out—and slowly.

Since he’d given you time to adjust, the discomfort did fizzle away. “More,” you replied, a slight nod of your head. Now, you were arguably enjoying the sensation more than he was.

This time, he didn’t wait for a refusal.

With an abrupter thrust, he bottomed out inside you. It wasn’t roughness, not yet—just his way of ripping off the bandaid. His lips found yours again, allowing you to bite down on his lower lip at the sudden stretch. The angle he was at; you sitting on top of the dresser with your hips slightly raised, and him standing, it felt euphoric, not agonizing.

“Shit…” A guttural groan fell from his lips as his movements began, methodical and pleasuring for both of you. Every sound you made, every little reaction; it made him twitch deep inside you. This is what he wanted when you two finally gave in—you, writhing in front of him and forced to do nothing but enjoy it.

His tip kissed your cervix with each pump, just enough to make your eyes roll slightly. What the hell you two were doing, the consequences tomorrow, none of it mattered. Lust truly did cloud the two of you this moment, and he wasn’t going to stop unless you asked him.

You felt tears prick at your eyes, but it wasn’t from pain or repulsion. It was from how long you had gone without this shared feeling of desire, the closeness of two people. Simon slowed his movements, wiping away the tear with his thumb. He could tell, it wasn’t a fear of him or the past that haunted you—it was pure satisfaction.

You needed this, no, deserved this from someone who truly deserved you.

His experienced hands found your hips, tugging you closer so your chests were touching. You let out another sharp gasp, holding onto him just as tightly. The tug allowed him to hit a deeper spot inside your walls if that was even possible.

The change in position allowed you to raise your knees higher against him, so much you probably could’ve placed your feet up on the dresser. Simon grunted and increased his speed, one hand on your thigh, and the other a flat palm against the wall in front of him. The furniture piece hit the wall with each relentless thrust, the thumb masked by your shared moans of delight. And they were becoming desperate ones, plain desperate.

Your stomach was doing flips, tightening and churning the longer he went at it like this. And Simon, his head leaned back ever so slightly, he was close too. There was no turning back now, too deep in the sensations. But still, you iron gripped him—as if pleading for him not to pull away—something he had no intention of doing.

“Let it out, love.” He rasped in your ear, his hips still going an uninterrupted pound. Love. The unexpected pet name made your already shaking knees turn to putty. You truly would only last seconds at best, especially with that accent smothering you.

What once was a moan with each thrust, now became a growing holler. That breaking point that had been bubbling, the one he gave you permission to, finally struck you—destructively. Each muscle in your abdomen constricted, your head thrown back against the wall at the feeling of euphoria hitting an all-time high. Simon’s hand, once gripping your thigh, was now protecting the back of your head as it thrashed against the wall. His tongue traced along your jaw and chin, the combination of sensations only prolonging the interval.

His fist balled in your hair, just enough to only cause an enjoyable sting. He leaned back slightly to have a better view of his length going in and out of you. The sounds of your high delighted him, the final permission for him to enjoy his own climax.

When he felt a more violent twitch, he pulled himself out, using his hand to finish the rest. Still, he wouldn’t allow you to touch him, you were sure of that. You panted heavily, mouth still agape in awe of the attraction you felt towards this. Your fingers clenched the sides of the dresser once pulled away, feeling the spew of his cum land on your folds.

Simon trembled slightly, giving one of your clothed breasts a yearning squeeze as he drained himself of his seed.

Then, clarity hit him as quickly as his climax did. “You wanted that, right?” He whispered, eyes now full of searching rather than lust. God, his cluelessness would be the death of him before any enemy. You quickly nodded, now slightly more slumped than before. You thought it was obvious, but he did always have a way of shocking you—in more ways than one, now.

Inside, you were shaking your head and smacking sense into him for his own stubbornness.

“Simon,” you panted, tightening your thighs around his waist, “just shut up. Please.” You pushed your head against into chest, using it as a surface to catch your breath on. The sensations you felt replayed already, leaving you sensitive and breathless, but heinously calm in spite of what you two had just done.

It happened so quickly, but it wasn’t regretful or dissatisfying. It was the exact opposite.

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011 @stunkbiggu @bi-witch-bxtch @warm-milk-with-honey @xheera @kiamewrites @01trickster10 @m0chac0ffee @tizylish @midwesternwitchery @ramadiiiisme

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

[personalmoshiakh]

hey, so— i’ve been ~officially writing a web serial since 2021 (unofficially, since at least 2014). Updates are currently very irregular, but i’m definitely still working on it!

✨🧿 THE BITTER DROP 🧿✨

modern fantasy romance about gay/trans Eastern Bloc Jews, set in a secondary world counterpart of early Soviet communes

The lounge is nearly empty tonight; all the action is downstairs at the grinding workshop — in the basement discotheque; you if I’m to have any hope of pulling, that’s where I ought to go but … ekh, I’m foggy tonight, between the psychosis and the laudanum for the pain what likes to haunt nefilim and the horse pills they made me take at the Mamka — nu okay, I skipped tonight’s dose so I can drink but like, neuroleptics don’t let go that quick — and as the brainfog settles on my thoughts, it turns to hoarfrost and my will seizes up like a rusty hinge.

Lev/Lyubov Morgenshtern, a queeny bigender flamer who’d once been one of the Pale’s youngest-ever ordained rabbonim, has just returned to the Talons Ghetto sovyet — an autonomous workers-and-peasants commune of the kind that directly preceded the Soviet Union (and indeed the thing that the USSR named itself after).

Lev is fresh off a stint on a psych ward that’d followed a far longer stint living in the tzarist-held half of Svet Dmitrin with a bougie respectability-obsessed ex-boyfriend — he’s got nowhere to sleep, no assurance her old friends, Red Guard and civilian both, would want to see them and the only workable plan she’s got is to find someone willing and soft-hearted to take him home for the night …

… and what luck if their rescuer, a medical necromancer by the name of Anzu Menelikov (Nyura to friends and lovers) is a beautiful trans flamer from a prominent rabbinical family! who better to welcome Lyubov home than a fellow hothouse flower and dedicated scholar? and does it matter if Nyura did anything the White Guard might still bear a grudge about? after all, most of the old Ghetto walls are still safely intact, and it’s not like Reb Doktor Menelikov personally set the Winter Palace on fire, right?

i’d say if you liked the Baru Cormorant series, Michael Chabon’s The Yiddish Policemen’s Union and Gentlemen of the Road, Fallen London and its associated games, China Miéville’s oeuvre, and Disco Elysium, this’d probably be your thing!

content warnings

(under the cut)

reclaimed homophobic slurs

the narrator has a history of psychiatric institutionalisation

homophobia, transphobia, transmisogyny and antisemitism are environmental hazards in the setting, though by far not the focus

#the bitter drop #web serial #web fiction #web novel #fiction #tell your friends #and tell me if you read it tbh

[fcb-mv33]

Erik van Haren, De Telegraaf, Netherlands: “Max’s qualities as a driver are beyond dispute. Just look at his consistent performance curve and the way he always challenges himself, every weekend. What I also like about him as a reporter is that as a person he is broadly the same as the 16-year-old boy I interviewed for the first time in early 2014. He is not afraid to give his opinion and really stands for something. Especially in these times, with all the reactions on social media, I really appreciate that.”

Mervi Kallio, Viaplay, Finland: “The dominance of Max Verstappen this season has been amazing. He has had the best car of the grid but he has also operated in such a great level. He is mentally so strong and the self confidence that he reflects shows that nothing can stop him. Verstappen could be a Finn – less talking, more driving. He is truly a legend already.”

Nate Saunders, ESPN, US: “Max Verstappen has been so remarkable this year. One of his standout traits is how unbothered he seems by his own greatness – at points this year it’s been as if he hasn’t really understood what all the fuss is about. Verstappen has grown into such a well-rounded driver – aggressive when he needs to be, patient at others, which hasn’t always been the case. A driver so confident in his abilities, matched with Red Bull’s car, and you have the unstoppable force we’ve seen all year.”

Ben Hunt, The Sun, UK: “There are so many highlights to pick from this season for Max but for me, the performances that have largely gone unnoticed have been in qualifying. There is a trend in the media of labelling any pole lap ‘a mega' – but his final attempt in Monaco really was. He was on the limit in the final sector around the Swimming Pool and Rascasse, hitting the barriers on two occasions, and just managed to pip Fernando Alonso. It was brilliant, edge-of-the-seat stuff.”

Mariana Becker, Rede Bandeirantes, Brazil: “When Max adopted the middle path to his emotions as a more mature road to follow in life, he made my life difficult. In his interviews, triumph is not golden, defeat is not death. Through my Brazilian eyes, it was hard to detect any sense of extra pride about his recovery from 15th to 2nd position in the grid in Miami, his unbelievable pole in Monaco, his 10 consecutive victories… For him, there is no need to overstate the obvious. But in this case, ‘Max’ is no overstatement.”

Julien Billiotte, Autohebdo, France: “Max is a genius and has been among the all-time greats in my book for a long time. Besides the obvious, I like his off-track persona, especially the way he is not afraid to speak his mind all the while remaining a fairly approachable, down-to-earth guy. Of course, Verstappen is no longer the grid’s ‘enfant terrible’. He has grown more statesman-like but you can’t help but feel an aura of contained aggressiveness around him. The newly-crowned triple world champion always makes you think twice before asking what could be a silly question. His sharp mind and quick wit won’t miss a beat and you will soon find yourself a bit rattled. Like all the top athletes, Max forces you to raise your game.”

Frankie Mao, Formula Vision, China: “I remember the first interview with him on a quiet Wednesday afternoon ahead of the 2015 Chinese GP. I was genuinely impressed by how he was so pure as a racing driver when describing the Shanghai International Circuit which he was visiting for the first time. Eight years on, despite having slightly short of 50 wins in his pocket, he remains arguably the most unfiltered driver on the grid – in his world where only racing and the ultimate victory matters. Thanks to his achievement on the track, he’s becoming that kind of role model that the new generation would look upon around the world.”

Sandra Baumgartner, Sky Sports Germany, Germany: “In addition to his exceptional talent, speed and ambition, Max now has composure, calmness and the ability to take a back seat. He still has a hot temper, but he has it under better control than in previous years. He is very popular in Germany. Of course, as a Dutchman he is our neighbour, but the Germans appreciate above all his honest and down-to-earth manner. Especially in German, his answers in interviews sometimes sound harsh, but that is simply his captivating honesty, he doesn’t embellish anything, he is simply straightforward. That’s the only thing he hasn’t changed, and I think he should stay that way.”

Jonas Hüttel, Ekstra Bladet, Denmark: “My favourite thing about Max is how straightforward he is. As just recently in Qatar when he was explaining how he didn’t want to be voted sportsman of the year in The Netherlands because such awards didn’t make sense to him. Dutch and Danes are similar that way. We are very direct. You can only admire his driving this year. It’s practically impossible to make as few or no mistakes as he has done. He will never be the most popular driver in Denmark but Max has one thing going for him. The mechanic who straps him in before each session is Ole Schack, a Danish Red Bull legend who has been with the race team since day one. We do like to see him do well.”

Steve Jones, Channel 4, UK: “Max has looked at the 2023 season with the same focus The Terminator had for Sarah Connor – utterly relentless. It’s been equal parts astonishing and terrifying seeing him lay waste to the competition. Out of the car he’s a lovely chap. In it – he’s a monster. I love it!”

Luke Smith, The Athletic, US: “What’s struck me about Max this year is just how relaxed he has been. He’s seemed more at ease than ever. I’ve enjoyed press conferences with him discussing ‘The Max Verstappen Podcast’ (and his dislike of podcasts), or Lando Norris breaking his trophy in Hungary. Even on the bad days, like in Jeddah or Singapore, he’s been calm and still a joy to chat with, still staying generous with his time. I’ve learned as much about Max the person as I have Max the racer this year. In both cases, what you see is very much what you get.”

Edd Straw, The Race, UK: “Max does extraordinary things behind the wheel of a racing car, which harnessed to his exacting relentlessness when it comes to refining it technically makes him a formidable driver. But he somehow manages to keep what can be an overwhelmingly complex sport amazingly simple, which comes over off-track with the matter-of-fact way he talks about his craft. That ability to sift what matters from the noise is at the heart of his brilliance and surely makes him one of the most single-minded and laser-focused racing drivers there has ever been.”

Roberto Chinchero, Sky Sports Italia, Italy: “Max is a pure racing talent. He has never been one of many, and never will be. This season has bored many people, especially those who expected what they had seen in the first part of 2022, but it was the same for the best F1 drivers. Opposing supporters might not love him, but at the same time they secretly dream to see him one day to drive for their favourite team.”

Phil Horton, Autoweek/New York Times, US: “From pre-season testing it was clear Max was going to win the title, but few expected it to be wrapped up so early, and with such dominant statistics in terms of victories and laps led. He has always had the raw speed, but now he has vast experience, allied with the assurance that he has long since achieved everything he wanted in Formula 1 – and more. Yet, as Red Bull boss Christian Horner outlined, he retains a voracious appetite not just to succeed but to dominate. That complete grip on Formula 1 hasn’t been entertaining, and sadly up front it has been a rather mundane season, but that’s on Verstappen’s opponents.”

Luis Vasconcelos, Formula Press/Sport TV, Portugal: “When a very gifted driver, with tremendous working ethics, gets his hands on the best car in the field and doesn’t have a team mate that can challenge him, you get what Max is doing now – complete domination of a season. With that success, we’re getting a more relaxed Max when he’s out of his car. His will to win, though, hasn’t changed, his performance in Suzuka being proof of that, as he was keen to prove Red Bull’s doubters wrong. But when things don’t go his way, we still get some flashbacks of a much younger Max – emotional, volatile and brash. He’s just 25 after all, so maturity will come with time.”

Julianne Cerasoli, UOL, Brazil: “It felt uncharacteristic to see a calm Max in Baku after being outperformed by Checo all weekend. He was happy, having understood how to get more out of the RB19. It was the first time I saw Max OK with losing. After that came 10 consecutive wins! In Qatar, he celebrated entering the triple world champion club by reminding us he can finally ‘speak in equal terms’ with his father-in-law Nelson Piquet next time he goes to Brazil. Fair.”

Albert Fabrega, DAZN, Spain: “Max has been always considered a huge talent in Spain and it is no surprise to see him winning his third world title. He has progressed a lot since his early years in F1 when he was Carlos Sainz’s team mate in Toro Rosso and he has deserved this crown more than anyone else. I can’t see any weak points in him. A lot of determination, talent, concentration and a perfect understanding of the tyres and car are a big part of his success. But like many of us, I would love to see him racing and competing elbow to elbow with the big names of the sport. He is a racer and I’m sure he is also looking forward to moments like these again.”

Michael Lamonato, Fox Sports Australia, Australia: “In a straightforward season, Verstappen has faced only one antagonist: speculation that rule changes ended his victory streak in Singapore – and, by extension, the implication his dominance was somehow unearned. But in his media call in Japan that week there was no anger or frustration; he was all calmness cool determination. Then he obliterated everyone on the track. It was a clear insight to title-era Verstappen. He doesn’t need adoration but does demand respect. And it’s respect he certainly deserves.”

Tobi Gruner, Auto Motor und Sport, Germany: “I still remember my first Interview with Max in Mexico 2015. He was a Toro Rosso rookie, still a bit shy. Short answers only. Let’s say it wasn’t the most exciting interview ever. Eight years and three titles later his answers are still short, but he’s much more confident and outspoken. Efficiency is paramount on and off the track. A pure racer. German fans appreciate his effort to talk German in the TV pen and that he prevented Lewis Hamilton from breaking Michael Schumacher’s championships record in 2021. But now he’s chasing it himself.”

Sandor Meszaros, Formula.hu, Hungary: “Max’s 2023 dominance is a historic achievement. What makes it particularly special for me is the fact that he is doing it in a natural way while after all these successes, he is still the down-to-earth guy who is always available for his fans. He has a huge fanbase in Hungary and is inspiring many youngsters for karting. Funny, that even though our Hungarian is one of the nicest and most colourful languages of the world, after all his victories this year, we are nearly out of praising words! Bravo, Max!”

Reporters on Max this season🩵

#max verstappen #rambles #f1 #formula 1 #red bull racing

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Today, we’re going to explore non-human graveyards. Did you know that there are interesting places around the world where certain groups of things go to deteriorate? This big guy is headed to the FAST as in “Fiberglass Animal Shapes and Trademarks” Graveyard. 

FAST is in Sparta, Wisconsin and has been making fiberglass statues since the 1970s. FAST Fiberglass makes “larger than life” statues, road side attractions, and themed water slides.

To avoid wasting the molds they saved every one they’ve ever made, and it’s accidentally become a tourist attraction. 

England’s red phone booth cemetery.  More than 5,000 have been adopted and converted into all kinds of novel uses.

The Rickshaw resting place of Bangladesh. The traditional rickshaw is facing a challenge from battery-powered vehicles that don’t require quite the same superhuman effort from the driver. Nearly half of all crashes involve them and many roads in the capital have been declared off-limits to rickshaws.

Ben & Jerry’s Graveyard of Discontinued Flavors.  Surrounded by a white picket fence on a grassy knoll in Vermont, lie the headstones of especially beloved flavors or particularly despised flavors.

China’s bicycle graveyard. This is the result of the “dockless bikes” b/c there weren’t enough docks for public bikes. There were no regulations to control how many businesses could operate or how many bikes were being distributed, so it got to the point where gov’t had to put a halt on new bike production.

Where planes go. Outside Tucson, Arizona, the planes first undergo ‘pickling.’    Their engines are removed, the windows covered and the fluids drained.  But these giants are too big to bury so you would be able to see just about every kind of airplane that the military has flown since WWII.

Virginia’s dumping ground for 43 President’s heads, left over from the defunct  ‘Presidents Park’ theme park.

France’s graveyard of big red firetrucks. Fire Depts. used to raise funds to restore them and put them in museums, but that went bust. They were then sold to the public or scrapped. The rest were sent to storage sites like this in the event that maybe a museum would save them. 

And, finally, Portugal’s anchors are all that’s left of a once-bustling tuna fishing industry.

https://www.messynessychic.com/

#non human graveyards #world's scrapyards #garbage

[ataleofcrowns]

Hello! I hope you're doing well :)

I've been really into teas lately and I've been wondering... Do the LI have any favourite tea blends or flavours?

I'd also like to know a little bit more about Arsur's flora, if you don't mind sharing. I do love me some magical plants.

Cute question!!

Though, a quick note on tea: in history, tea wasn't introduced to the Middle East until the 16th century from the Silk Road trade with China. People used to drink coffee before then, which originated from Ethiopia, which is much closer geographically.

Anyway, I handwaved all of that in the story. You can imagine magic made traveling and trading much easier and therefore happened much sooner in Arsur's world history compared to real life 🤪

As for tea flavors:

A - Mint tea is their favorite drink during an afternoon break, with just a small scoop of honey.

D - Lemon balm tea for relaxation, they usually drink it right before going to bed.

X - A popular black tea, actually. With rosewater or steeped together with dried rose petals, as well as cardamom and cinnamon.

R - Prefers coffee over tea, but if they had to choose they'd say they enjoy apple tea the most, also made with a bit of cinnamon.

#azad/ashti #dara/delal #rozerîn/rêzan #xelara/xelef #ask #anonymous

[accio-victuuri]

from this article by 1905.com which is a platform under CCTV6 “Infinite Possibilities Not Defined——Impression of Crossover Actor Wang Yibo”

This kind of persistence in love and the core of success through hard work are exactly the themes that the film wants to express, and the character of Chen Shuo fully expresses Wang Yibo's unique spiritual core. Rather than saying that Wang Yibo played Chen Shuo in his true colors, it is better to say that Chen Shuo reflected a certain side of Wang Yibo.

Recently, the movie "One and Only" starring Wang Yibo entered the 700 million club at the box office in just 10 days. Viewers in Tao Piao Piao and Maoyan rated it with an average score of 9.7. The difficult street dance moves he completed in the movie were praised by professional dancers again and again. "Wang Yibo's enthusiastic one-elbow throw is done by himself" became a hot search on the Internet, and the street dance movement suddenly became popular.

"Dancing in any corner of the world is not bad"

"One and Only" is the theme movie of the 19th Asian Games in Hangzhou in 2022. It is exclusively planned by the Hangzhou Asian Games Organizing Committee. It uses the new competition event break dance as the carrier. A story that shines on the stage. Director Dapeng said in many interviews that choosing Wang Yibo to play Chen Shuo was the unanimous recommendation of the hip-hop industry.

It was recommended because of Wang Yibo's professionalism in hip-hop and his influence. In the "This Is Street Dance" series of variety shows, his infectious and aesthetic dancing attracted countless audiences and aroused a wave of hip-hop dance among the people. His influence was noticed by the Chinese Dancers Association and awarded him "Ambassador of China's Top Dancers Promotion" ", it can be said that he is expected to play Chen Shuo.

Dapeng said that the screenwriter wrote Chen Shuo according to Wang Yibo, first there was Wang Yibo, and then there was "One and Only". So we can see the shadow of Wang Yibo in Chen Shuo.

Wang Yibo started learning to dance because of his love in the sixth grade of elementary school, and this hobby has continued to this day. On August 3, he said during the Yueyang road show of the "One and Only" crew: "Dancing is my passion, and acting is also my passion. I don't feel tired doing two things I like at the same time."

In order to meet the needs of the plot, he did the dance that he gave up because of injuries when he was a child; for a dance move in the movie, he practiced repeatedly until his leg was injured; in order to achieve the best shooting effect, he repeated every time the filming is complete and danced it completely. He is making progress, and Chen Shuo is also making progress. Finally, in the final scene, Wang Yibo performed all types of hip-hop dance, which made hip-hop lovers feast.

Wang Yibo once said in an interview: "Dancing in any corner of the world is not bad." So we saw in "One and Only" that Chen Shuo danced in subway cars, shopping malls, restaurants, homes, vegetable farms, etc., dancing all the time. We arrived at the final scene of the National Hip-Hop Competition. This kind of persistence in love and the core of success through hard work are exactly the themes that the film wants to express, and the character of Chen Shuo fully expresses Wang Yibo's unique spiritual core. Rather than saying that Wang Yibo played Chen Shuo in his true colors, it is better to say that Chen Shuo reflected a certain side of Wang Yibo.

Huang Bo, who plays Chen Shuo's coach, said that his first impression of Wang Yibo was "handsome and hardworking". Screenwriter Su Biao even admitted that Wang Yibo gave him a lot of creative inspiration. It took Wang Yibo ten years to step by step to shine in front of the public. His own famous experience is an "exclamation mark" worthy of admiration.

“Just stay indifferent"

At the "Moon Rise in the Bay Area" gala jointly held by Hong Kong and mainland China, Wang Yibo sang the theme song of the same name of the movie "Hidden Blade" he starred in. Because he sang so well, some people questioned him for fake singing, and rumors spread. Later, some professionals pointed out that the song itself had overlapping choruses, and Wang Yibo's live singing was perfectly connected with the accompaniment chorus he had recorded in advance. Some people compared the live singing with his original MV, and found that a sound on the scene has been changed. This anti-rumor treatment is the same as he did in a concert in 2019. The rumors are self-defeating.

When questioned about lip-syncing, Wang Yibo himself did not come out to defend himself. Wang Yibo majored in music at Hanlin Art High School in South Korea. When he debuted in 2014, he was the team's rapper and dancer. He won the Best Newcomer of the Year Award at the Cool Music Asia Festival and the Annual Music Award at the Screaming iQiyi Night Awards Ceremony, which shows his singing skills and level. You can tell from watching his stage that he can breathe steadily while dancing and singing, not to mention singing while walking that night.

He has always chosen to respond to his doubts with his works. At the end of 2019, Wang Yibo released his third single "Wugan", which is his first attempt at lyrics creation. "Don't be a puppet that allows others to manipulate your emotions" "No feeling is the best way to fight back" "When the sun goes down and the lights are turned on at night, you can see that the world is not bad" "The road to adversity sees the future and stands up after falling Get up" "Finding the way, Follow the light that you see, be free". Every line of the lyrics expresses his attitude.

In 2021, he released a new song "Twenty". The lyrics read: "I want to re-ignite the fire, only ashes are left in front of my eyes again and again, I am looking for an exit with wounds all over my body, I have tightened the invisible rope again and again, my hands are empty and I have no strength to break free, the wind is so vast above three feet, but there are already bursts of waves in all directions." "stand up thousands of times, stand up to the skyline, stand up to the end, stand up to the infinite future". The song "Twenty" tells the story of pursuing the front again and again without fear of difficulties and finally finding the strength to stand up, as if it is a portrayal of his struggle against fate.

In 2023, at the concert in Macau, he used the song "Twenty" as the background music, and performed a dance called "Exclamation Point" with the original crew of the "E-Mark" dance troupe in the movie "One and Only". The same song, but with music without lyrics and a different dance, adding a new connotation. This brand-new way of expression makes people marvel at his stage again, and also makes people re-examine the song "Twenty" and re-examine the ups and downs Wang Yibo has experienced for so many years.

Recalling this song, he seems to be telling people: Not feeling is the biggest response to doubts, you can't beat me, I will go forward bravely and shine with my works.

"Stay true to yourself, don't please others"

Wang Yibo in 2023, in addition to the release of the three box-office and word-of-mouth films "Hidden Blade", "The King of the Sky" and "One and Only", there are still many occasions where he will be exposed to the public. Whether it is at the airport, on the red carpet, on the stage, watching a show, or in brand activities, his clothing and makeup often become hot topics that the public likes to talk about. Some people say that he is a "walking clothes rack", and some people say that he is a "fashion vane of internal entertainment".

Clothing and beauty brands are very partial to Wang Yibo. Chanel awarded him as a brand image ambassador, and filmed the movie "My Friend" for him to participate in world-class film festivals; Moncler praised him as "Moncler's most handsome spokesperson"; EVISU customized a special car for him; Special guest of the Shu Uemura Beauty Makeup Contest, signed on the same stage with world-class design masters; Pechoin is the exclusive title sponsor of the TV series he starred in; Anta specially designed his favorite color - green shoes and clothing for him...

Why do they love him so much? It may be because of his appearance, or his talent, but more likely because his image and core match the brand's values.

In May of this year, when Wang Yibo attended the Chanel show in Los Angeles, the United States, he talked about the biggest commonality between him and Chanel in an interview. He said bluntly: "Be loyal to yourself and don't please others." Reminiscent of his saying in an interview many years ago: "If you don't like me, just like others", it is similar.

So what is the self he insists on? To use the lines in the movie "One and Ou", it is "you will succeed if you keep working hard", and "if you have no distracting thoughts, you will have everything".

Wang Yibo's talent and intrinsic value are being recognized more and more. In addition to being the "China Top Dancer Promotion Ambassador", he is also officially awarded the "China Skateboard Application Promotion Ambassador" and "China Ice and Snow Sports Promotion Ambassador", etc. Departments and organizations such as public security, transportation, fire protection, tourism, and public welfare have also invited him. Spoke for anti-drug, civilized transportation, fire safety, etc.

He is like a treasure, opening infinite possibilities with a multifaceted life that cannot be defined.

#wang yibo #i love this and how it shows how no matter what people say — yibo’s works speak for itself #all his movie projects are praised for the quality #accio victuuri translation

[reality-detective]

Something To Think About 🤔

You may find this is interesting. 👇

“The Wizard of Oz = The Crown Temple. This is not a mere child’s story written by L. Frank Baum.

What symbol does “Oz” stand for?

Ounces… Gold.

What is the yellow brick road?

Bricks or ingot bars of gold.

The character known as the Straw Man represents that fictitious ALL CAPS legal fiction – a PERSON – the Government created with the same spelling as your Christian birth name.

Remember what the Straw Man wanted from the Wizard of Oz?

A brain!

No legal fiction has a brain because they have no breath of life!

What did he get in place of a brain?

A Certificate.

A Birth Certificate for a new legal creation.

He was proud of his new legal status, plus all the other legalisms he was granted.

Now he becomes the true epitome of the brainless sack of straw who was given a Certificate in place of a brain of common sense.

What about the Tin Man?

Does Taxpayer Identification Number (TIN) mean anything to you?

The poor TIN Man just stood there mindlessly doing his work until his body literally froze up and stopped functioning.

He worked himself to death because he had no heart nor soul.

He’s the heartless and emotionless creature robotically carrying out his daily task as if he was already dead.

He’s the ox pulling the plough and the mule toiling under the yoke.

His masters keep him cold on the outside and heartless on the inside in order to control any emotions or heart he may get a hold of.

The pitiful Cowardly Lion was always too frightened to stand up for himself.

Of course, he was a bully and a big mouth when it came to picking on those smaller than he was.

They act as if they have great courage, but they really have none at all.

All roar with no teeth of authority to back them up.

When push came to shove, the Cowardly Lion always buckled under and whimpered when anyone of any size or stature challenged him. He wanted courage from the Grand Wizard, so he was awarded a medal of “official” recognition.

Now, regardless of how much of a coward he still was, his official status made him a bully with officially recognized authority.

He’s just like the Attorneys who hide behind the Middle Courts of the Temple Bar.

What about the trip through the field of poppies?

They weren’t real people, so drugs had no effect on them.

The Wizard of Oz was written at the turn of the century, so how could the author have known America was going to be drugged?

The Crown has been playing the drug cartel game for centuries.

Just look up the history of Hong Kong and the Opium Wars.

The Crown already had valuable experience conquering all of China with drugs, so why not the rest of the world?

Who finally exposed the Wizard for what he really was?

Toto, the ugly (or cute, depending on your perspective) and somewhat annoying little dog.

Toto means “in total, all together; Latin in toto.” Notice how Toto was not scared of the Great Wizard’s theatrics, yet he was so small in size compared to the Wizard, no-one seemed to notice him.

The smoke, flames and hologram images were designed to frighten people into doing as the Great Wizard of Oz commanded.

Toto simply went over, looked behind the curtain – the court – (see the definition for curtain above), saw it was a scam, and started barking until others paid attention to him and came to see what all the barking was about. Just an ordinary person controlling the levers that created the illusions of the Great Wizard’s power and authority.

The veil hiding the corporate legal fiction and its false courts were removed.

The Wizard’s game was up.

It’s too bad that people don’t realize how loud a bark from a little dog is.

What about your bark?

Do you just remain silent and wait to be given whatever food and recognition, if any, your legal slave master gives you?

Are you going to continue to follow the script? 🤔

#pay attention #educate yourself #educate yourselves #knowledge is power #reeducate yourself #reeducate yourselves #think for yourself #think for yourselves #think about it #story time #wizard of oz #question everything #ask yourself questions

[mariacallous]

Political insiders like U.S. Rep. Dean Phillips have been expressing doubts about Joe Biden for years. Yet Biden just keeps winning. Voters have elected him to national office three times in four elections. Those voters also gave him the biggest midterm win for a Democratic president in 60 years. Biden has earned those votes by delivering the strongest domestic leadership since LBJ, and the strongest international leadership since JFK. He is the best candidate we have in 2024, and the only thing holding him back is the doubters in his own party.

The very fact that Biden was able to beat Donald Trump and be sworn into office in a peaceful transfer of power met an important test. Peaceful, you ask? Certainly former President Trump's actions, and those of his mob, were not peaceful. But Biden sailed through all of the calamity with apparent calm, acting as though there was never any question that the Constitution and the rule of law would prevail. He was always confident in us.

The immediate task of the new president was grappling with a nation divided over COVID and the need to provide economic support to families struggling through the pandemic. The American Rescue Plan put billions of dollars into the hands of working-class Americans. The economy boomed, driven by demand from workers and families spending money on necessities. Child poverty dropped by 40%, and American families have seen wages rise at levels not seen since the 1960s. Today, the strength of the American economy is pulling the rest of the world forward, despite the global struggle with inflation.

It is easy already to forget the size and scope of the Biden infrastructure bill, which will modernize American communities and our economy for a generation and more. Roads, bridges, transit, the electrical grid, water infrastructure, broadband — the whole platform for growth in the nation will be built out and create millions of American jobs.

Perhaps most significantly, Biden's so-called Inflation Reduction Act will transform our energy economy and enable America to meet its greenhouse gas reduction goals. This will put us in the driver's seat for pushing other nations to meet their goals. There is no larger threat to our nation and the global economy than rising global temperatures, increased severe weather and the loss of a precious ecological and cultural heritage. The pandemic was a light breeze compared to the impending storm of global climate destruction, and the Inflation Reduction Act was a strategic move to allow us to lead in stopping it.

The Inflation Reduction Act could also be called the Chinese Divestment Act. Not only does the energy policy address our need to transition to renewable energy, but it creates enormous incentives for companies to invest in technology and manufacturing in North America. No other president in our lifetime would offer an American working family $7,000 to buy an electric car made in America. The Inflation Reduction Act is exactly the industrial policy this country has needed for so long.

Just a few years ago, Chinese economic power coupled with Russian weapons of war appeared to be a genuine threat to the American-led international order. Autocrats were rising while traditional Western democratic institutions were in disarray. Some people were comparing America to Weimar Germany and seeing similarities to the weakness of democratic nations in the face of fascism.

Russia's illegal and inhumane invasion of Ukraine came at exactly the wrong time — for Russia and China. Putin threw down an enormous challenge in front of the American-led alliance. We advanced as one against him. Biden worked with Europe to accept major economic pain as a price of confronting Russian aggression. The Biden response to Russian aggression simultaneously revived the democracies' power in the world and reminded us that autocracies are always fundamentally weak.

In just three years, Joe Biden's leadership has revived democracy, defeated a pandemic, raised millions of Americans out of poverty, revitalized American infrastructure, addressed global warming and weakened authoritarian nations. He also keeps winning elections and confounding all his critics. Congressman Phillips: What more do you want?

Ryan Winkler, of Golden Valley, is the former DFL majority leader of the Minnesota House.

[bookishfeylin]

Hi there! I read your post about Egypt and Cleopatra, and now I am really curious about the African Kingdoms you mentioned and was wondering if you could tell us more about them please, they sound really interesting.

Oh, there's SO much I could tell you, and there's so many African kingdoms that have been woefully understudied--and many more aside from the ones I mentioned. They all have their own rich histories, cultures, political intrigue, and it's an actual tragedy that they aren't discussed more. I'm still researching myself, so I'll just review some of my favorite things from each kingdom.

Aksumite/Axumite Empire: Located in modern-day Ethiopia, this empire existed from the 1st to 8th century CE, though its prime was from the 3rd to 6th centuries CE. The Axumites converted to Christianity of their own free will over 1,000 years before colonialism and as a result have ancient churches, some made of stone and carved from the earth itself. They also were the first African kingdom to mint their own coins, and their capital city of Axum had, at its peak, 20,000 people living in it. Also, I love the Dungur palace. Here's a reconstruction of what it looked like:

LOOK AT IT.

Source: x

Kongo: Located in central Africa around modern-day Angola and the Democratic Republic of the Congo from the fourteenth to the twentieth centuries. This kingdom had a rich social hierarchy, apparently had ambassadors to Europe, and some people practiced Catholicism, which led to their own branch of Christianity led by a woman named Beatriz Kimpa Vita in the 1600s who believed she had visions that informed her Jesus actually came from Kongo. Yeah.

Sources: x, x

Loango: A neighbor of Kongo, but one we know much less about due to Kongo having a long, well-documented history of interacting with Europe (see: the ambassadors), and Loango... does not. But we do know they also had a rich social hierarchy, and we have this map of their capital city.

Sources: x, x

Great Zimbabwe: From 1100- 1500, located in modern-day Zimbabwe, this was a city of the Zimbabwe empire that was either used for storing grain or as a royal residence. Either way, the ruins of said city look like this:

Here's a reconstruction:

Sources: x, x, x, x

Ghana/Mali/Songhai: These were three successive empires from West Africa, with Ghana being the first from the 7th to 13th centuries, Mali being the second from the 13th to 16th centuries, and Songhai being the last one from the 15th to 16th centuries. If you learn about a non-Egyptian African civilization at all in school, chances are it's the Ghana empire and its successive empires, and they're most famous for gold, Timbuktu (with its ancient mosques, library, and university), and Mansa Musa.

Sources: x, x, x, x, x

Ashanti/Asante Empire: Located in modern day Ghana, this kingdom lasted from the eighteenth century to the twentieth century. This kingdom is most well-known for its role in the slave trade. The Ashanti had well-built roads and architecture, and a little fun tidbit about them is that, after the introduction of guns, they actually had a minor firearms industry.

Here's their capital, Kumasi:

Source: x, x

Swahili Coastline: The coastline was made up of MANY city-states that saw their prime in the 11th to 15th centuries--including Mombasa, Zanzibar, and Kilwa--that participated in the Indian Ocean trade route, and pottery from as far away as China has been found in these cities. Many of these cities also practiced Islam and had their own mosques. Kilwa is my personal favorite:

These cities were built of stone, but Kilwa's palace, in particular, was built of coral. Its architecture led to the city being described by Ibn Battuta as one of the most beautiful in the world, which is part of why it's so fascinating to me.

Source: x, x

Of course, this barely scratches the surface. There are many more kingdoms all over the continent and a variety from ancient and pre-medieval times that deserve much more love.

And this image doesn't even cover them all!

So yes, ancient and medieval Africa deserve much more love, more research and more hype, and hopefully one day soon they'll get just that.

#africa #black history #ask #black tumblr

[baejax-the-great]

I don't know if house centipedes traveled east to west or west to east, if they originated somewhere on the the Silk Road and journeyed the expanse of Asia and Europe and back again, with maybe a little detour into Africa just for (one hundred) kicks, or if they evolved their fucky little legs across the Atlantic or the Pacific in the New World to dash around eating New World bugs, but I do know that some fucking man-made boat helped them make the last (hundred) leg(s) of their globalization journey, from east to west or from west to east, so that they haunt the houses of Midwesterners in both the US and China and almost definitely other countries as well, and from the bottom of my heart

fuck that fucking boat

#to look up the history of these creatures #would be to invite pictures of them onto my computer #which I cannot and will not do #so it will remain a mystery #although if someone else wants to tell me where house centipedes originated so that I can curse out a specific land and their boats #I would not mind #south american friends do you have these goddam creatures? #wait does australia have these things #I imagine your spiders would eat them if they tried to invade #but who knows #maybe they came from you

[workersolidarity]

This is an index of Economic growth of select ex-Communist countries: Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Poland, and Georgia, with a mention of China.

Poland, among the Eastern European ex-Communist countries, did the best. And it is true that Poland's economy is now more than 2.5x the size it was before the Warsaw Pact countries collapsed, having received ENORMOUS aid funds from the EU and US, and was even brought into the European Union, becoming fully integrated into the Western Imperialist fold.

There's just no way to credibly say that Neoliberalism served the economic growth of Poland. The massive economic intervention by the West into Poland's economy is antithetical to Neoliberalism. And so, we can conclude Neoliberalism was NOT a cause for Poland's economic growth.

Second best, as you can see, is Belarus, having grown to nearly twice the size its economy was in 1989. But what's interesting about this is that Belarus was the one Eastern European nation that did NOT adopt a Neoliberal Capitalist model. It is still to this day a largely publicly-owned economy, depending largely on large State-owned Machining and Manufacturing companies that employ large swaths of the population. Its education system as well has changed little since 1989, and Belarus still has one of the best education systems among Eastern European countries.

Russia is an interesting case because it began down the road to Neoliberalism, oligarchs formed out of the ex-Soviet heartland, with criminal enterprises and private corporations becoming nearly indistinguishable from one another for a time.

However, in very important ways, Russia has begun moving away from the Neoliberal model, even re-Nationalizing certain key resources and vastly increasing Social spending, Healthcare spending, and Infrastructure projects. This increase is reflected in the graph as a sudden stop in Russia's decline in the early 2000's and a steady, if slow, growth since then.

I don't personally know a whole lot about Georgia, and so I will decline to comment on the economic state of the country at this time, and will do some research on the economic system of Georgia.

Last, and certainly least, comes Ukraine, which followed a process similar to Russia's, indulging in the worst Neoliberal impulses for Privatization and Deregulation. With that said, much of Ukraine's previously strong Socialist Labor Protections, broad Union Rights, and huge public assets still remained at the time of the Euromaidan coup.

And what you see since 2014 is the very rapid deregulation, privatization and Union smashing of the Ukrainian economy. The entire country is for sale. Don't take my word for it, take Zelensky's when he made that weird video praising BlackRock and JP Morgan Chase as the future of Ukraine. Zelensky has made it crystal clear: any and all State Assets are up for the highest bidder to take. Mostly Western Corporations that see an opportunity to suck the wealth out of yet another country's working class. And the results have been so far predictable: huge increases in poverty along with economic decline and stagnation. I mean, peeling Ukraine away from its largest trading partner was always going to be bad for Ukraine, and the economic indicators make it clear that Neoliberalism is destroying their Working Class.

And lastly a simple note on China: China's economy has grown 1'480% since 1989. A staggering figure for a Nation that had been among the poorest in the world for the 19th and much of the 20th Centuries. China of course is no longer a Communist style Command economy, or is it? China still has no Private Property, all property must be leased from the State, and though China has opened up its economy, it hasn't exactly followed the Neoliberal model either.

Instead China has led global economic growth as a sort of mixed economy. Much of it remains under Command control, being massive State-owned enterprises, and the CPC has huge stakes in Private companies throughout the Chinese economy. Virtually all of China's resources remain under Govt control, under Public ownership.

I won't go much further into it, the point is clear: China, whatever its economy may be called, it is NOT Neoliberal Capitalism. So for our purposes, China's massive economic growth cannot be attributed to Neoliberalism by any means.

So just something to think about. It seems pretty obvious that Neoliberalism offers nothing to the Working Classes. All it offers is more poverty and stratospheric inequality.

*Update*

Just an added side note: one thing each of the countries that have displayed economic growth since the fall of the Soviet Union have in common is an Industrial Policy. Poland, China and Belarus each have had an industrial policy with large-scale Govt intervention. This is also antithetical to Neoliberalism, and the countries that have not had an industrial policy were also the same countries to follow the Neoliberal model.

A clear Industrial Policy seems like an essential character of an economy growing on Main Street, not Wall Street.

#neoliberal capitalism #neoliberalism #capitalism #fuck capitalism #fuck neoliberalism #us news #us politics #socialist news #socialist politics #socialist worker #socialism #communism #marxism leninism #socialist #communist #marxism #marxist leninist #progressive politics #politics #us imperialism #capitalist imperialism #imperialism #anti imperialist #anti imperialism #anti capitalism #anti capitalist #economics #economy #economic news #geopolitics

[glassprism]

hi gp!! i love ur acc hehehe i just wanted to ask a rlly quick question! w/ all the tour announcements recently (matt&jonathan returning to the world tour and places like vienna, etc. having productions), why do you think cameron&co haven’t announced another US tour? like exactly how it used to be on bway but on the road? idk if im the only one, but i’ve been lowkey waiting for an announcement since bway closed bc i feel like there’s a cash grab opportunity there?? i'm surprised they haven't <3

Hey, thanks for enjoying the blog!

As for your question: my honest answer to "why hasn't a US tour been announced" is simply "because it's not related to the other productions", at least not directly so. Like, I don't really see how the announcements of a World Tour and the Vienna production starting up (it was announced a while ago) should mean that a US tour must be announced and if it isn't, then something is going on. To me, all it means is that the pieces fell into place for some productions and that they're still working on the pieces for another. (And it is a lot of pieces: you have to negotiate with theaters, find or build set pieces and costumes and wigs, get cast and crew and orchestra, build up hype and marketing, and so on and so forth).

And really, if you look at some of these productions, there are still gaps of over a year or more between them (and it has been less than a year since the Broadway production closed). In the case of the Vienna production, even though it was announced before the Australian tour had even closed, there was still over a year between when the news broke (January 2023) and when it opened (March 2024). This was also a case where the higher-ups knew the Australian production would be over at a certain date and that the sets and costumes would be readily available for the next production. As far as I know, the production is also only going to be in Vienna, not touring (which is a bit odd since the restaged sets are made for touring, but whatever), so that also means only one theater to negotiate and set dates for performances.

And in the case of the World Tour, again, this was something where all the pieces were set up and just had to fall into place: the Chinese tour was over, which meant sets and costumes are now available; the World Tour had been all set to go to China before it was paused to begin with, so now that restrictions are lifted, they can just take off from there; the World Tour has always been popular in China and the other countries in Asia that they visit, so there's demand; and apparently several cast members are available, so they didn't even have to do much casting. I don't know how contracts and negotiations are done in this kind of situation (it is a bit of an oddball one), but it seems it all worked out here.

That doesn't mean I don't think there will be a US tour coming soon, as you say it's a huge opportunity to make money, but I do think that they need to get all the pieces together. For one thing, I don't think it's going to exactly how it was on Broadway, either before the COVID shutdown or after it reopened; I think that it'll be close to the tour that ran briefly in the UK in 2020, with the Pegasus statue, reduced orchestra, some more modifications in blocking and design, that kind of thing. But of course, the question is, are there sets available for that and if not, they need to build or modify ones, have they finished negotiating with theaters for all that, and then the necessary time to drum up hype and marketing. That can take time!

And to look at a similar example in the US: look at when Phantom's 3rd national tour closed (October 2010) and the 4th one was announced and started (November 2013). If you want to argue that that's because the restaged tour was going around the UK before going to the US (which it was), well, the UK tour was still announced nearly a year after the US tour had closed (October 2011) and with an opening a few months after that (February 2012).

So anyway, that's my long-winded answer: one production starting up in one part of the world, doesn't necessarily indicate anything about a production in another part of the world. While it's all under the heading of Phantom and RUG, there are still many different people and many different companies working through all the different facets that go into making a show possible.

#GP gets asks #anonymous