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husbandohunter · 3 years

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May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

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Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #childe genshin impact #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #genshin impact childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons

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jadethest0ne · 3 years

Text

In need of Refueling, Chapter 11 - Help

Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 2173

Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: Time for Red Son and Sandy to have a talk

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

He must have passed out at some point because Red Son wakes up, finding himself still on the floor, leaning up against the bed. Pillows and blankets have been stuffed around him and a heater has been placed in the small space. The shivers he was experiencing earlier have quieted down to a low rumble beneath his skin, and he feels much more cozy.

There is a tray in front of him as well, with some more tea and a couple of bean buns on it. From the steam coming from the tea, he can tell it is still warm. The steam reminds him of his sudden lack of powers, and he sinks his nose down into the blankets, hitching his shoulders up to his ears in remembered embarrassment and shame. Not only is he injured, but without his powers he is utterly defenseless.

A gurgle from his stomach alerts him to how empty it is, and he eyes the tray once more. He weighs having to leave his little cocoon of warmth to eat, but ultimately decides that having something warm to eat and drink will satisfy both his hunger and his need for heat. The thought that they might be poisoned did cross his mind, but he logics that if the Blue One was going to kill him, he wouldn’t have bothered healing him first. No, there had to be another reason he was going through all this trouble.

Red Son worms his arm out from the blankets and reaches down to the tray, picking up a bun and sinking his teeth into the plump bread. It has the perfect texture - soft and pliant, but firm enough that there isn’t a hint of sogginess where it touches the sweet beans inside. The bean paste has a nice creamy texture to it, with grains of surgery goodness. A contented mumble purrs out of his mouth as he chews on the sweet treat. He gets through half a bun before his dry throat reminds him to slow down and drink something. He takes a sip of the tea, which has a pleasant bitterness to it, with a mixture of ginger and flowery fragrance balancing it out. The tea and the buns compliment each other nicely. Red Son couldn’t remember eating or drinking something with so much apparent care and flavor put into it in a long time. If the big guy’s snacks taste this good, he wonders vaguely what any meals he makes taste like. Not like Red Son intends to stick around very long to find out though. A part of him that he doesn’t want to listen to quite yet, wonders where he’d even go.

Instead, he turns his thoughts to his present circumstances. Where is that big guy anyway? There are still a few cats in the room, but true to the man’s warnings they stay away, eyeing Red Son cautiously. Chewing through the first bean bun, he picks up the second one and notices another two items on the tray - a bell and a note. The note says ‘Red Son: I hope you enjoy the tea and bean buns. Please ring the bell if you need assistance.’

Red Son rolls his eyes at this. Like he wants anything to do with an enemy. Then again, he did seem to care for his injuries and give him some (extremely tasty) tea and snacks. But why? Red Son still can’t figure that out. He huffs out an anxious breath and puts down the last half of the second bean bun, stomach now having been filled despite the small amount of food. He slowly nurses the rest of his tea as he contemplates the situation. Where would he go? What happened to his parents? Would they even want a now powerless demon like him around?

After staring out at space for a bit, getting distracted at nothing but the same questions rolling around in his brain, he notices that his tea has gotten a bit cold. His body is also really achy from sleeping on the floor the whole time. He tentatively stretches out his sore limbs as best he can despite the bandages. He contemplates the distance from the floor to the bed, and decides that he can totally get up there by himself. He struggles onto his knees, careful of his sore ankle, and puts a hand on the bed.

A meow distracts his progress. He looks down to see that blue cat with the tuft of fur that matches the big guy’s mohawk. It’s pawing at his leg and giving him a meaningful look.

“What’s wrong with you? Go away! I’m trying to do something!” Red Son swats at the cat.

The cat responds with more meowing.

“Pft, dumb loud cats,” Red Son grumbles as he tries to ignore the yowling, and shifts his body upwards. He wobbles on one leg, but keeps steady with his hand on the bed. Unfortunately, the bedding is too fluffy to give him sturdy enough leverage to help him up to it. He lurches forward trying to use the momentum to get him up, but instead finds himself doubled over in pain, as his ribs protest the movement. His leg gives a final wobble, and he slips back to the floor with a grunt. He muffles a yell of pain and frustration in the soft mattress.

“Are you all right?”

The loud, but somehow still soft voice causes Red Son to flinch back. He swallows another grunt of pain, in the form of a growl he throws at the Blue One who had appeared in the room. “Of course I’m not all right! I-- I…” He looks to the side unhappily. “I can’t get into the bed.”

“You could have asked for help,” the man says matter-of-factly. “I left a bell.” He smiles genuinely and points to the bell still on the tray.

“I don’t need your help.” Red Son grumbles.

The blue man blinks, then squats down to Red Son’s level, and tilts his eyebrows upward, as if trying his best to appear as small and non-threatening as can be. “It’s okay to ask for help, you know?”

With an eye-roll, Red Son huffs, “Well, I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Technically, you did,” the man points up a finger.

“Listen,” Red Son says ignoring that obvious falsehood. “I’ve been completely fine on my own before. I’ve never had to ask for help! I don’t know what you’re doing here by bandaging me up and stuff, but I’m not playing your game! I don’t need your help! I can do this myself if I just try a bit more!”

“I’m sure you can!”

Red Son gives him a rueful look at his placating tone.

The man’s eyes soften. “But you don’t have to.”

Red Son’s instinct would be to argue further, but there’s something just so darn honest about the man’s tone and a gentleness in his eyes. He mulled over the man’s words. He hadn’t thought of it that way.

The man speaks up again, his gentle demeanor not changing in the slightest. “Would you like to get in the bed?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get in the bed by yourself?”

“...Not… easily,” Red Son decides.

“Would it be easier and less painful if I helped you?”

“Yes.”

“Would it be okay if I helped you get in the bed?” The man holds out an offering hand, palm up.

Red Son looks between it and the man. He nods slowly.

“Okay!” The Blue One beams like Red Son just made his day.

Red Son grimaces and squints as if he is looking directly at the sun.

It ends up being much easier getting into bed with the man’s help. Red Son gets the feeling that the Blue One could’ve just picked him up and put him in bed. But he took care to allow Red Son to go through the motions of pulling himself up and shifting into a sitting position on the bed, as if he had done it on his own, and not that his entire weight was being supported by the Blue One. Red Son decides to not dwell on that fact, and tries to hold onto the last dregs of dignity he had left. Once in bed, the man moved the pillows and blankets back in place once again creating a warm cocoon for the demon to be nestled in. He also moved the heater closer to the bed, and brought him a new cup of warm tea.

A big part of Red Son hates all of this unnecessary pampering, but he was beginning to get very tired and cold again and he didn’t have the energy to fight back.

“Why did you help me?” Red Son asks finally.

“Like I said before, you asked me to!” the man says jovially.

“No, not the bed thing - why did you rescue me?”

“You asked me to do that, too!” Upon seeing Red Son’s disbelieving expression he says, “Well, technically, I don’t think you knew it was me you were asking - you were kind of out of it - and also maybe you don’t remember because of the whole shock, and cold, and being injured thing…” Red Son notes that the blue one really likes talking with his hands as they gesture about in his explanation. Either way, Red Son is not convinced.

“But why? This must be some sort of trick, or maybe a way to hold me hostage for-- you’re not going to try to use me as leverage for my parents, are you? Or-- what happened to my parents?! You haven’t captured them, too?!” Red Son’s voice starts pitching wildly, and he casts a highly suspicious gaze at the man.

“Woah, woah there! It’s not any of that!” The man holds up his hands in surrender. “MK was able to stop DBK. It’s… difficult to explain what happened, but you all were carried away by a, uh, flash flood…” Red Son quirks an incredulous eyebrow up at that. But the Blue One continues, “I happened to find you washed up on shore by my house boat. To be honest, I don’t know what happened to your parents. ” He shrugs apologetically, as Red Son’s eyebrows knit together at that revelation.

He mulls over the explanation. But something didn’t track right. “But I-- I attacked your friends. We’re… enemies! There’s… no way you would help me unless you had some sort of a plot.”

“Red Son,” the Blue One says, (again with that annoying, honest, gentle voice!). “I helped you because you asked, and I wanted to. No other reason than that. You are free to go and look for your parents whenever you want.”

Red Son sits there, confused. He considers himself very good at reading people. If this guy wanted to intimidate him and hold him hostage, he could easily do so through force, if his appearance is any indication of that. But instead he used everything in his power to appear not threatening. So either the Blue One was one of the best liars that Red Son had ever seen, or he was telling the truth. And he isn’t sure which explanation perplexed him more. Furthermore, if he was free to go and he did find his parents, would they even want him back? Maybe this was secretly a ruse to do so and find that they had actually disowned them. He would certainly deserve that after what he did…

Red Son shakes his head as if to rid himself of those thoughts. “How did you know my name?” he asks instead.

“I try to remember the names of everybody that I know.” The man gives a toothy smile, and points a thumb at himself. “My name’s Sandy, by the way!”

Red Son scrunches up his nose in what he hopes is convincing disgust and not embarrassment at not knowing an enemy’s name. “O-of course I knew that was your name, Blue One! I just don’t lower myself to using the names of peasants!” He tries to make a show of folding his arms, but it’s difficult when one is bandaged to his torso.

The Blue One laughs loud and heartily, which is not the reaction that Red Son wanted, but by now he supposes is the reaction he should expect from this impossibly happy man. “That’s fine! But please,” he places the tray with the bell on a table next to the bed. “Feel free to ask for assistance if you ever need it!”

Red Son grunts in response and buries his nose back under the covers, sinking into the cocoon of blankets. He realizes that he is still very tired and his eyes drift shut. He feels that he can maybe relax a little bit around the Blue On-- Sandy. Still, uncertainty about his parents and his powers bubble beneath the surface. Maybe it would be better if he stayed here. He couldn’t show his face to his parents. Not after all this.

start || <– previous // next –>

#lmk #lego monkie kid #in need of refueling #lmk fanfiction #lmk fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #red son #sandy #injury #help #hurt/comfort #recovery #my writing #jadethest0ne

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

sly san who sacrifices (ii) || c.s (atz)

➳ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➳ word count: 2396

➳ genre: badboy au; fluff; angst

➳ synopsis: to the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst, but to you, he’s choi san, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you’re in love with.

>>>

The second you step out of the car, you can already hear the mewing of cats.

“Yobu!” You laugh as the tiny grey ragdoll leaps into your arms, fingers brushing its fur back. The tiny feline lets out a content mew and you press a kiss to its adorable nose. You love all of San’s cats, having helped him in taking care of each and every one of them, but you have a soft spot for Yobu in particular. After all, he’s the cat that had allowed you and Seonghwa, one of San's friends, to meet.

San looms up behind your shoulder.

“Yah, Yobu, that’s my friend, not yours.” He scolds the kitten sternly and you give San a flat look of exasperation. He doesn’t look intimidating in the slightest, not when he looks like he’s about to topple over any moment. Concern wells up in you once again and you call over your shoulder to Claude, who’s still at the car.

“I’ll bring him up, Claude!”

The chauffeur nods acknowledgement and before San can protest, you’re already pulling him into the mansion after you.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the grandeur and luxury of San’s home. A sprawling, lavish mansion made nearly entirely out of white and grey marble, and designed by a famous architect whose name you can’t quite pronounce, this place screams luxury and wealth. Built all for the sake of your best friend Choi San, only son to a globally successful business mogul and fashion entrepreneur, you sometimes wonder how cheap money is to people like them. San tries his best to make you forget the gap between the two of you, but other times, it’s near overwhelming for you.

You remember him asking you once, “Why would people buy knock-off goods when they can just get the real ones?”

You had never been so tempted to slap him.

The floor is cool against your bare feet and the helper bows to you as you drag San up the stairs to his bedroom. You’ve been here so many times you could your way around this mansion blindfolded, and the mansion is huge. Your best friend trails after you silently aside from the odd cough, and when the two of you emerge into his room, he merely flops onto his king sized bed with a tired groan.

He must have been really exhausted.

“I’ll go get some warm water and medicine for you!” You chirp and San merely lets out a tired noise of agreement, the sound muffled in the soft, downy pillows on his bed.

When you return with the essentials to make your best friend comfortable, San is curled up in his bed with his face buried underneath his Shiber toy plush, specially customized and hand sewn to look like Shiber. Tapping on his shoulder, you rouse him from his fever induced slumber.

“Hey, San, you need to drink some water and take your meds before you go to sleep.”

He grumbles a little but still complies, sitting up in the bed to face you with a pout, hair mussed from tossing about on the bed. You press the glass of warm water to his dry lips and he tilts his head back to drink, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows it all greedily. Concern wells up in your chest as you look at his pallid face.

He’s probably a lot more sick than he’s letting on.

But that’s just like San, you sigh under your breath as you watch him drink thirstily, rubbing at the bags under his eyes. You wonder why he hasn’t been sleeping enough. Has he been out clubbing again?

You don’t really want to think about the answer.

When that’s done, you grab the pills and tear out two tablets for San, holding them out for him to take. “For your fever. You should be fine when you wake up if you just take a couple of these.” You tell him as you set the now empty glass on his bedside table, but you don’t feel him take the pills from your hand, so you turn around to glance at him.

He stares at you expectantly.

You stare back, befuddled.

“What?”

“Well, aren’t you supposed to put them in your mouth and kiss me like in those movies?” San’s wearing a shit eating grin so wide that you’re not sure whether his brain has really been fried or if he’s just plain crazy. You stare at him in horrified disbelief for a second longer and he merely continues grinning at you like a cat that just got the canary, seemingly pleased with how red your face is becoming. “I’m not eating those on my own, they’re bitter, you know.”

Your mouth falls open at the sheer audacity of his words. Where on earth had they come from?

Then you shriek and clobber him hard over the head with a pillow.

“Ow! Ow! Yeowch! Stop hitting me, woman!” San yelps, scrambling away from you as fast as he can with the blankets tangled around his legs. You chase him with the heavy pillow held high above your head, bringing it down on his head again and again, intent on beating out the stupidity in him. He’s not nearly fast enough in this ill state and before he can reach any relative safety, you’ve already grabbed him by the ankles and are dragging him back to you.

“No! Spare me!” San thrashes about comically, trying to wriggle his way out of your grasp much like an actual cat, but you sit on his back, firmly trapping his flailing arms under your legs and then proceed to attack his sides with an assault of furious tickles.

“Aieeeee! Mercy! Have mercy on me!” Screeches fill the air, San’s voice getting increasingly high pitched when your fingers move to his armpits. Only when he’s crying and shouting and laughing weakly through tears all at once do you finally pull off him, smacking him over the head one more time for good measure.

“That’s for saying all those stupid comments!” You shout at him breathlessly, still flushed from a combination of exertion and embarrassment. San sits up next to you, still choking on a few final exhausted giggles, red streaked hair thoroughly mussed from the little roughhousing the two of you just had and the biggest, fondest grin on his face.

You hate how your heart just melts at the sight.

To distract yourself, you shove the pills into his mouth with one hand and San obediently crunches them down this time, watching you intently as you wring out a few damp towels next to him, gesturing for him to lie down. His heart warms in his chest at the sight, and when he closes his eyes, sometimes he just wishes that he could be the right one for you instead–

He purges the thought from his mind before it can go too far.

“Here you go, San.” Your voice is gentle for him, soft, sweet, innocent, a polar opposite to everything he is, so familiar and warm.

He counts it a blessing that you still remain at his side despite everything he’s done, no matter how many tears you shed over him and the times your heart has been rent in two because of his misdoings and fights.

He lays back down on the pillows, eyes shut tight against the sight of your face hovering above his. But as if you’re trying to tempt him unconsciously, you move his head into your lap and he nearly goes rigid in a panic.

“I’ve been talking to Seonghwa a lot recently, you know. He’s a great friend.” You tell him absentmindedly as your soft fingers brush the hair on his forehead back. Something in him twists, a sense of satisfaction that his carefully laid plan is falling into place, but also something darker, something more selfish, a certain sort of gut wrenching emptiness that he doesn’t want to think too much about.

San is still your best friend.

And that’s all he’ll ever be to you.

The cool cloth rests against his forehead and he sighs at how good it feels against his heated skin, but it probably has to do more with how your hands are gently kneading against his temples rather than the actual cloth itself. Upon hearing his little exhale of comfort, you glance at his face with a content smile, shaking your head with some kind of exasperation and warmth settling deep in your chest.

“Are you close to Seonghwa-oppa, San?” You ask as your fingers thread through his hair and he presses into your touch, for some reason desperately craving the feeling of your skin on his. He wants to treasure every last time he gets to be close to you like this, because it might come to an end all too soon.

Why does it hurt?

“He’s a nice guy. Boyfriend material.” San has never had to force a smile around you and it feels wrong on his lips, brittle like cracked glass against his skin. You are the one person he would never want to lie to, but if it’s for the sake of you and Seonghwa’s happiness, who is he to stand in the way?

“Yeah! He’s nothing like you.” You laugh cheerfully, teasingly bopping his nose with a finger and San barely manages to hold back a flinch at your words, his expression twisting in pain as if you’ve just shoved a knife into his chest straight. Honestly, he’d rather you just do that instead, it’d probably hurt a lot less.

“San? San, are you alright?” You frown in concern, bending down to glance at his face. The tips of your hair tickle his face gently and he can feel your breath against his cheeks, and maybe, just maybe, he wants to reach up and just pull you down to him–

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He lies again through his teeth. Maybe if he lies enough times, the pain in his chest will go away. Some part of him wants you to call him out on his deception, but you’ve always been too innocent for the things of this world and San is perhaps just a little too good at hiding his true feelings behind a carefully painted mask. “So, what were you saying again about Seonghwa?”

And he watches your face light up as you chatter animatedly to him about one of his best friends, Park Seonghwa, wondering why his chest hurts so much even when your eyes shine with excitement and joy.

He’s a selfish bastard, and he hates it.

He really needs to get the two of you together before he does something he regrets.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez san #ateez fanfiction #san fanfic #san fanfiction #w; san #w; fanfiction

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itsa-lie · 3 years

Text

Birth Of A Liar Part Two

||Part One||Part Two||Part Three||Part Four||Part Five||

More of the boy’s backstory, including a cameo from a special someone. Oh boy will that someone hurt.

Trigger warning for abuse, murder, and an unlikely pair-up

Days went by since that horrible day of his parents death. Days became months, and months became years. How the young boy managed to keep himself alive for that long was a miracle in itself. He mostly would stand outside shops making sad pouty faces until the owner or someone who would give him a half-eaten sandwich or, if he was lucky, a soda bottle. One time a kind man bought him this really sweet grape drink he really liked. It was cold, sweet, and tasted like sweet grapes. He was too young to read back then, but the man called it “Grape Panta” and oh boy was he hooked on it.

Not only would he beg for food and drink, sometimes he would outright steal using his small height to his advantage. The cashier at the local bakery leaves for a few minutes? He’d just sneak in and go around the back of the display and steal a few jelly filled donuts. It wasn’t that hard and if he was lucky he’d be able to steal a Panta too. He’s never once been caught and he is very proud of that.

One summer day as he carries his loot of sweets to his hole, he noticed something odd was going on. Someone was there with him. Kokichi practically dropped his treats in surprise! There was a boy a bit older than him with red hair that draped over his eyes, a small girl with brown hair who looked terrified and holding onto an older girl, and the older girl herself looking around Kokichi’s age with long black hair in ponytails and crimson red eyes. She was the only one not looking scared in this situation, her eyes glued to the boy in front of her as if she would attack any second.

Kokichi tries his best not to look scared, but does try to intimidate them the best the six-year-old could.

“Who the ever-loving hell are you?”

He’s heard a few grown-ups use this phase outside him hiding place. It seemed to get the job done with them into scaring the other person. Well while it did intimidate the little girl who began to sob loudly, the other two didn’t seem to be intimidated in the slightest, the red eyed girl becoming more enraged.

“If you do anything to us I swear I’ll-”

“Maki, I’ll take care of this, calm down.”

“Goro stand down, he’s already scaring Hanako.”

“WAAAAHHHH!!!”

The odd scenario going on before Kokichi both baffled and amused him just the same. He hasn’t seen any kids before nor has he played with anyone before. Or maybe he has? Unfortunately as much as he tried to prevent it his memories while his parents were still alive kept coming back fuzzy as if they were going to be forgotten entirely. It would be nice to have some company in this lonely little building. However you can never be too sure.

“Hey I know you’re probably wondering what we’re doing here, kid. I don’t blame you. This was your hole after all.” The older boy, apparently named Goro mutters with a timid laugh. He didn’t want a fight to break out it seems. “But we need your help. You see, some bad people are looking for us and we really need a place to hide. We won’t be much trouble I promise.” The red eyed girl scoffed at Goro’s plea but continued petting and comforting the child in front of her who was sniffling hysterically. Confused but intrigued, Kokichi poked his head out the hole looking around. There seemed to be a group of adults each carrying firearms. That didn’t look good.

“Fine fine, just keep her voice down! There’s guys everywhere out there.”

His loud shout only made Hanako cry more. “You idiot. That’s no way to comfort a child.” hissed Maki as she holds the girl close. “There there...don’t cry...I won’t let anything happen to you...” Kokichi, for some odd reason, felt a warm feeling hearing those words as if he heard them before...somewhere. Hanako seemed to calm down at least. This Maki girl was really great with kids.

“I heard something this way! Come on!” booms a man voice outside walking into the alley. Oh no! Did he hear them? And they are coming this way! Kokichi was able to keep a low profile for so long! Why now of all times and places should he be discovered! Thinking quickly Kokichi started to bark orders.

“You, take the kid behind that sink over there and lay low, kid, don’t worry, I got this under control. And you, big red over here, sit in that darkened corner by the kitchen and stay completely still.”

The children had no other choice but to listen, following Kokichi’s words exactly. The boy himself climbed up on a shelf above the hole holding a wooden bat in his hand. Yes it was the same hateful bat that that horrible gang member used to kill his father with, but it could still be used for protection. Though Kokichi would never kill anyone and would only knock out the man if he even tried getting in. Outside it would seem that the hole was spotted by one of the men. He leans down to look inside, flashing his flashlight around. All he could really see was a bag of what seemed to be donuts on the ground. Did an animal hide them away here for safe keeping? Defeated, the man gets back onto his feet. “False alarm. Must be a rat or something...” Kokichi gives a sigh of relief to himself and wipes the sweat from his brow while listening to the footsteps get further and further away. “Okay, he’s gone now, it’s safe.”

The three other children come out of their hiding places like fawn staring out for their mother to give them the go ahead to move. They all sat down in front of the purpleish blue haired boy as they gave sighs of relief.

“Wow mister! You’re really good at being a leader!” Hanako states with a smile. Maki didn’t want to admit it, especially from how loud and brash this kid was, but she’d admit this kid saved their skin and she was grateful. Goro nodded in agreement with the little girl. “Yeah, you really saved our butts back there, thank you. Maki why don’t you say thanks too?” Maki was quiet, her gaze to the ground, before she finally gives in and rolls her eyes. “...thanks I guess.” The orphan boy blushed from the compliments and the thanks, but pretended it meant nothing. “Yeah yeah yeah, I know I’m like...an ultimate leader and all that.” The red headed boy laughs a bit at the younger’s cockiness before speaking again. “Anyway why don’t we introduce ourselves? I’m Goro Harukawa and this is my little sister Maki.” Maki didn’t even bother to look at anyone, only cradling Hanako softly. “And I’m Hanako!” Says the smallest as she waves her hand in the air. “Hanako was a baby when we found her so we just...ya know...took care of her. Could you believe someone would leave this cutie on a doorstep?”

Kokichi stares at the others with an eyebrow raised. “So if you’re brother and sister what happened to your parents?” Goro’s eyes started to look a bit sadder but continued to smile as Maki grunts and turns away much to the confusion of the young Hanako. “Well our...mother died when Maki was born so...well our father had three sons before me who had grown up or got sent to a boarding school, and he usually had mother by his side so...well...he...”

Maki was looking more and more uncomfortable at what her brother was saying.

“He was already angry at Maki for being born and was...punching her whenever he got mad or would punch me for defending her. So when he saw a defenseless baby Hanako outside he...well he tried to kill her. That was until Maki stabbed him in the back of the neck.”

“He would have killed us! Father’s temper was horrible, you know that! Don’t paint me out to be some sort of horrible murderer!” Maki snapped, her eyes filling with hate. It was enough to even scare Kokichi who glanced back at Goro like he was saying “he said it not me”. Goro stares down at the ground, sweat pouring down his face. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. I was only explaining-”

“Actually,” Kokichi started, a blank stare on his face devoid of emotion. “You’re still a murderer if you had good intentions or not. You still took a life. You’re a murderer.” Goro’s eyes turned as big as dinner plates, Hanako stares confused, and Maki...oh man Maki...was on fire with rage right now. She reeled her fist back before socking Kokichi right in the jaw, his head moving back from the blow. “You don’t know shit about what I am. You don’t know ANYTHING about me. So don’t keep talking out of your ass or else you might be the next one hurt.”

“M-Maki!? What the hell?! I know that was uncalled for but-” Before Goro could finish his sentence Maki was already up the stairs, going who knows where. Kokichi gets back up, rubbing the side of his face that hurt. “You bitch! You’re not the only one who can fight ya know!” Kokichi picked up his bat and tried to run right for her but was stopped by Goro who practically held the boy in the air by the collar of his shirt. Kokichi made a whining sound before Goro put him down again. “Look, maybe you should just...leave her alone for a bit. This whole thing hurts her very much. Heck it even hurts me and Hana.” The boy looked up at the taller boy, skeptical.

“Didn’t you say your dad was an abusive douchebag?”

Goro’s eyes start to water as he looks down. “...he didn’t used to be...he used to be a kid father until mom died...” The lump forming in his throat made it hard to talk, he holds onto Hanako close who was nestled beside him. “I thought...if we waited a bit longer he would go back to the way he used to be...that’s what I told Maki...we just...had to wait and he’d be loving and sweet again...” Goro was shaking as tears went down his eyes. “It kept us going and made Maki happy but...he wasn’t ever coming back.” Now Kokichi felt like a total ass for what he said. They had that little bit of hope from a lie, just like how he had hope from his own lie that his parents weren’t dead. The boy himself shook as well, his eyes peering to the ground as his body trembles. “I thought lying to myself would make me happy but...this makes it much worse. I’m sorry...”

Goro feels a bit better and pats Kokichi’s head. “It isn't your fault. I mean if someone came into my house saying they killed their father I’d be pretty freaked out too. I’d probably call the police.” He giggles a little before putting on a comforting smile.

“But sometimes you care about someone too much to let them suffer in lies. You have to do something or someone will get hurt.”

Kokichi was silent, taking the older boy’s words to heart. Even if lies do make you feel better, there were some that makes you feel better for a little while then hurt you in the long run. But what kind of lies are they? How could he tell the difference? Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by his growling stomach. That’s right, he didn’t get a chance to eat his stolen donuts yet. He quickly picked up the bag and starts chowing down. Given he was so young when his parents had passed on, he didn’t really have manners or the idea to share. Well, until both Goro and Hanako stared at him sadly as their own stomachs rumbled.

“Y-You want some?”

The three of them ate as much as they could and there was still some left over for Maki. They each told each other stories of their pasts and dreams they had until Goro and Hanako fell asleep on a full stomach and cuddled up next to each other on a pillow. Kokichi couldn’t sleep now feeling guilt he made Maki hurt. But it wasn’t a lie, that was the truth! Anyone who kills another human being is a murderer! Was it better if he lied about that too? Well he didn’t want the donuts to go bad or stale so he went up the stairs. The most beautiful thing about this building was the way it would go up to the roof, it would show the most scenic spots of Tokyo. Kokichi didn’t think that’s why his mom hid him in that spot, in fact she probably didn’t know it existed, but he was grateful nonetheless. If only father and mother could see these beautiful sights...perhaps someday...maybe...

As he reached the roof he could see Maki sitting alone. She stares at the busy roads and cars below her, hearing the hustle and bustle of the city. Timidly Kokichi sat on the other side of her also looking down at the ground. She didn’t seem to notice, and even if she did she gave no response. This lasted for a few minutes, only the sounds of the city bellow. Kokichi couldn’t stand the awkward silence anymore before he holds out the bag of treats to her. “Here, we saved you some.” Maki eyed the bag of treats for a second as if she was checking if they were safe or not before sighing and taking the bag. She cautiously took a bite of a cherry jelly filled donut, then took another, and another. Damn these things were good. She ate it pretty fast which made Kokichi giggle a bit before Maki gives one of those infamous stares in which he holds up his hands defensively. Maki seemed to have eaten the rest of the donuts in one sitting before taking the empty paper bag and handing it back to him. “Thanks. It was...oddly tasty...”

“Ah so you do like it? They make the best damn donuts anywhere!”

“I’d appreciate it if you would stop cussing in front of Hana.”

There was a stillness in the night, awkward silence in the air. Finally Kokichi just decided to say it.

“Hey, I really am sorry for hurting you. I shouldn’t have said that...” His hair swayed in the wind as a gust came from the east. “I’m an orphan too. My mom and dad died when I was three. Three gang guys killed them. I...I was too young to do anything so I...hid in that building. I’ve been living on my own ever since...”

Maki looked over at him carefully, her eyes still narrow but at least a bit softer now feeling sympathy for the brash loud child. She then turns back to the city and smiles a little. “It’s fine...honestly you got it worse than me. I at least have my brother and sister. You have...no one. I’m sorry...”

“About what? You weren’t those three guys.” Kokichi states as he kicks his legs over the building’s ledge. But now that he thinks of it...he really was alone. He was too busy trying to survive to notice it but...it hurt. “H-Hey...” Maki started, her eyes still on the city streets. “You don’t have to be alone you know. We wouldn’t mind keeping you company. Like an extended family or...something...” Maki seemed bashful saying this but she meant it. He did help her and her siblings out after all. Kokichi turns to the girl, giving the first genuine smile he had in a long time. “If you all want to you’re welcome to stay. Us orphans have to stick together, right?”

Suddenly he stood up quickly onto the edge of the building, almost looking like he’s about to fall but catches himself pretty quickly with cat-like reflexes.

“We should start our own orphan gang!”

Maki stares at him worriedly like he was about to fall but calmed down once she noticed he wasn’t going anywhere. “An orphan gang? That does sound fun. Just the four of us, huh?” Kokichi nods his head enthusiastically as he stares back into the girl’s red eyes. “Then we need a leader. How about you? You managed to direct us without getting caught. That was very leader-like. Even Goro would’ve froze up in that situation.”

Now this caught him off guard as Kokichi almost fell forward but moved his weight backwards so he fell on his butt onto the roof’s concrete.

“M-Me?!”

“Yes you. ‘Ultimate Leader’.”

Kokichi crosses his legs, his head down in deep thought. “W-Well...I guess. Mom used to say my dad was a leader in his gang so...”

“Then I guess you have your dad’s genes.”

“No? My dad’s jeans would be too big for me.”

Maki looks at him down founded for a second, then shook her head. “Never mind. Anyway what should the gang be called?” Kokichi thinks for a few minutes, his eyes glancing everywhere to find a name out of anything. His eyes wondered to Maki’s hairbands that held up her pigtails. They almost looked like playing die. He then nods his head again, even more enthusiastic than before.

“We’ll call it DICE!”

Maki really had to get used to this kid’s sudden outbursts. “What does it stand for?” Kokichi blinks. “Stand for?”

“N-Never mind...” She smiles a little. This dude was an idiot, but a funny idiot.

Kokichi glances over to Maki noticing her smile for the first time. “Heeey you’re smiling!” Maki looked shocked but then sighs defeated. Damn this kid’s observation skills. “All right, you got me ultimate leader.”

“You’re very pretty when you smile!”

Oh no! Here comes the blush! She stares at him for a moment, her cheeks cherry red. Kokichi noticing this quickly tries to think of a way to fix his friend’s red face.

“S-Stop lying!”

“Nyhehehe! Okay. I’m lying. You got vampire eyes. Are you a vampire?”

Her red face became red for another reason, anger.

“I’m gonna kick your ass!”

Kokichi peeks up from the door to the stairs. “I thought we weren’t cussing in front of Hanako?” Seeing Maki run forward he quickly paniced and closed the door and ran down the stairs.

“SHE’S NOT HERE RIGHT NOW! KOKICHI!!!!”

#kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #please don't read the tags there's a spoiler #maki haruwaka #headcanon

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aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years

Text

XII.

Take care of me Talk all day then at night fall in deep Stimulate me I want you mental and physically I belong to you

Humans have always summed up paradise to be some sort of a place that we travel to in order to escape whatever is burdening our reality. It’s those Sandals Resort commercials that flash across our screens at random hours of the evening to entice us to bite the bait by making a phone call and grabbing our credit cards. Sometimes it’s a very specific place that you’ll have on a list of locations around the world that you often fantasize about visiting. It’s beaches that have sand that reflect in hues of gold with water so clear that it almost seems like it’s not even there as it surrounds you. It’s full body massages and facials done as a cool outdoor breeze brushes over your bare skin. Hell, sometimes it’s a great cocktail, a good Vogue magazine, and a nice amount of sun for a tan.

I get it. I do. A change in scenery is always great, but I’m starting to realize that paradise is truly a state of mind. It’s where you stand emotionally. For as long as you’re mentally at peace, you can have nirvana anywhere in the world.

I didn’t expect to be amongst so much of nature’s beauty towards the tail end of November. Typically, in the tristate area, the autumn toned leaves have already began to descend from the trees and cover the sidewalks, leaving the trees naked from the fall’s wrath. The brittle cold often brings about this lifelessness to anything green and we’re all covered in layers while trying our best to mentally and physically prepare for the brutally crisp weather that’s soon to come. We’re in our garages making sure the snowblowers are working properly and making sure the snow brushes are in our trunks for those mornings when we have to rush out ahead of time to get the car cleaned off.

Baton Rouge still feels as vibrant with color and life as it would be if it were the middle of a blazing hot summer. I feel like I’m walking in the midst of a canvas of colors painted by the divine. I cannot call it paradise because it’s not. It’s what the man who’s walking alongside me has made me feel since he’s come into my life. I’m smiling more. The laughing is so undeniable and endless. I rise in the morning without a mental clutter to sort through in order to have somewhat of a decent day. I rest at night with care and comfort covering me. I’m accepting emotional challenges that I’ve run from for quite some time.

I feel joy.

“Right here is good, stand there.”

“Beckham.” Yet again, I am the muse to his lens, or rather his iPhone. I’ve lost count of how many pictures I’ve posed for. I’m not sure when he added professional photographer to his resume but he’s edging my father out with his love of photographical keepsakes.

“Just pose.”

“I am not Naomi Campbell.”

“You could give her a run for her money though.”

“Now you’re really trying to butter me up. Naomi?” As I lean against the tree, I slipped my hands into my jacket to adjust the straps on the silk slip dress I’ve chosen to wear. Based upon my attire, it’s quite easy to tell that I’m not from here. Whether it’s the fact that I have on low top Converses with a dress or the leather jacket and Yankee cap, I stick out like a sore thumb. Though the late afternoon is slipping away and the early evening skies are trickling in, he still obliged my desire to have a walk by bringing me to the botanical garden owned by LSU. After the crawfish boil, I had to burn off the food and the Smirnoff coolers we guzzled down as if they were water. I’m not drunk but do I have a very slight buzz? For sure.

“Naomi, Tyra, those Hadid sisters. All of them.”

“Let’s make it a selfie. Come here.” Though we send one another whatever pictures we take, we captured a new selfie to add to our soon to be extensive collection with both of our phones. It turned out to be so adorable that I nearly made it my wallpaper.

“I must say that both Raton Rouge and New Orleans are quite beautiful. I’ve felt the cultural importance since we’ve arrived. I appreciate it.” We’ve been alone since we began walking here. Maybe it’s something that he called and made sure of or maybe he knows the hours when people aren’t very likely to be hanging around, but it’s been nice. While he may not consider it to be as such, it’s been a perfect date to me.

“I’m glad that you’ve enjoyed yourself baby. This place is a part of me and I figured if you’re going to know all of me then you have to know about where I come from. No article or pictures on Google will give you an accurate depiction. If anything, I think I need to start appreciating it more myself.”

“What do you mean?” My hand tightened around his own while our fingers remained laced together.

“Usually, when I’m looking to escape the cold or just have a change of scenery during the off season, I fly out to L.A. For the past couple of years, it’s been where I’ve done my training and lived until mandatory camps started in the middle of the summer. I’m starting to feel like I’ve neglected home. I have a realtor out here who sends me information on any property she thinks I’ll be interested in but usually end up blowing it off. I need to stop, though. I’m going to get a place down here and start visiting more often.”

“I think that’ll be good for you. Instead of doing your off-season training at UCLA, you can do it right over there at LSU. Maybe you should come down here and do a bit of that when you really get back out there after physical therapy. I feel like it could be super motivating.”

“I like that idea a lot.”

“And then you can have some big brother time with brothers in the midst of it. You know, let Sonny run around the field and tire himself out.”

“Yeah, Kordell is getting up there. He and Jazzy are growing like crazy. I want to take them both under my wings as much as possible.”

“They tease the hell out of you, but they all adore you in their own ways. Jazzy made sure to note how cute we are while we all were at the game the other day. She claimed that she can’t believe you pulled it off.” I knew he’d suck his teeth but it didn’t make it any less hilarious.

“Real funny. She said that shit to me too. Too bad she doesn’t realize how much her big brother has game.”

“Game? Sir, have a seat. That is not how you pulled it off.”

“Oh? How did I pull it off then?” His smirk wasn’t arrogance, but rather confidence in this so-called game that he speaks of.

“You humbled yourself and came correct.”

“Oh, so I’m not charming?”

“I didn’t say that. Coming correct includes the charm. I think more than anything I feel like in the midst of all of this, you’ve become my friend too. That’s important to me. It’s the little things; the little details. Those are the things that matter to me and you know it.”

“Oh. So…game.” As soon as I let go of his hand, I used my own to mush him out of the way as he loudly laughed at his own joke. He can’t help himself. Sadly, I’m laughing just as much as he is.

“Don’t play.”

“Nah, you know I’ve been sweating you for a long time now. Still sweating you too. I had no game. I just hoped you ended up liking me.”

“It’s so hilarious hearing this from you. I’ve sat in rooms with women who were and still are willing to do whatever for just a minute of your attention. These aren’t just any ol’ women either. Many of them are well known in many different professional areas. Whenever I’m asked how do I keep my composure around such fine men, your name is one of the first ones to be mentioned.”

“It’s flattering but there’s a shallowness in it that becomes boring quickly. I’m not capable of making connections with people who view me in that way. I guess it’s cool for a night in a hotel room together, but what comes after that?”

“You sure that you feel that way?” It sounds good, but ultimately, he’s going to always be viewed in that light and women will continue to make themselves readily available to do whatever is needed to appease his desires. Some are in the race for self-gain and there are others who are genuinely interested in the man that he is. I am only one person. I can offer him every part of me, but will that be enough for someone who has everything?

“I wouldn’t have pursued you if I didn’t. I have no intention to waste your time. I want you. That’s it.”

“That’s sweet.” Rather than kissing his lips, I cupped his face and annoyingly planted sloppy ones on his cheeks. A straight forward man is one to be appreciated. There aren’t too many of them who are ready and willing to admit what they feel without their pride formulating the words for them or standing in the way.

“Let’s go and get some ice cream.”

“Stop feeding me!” I’ve yet to turn anything down.

“What’s wrong with eating? It’s all gon’ go back here anyway.” His hand instantly smacked into my backside once he said that.

“We can get the ice cream, but I want a bottle of wine too. It’ll be nice to have a glass while we lounge around near the pool or something back at the house. No wait, let’s watch The Best Man.”

“Deal.”

While my feet rested on his lap, I nearly moaned as the taste of blackberry, black raspberry, and black cherry bitterly hit my tongue and went down my throat in the smoothest manner. My honey certainly held up his end of our bargain. I sat in the car while he grabbed chocolate sundaes from one of his favorite local ice cream parlors and he made a stop for the wine just minutes later. I didn’t expect him to grab bottles that were hundreds of dollars in price but I should have known better. He’s emphasized his desires to give me the best.

“If I find out that my best friend fucked my soon to be wife, we’re not getting married. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d never be able to look at her the same way. You know it’s true too. If you knew that your best friend slept with your soon to be husband, would you be able to look at him the same way? Not just him; the both of them.” If it happened in a cheating situation, hell no. If it happened before he and I knew one another, I guess we’d have to agree upon girl code. So, no.

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. You see those parts when he kept envisioning that shit going down between Harper and Mia? That’s exactly what would be going through my mind. I wouldn’t be able to deal with it. Salute to him for the courage though.”

“Sometimes love overcomes all. Then again, I’d have to put an asterisk next to that.”

“Yeah, because there’s no overcoming that kind of shit. I’m not even trying to be sexist about it because I know a lot of cheating conversations can be that way. I’ve had plenty of conversations with my boys to know that our ideologies of what we will and will not tolerate from women are super hypocritical and childish. It’s an ego thing.”

“At least you know. Jay did an interview and they asked him if the tables were turned, would he forgive Beyoncé for cheating on him and he admitted that it would be very hard. The expectation of forgiveness that men have is beyond unfair. Women tend to be valued not based upon the goodness that we bring to the table but instead by just how much bullshit we’re willing to endure. I was in that situation. I know it well.” Shamel once wrote in a card that my endurance for his nonsense is one of the main reasons why he loves me and it was yet another sign of how wrong I’d gone in trying to keep up with our failing relationship.

“That’s true. It’s all in part because we think too highly of ourselves. It’s also part of the reasons why we need to be needed. To be needed comes with a certain type of power that allows feelings to be taken advantage of. I want to be wanted and needed, but not in that sense. I love my pop, but there’s a lot of immaturity still within him and I don’t want to be his age with that mindset. It’s not a good look.” I’ve yet to meet him and I’m sure it’s with reason. They spoke on the phone once since we’ve been here and that was it.

My phone vibrated as it laid in my lap. Taylor. We haven’t spoken in a few days.

“Let me take this. I’ll be right back. You can turn to whatever since the movie is over. That’s all I wanted to watch.”

As I stood up, I took the glass of wine with me to the kitchen. It’s too damn good to leave behind.

“What’s up stranger? You’re either caught up with Jesse or you’re caught up with work. I’m betting on Jesse though, because when you’re caught up with work, I don’t hear the end of it.” She has one of the loudest giggles ever. It always sounds like a full-on laugh.

“It’s been work. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’ll be crashing at your place once I get up there tomorrow. Why stay in a hotel when I can just make myself comfortable in your guestroom, raid your fridge and eat for free, and spend some quality time with my friend? Win, win, win.”

“Freeloader.” She’s more than welcome.

“You love me anyway. What are you up too? How cold is it up there? What do I need to bring?”

“Girl, we’re one day away from December. You know what you need to bring. Warm clothes to cover your ass and a good quality coat. It’s sexy boot season, so bring a pair or two of those.”

“I am. Jesse’s flying out, so we’re all going to hang out.”

“I am no third will.”

“It won’t be like that. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.” The playfulness in her tone is alarming. I know that voice. She’s up to something and whatever it is, is sure to annoy me.

“I am not double dating with you two. Don’t even try it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, we should grab tickets to the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and see it. Ice skating would be nice too, actually. We should do it.”

 “That sounds like fun. I’m down.”

“And a spa day. Let’s do a spa day. My treat.”

“Your treat? I’m even more down for that. I want the works too.”

“I need the works, especially a facial. I might need two of them. Oh, and what are we doing for New Years? We should plan something.” These past couple of New Years, I’ve watched the ball drop right in my living room with a glass of wine and went to bed straight after. Just the thought of being out in New York City in the midst of the madness give me anxiety and I don’t want to sit alongside my folks in church.

“Actually, no. We’re going to Miami for Diddy’s party on Star Island.” I’ve been invited to that multiple times and have never gone.

“Why? That’s so mixxy.”

“But it always looks like a great time. Think about it.” It does look like a great time, on the surface. It’s the perfect occasion to put on something ridiculously expensive and mingle amongst the elite in the entertainment world, but I tend to shy away from that. It’s troublesome. A lot of those people have their heads so far up their own asses, that their eyelashes are nearly poking out of their mouths.

“We’ll see.”

“My flight lands around like four-ish, I think. So, I’ll see you sometime after that.”

“Alright. Luckily, I took the day off, so I’ll be home.”

“We’ll have pizza for dinner. I have such a bad craving for it.”

“Sounds like a plan. Have a safe flight. Text me before you board.”

“Will do. Love you. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

In one swallow, I took in the remnants of wine awaiting me. Along with the glass, I left my phone on the island counter top before I returned to him. I don’t need it; at least not for the remainder of the night. I just want to bask in him as I’ve been doing for three days.

The emerald green silk slip dress barely served as a barrier between the skin of my body and the denim covering his as I brazenly straddled his lap as a mere distraction to the television that currently had my likeness on its screen. There was something about the way he attentively focused on all that I had to say that sent every aspect of myself into overdrive. I know he’s seen that particular segment before. It’s only a replay of a discussion our panel had about what’s next for Lebron James. My confident commentary about the West Coast being next on his destinations to play has sparked a buzz that I don’t mind because my credibility will only level up once it’s proven to be true next summer.

I initially believed that it caught and kept his attention because it’s commentary on his all-time favorite NBA player and yet, he only glanced up at the screen when it was my turn to speak. His once lax body slightly arose and leaned forward as if it were going to bring him any closer to me. His damp tongue ran over his both of his lips while his slightly drunken eyes darkened and narrowed, in a manner that I couldn’t quite understand.

“Beckham.”

“I’ve been watching you on the show since its beginning. I don’t think I’ve missed many episodes and those that I did miss, I made sure to watch the clips on YouTube. It was the only way I could see you.” The aroma of red wine radiated from his tongue and into my nose while the warmth of his supple lips sluggishly grazed mine.

“And now that you’re here with me and you’re mine, I almost can’t believe it. It’s so surreal baby.”

“But why? I’m here.” Softly, I pecked his bottom lip as it lingered nearby.

“Are you really? You’re here? It’s me and you?” His questions held so many undertones and pleas for the unknown that’s ahead of us. He, much like myself, yearned for a certainty that I’m not sure if we’ll ever have no matter how much we dream of it. What have we done to ourselves?

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” And that’s my truth.

A hint of his breath soothed the chills trickling onto my neck and then came the gentle brush of his lips. My yearning for him was no match to the manner in which he chose his touch to be drawn out and savoring.

“Sarai Nazaire.” No one else says my name with such awe and tenderness. It only sounds beautiful in his tone of voice.

I stifled a sudden gasp as best as I could as his large palms met the bareness of my backside underneath the dress. My barely there panties weren’t an intentional choice. I only grabbed them because they were the first pair within my line of eyesight when I was looking through my luggage for undergarments but within this moment, I cannot bring myself to regret the decision to wear them. They’re red; yet another unintentional choice. Like the up and coming festive holiday, I’m covered in green and red and ready to be unwrapped by the man who views me as his present.

“O…” My eyes flew open at his sudden movement. As he stood to his feet, I was holstered up into his arms while my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. A thick rush of heat oozed from between my thighs as the mesh material began to drown in my aching for him. A flush filled my cheeks in distress at the reality of what I may be doing to the front of his dark washed jeans and yet it didn’t stop me from grinding against what was awakening beneath me.

“Your ankle.” Both the weight of his own body and mine pressing down on it couldn’t be a good thing for its current delicate state but my worry went ignored as he trekked towards the stairs that leads to the second floor. Those same stairs were also our pit stop.

Unlike before, he pressed more impenetrably and rougher onto my lips further awakening a ferociousness I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. His insistent tongue parted my quivering lips and further sent wild tremors along my nerves. My only response was to draw him closer to me, proving that I too, want him just as bad as he wants me. He turned my chosen task of getting his shirt over his head into difficulty because he refused to leave my lips without the taste of his, but with a momentary pause for breaths that we both needed to take, I succeeded and was finally able to wash my hands over the intricate artwork covering the smoothness of his entire back.

His beauty rendered me to speechlessness under the dim lighting cascading over us. No one feature makes him handsome; it seems like God judiciously created his every feature to perfectly correlate with all of the others in a manner to use him as an example of the goodness in all the work that he does. There’s something about his eyes though. They’d be beautiful in any shade, because it’s not the physical form but rather the intensity and honesty held within them that speaks his truth.

I needed to taste the additional skin now exposed to me. Running my hands over it was no longer satisfying within the moment. I left his velvety lips with pecks of a promise to return them and slowly trailed my kisses down over his dewy neck and onto his chest. In fairness, he paused to allow me the satisfaction and I laved my tongue over his caramel nipple as soon as I felt it against my lips. My heart pummeled against my lightly heaving chest as he lightly grunted and slipped his hands under the emerald silk yet again. This time, it wasn’t to feel anything, but rather to remove. As his glare trailed down to my own, my lips fell agape as the tips of his fingers calmly wrapped around the red meshed fabric and drew it down my thighs until it was it was dangling in front of me.

“These are nice.” He admired them for a few seconds before bringing them to his nose for a sharp inhale. My gasp was barely audible as he closed his eyes and savored the aroma of me. To further anguish me, his tongue made contact with the damage I’d done to them. Finally, it was his fingers. They glistened as we both admired them and like a man dying of thirst, he too, sucked those into his mouth to lap up every lingering bit.

“Sarai. Fuck.” His words were whispered. They weren’t to me but rather out loud commentary about what he’d just experienced. I’m not sure why I haven’t combusted into a pillar of nothingness because I don’t know how much more of this, I’m going to be able to withstand. Suddenly, I’ve drawn a blank on what it means to pleasure a man and I feel like the inexperienced girl back in Brooklyn trying to find her way within her womanhood and sexuality. I gave myself my first orgasm and the many others I’ve had since the first time I laid down with a man, have been by my own doing as well. I’m sure it makes perfect sense that I know me better than anyone else does, but it hasn’t stopped me from fantasizing about someone stepping up to the challenge to know and teach me things that I’ve yet to learn about myself. I now know more than ever, that I should be careful about what I ask for.

The cool air brushing against all that continued to seep from me drew a whimper. Every throb is a plea. The pulsations seem like the pending death of me. It’s been so long since I’ve been fully exposed to a man and I can only hope that I’m enough for him.

The bit of my nectar that seeped onto his tongue met mine as he snaked his own back into my mouth for a fervent kiss. I had no shirt to pull, so I drew him in by his shoulders. Yet again, I swathed my legs around him and used the heels of my feet to further sink his body between my tender thighs.

“Please.” I never beg. I never fucking beg.

“Please, what Sarai?” He no longer smelled of wine. I superseded it.

I thought it was mind clutter ruining every complete thought I’ve been trying to make all along but instead it’s all of me trying my hardest to respond to the frenzy he’s taking me through. He only worsened it when he dropped the dress that he was once complimenting earlier alongside his feet. His eyes held a warning in them and I halted what would have been a movement to cover myself. The ravenousness glaring over me is beyond intimidating. It’s a brink of life and death. His gawking felt like hours. It left us in a stillness while his hands caressed my sides and his mind attempted to remember the detailing of everything that I am.

“You’re flawless.”

“No, I’m not.” I’m well enough. Flawless? No.

“It wasn’t a question.”

He silenced me.

With both hands placed on my thighs, he stepped down three steps to leave his face directly angled with what yearned for all of his attention the most. The further he pries my thighs apart, the more I could feel myself peeling apart for him. He wasted no time using his fingers to get a sample of what he’d done to me. I thought he’d be amused, but determination filled his expression. Moving was no option as his head leaned in and his lips met the flesh awaiting him. A simple kiss was all it took to intensify the electricity in my steaming skin. Then came another lingering one. My back lightly pressed against the edges of a few steps in a manner to relax myself but that was short lived as his tongue slithered around my clit with just the right amount of a flicker to evoke slight numbness in my fingers and the tips of my toes.

“Odell…” His name was all I could remember. He made sure of that.

He deliberately lagged his tongue in a manner to become further acquainted with the teaser of a taste he had of me just minutes ago. It trailed from the very end of me and made its way to the top, only stopping to quench his thirst with every bit of liquid flowing out of me. My hips bucked, pushing forward to meet him as my fingers met the blond mane of curls resting on top of his head. I quickly developed a love and hate relationship with the manner that he chose to go about this. Time was of no essence. I can only imagine the discomfort he’s feeling and the freedom he needs from the remainder of clothes that he’s wearing and yet, not even me sinking his head further into my heat could quicken his pace.

“Oh my God!”

I could no longer keep up with the rhythms in which he chose to lap at me with. He interchangeable sucked at me and delved his tongue deep within my pulsating walls with a hum that was sure to cause them to collapse. He refuses to miss a single drop. My pleas for mercy go unanswered because he only answered to my body’s call for him to continue.

His attack on my clit drew yelps from me that reached pitches I’d never heard from myself. I’ve never been a screamer. I’ve always viewed it as over exaggeration of pleasure and overcompensation for a poor performance from a man that you either expected more from or never wanted in your bed in the first place. Much like Miranda Hobbes, I can admit to being the “hurry up and get it over with” woman with men. If they got theirs before I did, I usually wasn’t too upset because it allowed me the opportunity to get the hell out of dodge sooner. I learned tricks to make my ex cum faster so he’d get the fuck out of my face. The control worked for me.

Now? I have none. I’m at his mercy. He’s owning me and I cannot find an ounce of willpower to resist it for the sake of my ego. His tongue in all of its viciousness is staking a claim on me as he laps every letter of not his first, but his last name, within me. I could feel the loops of the B. I clenched at the four lines of the E. The C, like a crescent moon, was a teaser but he made it up to me with the lines of the K as he plunged his tongue within my depths to lick it out. H was done on the outskirts of my clit; then he ran his tongue against it to make the connecting bar. A was done by him trailing his tongue down each side of me and yet again running it over my clit to create a connecting bar. Dear God. It was so drawn out, I shuttered through every moment of it.

“You want the Jr. too baby?”

“Odell please. Don’t.”

And he gave it to me. Both letters and the ending punctuation.

His fingers returned and my walls swallowed them as his tongue continued its assault on me. A shrill spilled out of me in unison with his own intoxicating moans. The pressure within my pelvis only intensified the more he continued. My body basked in the elation he chose to grant me. My chest heaved in a need for more oxygen than I was receiving and the trembling of my thighs as they lay on either side of his head only urged him on even more. Every limb that he stole control from, filled with goosebumps and jittered against the steps as the peak of his tongue’s performance ripped through me in a ferocity that I wasn’t be prepared for. Nothingness became of me as my voice filled every space throughout our home for the weekend and my weakened limbs unraveled in a manner that felt like dead weight as I lay there quivering through euphoria.

“Let’s go get in the bed.”

“Okay.” Jell-O. He turned my once sturdy legs into exactly that. All concern for his ankle went out of the window when he lifted me up and carried me the rest of the way. I’m sure I would have slept on the steps if he didn’t.

The softness of the Barocco print comforter lulled my bare frame the further I sank myself into it. Prickling still teased random portions of me. He didn’t have to touch me. Just the sight of his impeccably chiseled body standing alongside the bed was enough to rev me up once again. Unlike earlier, a rush of edginess washed over me as the bed dipped signifying his presence and what is to be the beginning of a closeness that we’ve yet to have.

My thighs parted, awaiting his arrival, and he nestled himself in-between them. Both of his hands cupped the sides of my face and I arose to meet his lips halfway. Every nerve ending within me synced with him in a manner that I can’t quite put into words. The beating of our hearts meshed in a unison that gave me comfort and reassurance.

“You trust me?”

“I do.” The taste of his kiss left me heavily drunken from him. He left no part of my lips untouched; savoring them in a manner that felt like they were only made for his touch.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Sarai.”

“I…”

My lips fell apart in a hitch as my back arched at the sudden feel of him surging through me. Chills sieged every piece of me as I internally welcomed all that he pummeled forth. A gasp instantly turned into a hiss as he paced himself and further sank into me with groans that filled my ears like the sweetest notes. He paused, allowing the both of us to revere in our oneness. My imagination failed me. The quiet fantasies are all laughable. Absolutely none of them hold a candle to the feeling of him. Anything I thought I knew is unrivaled. This fullness is beyond anything. I’ve lost all sense of everything. Time has escaped us and diminished.

“Damn…”

His teeth deeply sank into his bottom lip as he bore into my eyes. His profanity was met with my own uncontainable clenching around him. I could feel him everywhere as he withdrew from me and plunged even further, to the point of driving me into a delirium that I may not be able to come back from. No matter how much I widen my legs or attempt to loosen the tightness in my core, I can’t get used to him and yet it’s a challenge that I’m willing to take endlessly. I thought the pace was for me, but he’s intentionally drawing this out, wanting to feel my every response to him. Every stroke is snatching my voice; leaving cracks in-between my cries and streaks of hoarseness to follow. The wetness on my face isn’t sweat, but instead my tears.

In almost feels experimental. He’s learning me. With his head buried into my chest and his lips attached to the skin of my nipple, he continued to find new ways to submerge me into a world that’s only about he and I. My once still hips, rocked in the rhythms of his choice.

“You feel so fucking good.”

Our eyes met and I could see nothing else but myself within them. The reality of who he is vanished and he’s nothing more than a man; my man. There is no worry or fear here. Every chance encounter I avoided was fate. I’m marveling in the beauty of his spirit and the way it calls for mine to live in solace with it.

I don’t want to overthink but instead just be. I’m caught in his storm and blissfully dancing and singing in the rain. He sees me, just as much as I do him. Unstripped, unraveled, and unmasked, he’s sought to go beyond the barriers and to find the vulnerable me that I’ve buried in the deepest abyss some years ago. I cannot question why or how. I have no answers either. It’s all above and beyond me in every single sense; God’s reasons and timing.

“Look at me.” All of his fingers dug into the softness of my hips. “Look at me.”

An unbearable tension filled the pit of my core as his drive only intensified. My toes tightly curl, touching the bottom inches of my feet. My every sense went into overdrive in an attempt to match the energy exerting from my body and into his. Every pulsation shook my dampened limbs as a wave of sightlessness left me blinded to all that surrounded me. I leaked onto his flesh ferociously; coating him with what he’d been sucking from me on the steps.

He worked through it. It was of no distraction to him and his missions. The pulsating coerced a challenge. He intended to master me. He groaned against my lips, muffling my croaky yelps. If he didn’t know his name before, he certainly knows it now because it’s all I know and can say to him. I trembled to his touch; his fingers digging into my skin, the heat radiating from his chest being pressed against mine, and most of all, from the way he’s swelling inside of me and further expanding my soaking flesh.

“Sarai!”

His calls for me shattered my soul. The roaring grunt that poured out of him came in harmony with my beckoning for mercy. Skin to skin, breath to breath, I soaked up all that he oozed into me like a hot lava. As he shuttered against me, he sucked on my bottom lip to pacify himself. We’d both been rendered to a speechlessness that made perfect sense.

The aroma of the burning wood within the fireplace meddled with the scent of us. A soft wind howled against the windows in a medley that I hadn’t heard until now.

I caressed him in a silent plea to keep him as close to me as he is now. His kisses don’t cease; instead his tongue is yet again meeting mine, deepening them.

I love this city; the city that birthed him.

God, I love it so much.

#odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

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mst3kproject · 5 years

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Cat-Women of the Moon

That doesn’t sound like a real title, does it? It sounds like something somebody made up to make fun of dumb old science fiction movies, or at best like it should belong to a parody of such. And yet, despite the snarky tone of its Wikipedia article (which reads like I could have written it), as far as I can tell Cat-Women of the Moon is totally in earnest. It was produced by Al Zimbalist and scored by Elmer Bernstein, both of whom did the same jobs on Robot Monster.

A cartoon rocket blasts off for the moon, carrying – as per 50’s Movie Regulations – three or four lumpy middle-aged men and one pretty girl. After a couple of the obligatory narrow escapes on the way, they manage to land successfully, and a mysterious cave leads them into an underground city where they are taken prisoner by telepathic cat-women! The cat-women have trapped them by controlling the mind of Helen the navigator, and plan to steal the rocket ship and conquer the Earth. Our manly heroes are immune to the mind control, but not to feminine wiles or the promise of caves full of gold. The world’s only hope is that at least one of them can keep his head about him and save the day.

Cat-Women of the Moon is one of the movies that I suspect was considered for MST3K but ultimately rejected because it was too similar to another feature – in this case, to Fire Maidens of Outer Space. Besides having similarly ridiculous titles, both movies are about astronauts encountering the last survivors of an all-female advanced civilization, who want to use them as breeding stock. In both, the evil plan is undone when one of the alien women falls in love with one of the oafish Earthlings, and both contain a gratuitous dance sequence that does nothing but fill time. Cat-Women of the Moon is actually slightly more interesting than Fire Maidens of Outer Space, mostly on account of an absolutely hilarious giant spider puppet, but it’s still two thirds over before we ever see a Cat-Woman.

It is impossible to overstate how cheap and shoddy this movie is. There are moments when the sets almost fall apart as people move around on them – one astronaut almost knocks a piece of equipment over and just leaves it sitting there at an odd angle. The rocket has roomy high ceilings and corrugated metal walls, with ham radio equipment sitting around on wooden tables and canvas space suits (with helmets that don’t match) stored in lockers that appear to have been stolen from a high school hallway. The city of the Cat-Women appears to be made of bits and pieces stolen from five different Maciste movies, and a couple of those ‘Family Tree’ decorations you used to be able to buy at Hallmark.

And oh, man, that spider puppet. My favourite thing is that it’s full-sized so that it can drop on Helen from above with all its totally limp limbs flailing. I love it so much. We never even find out what it’s doing there, either – it’s just a giant moon spider, because why the hell not?

About the only visual that works in the movie is the matte paintings, which are very nice, even when they don’t look very real. Some of the lunar landscapes are very realistic and the black and white photography adds to the verisimilitude. Sadly, that’s about the only thing Cat-Women of the Moon gets right scientifically. There’s a weird moment where one guy uses a cigarette (yes, they brought cigarettes to the moon) to demonstrate… something. Possibly the temperature difference between the day and night side of the moon. When placed in the light, it bursts into flame, which is obviously impossible in a vacuum. As if to drive the point home, not five minutes later they light a match (if you’re bringing cigarettes to the moon you obviously have to bring matches) to check if there’s oxygen!

The characters also note that there’s a difference in gravity between the surface of the moon, where they have to wear weighted boots, and the Cat-Women habitat. But why would Lunar Cat-Women, who have supposedly lived on the Moon for two million years, want artificial Earth gravity? What makes even less sense is that the Cat-Women, who have telepathic powers, resort to slap-fighting each other when they’re mad! These women can teleport… surely if they want to kill somebody they can just make their heads explode by thinking at them too hard, no slapping or stabbing needed.

That brings us to the biggest and most obvious thing going on in this movie. I’m sure you’ve guessed it by now – Cat-Women of the Moon absolutely despises women and it’s not even shy about it.

We’ve got Helen, who brushes her hair and does her makeup in orbit, and stands there screaming while the men beat the shit out of the giant spider with their fists. She’s supposed to be a brilliant navigator but it turns out that was just the Cat-Women working through her. The Cat-Women’s mind control powers work on women but not on men, and when Helen is in the arms of a man she truly loves, they lose control of her, too – as in The She-Creature, it is his male mine rather than her female one that is able to resist.

The man in question is of course not the Captain, who actually respects Helen, but the gun-toting jerk Kip. There’s a bit where he manhandles her and tells her to stop complaining because “I’m not hurting you that much.” The others aren’t much better, as one of them tells a Cat-Women, “you’re too smart for me, Baby – I like ‘em stupid.” At least that guy dies.

The Cat-Women themselves are scheming bitches, except for sweet, innocent little Lambda, who decides to betray her entire civilization because she’s got a crush on Doug the radio operator. This has been happening in stories since the Greek myth about Scylla, who betrayed her city after falling in love with the commander of an attacking army, and it’s been stupid for at least that long. The men aren’t any better, either. Kip and the Captain are fighting over Helen when the fate of the world is at stake. When they manage to interrogate her while she’s not under Cat-Woman control, one of the first things they want to know is which of them she’s in love with!

The movie hates cats, too. The inhabitants of the moon are Cat-Women not because they have tails and whiskers, but because they are cunning and underhanded, purring in your lap one moment and scratching your face off the next. They say they want to be friends, but really they just want to use and discard you.

I guess stories like this represent men being afraid that women will realize they can do without them, and like Horrors of Spider-Island, it perhaps inadvertently implies that this is true. The Cat-Women were doing just fine at maintaining a peaceful civilization before these jerks from Earth showed up. Maybe we’re meant to think this is because the men can resist their telepathy – which is built on another nasty stereotype about women, the idea that they’re some kind of hive mind. How many times have you heard somebody say ‘Women Think X’ or ‘Girls Like Y’, as if it’s genetic? The Cat-Women, all in telepathic communication with each other, cannot help but agree about everything – and one she’s made contact with them, Helen becomes part of this collective mind whether she likes it or not.

Cat-Queen Alpha’s control over Helen is probably the most effective part of the story. We know we can’t trust anything Helen says or even anything she thinks, and once the men realize this Alpha is able to use even their mistrust to her advantage. Helen cannot even trust herself, as she observes when she realizes she should care if her crew-mates live or die, but does not. Not that it wouldn’t work way better if the cure for it weren’t twu wuv, but it’s a good idea as far as it goes.

Up to the last few minutes of the movie we’ve been building suspense, sometimes in fits and starts, but we do feel like something’s going to happen. Alpha, Beta, and Helen have run off with the group’s space-suits, and the men are trying to catch up with them. We’re expecting a fight for control of the rocket ship – and then Kip just pulls his gun and shoots Alpha and Beta off-screen, while Lambda dies tragically and Doug cradles her body. It’s an anticlimax that just leaves the audience sitting there going, “that’s it?” And yeah, the next thing that happens is the remaining guys and Helen get back on their rocket and head home, so that is it.

Cat-Women of the Moon is sort of lukewarm entertaining. The shitty sets and stupid spider puppet are good for some laughs, but the movie’s sexual politics are obnoxious and its ending a huge disappointment. I can’t recommend it to watch on its own, but it makes for good DIY riff material. I’m sure Mike and the bots could have had great fun with it.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #cat-women of the moon #50s

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niceprophecies · 5 years

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“[…]the characters who get much more of the spotlight are unarguably the most adored by Good Omens fans—the demon Crowley (played to hissing, sashaying perfection by David Tennant) and his angel co-conspirator Aziraphale (an utterly cherubic Michael Sheen). Having said that, the execution of the duo’s story was something of a shock for a fan like me, who will freely admit to shipping the heck out of the pair for ages, and even reading and writing fanfic to that end. A bunch of it. And also to dressing up as Crowley and Aziraphale for Halloween with my partner. It’s well known that Crowley/Aziraphale shippers are a sizable contingent of the Good Omens fandom, to the point where both Gaiman and Pratchett had made note that they were aware of it, with Gaiman recently noting that fanfiction and its ilk is also Making Stuff Up, which is the same as all writing—though they did say that making the duo a couple was not their intent when they wrote the book.

Which is fascinating because this miniseries is emphatically a love story.

I know, I know: They say they’re friends, what’s wrong with friendship, you friend-hating fiend. But there are endless stories dedicated to platonic friendships between two male friends. (Or male-seeming in this case, as they are truly an angel and a demon, which then ultimately begs the question of whether conventional sexuality or gender should even apply for the two of them, and it likely shouldn’t, but that’s a fairly long digression…) While modern fiction seems to have a hard time understanding that it’s possible for men and women to “just be very good friends”, the precise opposite can be said for queer people. We’re always presumed to be “just very good friends” and nothing besides. Having said that, it is entirely possible for people of the same (or similar) gender to go from being true best friends to being in a relationship of some sort. It is also possible to say “you’re my best friend” and actually mean “I love you” or even “I’m in love with you.”

Exhibit A, when Crowley is making his way to Aziraphale’s flaming bookshop (he doesn’t know about the fire yet), the Bentley is playing Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend”—which is not an ode to frienship in general, but in fact a love song written by Queen’s bassist for his wife. Immediately thereafter, Crowley arrives and opens the doors to the bookshop, and being unable find the angel, promptly has a complete breakdown over the what he assumes to be Aziraphale’s death. It’s not the shock or disbelief over losing a friend that we can see in Crowley’s face, but utter desolation. “Somebody killed my best friend!” he screams, slumped on the floor in anguish. (Again, I remind you, John Deacon’s friend in the song that served as the cue for this whole scene was his spouse.) Crowley then immediately goes to a pub to get trashed, forgetting his plans to escape the Earth before the true Final Countdown because he’s just lost the most important person in all of creation to him… wait sorry, that’s Creation with a capital ‘C’.

The point is (as Crowley would say, drunkenly, before beginning a long-winded aside about dolphins), the entirety of the Good Omens miniseries unfolds with all the beats you’d expect of a romantic comedy/epic, and that is very much the hinge on which its enjoyability swings. It’s not just the song selection—“Somebody to Love” starts playing when Crowley exits the bookshop, believing that he’s lost Aziraphale; violins swell when the demon reveals to the angel that he has saved his beloved books from a bombing during the London Blitz in 1941—but the entirety of the plot. These alterations to the story seem to reach some sort of zenith during the deep dive into Crowley and Azirapahle’s “Arrangement” in episode three. The opening half hour of the episode works hard to create greater context for their six-thousand-year partnership, tracking them through the ages, and finally closes out in 1967 with the angel handing over a thermos of holy water to his dear friend, saying sadly “You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

He’s talking about Crowley’s driving. But of course he isn’t, because there is no context on this earth in which the words “you go too fast for me” are about being in a car, friends.

This is the part where the usual suspects roll their eyes because culture has endlessly enforced the idea that queerness is conditional and that “slash goggles” (i.e. viewing not-canonically-comfirmed characters as queer) should be derided and that the only person who should get a say in the sexuality of characters is the author—unless the author flat-out says their characters are queer, in which case, they should have made it more obvious if they expected anyone to believe that.

But this pairing is pretty damned (sorry, blessedly) obvious. It’s obvious in the way the Aziraphale bats his eyelashes at Crowley and grumps about the fact that his pristine old jacket now has paint on it, then smiles beatifically when the demon vanishes the stain by blowing gently on his shoulder—both of them knowing full well that Aziraphale can remove the stain himself with angelic will. It’s obvious in how angry Crowley gets when Aziraphale claims he’s “nice”, and Crowley shoves him up against a wall in a standard intimidation tactic that the angel barely registers as fury. It’s obvious in the way that Crowley sits across Aziraphale with a drink every time they’re out, and simply watches the angel indulge in rich foods. It’s right there even at the start, when the Angel of the Eastern Gate shelters the Serpent of Eden from the world’s very first rainstorm with one of his wings, through they both have a perfectly functional set to themselves.

We’re at a point in time where more and more writers and creators are perfectly aware that fans will see characters as queer whether they are written explicitly that way or not. Being aware of this—and not having anything against queer people—many of them say something to the tune of “you can view this relationship however you like, we’re cool with that”. It’s very nice. To some extent, it’s even incredibly helpful, because being okay with the queering of characters goes a long way in telling homophobic people that their vitriol toward queerness isn’t welcome. But when a huge swath of a fandom is queer, and certain characters are commonly rendered as queer to most of those fans, and then we are given a version of the story in which interpreting those characters as just great buddies is honestly taxing to one’s logical faculties… well, it’s hard not to wonder at what point the “straight” view of said characters is likely destined to become a minority interpretation one day.

Which is precisely where I found myself while watching Good Omens.

This clarity kept turning up and tuning in, even in the terms of their dear Arrangement; after Crowley suggests that they start doing work on each other’s behalves during a run-in in the 6th century, another meeting at The Globe in Shakespeare’s day sees Crowley bringing it up again, only to have Aziraphale try and shoot the idea down. “We’ve done it before… dozens of times now,” the demon wheedles, and he might as well be saying “But we’ve made out a lot lately, I think it’s time to accept that you like hanging out with me.” To make up for sending Aziraphale to Edinburgh, he agrees to infernally intervene to ensure that the Bard’s latest play (Hamlet) is a rousing success—and again, the angel offers up that ethereal smile and Crowley takes it as his compensation, as though it’s all he ever wanted in the world.

People may cry, stop shoving your sexuality in other people’s faces! (They always do, like a reliable clock striking the hour with a very irritating chime that you can’t seem to turn off.) But that’s hardly the point, is it? Because I didn’t say anything about sex, I said they were in love. And I’m having a very hard time finding any evidence to the contrary.

Critics and most of the internet have noticed how romantic the show is. The actors did as well, and talked endlessly of it in interviews. The series gives us longing glances and a messy breakup and drunken mourning and a canonical bodyswap (the stuff of fanfic dreams, my lovelies) where Aziraphale strips Crowley’s body down to its undergarments for the purpose of taunting Hell. At the point when everything threatens to blow up in their faces, Crowley asks—sorry no, he begs—Aziraphale to run away with him. And then when it’s all over, he invites the angel to spend the night at his place, and Aziraphale’s response is “I don’t think my side would like that” which is basically divine-speak for “I came out to my family and they’re not cool with it, so I’m not sure this is gonna work.” This has all the markings of the sort of Shakespeare play that Crowley appreciates: the funny ones where no one dies. And it ends on our couple having a lovely lunch in a fancy locale while a swoony love standard plays on in the background.

It’s odd to think that the fact that it took over two decades to produce a Good Omens series is part of the reason why the romantic aspect seems more unabashed than ever; in the book, plenty of people think Aziraphale is gay and that the angel and demon are a couple, but it’s done with that wink and nudge that was common around the turn of the century. These days, teasing at the idea that your core duo might seem a little gay to onlookers doesn’t constitute a ready joke because there’s nothing particularly funny about that suggestion when queer folks are fighting so hard to be seen and represented. And the lack of those winky moments, the way the story simply takes their codependency as a sweet given, makes Aziraphale and Crowley read even more genuinely as a pair. But if you had told me this was the version of Good Omens that I’d see in 2019, I’d have never believed a word. I was ready for extra background, more story, different jokes, but not this. Not confirmation that there are other angels and demons exchanging information and working together in Crowley and Aziraphale’s reality, but Heaven and Hell have a specific problem with their partnership because they clearly love each other too much.

And sure, you can read the story differently. You can choose to ignore those cues and enjoy a story about two very good friends who help to avert the apocalypse. I’m sure for some, that’s a more enjoyable take. But I’m more curious about whether or not, in twenty or thirty years time, people will think of the Good Omens series as anything but the story of an angel and a demon who spent six millennia figuring out that they should probably buy that cottage on the South Downs together.”

#good omens #review #spoilers #love this

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weoutherelike-blog · 6 years

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The Naughty List

‘Tis the night before Christmas and all through the house, every flat surface of the living room is occupied by your lounging family members. Your beautiful family is painted with TV lights over a countenance of holiday bliss and you can’t stop admiring them. It’s quiet and peaceful and you’re surrounded by the people you love most in the world, together sharing this moment. You’re so proud.

Then you notice I’m on your television. You turn up the volume just a little bit, careful not to wake up you-know-who that’s always the first one asleep. I’m doing a press conference. You remember that I’m not likely to do press conferences, but I’m on every channel and I’m not answering your texts, so you start to believe the impossible.

I’ve invented a machine that enables you to experience your heart’s deepest desires. It manipulates the brain in precise patterns that it can run all your fantasy simulations subconsciously, and it’s done in such an authentic and believable way that you’ll have sharp and lasting memories about living out your dream scenario. Some Very Important People have already agreed it’s one-hundred percent effective, having each been given a demonstration. Everyone is now discussing what’s to be done with my machine.

You’ve been watching the conference for a while and it’s past bedtime but since I’ve made possibly the most groundbreaking discovery of all time, everyone gets to stay up a little longer. You learn that the machine has no way to record the adventure it sends someone on, so each fantasy stays private and locked within the vault of your own mind. You’re free to live out the life you’ve always wanted. Marry into royalty. Be the most famous person on the planet. Do the weird sexual stuff you don’t have the guts to actually try. Live out the plot of Blade Runner and be the one who Runs all the Blades (I’ve never seen the movie). It takes only seconds to use for a lifetime of incredible memories, and can be beamed remotely into your head so you won’t even have to leave your chair.

You also learn that I’m the only person who can operate the device, so the government, in a fit of holiday spirit, has kindly allowed me to keep my machine under the condition that they never have to wait in line to use it.

We’re reached the grand finale of my speech: I have a December 24th gift for everyone. Any person, anywhere, can earn earn a turn with my machine exactly one year from now. For the next three-hundred sixty-five days, each of you will accumulate points for day-to-day acts of kindness that are deemed worthy and the results will be displayed on the back of your left hand. It is up to you to discover which acts will earn you a go with my machine.

It would be dumb not to try.

My awkward announcement to all people of all nations ends with instructions to have a good night and sleep well, since the game begins as soon as you wake up in the morning. Your family excitedly doubts anyone will sleep tonight, then gets extra hugs and scrambles off to bed. Visions of sugarplums dance in your heads.

You wake to a shift in the atmosphere. Today everything feels a bit more special. Your family is smiling with sincerity in all the photos. You hear “please” and “thank you” and “you’re so welcome” as gifts are unwrapped in a calm and orderly fashion. True gratitude is being expressed at dinner, actual compliments are passed around, everyone notices the decorations you spent so much time on. Every so often, you see the number increase on the back of your hand. It’s happening to every one of you and the kids shout in delight each time their tally grows. It’s one of the most satisfying and fulfilling days you’ve ever had. No one bickered, no one felt excluded, nobody was put upon or overwhelmed. Each of you were the best versions of yourselves today. The points are a nice bonus.

The next day is even better. You hold the door for a stranger and your total rises. You pay for a co-worker’s coffee and get a little boost. All the while, every person you encounter is the friendliest you’ve ever seen them, and you begin to notice little changes in each person’s face when they score big. Internal celebrations seep into subtle smiles and the vibe of wellbeing intensifies. The rough edges you’re so used to seem softer. By dinnertime, everyone has heard of The List that’s being crowdsourced online of every scoring action and the average point gains being reported from around the world. Later in the week you watch a news report confirming that I’ve seen this list, and checked it thoroughly twice before authorizing it. You call me to see how I’m doing (3 points) and congratulate me on how my hair looked in that last interview (point), and ask for a few hints between friends for some higher-earning deeds.

Your Facebook friends are sharing their scores with palpable glee. Twitter is flooded with tips and tricks to maximize your daily average. Everyone’s Snapchat story includes video of them handing a water bottle to a homeless man or donating clothes to Goodwill. You can’t remember feeling more upbeat and motivated. You challenge yourself for weeks to beat your previous day’s score. Your boss gives you a promotion while eagerly staring at the back of his hand. The lady whose car you back into in front of the Chipotle gives you a hug to calm your nerves and offers you the extra guac they gave her inside. Celebrity scores become a hot topic and the most popular Reddit thread is a stream of fantasy synopses that you can sort by popularity for ideas.

These are the new best days of your life. A month later, the news is suddenly dominated by reports of people scamming the system. A young man in the South found out he could score points by signing up to volunteer, even if he didn’t show up to help. Two businessmen in South Africa racked up high scores for the hundreds of fake charities they created. A new rule was implemented: anyone caught cheating is now being publicly shamed for their punitive point losses in a document with a complicated military code for a name. Everyone just calls it The Naughty List.

A few weeks later, there’s a ripple of panic worldwide as people slowly notice their default point-earning actions are bringing in lower and lower numbers each day. You’re pretty annoyed at the grocery store when you’re only getting one point per cart you give up to someone else in the entrance. And when you bump into your ex’s new partner in line at the gas station, you nod at them politely three times but nothing even happens. Not one single point. It’s frustrating.

There’s a conspiracy theory going around that points are somehow tied into the significance of the action. It seems that robotically performing the same actions won’t cut it anymore. You aim higher, and the reward is worth the extra effort.

At least you’re not one of the disgraced people whose points fell when they were caught shoplifting or bullying or shaming a mother for breastfeeding. You’ve always been a good person. You check the total on your hand reassuringly throughout the day as you flip back and forth between the 24-hour televised coverage of the Naughty List’s newest inductees and the 24-hour countdown until next Christmas.

One day a woman in Bangladesh leaves her long-time abuser and that evening she’s an international news story for having gained the highest amount of points for a single achievement. It’s a game-changer once everyone realizes that taking care of yourself is a high-scoring act of kindness. Therapists become the highest paid, most sought after career. Suicide-line callers generate as many points as suicide-line volunteers. Checking into rehab nets people so many points that facilities set up overflow units. And you notice the change in your own life: finally making an appointment with your dentist got you points. Asking your friend to talk you through that panic attack got you points. You get more points than you can believe when you treat yourself to a massage for the first time in your life.

Yesterday, a senator abolished private prisons and jumped up to the top score in his country. Today, there’s a mad rush for all the political parties of the world to solve all of humanity’s problems. Global trends are analyzed. Low-scoring people are being shunned and anyone with a negative score is rounded up for questioning. You’re currently at a Walmart, loading up on 50 pound bags of dog food to bring to the animal shelter. You only manage to grab three because two other guys had the same idea and you had to argue over them. Now your good deed is making you late for work and you’re on edge, so when the cashier asks you how many dogs you have, you snap at her that it’s none of her business. You can feel everyone’s eyes on your back as your immediate area goes quiet. One whole point slides from your hand. You’re mortified. You’re apologizing profusely but the customers are already passing around a silent look of distaste at you. “You better watch out,” one of them says as tears well in your eyes. “And no use crying or pouting about it.”

You call me a few days later to confess to The Incident and describe your great remorse while asking if the Naughty List is a permanent thing. I could tell you were disappointed that I don’t have the power to give or take points, but it’s still nice to hear from you and I wish I could talk longer but participation in the game has far exceeded my initial forecast. So I’ve been working on a way to amplify my machine’s signal in order to beam everyone’s ultimate fantasies into their heads simultaneously to everyone in the world in just one night. I even opened a facility up north and hired some seasonal interns to help me.

It’s sweet of you to call, though. You glance at your hand hopefully.

It’s now been most of a year and you’re living in a utopian society. Everyone is on their best behavior. Everyone is practicing self-care. Life as we know it has drastically shifted. We’re curing diseases with all the money that everyone can afford to donate with the enormous cost-of-living wage increase everyone was given (corporations discovered they can score points of their own). You went back to school to learn that thing you’ve always wanted to try, resulting in an even hundred points, so you’re riding high. That single point on the Naughty List hasn’t haunted you for months. You give everyone on the street a friendly greeting because one out of 30 scores you a point or two and it’s just good math. And everyone smiles back, so it’s win-win.

December rolls around again and the perfect world is in a fever pitch. Rival Good Guy Gangs are fighting to show each other up with huge point pools. Your score is no longer a protected status for discrimination in the workplace, but you get two points for the email you wrote thanking your CEO for the opportunity after you’re replaced with someone almost double your score. The Top Ten are the most venerated human beings in modern history. The two Lists are dominating headlines and infographics came back into fashion. You’ve been perfecting your most wished-for fantasy in your head instead of looking for jobs.

Your family hasn’t spent much time together after the basic interactions were overused into low-score territory. The easy ones like reading to the kids, making lunch for the family, letting you-know-who sleep in so they won’t be so grumpy - none of them come with a reward anymore so everyone has moved on to grander undertakings. Keeping up with your point-league is starting to become a full time job, but not one that pays the bills. Your face hurts from smiling at every. goddamn. person you cross paths with and you’ll never admit how jealous it makes you that you that the idiot who almost got you expelled in high school managed to pull eight bodies from a burning building AND rescue a litter of puppies all in one week. It totally threw off your racket.

There are only a few days left until I load The Lists into my machine, tune into the brains of the Worthy, and make everyone’s dreams appear to come true. You’re broke and exhausted from shopping for 156 more people than usual, crossing your fingers that it’ll buy you a few more points in the home stretch. You stood in line at the post office for 90 minutes to send me a package of homemade cookies. You’ve been sitting in your car for a half an hour trying to talk yourself out of flaking on your volunteer shift at the Complimentary Compliment Call Center for the second time this month. It all seems so fake, anyway. Every action is in the pursuit of points. You’re just glad that the game is almost over.

Your entire family is relieved on Christmas Eve. You made it. Of course, the fantasy world you’re about to experience is exciting, but you haven’t felt this relaxed all year. The family decides you’re so close to the deadline now that a few more points won’t matter, and everyone should just focus on having a nice holiday without the pressure of the numbers on your hands. You love your family even more for the suggestion, and you all sit down for dinner with the most legitimate smiles you’ve smiled in too long. It feels good to just drop the veneer and be yourself. You laugh together and feel free together and eat way too much and enjoy all the things you missed most. Then you all retire to the living room in a content stupor and take up your usual positions in front of the Countdown timer on TV. This is it - what you’ve worked hard all year for. The timer ticks down the last remaining seconds. You survey your family one last time before it hits zero.

The people you love most in the world, together sharing this moment. You’re so proud.

Then you notice I’m on your television having some sort of press conference about a machine I invented and you’re surprised to see me on TV, especially since you know I’m not likely to do press conferences. You fumble for the volume on the remote to hear what’s going on. You turn it up, but just a bit, so that you don’t wake up you-know-who.

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orangepunkwitch-blog · 6 years

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Not dead! Not an abandoned blog, either! This kinda happens from time to time, so lemme explain myself:

Did the read-more page-breaking thing so nobody has to scroll for eons if they don’t care to read...

Anyway, my absence. My mental and physical health have been absolute shit, and I’m starting to think I may have seasonal depression on top of situational depression as well since every damn winter I have no energy to do much of anything. But as this year progresses, I’m finding myself perking up some. My physical health is largely due to flare-ups (I haven’t been diagnosed but it’s strongly considered that I may have endometriosis; I need to get a laparoscopy to find out and currently cannot afford that, etc. etc. long story for another time) and lack of proper dieting and exercise. The flare-ups and shitty periods are why I can’t exercise when I’d like to, and we can’t always afford healthy food for strength and energy I need to do things (my metabolism is high enough to where gaining weight isn’t exactly an issue with me despite being almost 30). The worst of my pain occurs the first couple of days on my period, to which I have ultimately resorted to smoking marijuana which helps tremendously. The only time I use it off the rag is during an extremely bad flare-up, which are thankfully rare.

‘Kay... mental health... My husband and I still live with my parents here on the farm and it’s been stressful to the point where I’m getting anxiety-related chest-pains from time to time lately (long story-short: my parents---especially my dad---are assholes and even Loki said that no amount of magick can help them so I just rely on my wards in my room to have a safe haven). This and the fact that we may have a lack of proper oxygen in this house might be contributing to it. I plan on beginning my luck at growing pet-safe indoor house plants such as succulents and aloe vera to help with this after visiting a friend’s house whose mom pretty much has an indoor garden and realizing how much better I feel just being there for a few minutes.

With that out of the way, let’s talk about a topic relating to what this blog is about: Paganism, witchcraft, and being a Lokean.

Nope, still a solid Pagan with Druid beliefs and such, still a Lokean, but I haven’t practiced entirely too much witchcraft because there haven’t really been ways for me to use it where it’s needed. You can’t expect certain spells to work if you’re not doing anything to help it along (such as a job wouldn’t just fall into your lap because you still have to apply for a job). Money spells can get expensive if you’re doing it constantly for your spouse or parents because you’ll eventually run out of candles and such (I can’t do it without ingredients because I’m scatterbrained and need a damn decent point of focus and stuff).

I’ve got plans, though! I still haven’t invoked Loki for practice (which he’s cool with) so there’s that; I need to work out a ritual, and Loki says that for me, being short, sweet, and too the point is the best way to go. So I’ll be working something out with him in the (hopefully) near future. There’s also the fact that I plan to try out my green thumb and see about growing pumpkins and sunflowers. The sunflowers are to help with luck or prosperity or something on the property (honestly, I really wanna grow some out front to make the place look nice and having half a field of these flowers will be great for the faeries living there). The pumpkins are because I fucking love Halloween and love pumpkin pie and have a few recipes involving pumpkin I wanna try. I’d also like to try my luck at selling some, too.

While Loki tells me he isn’t associated with pumpkins, he sure as fuck likes to press the whole “come on, you know you wanna” bit onto me with growing them, and I’m getting this feeling that he’ll show up presence-wise whenever I go out to the pumpkin patch, so... Whatever, I’m gonna grow pumpkins because pumpkins are fucking awesome.

I’ll be asking the neighbor that owns the property across the street from us if I can do some bone-hunting and maybe a little bit of fossil-hunting. I still have the deer bones that my friend gave me that I need to wash, plus a dead young skunk I’m trying to decompose for bones, but winter makes this shit hard, so that’s part of my spring/summer activities. Loki wants me to try and articulate the skunk and have it mounted on a wooden platform and put onto his altar and I’m sitting here like: uuuuhhhhhh you don’t have much in a way of room... Regardless, articulating a mammalian skeleton will be beneficial in starting myself out in first-hand osteological studying, which is something you kinda have to know if you wanna be a paleontologist (which I do). I’m also interested in creating a staff involving animal bones, but I’m not sure what I’ll be using it for. If not for magick use, then it’d make for a great bring-along prop for a future druid character for D&D night (my husband and friends and I are just starting out with D&D because we haven’t been able to afford the books to play in the past, so we’re real excited about this).

Speaking of osteology, I plan on going to the museum with my husband and some friends in Pittsburgh and taking as many reference photos of all the fossil skeletons as I possibly can so I have decent and varied angles of the animals for reference when I practice to better my paleoart. I don’t wanna keep on using artistic renditions or limited angles of the same damn pics of fossils on the internet for references. I just need a decent camera, and I’m hoping my mom will stop acting immature and demand from a supposed friend that they give her her camera back. She has more authority to demand it back than I do, and I never talk to those people anyways, so it would make sense if she tried getting the damn thing back. Even though it’s sort of old, it’s still very high quality even for today’s standards and cost my parents nearly a grand to purchase. If not, my husband (who is extremely knowledgeable in technology and quality) can help me get a new decent camera (because my iphone sucks and his samsung phone can only hold so much memory for the amount of pictures I wanna take).

I do plan on doing more magick this summer, largely to help with learning a new instrument. While I do wanna properly learn the French Horn since I simply have the instrument, I need the proper mouthpiece (not sure if I’ve bitched about this in past posts), but every damn time I try to get the proper mouthpiece that I need, shit happens and I never get it. However... There’s a very strong possibility I could be learning how to play drums. I’ve always wanted to play but my parents did their damnedest to keep me from that thinking I’d just be annoying on drums. Turns out I’m quite proficient in terms of knowledge on how to play after a clerk at the local music store permitted me to play around on a drum set in one of the tutoring rooms because I paid very close attention to my band teacher helping the percussion section back in middle school. That knowledge stuck with me because I wanted to play drums so damn bad. So as it turns out, looks like I’ll be a drummer after all! It’d be a great way to help me stay in some upper-body shape and help relieve stress through movement while creating music. I’ll worry about starting a band later once I’ve actually become proficient in actually playing the drums, though.

Loki has made sure I stayed on the right path to where I don’t completely go on hiatus regarding creativity. I have a deviantART now if anyone is interested, and I’ve been working on some DIY punk clothing for myself. I’ll also be working on getting my hair how I want and learning how to apply makeup. It’s apparently time that I start expressing myself how I want now that I know what I’m doing. I’m going to go for a goth-punk look that I’ve always wanted since forever, just didn’t know how to achieve the look without spending a fuck ton of money (turns out that I never needed to in the first place).

....yay tangents.

Loki’s basically been trying to teach me to stop relying on the pendulum so damn much. Basically I have to accept that I’m not going to know everything and find some other coping mechanism unless I absolutely have to consult with a pendulum, otherwise he’s just going to lie to me to hammer the lesson into my head. I mean, his opinions? Fine, sometimes I can’t take a hint on my own, he knows it, and sees the pendulum being something that could work. But other stuff I won’t get into, he’s like, “Okay look...” He’s also apparently preferring that I use tarot readings in general divination than runes. I think it’s because the runes were a nice beginner’s way of helping me figure out the whole divination thing. I’ll Sometimes combine tarot with the pendulum if I’m not sure and very damn confused on certain things, but other than that, I’ve been getting the hang of it. I still need the handbook because holy dumbfuck, I can’t remember every little thing about every damn card.

Actually, this one tarot spread tried to basically tell me to compare what I’m going through to a caterpillar’s life and I’m currently in the pupa stage. Meaning: I’m working on the appearance that I want, and when I finally achieve it, something something butterfly/moth analogy. Of course, it isn’t narrating my whole damn life, just a part of my life.

Regarding art, I’ve been working with Kenaz, and that’s the rune I have on the Loki painting I may or may not have shared here sometime ago (I’m pretty sure I did but I’m too lazy to go get it so...) The painting has now been moved to a new part of my room (after rearranging shit for the millionth time) and it’s lined up to where it’s directly across from where I sit to do art. Ever since then, I’ve been able to dish out projects with higher quality than what I usually do at a faster rate. It’s just that lately, thanks to precipitation, I can’t do charcoal drawings for a while. Reason being is that I have to go to the outer garage to spray fixatif on it when I’m done and I need proper air circulation for that, and my windows aren’t meant to be opened... the architect of this house was a fucking idiot.

I am not entirely sure if I’ll be purchasing and reading anymore Pagan/witchcraft books for a good while, especially after being better informed, checking my amazon wish list, and finding out that some of the stuff I wish-listed is empty garbage because a lot of crud cranked out by Llewelynn tends to be garbage for money (note: I said “a lot,” not “all.”) But I do make purchases of incense from a small business witchy shop (they make their incense sticks). Lately, I’ve been focused on finding affordable boxes suitable for Bast’s, Thoth’s, and Cernunnos’ altars because my asshole cat likes to knock only the tiny shit off them. I’d also like to get proper statues for Bast and Thoth, too.

I’m also interested in making a smaller besom for general workings, and putting my bigger one up above the front door for protection purposes.

I don’t know how to end a ridiculous post like this, so that’s all I’ve got for now. I’m not disinterested, it’s just I don’t have a whole lot going for me, plus my health isn’t entirely the best right now. Take care, everyone!

#personal #life update #holy shit I hate winter #I didn't proof-read this so if something sounds weird then I'm sorry

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newchica · 6 years

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DL charackters meme

I got tagged by @mtkthedreamer , thank you ;)

Rules: List your top 10 favorite DL characters (it doesn’t just have to be the dateable guys, any characters are fair game) in order. And then answer the questions. Blank questions at the end.

1. Reiji (mah boy :D )

2. Laito

3. Ayato

4. Ruki

5. Subaru

6. Shu

7. Yuma

8. Carla (It just came recently to me that he has these mmmmm vibes similar to Reiji’s.....so it’s just natural for him to be on this top 10 list :D )

9. Kou

10. Yui

1. Number 5 (Subaru) has decided they want to completely change up their wardrobe and they take you shopping with them so you can give your opinions on what new outfits they should buy. What sort of clothes are you going to recommend?

Boy, you need more t-shirts on which are written like “Go to hell” “F*ck you” “*flipping you off*” “Humanity doesn’t interest me” but on the back, it says “give me a hug even if I say no to it”

2. You walk into your room one day to find number 2 (Laito) standing on your bed, dancing to your favourite song while wearing nothing but your favourite underwear. How do you react?

3. Number 7 (Yuma) has to go to the dentist but they’re adamantly refusing. How would you persuade them to go?

Fine, don’t do it. Let your teeth rot. They will go bad. Those black, painful spot will appear. You’ll be rolling in agony but play it off as “I’m a MAN”. Then your teeth will start to fall off one by one eventually leaving you toothless. And guess what the only way you'll be able to eat vegetables is to blend them. And blood hahaha you will have no fangs by then. So I’m asking you one more time....are you sure you don’t wanna go to the dentist?

4. You lose a bet with number 6 (Shu) and now have to be their personal maid for a day. Do you go through with it or do you try to get out of it?

.........2 out of 3?

I will try to get out of it :D

5. Number 4 (Ruki) takes you to see a horror movie however they end up getting absolutely terrified halfway through and bury their head into your shoulder. How do you react?

I LOVE HORROR MOVIES YAAAAAS

I guess I will lie to him by saying that the scary part is over, this way making him look when there’s a jump scare or something.

6. Number 9 (Kou) surprises you with a cake they’ve baked especially for you. Are you going to eat it?

I would appreciate it but also I would explain to him that living with vampires do have some influence on how much you trust a person. So no offense but I have trust issues.

7. Number 8 (Carla) accidentally manages to completely trash their room, to the point where it’s uninhabitable. They don’t have anywhere to stay while it’s being repaired and so they ask if they can room with you for the next couple of weeks. How do you respond?

......*inhales* You gonna have one special week with me, welcome to my kingdom :D

I would let him stay. I know the struggle of finding a place to stay so it would be cool. We would drive each other insane but that would be just a begging of a beautiful new friendship :)

8. Number 1 (REIJI, MAH BOY) has decided to learn how to play the trumpet. The downside to this is that, for some reason, they’ve taken to practicing right outside your room around the time you normally go to sleep. What are you going to do?

*burst out from my room* “REIJI, ME. YOU. US. Making a band and doing a world tour”

And then I would probbably start to cry with tears of joy because finally I made an ultimate bond with Reiji :D

9. Number 10 (Yui) recently purchased a cat onesie and they’ve insisted on wearing it everywhere over the past few days. They’ve now purchased a matching onesie for you and they’re being very insistent that you wear it and go out in public together. What do you do?

*puts on a cat onesie* *puts on glasses* “Let’s roll”

10. Number 4 (Ruki) is still scared after watching that horror film with you. It’s now late at night and they’re demanding that you let them sleep in your bed with you. What do you do?

“If you snore, you’ll be sleeping on the floor”

11. Number 3 (Ayato) confesses to you that they want to be an Olympic gymnast but struggle to even touch their toes. What sort of advice do you give to them?

“I thought you play basketball?....you know what nevermind, these kinds of things don’t come in one day, you need to keep practicing”

12. Number 7 (Yuma) decides they want to paint a picture of you. They make you sit still for hours while they work on it, only when they finally reveal it to you, the image bears absolutely no resemblance to you. They ask you for your opinion, what do you say?

“Well the truth is that you need to practice more on human figures but at least you got the bowl of fruits which I was holding, right.

13. Number 5 (Subaru) buys a large pet python and they try to talk you into keeping it in your room. How do you respond?

“Hell yeah!”

14. You go on a Ferris wheel with number 6 (Shuu) but when you reach the top, it stops moving and stays still for a long time. There seems to be some kind of fault, which means you’re trapped with number 6 till someone can get it working again. What do you do?

I think this is the begging of a life-changing trip for both of us and where all of the dark secrets of our past will come to the surface.....this is gonna be great :D

15. Number 2 (Laito) proposes you play a game of twister. Regardless of whether you want to or not, you get dragged into it. As you’re playing, you notice number 2 seems to be touching you a lot more than necessary. Do you call them out on it, or take some other course of action?

“........is that a bug near your hand?”

16. You’re getting changed in your room when you suddenly hear a noise from your wardrobe. You open the wardrobe to find number 3 (Ayato) standing in it. How do you react?

"Do I wanna hear an explanation or should I just do assumptions?”

17. Number 1 (REIJI, MAH BOY) manages to accidentally handcuff themselves to you. They don’t have a key and for some reason, no matter what either of you do, you can’t seem to get them off. What are you going to do?

“As much as I loving this but we need to do something........we need to chop off our hands”

18. Number 10 (Yui) presents you with a bouquet of roses and declares that they have feelings for you. How do you react?

That’s sweet and nice but I’m really sure that I’m into guys

19. You go swimming with number 8 (Carla). You’re having a great time until they pull you aside and tell you that they’ve somehow lost their swimwear. Are you going to help them and if so how?

Don’t panic, I got this. I will go look for your swimwear and if I won’t find it, we can use some leafs to cover up your gear.

20. Number 5 (Subaru) wrote a love letter to you and slipped it into what they believed to be your locker, however the locker actually belongs to number 8 (Kou) and they didn’t bother writing your name on the letter. How does number 8 react when they find it?

Kou would start glancing at Subaru with sparkling eyes. And I would be there in between whispering to myself “I knew it”

21. Number 7 (Yuma) gets very very drunk and tries to give number 3 (Ayato) a striptease. What happens?

Without a hesitation, Ayato would climb over chairs and tables just to get away from him.

22. Number 6 (Shuu) and number 2 (Laito) get into a rap battle and they want you to be the judge. Who do you think is going to win and why?

It’s hard to decide. Laito would do it right while on the other hand, Shu would throw a couple of sentences but really sassy ones. So 50/50

23. Number 1 (REIJI, MAH BOY) accidentally ruins number 9’s (Kou) most prized possession and begs for your help in covering it up. What do you do?

Burry the evidence in the yard and tell him that prize never existed

24. You wake up in between number 4 (Ruki) and number 10 (Yui) with absolutely no memory of how you got there. Do you have any idea about what might have occurred and what are you going to do now?

“....They both decided...to watch a scary...movie....?”

25. You go on a camping trip with number 9 (Kou), number 6 (Shuu) and number 3 (Ayato). What sort of stuff do the four of you do together?

Definitely, scary stories telling our the bonfire. Swimming in a nearby lake. And probably dragging someone's mattress into the lake while they are still asleep.

26. Number 9 (Kou) and number 4 (Ruki) have somehow swapped bodies. How do they react and are you going to try to help them get back to normal?

Ruki would warn Kou to not put any hair accessories in his hair. And Kou would be like “Meh, I’m still looking good”

27. You’re playing a game of Monopoly with number 5 (Subaru), number 7 (Yuma), and number 10 (Yui). Who wins and who goes bankrupt and storms off in a rage?

. Yui wins. Yuma goes bankrupt, Subaru storms off in rage

28. You go on a hike with number 8 (Carla) and number 2 (Laito). Number 8 is in charge of the map and they manage to get you completely lost in the middle of nowhere. What are you going to do?

“Do not worry I have seen Man vs Wild million times.....we might have a chance”

29. Number 1 (REIJI, MAH BOY) has given up on learning the trumpet and has taken up the banjo instead. They write a song and play it for you but it sounds beyond terrible. How do you react?

“....I think you should go back to the trumpet thing”

30. Number 1 (REIJI, MAH BOY) and number 2 (Laito) get in a fight over you. Number 2 manages to win and asks you for your hand in marriage. How do you respond?

“Sorry, I’m so so so so so so not ready for marriage”

I tag whoever is interested to do this~!

#diabolik lovers meme #diabolik lovers crack

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withabackpackandcamera · 4 years

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November 29th, 2019

Day 8: In London on a Tragic Day

Today, after a relatively short sleep, we woke up to a clear, sunny day! What a relief, given all the rain we encountered last night. And good thing it was sunny because the temperatures were pretty cold, almost freezing, with pretty low lows in London projected for today and tomorrow.

After gearing ourselves up for the cold, Cynthia led us through Shoreditch to our brunch location for the morning at The Bowl Club (which is actually The Book Club), a nice lounge-y restaurant/bar/lounge that serves multiple purposes. We were supposed to go here for brunch on a weekend day, where the menu is a lot more exciting, but given our tight schedule, it was more convenient to go today. After perusing the menu and ordering, Cynthia and I went at it with a few games of ping-pong while waiting for our food. Cynthia supposedly chose this place to eat knowing that it had a ping-pong table. Clutch!

We had a blast playing some close competitive games of ping-pong. By the time our food was out, Cynthia had won 3 games to 1. Kudos to her for some good games (and cheating serves, haha)! We sat down and chowed through our heavy breakfast. I ordered The Brick Lane Bowl on french fries and Cynthia ordered a different bowl that was equally heavy in carbs and meat.

With our stomachs heavy from brunch, we left and strolled back to the Boxpark, a cool, trendy collection of shipping container-turned pop-up stores and restaurants in Shoreditch, to take a look. We stopped at some shops and took a walk through the food area before turning out to continue exploring Shoreditch. The next stop was The Old Spitalfields Markets, which was a shopping area with stores and a courtyard area where there were stalls and booths selling random things. We looked around for a tad and left.

As we left, we wandered through some streets as we made our way back toward our original AirBnB location. We walked through some heavily-graffitied areas and took a moment to appreciate the art that was on the street walls and the art that was actively being painted on the walls. Pretty cool to watch graffiti artists at work in broad daylight!

We eventually made our way back to our AirBnB, where we picked up our stuff and lugged it all the way down the road to our next AirBnB, which was a room in a really nice condo in Shoreditch. The walk was long since we were carrying all of our stuff but we made it. We met our host and dropped off our stuff and took a short break before leaving again. As we were about to leave to check out Tower Bridge at sunset, we saw BREAKING NEWS on TV and saw that there were stabbings (we later found out it was deemed a possible terrorist attack) that had JUST happened on London Bridge, a location not too far from where we were. Wow. That’s crazy! Of all times for something dangerous like this to happen.

Luckily, we weren’t planning on going to London Bridge and instead were going to Tower Bridge. So we slowly walked over to Tower Bridge from our location, realizing how bad an Uber ride would be during rush hour traffic and knowing that the Tube wouldn’t take us directly to where we wanted to be. We eventually made it there for some photos around the time sunset hit. Unfortunately, due to some construction in the area, it was impossible to get good photos of Tower Bridge at sunset. So I didn’t try too hard to take good landscape photos and instead took photos of us at Tower Bridge before making our way onto the actual bridge. When we got to Tower Bridge, we slowly walked across the bridge over the Thames River as helicopters and police sirens echoed in all directions, especially from London Bridge located in the distance. From where we were on Tower Bridge, we could see some activity over on London Bridge. Again, crazy that we were so close to, yet so far from, something crazy that had just happened.

After walking across the bridge, our plan was to go to some illustrator’s fair but ultimately we decided against going because of the distance, the admission fee, and because we were hungry. Instead, we decided to walk towards Shakespeare’s Globe Theater before getting Asian food somewhere. We made a couple of turns and ended up walking along The Thames through some Christmas market stalls before we ran into a dead end. Unfortunately, there was no passing this point as the London Bridge incident had essentially quarantined the area off.

By this point, we were cold and hungry, so we sat down in the lobby of some random high-rise and tried to figure out where to get dinner. After some searches here and there (and realizing we were limited in where we could go because of train and road closures due to the London Bridge incident), we ultimately decided on Thai food at a close-by restaurant called Suchard. And we were so happy to find a warm restaurant to eat in without walking too far away. And the food we ordered was pretty good! For dinner, we had tom yum soup with prawns, spicy chicken wings with chili sauce, and chicken pad thai. Delicious for our starving tummies!

While we were eating dinner, I got a random Instagram message from an old college friend, Melissa Luu, about meeting up for drinks. What a coincidence! That she was in London at the same time we were! At first, it was really hard to coordinate meeting up since we were on opposite sides of town with extensive road and train closures and shutdowns. But ultimately, we decided to meet up at Gordon’s Wine Bar, supposedly the oldest wine bar in London.

As Cynthia and I made our way over, we noticed some activity at the closed London Bridge Station. The police officers were opening the gates to the station again. Sweet! By taking the train, we saved so much time and so much walking! We eventually got to the wine bar and met up and caught up with Melissa for about an hour or so. It was nice to hear what she was up to and what she was doing in London.

Before long, it was time to say goodbye, and we bid Melissa farewell before making some moves to see the area that we were already in. We took a look at the map and first walked through Leicester Square in search of dessert because Cynthia was really craving dessert this evening. We walked through some poppin’ nightlife (as it was a Friday night and everyone was out and about enjoying the evening festivities) and eventually made it to our destination, Maitre Choux, where Cynthia bought us a hazelnut and milk chocolate treasure eclair. It was quite pricey but delicious as well! After that, we made another quick stop for a Portuguese custard tart at Cafe de Nata, located just down the street. We ordered the apple and cinnamon custard tart and quickly devoured it as we made our dessert tour through SoHo (the name of the area we were in). After walking in the cold for awhile, we were craving something warm to drink and stopped by Yi Fang Tea for some warm black milk tea with pearls. Yum! A great thing to have on a cold night. What an epic dessert run!

At this point in the evening, the filling effects of our earlier dinner had dissipated and we were hungry again. Even after eating all of that dessert. As we strolled around, we happened to stumble upon London’s Chinatown. We looked around a bit and slowly got more and more hungry. We looked through some windows and ended up deciding to take a quick second dinner break at Dumplings’ Legend, a restaurant in Chinatown that is known for its unique xiao long baos. For dinner, we ordered the xiao long baos and some warm beef noodle soup. And we gobbled it all up while resting our cold, tired bodies.

Finally, we were reenergized for the final stretch of exploring the area. We again walked through Leicester Square on our way to Trafalgar Square before making it to The Thames, where we saw The London Eye, The County Hall, as well as (disappointingly) under construction-ed Big Ben. SO SAD! I didn’t realize that Big Ben was going to be under construction this trip and that there was no way of taking picturesque photos of this iconic structure and location! SO SAD!

As I took in this disappointing view, we wandered a bit more to look at the tons of scaffolds around Big Ben and to see Westminster Abbey and The Parliament from the distance before making our way back to Shoreditch via The Tube.

So disappointed. So sad. Oh well. Gotta get some rest before getting up early tomorrow for our last day in London…

5 Things I Learned Today:

1. In London, even the sun can pop out in the cold, overly dark days of December.

2. Brick Lane is a well-known street in the suburbs of London and is highly influenced by its Brown (South Asian) and Muslim inhabitants (after some digging on the internet, its inhabitants are mostly Bangladeshi and it is also known as Banglatown). And because of its inhabitants, there exists many curry houses in this area.

3. After my first day strolling through London, I can’t help but think that, in many ways, London reminds me of New York City. And Tower Bridge reminds me of Brooklyn Bridge! They feel so similar to each other, it’s crazy! Even their populations are similar in size, with London coming in at around 8.9 million and NYC at 8.6 million people.

4. The Leicester area in London is an area poppin’ with musicals, music, and entertainment of all sorts! It reminds me of Times Square or Broadway in NYC!

5. Elizabeth Tower is actually the name of the tower that houses Big Ben, the name of the bell inside the tower. Interestingly enough, Elizabeth Tower has been scaffolded and under construction since 2017 with plans to continue into 2020. It’s been like this for so long! I can’t believe I didn’t even know!

#withabackpackandcamera #huyphan8990 #travelblog #travel #blog #photography #landscapephotography #London #England #UnitedKingdom #Europe #BrickLane #Shoreditch #TowerBridge #Leicester #BigBen #worldtravels #November #2019

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greg38mcall · 5 years

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Our Laundry Room Today

First, I want to thank you for all of the great feedback on the sweet and simple nightstand drawer before | after post. I am excited that those smaller projects are just as fun for you as they are for me! I have a few more small scale organizing projects up my sleeves that I can't wait to tackle and share. Today, I wanted to give you an update on our laundry room!

In my last laundry room update a few years ago, I excitedly shared a peel-and-stick wallpaper that I had just installed. Shortly after that, a funny thing happened. The wallpaper began to give me this strange, unsettling feeling. I was so in love with it when I found it, but then I became stuck. I attempted to source finishing touches for the room and it all seemed to compete with the paper. After awhile I began to resent the busy pattern and colors and the more I thought about it, the more I would get a pit in my stomach. I would try to convince myself that I was being ridiculous because the paper was really beautiful, and it is just a laundry room after all. I know that decor is just decor, but in the same breath, I truly believe that our surroundings impact our emotions. Just because I loved the colors and design of the wallpaper, doesn't mean it was right.

But I waited on it. I lived with it for almost two years and really tried to make it work and be sure I wasn't acting impulsively. I felt that guilt we all do when we invest in something and don't want to be wasteful. I refused to remove the paper until I could find a way to save it to reuse or pass on. Peel-and-stick paper usually comes packaged on a glossy paper backing, and after some digging, I found a wide freezer paper that is plastic coated. Turns out the freezer paper is the perfect way to take down the adhesive paper from the wall, roll it up, and save it to be reused in another way. In fact, our laundry room paper has already been repurposed in my niece's bedroom lining a bookcase and we all couldn't be happier about that. All of that said, I still feel a combination of embarrassment, frustration, and guilt each time I take a design misstep or change something. As the queen of being hard on herself, I have been learning to give myself some slack and simply challenge myself to look at those situations as learning opportunities. Creatives evolve and change stuff all of the time. It is how we grow and stay invigorated! Guilt be gone because this wallpaper swap was a really good change for me. I didn't intend for this post to get too heavy but I also think it is important to share all of this because I know I am not alone. Many of you are like me in that you aren't trained designers, you just enjoy chipping away at making your home a place that reflects your style and makes you feel good. I hope that this can be a fun place where we bond over that together. If you try something and you don't love it, life is too short to live with it. Change is good! So with that, let's look at where our laundry room is today. I am not calling it a "reveal" because it is not done (no room ever is), but I will say I am finally feeling really good about the progress and excited to live with things as they are for a while. It has truly become a room that I look forward to going to and gives me this warm fuzzy content feeling.

Once the floral paper came down, I began to look at a variety of alternative peel-and-stick options to replace it with. Nothing was feeling right, but I was convinced that with my indecisiveness and my history, a temporary paper would be the best and most non-committal option. Then I came across a Farrow and Ball Lotus wallpaper on eBay for a really great price. Two full rolls for $100 less than the typical cost of one single roll. And being that I was only doing one wall, two rolls would be plenty. I pulled the trigger because it just felt so much more in line with my ultimate vision for the room. The last paper was colorful with an extremely busy pattern. I still wanted pattern and color but now knew that a tonal option would probably give me a similar effect without overwhelming me this time. It would still offer visual interest, but wouldn't compete with all of the other elements in the room. Although the new wallpaper is installed with a paste, I reminded myself that anything can be undone. No risk, no reward. We installed the new wallpaper about five months ago now and I still get happy butterflies every time I walk into the room. It feels so much more refined and timeless while still offering something interesting and beautiful. (We followed this wallpaper installation tutorial here.) After that, things very slowly started to fall into place. And although the rest of the changes we made were not big ones, they were still impactful.

For example, I realized that the open glass doors of the paint cabinet were visually competing with the open glass cabinet doors over the sink. Having multiple door styles in the room really created a weird imbalance, especially because the space is small and windowless. I initially tried to add a frosting to the inside of the glass, which helped, but eventually just primed and painted them so that the cabinet could just sort of fade away and hide the clutter behind the doors (I wouldn't normally do something like that on a nice piece of furniture, but this cabinet was DIY'd by us years ago and serves the purpose of storing all of our paint supplies, so it was a nice fast fix in this instance). There is a lot of white in this space which is good being that there are no windows, but I have been keeping my eyes open at thrift stores and on FB Marketplace for an interesting old cabinet to bring in another layer of character. When we first DIY'd our built-in wall, we partnered with Home Depot to come up with some custom storage for our laundry room. We have never stopped loving the storage that the entire wall offers; we use it for cleaning supplies, beach gear, seasonal items, sewing supplies, laundry hanging, and now even for feeding our pups. We modified it a while back to add some decorative shiplap backing and laundry baskets, which gave it a fresher look. Five plus years in it had become clear that we could have initially used a better method for making the cabinet doors. The doors we originally constructed were quite heavy, built from MDF, hung with external hinges, and weren't perfectly square. So this summer we built all new doors!

The new doors are infinitely better. They cleaned up the look of our built-in and the panels are now truly inset (I plan to share how we built them soon). We also installed concealed hinges which makes such a wonderful difference. At that same time, the entire unit received a fresh coat of paint, trim, caulk, a new acrylic hanging rod, and a built-in feeding station. Yes, yes, and yes!

Isn't that hanging rod lovely? I have been so inspired by my friends Grace from A Storied Style and Kristin from The Hunted Interior, and their use of acrylic for hanging rods, handles, window hardware, etc.., that I had to find a place to do the same. I found an inexpensive piece of acrylic on Amazon, as well as the mounting hardware. We added three total brackets to be sure the rod could hold the weight of our clothes, and so far so great!

The counter is a piece of butcher block that is extremely solid and ties to the floating shelf above the washer and dryer.

For the pup feeding area, we researched the best eating height for our dogs and installed a pull-out shelf that we cut to insert their bowl inside (we used a basic white laminate shelf paired with these drawer slides). The bowl is just floating in there so it can easily be removed and washed at the nearby sink after feedings.

Originally I wanted to store their food in the drawer below, but pet food really should be stored in its original packaging or an airtight container that can be easily cleaned. So now the drawer just holds all of their supplies, which also works out really great! Their food is sealed in a rolling bin in the tall cleaning cabinet.

The wire baskets continue to function really well for our family. We use them when the clothes come out of the dryer to bring the folded/hanging clothes back to our rooms to be put away. The larger woven basket is for linens for delicate wash items.

As we continue around the room, I added a pair of really pretty brass hooks to hold towels and beach/summer gear. I use hand towels all over this room for cleaning the feeding area, drying the bowls after washings, wiping down the washer door, and of course for general hand drying. Multiple hooks are a must!

The art above the hooks is a print from Juniper print shop; the colors are so great and it reminds me of many scenic drives that we have taken over the years.

The room is all white so that the wallpaper can be the star. But the back of the door was begging for something, so it received a coat of Benjamin Moore's Newburg Green. It is a stunner of a color and I want to use it again and again. I also added an over-the-door organizer for the iron and ironing board. We still need to change all of the hinges to black throughout the entire lower level.

Our washer and dryer are Maytag and they have been workhorses for us for over ten years now. As a family of five, we do laundry every single day so we couldn't be happier about the amount of use we have gotten out them so far. We lowered our hookups and built them in a few years ago and it was one of the best things we could have done. The folding counter has been such a game-changer to my laundry routine; I absolutely love all of the space there is to spread out and fold piles of towels or to layout my sweaters to air dry. Being that the units are now built-in, I am a little nervous for the day the washer/dryer goes out and we have to upgrade. I will be sure to share what that process looks like should that happen down the road (no jinxing it!).

The counter we selected is holding up great, no bowing or wear and tear from the daily use. Of course, I would have loved to have installed solid surface counters, but these were so much more budget-friendly and serve us perfectly well.

Laundry detergent and whitener are stored in lidded glass canisters...

While the smaller essentials such as dryer balls, delicate wash, stain remover, and a lint brush, are all stored in a handy wire basket.

I continue to be a superfan of the deep stainless sink; it has been used for dish washings, mop bucket fillings, stain soakings, and paint supply cleanings. It cleans up so nicely and is everything I could ask for.

As far as the faucet goes, although there is a pull-down nozzle, there is very little spraying power so that will probably get swapped out at some point. The faucet itself is of high quality and a really beautiful option. Sidenote: Aren't those flowers absolutely beautiful? They are the prettiest colors and I clipped them straight from our yard. #staysummerforever

I shared the organization of the sink cabinet here, and how we installed a decorative toe kick here. That decorative toe kick still makes my heart race; little details are so important.

The cabinet above the sink holds all of our frequently used home maintenance items; lightbulbs, extra paper products, sewing boxes, puppy linens, stain remover, etc...

Last but not least, how sweet is that little wooden rail of hooks? That is another DIY and I will share that tutorial soon as well. It was incredibly easy and inexpensive and it turned out to be one of my favorite accessories in the entire space.

Bit by bit, one project at a time, our laundry room has evolved and changed so much over the years. This room is used multiple times per day so it is nice to have it fully functioning and feeling more complete. Chores are definitely more enjoyable when you are feeling good in your surroundings!

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Laundry Room Wall/Built-In Color: Benjamin Moore Simply White

Laundry Room Door: Benjamin Moore Newburg Green

from IHeart Organizing http://www.iheartorganizing.com/2019/09/our-laundry-room-today.html

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duskisnigh · 7 years

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I love your "Off the Pedestal" comic because it shows only one aspect of their living together. I like seeing Victuuri have their little domestic moments, any couple will have them. It's when creators make domestic arguments the main highlight of their relationship and they turn Victor into some airhead or make him completely incompetent that I get annoyed. I hope your comic gets a lot of notes because I feel like a lot of the fandom needs to see it!

Thank you, that’s sweet of you!

I didn’t create that comic to make a point, since this idea has actually been sitting on my to-draw list for over 1.5 months now, but I posted it fully aware of the recent tension in the fandom surrounding Victor’s depiction in art/fics/headcanons, and also more specifically, the contention over “dishcourse”. I was unsure about addressing the matter before, but since you’ve brought some of it up, I’d like to take this opportunity to voice my thoughts on it in this post, and I hope you don’t mind.

(Please note that when I use “you” in the following text, I’m actually addressing people of the fandom as a whole.)

I think the phenomenon that allowed this tension to rise was overrepresentation, especially the overrepresentation of a not 100% flattering depiction of a beloved character that has many other wonderful facets yet to be explored. There is nothing inherently wrong with a post that pokes fun of a character, or one that derives humour from two characters in a heated argument where one ultimately loses. It is when we keep seeing the same kind of representation we become convinced that the fandom is only interested a specific kind of character/relationship depiction.

I think it’s important to remember that each creator in the fandom jumping on the bandwagon and making a single post about a popular joke (as is their right) at Victor’s expense is enough to create the illusion that the fandom is entirely and continuously obsessed with painting Victor as an incompetent airhead. The accumulation of posts with Yuuri sassing Victor probably also makes Yuuri out to be quite a horrid fiancé…despite the fact that these posts were probably individually created out of great fondness for both characters and their relationship. A while ago there were a few compilations of instances where Victor was quite savage towards Yuri/Yuuri in canon (often hitting where Yuuri has low self-esteem), but nobody would interpret that as the OP wanting to depict Victor as a generally mean person. We don’t read the comics/headcanons about “I don’t feel like it kissing it if it’s not gold” and think Victor is being emotionally manipulative (because he’s not; Victor knows in that situation what he says will not affect Yuuri’s certainty of his love for him) …until we think there are too many of them, and Victor making Yuuri feel bad about his silver is all we see.

I truly believe this depiction of Victor and focus on arguments are trends that will change with time. I don’t think creators who write/draw them having arguments think that it’s the only aspect of the relationship worth exploring; it just happens to be popular right now. These very same creators have drawn/written lots of content about Victor and Yuuri being loving dorks, or Yuuri being the butt of the joke before, and they will continue to do so. In fact, the two of them being disgustingly and happily in love is something that has a lot of creations about and never seems to feel “overrepresented”. Admittedly, some trends - like the two discussed - stick longer than others, and it’s understandable. People find depictions of arguments in relationships relatable, and enjoy the assurance that no matter how bad an argument gets, Yuuri and Victor will not stop loving each other. People also find humanizing characters first presented as god-like extremely satisfying, and go to extremes in doing so: the more invincible and untouchable a character is initially depicted to be, the more the audience is determined to make him out to be a clueless idiot. This is also a beloved trope in anime: genius character is completely useless/incompetent in what they don’t specialize in, which is everything else.

In the end, when it comes to enjoying the character/ship, the interpretation “Victor can’t do chores to save his life because he neglected every aspect of his life outside of skating for 20 years″ is as valid as “Victor does all the chores regularly because living alone has made him responsible”, which is just as valid as “Victor knows how to do chores well, but because he is human, he’s lazy about them, and living alone has previously allowed him to get away with letting the dishes pile up and washing only the minimum amount of utensils needed for each meal, but now he has a fiancé to share the dishes with so his lifestyle needs adjusting”. There is no right way to have fun with a ship/character. Some people might be new and find the popular joke funny and want to contribute to it when you are already tired of it. Some people might just enjoy the joke longer.

What we can do when we feel like something is overrepresented is to encourage the representation of something else. If you are a creator, draw/write something with a different focus, a different interpretation. If you’re not comfortable with making art/fic/headcanon posts, go around the fandom and talk about it. And perhaps, if your new focus relates to social justice, go to the creators, explain why this new focus is important, and (very) gently ask if they would explore a bit of it in their work.

This is just my view on the matter. I am not, in any way, trying to force this view on the fandom, but I’ll be super happy to discuss it.

Oh and, I’m sorry, viktorniliforv, that you paid me a super nice compliment and I sort of sprung this rant on you. Your message means a lot to me and I write all of this with the utmost respect.

#viktorniliforv

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randrvstheworld · 6 years

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Lost luggage, stolen bikes & sightseeing: the Rio therapy sessions

It’s been a tough couple of days. Ultimately things can only go up from the point of feeling like utter crap & a lot of good things have happened in the last 48 hours so I’m starting to feel a lot more positive.

The bottom line is - Rio is awesome; beautiful, fun, sunny, heaps of fun stuff to do, loads of awesome street art, incredibly friendly helpful people everywhere & cool vibes which is exactly what I hoped for from a place I have wanted to visit for so long. However, it was off to quit a rocky start. As I mentioned in my last post I have been struggling quite a bit recently for a number of reasons, some of which I omitted from this blog for personal reasons, but have been massively looking forward to the arrival of Hannah from London for the festive period (not that I’m feeling too festive in 30+ degrees of sweltering heat, but that’s beside the point & also not necessarily a bad thing because I will never, EVER complain that the sun is shining, especially when I know my friends back home are cold & miserable). However, Hannah’s arrival was blighted by her airline leaving all her luggage in Germany, from whence she connected to Brazil from London, & she arrived stressed, tearful, sleep-deprived & anxious with no clean clothes or vape equipment in desperate need of a shower & nicotine. It was not quite the movie-level reunion either of us had planned or hoped for but did involve a lot of hugging & crying as expected. However, the people at our hostel here are impossibly lovely & were very sympathetic towards Hannah’s plight & so in a flurry of activity between them & myself within ten minutes Hannah had cigarettes, a towel, fresh clothes borrowed/donated from me, all the toiletries & makeup she could possibly need, coffee & a freshly made bed in the bunk directly above mine. After her sanity had been restored we set out to truly begin exploring the wonders of Rio.

This involved taking a cable car up to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain - world’s most adorably named mountain imo - which again marked big achievements from me in my ongoing quest to eliminate vertigo from my life. The mountain is remarkably smooth & very tall, like a giant turtle shell rising out of the ocean, & wrapped in jungly-ness. From the top we could see all of Rio; it’s surrounding islands, the harbour & it’s scattered boats, numerous more pre-historic looking mountains in the distance, Jesus with his arms spread, & many circling condors. It was a blissfully sunny day & it was truly incredible to see for so far all the beauty of this incredible city. During our ogling of the delicious views we were visited by heaps of tiny adorable marmosets that scurried along the viewing platform eating candies & numerous other decidedly un-marmoset-y treats donated sneakily by wayward tourists choosing to pointedly ignore the PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE MARMOSETS signs. I was very happy about this because a) marmosets are the cutest things ever & b) Hannah had specifically requested the sightings of monkeys during her stay & as a regular human & not God I was somewhat concerned about my ability to be able to deliver on this & yet here we found ourselves, on day one, looking at the cutest monkey-type creatures ever, right up close & in their natural habitat.

When we descended the mountain, the sun was beginning to set & we went for a swim on Batafogo beach where we saw green parrots & drank coconuts & ate THE BEST CHURROS OF OUR ENTIRE TRIP SO FAR. It seems they love dulce de leche even more in Brazil than any of the other places we’ve already visited in South America & this is in no way a bad thing.

The next day - yesterday - we sunbathed on the world-famous Copacabana beach, then rented bikes & cycled to Rio’s lagoon, which is vast & beautiful & surrounded by mountains. Rio is pretty progressive in its cycling policies with lots of proper cycle paths round the whole city so cycling about seemed like a no-brainer. After making it halfway round the lagoon we decided to follow the signs to the botanical gardens & spent a blissful 90 minutes there before it closed. Not only does Rio have the best churros but is also home to the best botanical garden I have ever seen; it’s more like a huge, vast park than your typical greenhouse-like BG & we oohed & aahed over the most ginormous palm trees, beautiful orchids, & some fruit that look like giant lychees before inadvertently stumbling into monkey land: big patches of bamboo where we must have witnessed literally 20 monkeys eating their lunch. Another great score for Monkey Watch. Again, a real treat to see these sweet creatures right up close in such a beautiful environment. We also found giant fish & a turtle & a capybara in a lilypad-filled pond. I just love seeing exotic creatures in their natural homes. It really fills my heart with such joy & Hannah too was so excited by this it made me even happier.

After the park closed we returned to our bicycles & cycled back round to our lagoon starting point & took a swan pedalo out across the water as the sun went down & the city lit up all of it’s twinkling night lights; very beautiful reflected in the water. Roxy had had to go home before this to sort out some stuff for a doctors appointment so Hannah & I, post-pedalo adventure, walked all the way back catching up on 6 months worth of gossip & ranting & counselling each other over our respective woes. It felt great to have a bit of time for just the two of us to talk & reminisce about anything & everything; I have missed Hannah so much & I didn’t quite even realise how much until she got here. I still can’t quite believe that she is actually here in Brazil. This is literally the longest we haven’t seen eachother in the entirety of our friendship & I have really struggled without her.

However, all good things must (temporarily at least) come to an end & on our way home, whilst stopping to buy Hannah some new clothes & stuff while she awaited the arrival of her luggage (thank you Lufthansa for the free sh*t, you incompetent cretins!) one of our renal bikes got nicked from outside the mall. FACK. Not cool, whoever you are! I feel like this is how the bike rental clowns run a racket on innocent tourists because they had provided one shitty lock for all three bikes which quite frankly I could probably have knawed through. A clean cut & we were one bike down & somewhat panic-stricken. There went another £100 which was significantly less than these cowboys tried to squeeze out of us but thanks to our lovely hostel hosts once more coming to our aid managed to whittle it down. However, paying for someone else’s crime truly stings. Plus it was another example of how alienating it can be to not know a language & having to rely on the kindness of hostel people etc to translate everything & help get you out of a jam.

That said, the rest of today was marvellous. Roxy was tied up with her doctors appointment all day so Hannah & I declared it an ART DAY & visited Boulevard Olympico to look at all the giant murals, painted in the run up to the Rio Olympics in celebration of Brazilian culture. They were incredible. I have never seen such huge paintings; rendered in exquisite detail, portraits in the most vibrant colours with fantastically expressive faces. We also ate our first ever Cuban sandwiches & cinnamon lemonade - get to know - & went to the beach again to cool off in the sea. Cue more churros & coconuts.

I am now beginning to realise some things; Hannah’s arrival proved the catalyst for a pretty extreme late-night breakdown where the presence of the very person to whom I always turn in a crisis prompted an outpouring of emotion that has led in turn to some pretty heavy realisations. It is with renewed vigour that I am beginning to plan my return to the UK, to stability, to the loving arms of my friends & family & potentially to some help that I feel its finally time to admit I need. Having now eliminated the possibility that it was my job and/or London responsible for my sporadic waves of depression, given the fact that I have intermittently experienced the exact same feelings whilst away, I am now one step closer to deciphering what exactly is going on in my brain. Although it is with crushing disappointment that I must admit that travelling did not sure me of this ailment, at least now I can check the possibility of that off the list & try & move forwards. Hannah’s presence is so immensely welcome at this time; she is as always the most incredible, loving & supportive friend. I have been looking at flights home & being a gal that likes to have a plan having an end point in sight is in itself helping me feel more positive. I said all along that I would travel for as long as my money and/or enjoyment lasted & for now at least, it seems 8-9 months is my max on both counts. It’s cool. Only good things will come of this, I am certain.

I can now focus on spending as much quality time as possible with my oldest & dearest friend before she flies home again in 3 weeks. We have lots of fun stuff planned, including going to see some famous mosaic’d steps, visiting Jesus (just in time for his birthday!), going on a tour of a favela, Christmas at the beach, seeing in the New Year with some samba in Sao Paolo & rounding it all off nicely at the world’s biggest waterfalls. Things are looking up.

#brazil #best friends #travel diary #rio #riodejaneiro

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goldingoldout8 · 6 years

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Jordan Peterson

This guy is difficult to follow at first but I’m getting the hang of it. He’s a clinical psychologist, professor, philosopher, husband, father, and a bunch of other things I’m sure. The way he’s able to connect ideas from so many different disciplines and great thinkers is extraordinary. Peterson can articulate things I’ve long felt but could never adequately express or even identify in some cases. Apparently he has that effect on a lot of people. His interpretations of religion have been enlightening and his breakdowns of classic Disney movies like The Lion King and Pinocchio I thought were entertaining and profound. I want to see him do The Jungle Book next. :P Here are some parts taken from his lectures and talks that I liked. They’re transcribed and edited by me for ease of skim reading.

White Lies & Black Truths

Sometimes in your family if you tell someone the truth, and I don't mean black truths... You know there's white lies. And a white lie occurs to preserve a higher moral virtue. You contend with a lower moral virtue. Perhaps you don't tell a child dying of cancer that they're going to die. I don't know because it depends very much on the particulars of the situation. But you can understand that you have mixed motives in a situation like that. You can also speak black truths. And black truth is when you say something that's nominally true but you're using it as a weapon for another purpose. And that's not a truth, that's really a more profound and evil lie than any you can possibly manage because you're using the truth in a way that corrupts the truth itself. And that's really reprehensible.

But barring the use of the black truth, if within your family you say what you mean, you say what you think, that can often cause tremendous upheaval. Because many relationships are cobbled together by various alliances of willful blindness and things left unspoken. That's a very bad long term strategy. I've seen people who are embroiled in the death throes of a relationship that perhaps accrued a hundred thousand lies over its course. It became so unstable because of that, that there was no hope for it. Each of those lies was a forestalled opportunity to address something difficult with truth that was foregone, and all that does is make those unsolved problems accumulate and multiply and then eventually take form in a pack and generally when you least expect it. And so, if you speak the truth in your family, cautiously and carefully and knowing that you could be wrong, you will cause upheaval and conflict. But it's conceivable that that's the least amount of upheaval and conflict that could exist to make things right. And I believe that is the case.

One of the things that I tell people who are too agreeable and who don't like to cause conflict - and I actually don't like to cause conflict because I'm more agreeable than I should be - is that the ethical requirement to tell the truth trumps any desire to avoid conflict. And it's partly because you only forestall the conflict and magnify it. There's no escaping it. It's better to engage in it directly when the necessity first arises than to forestall it. People who are only willing to make peace at the expense of themselves, let's say, I try to encourage them to generate conflict by telling the truth. I would say inevitably that has nothing but beneficial medium to long term consequences in their life even though it exposes them to more conflict in the short term. It also alleviates their resentment because if someone has made you resentful or someone has made you resentful because of their actions then there's only two real reasons why. One is that you should pull up your socks and quit complaining and quit whining because you're being required to shoulder a responsibility. Or you're being oppressed and tyrannized by someone who doesn't know where their proper limits are. In the former case then you should get your act together. In the latter case you should stand up and stop that person from encroaching upon you.

So you speak truth in your family, let's say, and perhaps even to yourself at the risk of conflict - and often severe conflict - but the ultimate goal is to bring peace. It's paradoxical because we often don't think of peace as something that's reached through conflict. But that is precisely for example why we value something like free speech because the wisdom of humanity and the wisest people that we know - and that would include those people who were intelligent enough to found this country on the principles that it is founded on - knew that whatever conflict free speech might produce paled in comparison to the conflict that was generated by tyranny and oppression of exchange of opinion. So it's never a matter of picking a safe path because there's no such thing as a safe path. It's only a matter of picking a path that produces the least catastrophe possible. It's an inviolable principle, I would say, and also the fundamental principle of western civilization. That speech freely exchanged is the best pathway to peace and redemption that we have identified. And so it should remain untrammeled under all circumstances possible, subject to very infrequent restraints of a sort that are already encapsulated in law such that for example we cannot incite someone to a criminal activity.

Creativity

The traits are highly heritable. They're modifiable but if you're really non-creative it's like it ain't going anywhere for you. The reason for that is creativity isn't... it's not all sweetness and light. The reason there are non-creative people is because creative people often died. They're out doing like... screwy things. They attract attention from people they shouldn't attract attention from, like the authorities. The creative people are revolutionary. Well tyrants don't really like revolutionaries. There's lots of reason not to be creative. Even now, creative people, it's hard to monetize your creativity. Artists have a hell of a time surviving. So creativity as such is a double-edged blessing, for sure, and part of the reason lots of people aren't creative is, let's think about it from an evolutionary perspective. It's a hell of a lot easier not to be decked out in bright colors when your predators come along. You want to stay camouflaged against the herd like a zebra. You don't want to stand out. I'll tell you a little story about that.

I think I got this from Robert Sapolsky and if I didn't I apologize. Let's say you're a biologist, you go to study some zebras. You think, well those zebras are camouflaged because they have black and white stripes. Well no, that's not camouflage. A lion is camouflaged. It's golden, it looks like the grass. You can see a zebra like fifteen miles away. It's black and white. Okay so you're looking at some zebras and you think hey I need to look at one zebra to figure out what it's doing because I'm trying to understand zebras. You look at a zebra and then you take some notes and look up and you think oh god which zebra was that? Because the camouflage is against the herd. --- Just the idea that the camouflage is against the herd, that's such a useful idea to have in your mind. --- So you go up to this zebra in your jeep with your stick with a rag on it and you put a nice daub of red paint on the zebra's haunch or you clip its ear like with a cattle clip. And the first thing that happens is you get the hell out of there and the lions kill it. Because they can identify the thing that stands out, and organize their hunt around it. So that's why there aren't creative people.

Men & Women Discourse

Here’s the problem. I know how to stand up to a man who’s unfairly trespassing against me. And the reason I know that is because the parameters for my resistance are quite well defined, which is: We talk, we argue, we push, and then it becomes physical. If we move beyond the boundaries of civil discourse, we know what the next step is. That’s forbidden in discourse with women.

And so I don’t think men can control crazy women. I think they have to throw their hands up... There’s no step forward that you can take under those circumstances. If the man is offensive enough and crazy enough the reaction becomes physical right away, or at least the threat is there. When men are talking to each other in any manner, that underlying threat of physicality is always there especially if it’s a real conversation. And it keeps the thing civilized to some degree. You know if you’re talking to a man who wouldn’t fight with you under any circumstances whatsoever then you’re talking to someone to whom you have absolutely no respect. But I can’t see any way...

[...] She’s quite offensive, you might say. She compared us to Nazis for example publicly using the swastika which wasn’t really something I was all that fond of. But I’m defenseless against that kind of female insanity because the techniques that I would use against a man who was employing those tactics are forbidden to me. So I don’t know... It seems to me that it isn’t men that have to stand up and say enough of this, even though that is what they should do. It seems to me that it’s sane women who have to stand up against their crazy sisters and say look enough of that. Enough man-hating. Enough pathology. Enough bringing disgrace on us as a gender.

But the problem there is that most of the women I know who are sane are busy doing sane things. They have their career, they have their family, they’re quite occupied and they don’t have the time or interest to go after their crazy harpy sisters so I don’t see any regulating for that terrible femininity. It seems to be invading the culture and undermining the masculine power of the culture in a way that’s, I think, fatal.

Society

We need to be alert to the benefits of the societies that we now inhabit. We need to be grateful for their existence and note very carefully the unlikelihood of their continued success. I don't understand how we managed it. In the west we have societies where the default understanding between human beings is trust. I do not understand how we managed that. Because there's so many ways you can be betrayed by someone, especially if you don't know them. How do you set up a society where the typical interaction between strangers is straight? How many societies in the world are like that? Thirty? Forty? Something like that. How did that ever happen? We don't know and it's an on-going miracle and we should do everything we can to protect it. Because the alternative to that generous trust, that courageous trust which is unbelievably productive... is rule by thug. And that's the rule in most of the world.

I think we're in a time of extreme chaos. Things could go unbelievably well if we're careful. There's so many good things going on in the world right now, they're almost miraculous. So for example between the year 2000 and 2012 the level of absolute poverty in the world was cut by 50%! That was the fastest rate of improvement by a large margin in human history. It was three years faster than the most optimistic projections suggested. There's hundreds of thousands of people a week being pulled into the electrical power grid. Almost everyone has access to almost infinite computational power and all the educational resources that go along with that. We're wiping out the most transmissible diseases. The fastest growing economies in the world are in sub-Saharan Africa. Like there are a lot of things... There's no starvation in China. There's a huge middle class in China and India. These things are absolutely miraculous and god only knows what we could accomplish if we got our act together in twenty years. I mean the sky's the limit. But we're playing very foolish games in the west and we could bring the house down around us. So, we'll see.

God & The Bible

The highest ideal that a person holds, consciously or unconsciously, that's their god. It functions in precisely that manner. And people might say well I don't believe in gods. Well that depends on what you mean. I'm not being foolish about that, it's like we're very complicated creatures and we're run by all sorts of very strange things down there in the unconscious. The Greeks thought we were the play things of the gods because we serve lust, we serve thirst, we serve hunger, we serve rage, and those things all transcend us. So that's why they were gods. Rage, that's the war god. Well why is it a god? Well it exists forever. It exists in all people. It takes them over and directs their behavior. It's a god. Well, you can quibble about the details. No, it's not a god. Okay fine, it's a psychological force.

We have to think about it functionally to some degree. We have to think about what that idea means. We've had that idea forever. It isn't just some superstition. We've gotta be more sophisticated than that, man. This is partly what I think is unfortunate about the new atheists, let's say. They don't take the damn problem seriously. They think well Christianity, that's just a bunch of superstition. It's like... really? No. Sorry. That's just not deep enough man.

Let me give you another example. This is so cool. Northrop Frye, he was a biblical scholar at the university of Toronto. This was one of his elucidations of the structure of the bible. So the bible is actually a story, which is weird because it's a whole bunch of different books written by a whole bunch of different people, edited kind of willy-nilly over thousands of years and then assembled by a committee. It's a really strange book. But it has a narrative structure. And that sort of emerged as a collective decision across these thousands of years. So the old testament, here's the rough story of the old testament.

Israel is sort of a middle power and it rises to power and domination. And then a prophet arises and says look you guys are all successful now. You're starting to get corrupt. You're not paying attention to the widows and children. You're not running your state according to the super-ordinate principle. You might say well the super-ordinate principle doesn't exist. It's like okay. Keep running it that way and see what the hell happens! That's what the prophet says, usually at the risk of his life. He says that to the king. It's like fine, you don't believe in god? You don't believe in the super-ordinate principle? The super-ordinate ethical principle? No problem. Keep doing what you're doing. But see what happens.

Well what happens is Israel gets wiped out. And then for generations it's enslaved or its population is being destroyed and then it sort of climbs back up to power. And then it gets powerful for a brief period of time and then it gets corrupt and then a prophet comes out and says remember that super-ordinate principle that you made a covenant with? You're not paying any attention to it anymore. You better look the hell out. And everyone ignores it and then bang! So it's order, corruption, chaos. Order, corruption, chaos. That happens six times.

So here's an idea behind it. The idea, because the state keeps rising, is an idea that emerges out of that. It’s that the aim is the perfect state. That's the utopian dream that arises out of that learned process over thousands of years. If we could only get the state perfect. Like let's say the state of Israel, or the Russian state, the communist state. If we could only bring utopia in at the political level our problems would be solved. Well then what happens is there's a transition in conceptualization. And that happens in the new testament. And the new testament conceptualization is wait a minute. The state isn't salvation. The individual is salvation.

Now you say, well we're just gonna throw that out, are we? That was a hell of a discovery man! And then there's more to it. It's not only the individual is salvation. It's the truthful individual is salvation. Think of how difficult a concept like that is to develop. Is there anything less self-evident than that? Because you think who's gonna run the dominance hierarchy? The biggest bloody monster with a club. It's like no, it turns out those are unstable. Those societies are unstable. They don't work. They collapse into chaos. They get corrupt. They lose sight of the super-ordinate principle, whatever that is. The stable solution is the individual that tells the truth. And it has taken us forever to figure that out.

And that's part of what the post-modernists are after. That's part of their anti-phalo centrism. That's why they skitter off and hide in their ideology. They're afraid to come out. They're afraid to be seen. They're afraid to speak because they have nothing to say. So we have to get sophisticated about this stuff or we're gonna throw it away without understanding it. It's unbelievable. It's the story upon which western civilization is founded. That's why Nietzsche said when god was dead that everything would collapse into chaos. He didn't say that triumphantly. He knew what was gonna happen. So did Dostoevsky. That's why I admire them so much. They knew what was coming.

So that’s what I've been trying to do, and I've been guided in large part by Jung, because he was the first---see Jung took Nietzsche's problem seriously! Nietzsche said look we're losing our faith. We're losing our ability to relate to this super-ordinate ethical principle. And he actually blamed Christianity for killing itself with the sword of truth it had produced. He said, so we're gonna lose this and it's big trouble, make no mistake about it, because our whole society is founded on those principles. We get rid of the animating spirit at the base of it, we're gonna lose all of it.

So Nietzsche thought we're gonna have to become superhuman to manage it. That's where his concept of the overman comes from. Or the superman. Which the Nazis sort of pulled off and parodied. Now Jung was a student of Nietzsche's. Not directly, but very much influenced by him. Jung thought that Nietzsche was wrong, that we couldn't create our own values. Because look, it's so hard to create your own values. Let's say you're kind of an overweight guy and you decide to go to the gym for your New Year's resolution. You don't. You go twice and then you stop and it's because you can't create your own values! It's hard. You're not your own slave. You can't just tell yourself what to do. You have a nature.

And so Jung's idea was we had to go back to the mythology. We had to go back to the stories. We had to go back into the underground unconscious chaos and lift out what we had forgotten. And that's what he was trying to do with his psychology. He's done it very effectively. Very very effectively. He was a revolutionary thinker but very difficult to understand. And so I've been working with Jung's ideas for a long time trying to make them more rational and articulate. And believe me, that's no critique. Because every time I go back to Jung thinking I had mastered him, I learn a bunch of stuff that I didn't know.

Fantasy & Culture

So out of the unconscious you get ritual, dreams, drama, story, art, music. And that sort of buffers us. We have our little domain of providence and we're buffered by the domain of fantasy and culture. And that's really what you learn about when you come to university, if you're lucky and the professors are smart enough to actually teach you something about culture instead of constantly telling you that it's completely reprehensible and should be destroyed. Why you would prefer chaos to order is beyond me and the only possible reason is you haven't read enough history to understand exactly what chaos means. And believe me, if you understood what it means you'd be pretty god damn careful about tearing down the temple that you live in. Unless you want to be a denizen of chaos. And some people do, because that's when the impulses that you harbor can really come out and shine. So a little gratitude is in order. And that makes you appreciative of the wise king while being smart enough to know that he's also an evil tyrant. That's a total conception of the world. It's balanced. It's like yeah we should preserve nature but good god, it is trying to kill us. Yes, our culture is tyrannical and oppresses people but it is protecting us from dying. That's helpful. And yes we're reasonably good people but don't take that theory too far until you've tested yourself. That's wisdom, at least in part, and that's what these stories try to teach you.

Religious

Religious is what you act out. Everything you act out is predicated on your implicit axioms. The system of implicit axioms that you hold as primary is your religious belief system. It doesn't matter whether you're an atheist or not. That's just surface noise.

So it has nothing to do with divinity or supernatural beings?

No I didn't say that.

Or it doesn't necessarily have to do with those?

No it probably necessarily has to do with it too. But it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with your voluntarily articulated statements about whether or not you believe in something like a transcendent deity. What you act out is much more what you are than what you say about yourself.

And what the hell do you know about what you believe anyways? You're complicated man. Seriously, people are complicated. We're not transparent to ourselves at all. That's why we have to go to university and study psychology. We're not exactly black boxes but we are the most complicated things there are. We can't even program our VCR clocks. So it's like how the hell can we propose to understand ourselves? I'm existentially oriented which is to say that I think what you hold to be true is best determined as a consequence of an analysis of your actions rather than as a consequence of an analysis of what you purport to believe.

You can't act without a hierarchy of values because you can't act unless you think one thing is better than another. Because why would you act otherwise? So that means you're embedded within a hierarchy of values whether you know it or not. Or maybe multiple fragmentary and competing hierarchies of value, which is all the worse for you by the way because it just makes you very confused. That hierarchy of values is based on axioms. The probability that you understand them is very low because generally people don't understand their axioms. But that axiomatic system is essentially your religious system. There's no way out of that as far as I can tell. And you can say well it isn't predicated on conscious belief in a transcendent deity. It's like okay... have it your way. But you know, most people in this room act out a Judeo-Christian ethic. And not only do they act it out, if they're treated in a manner that's not commensurate with that ethic, they get very very very annoyed. So for example if I fail to treat you as if you're an embodiment of a divine fragment that's characterized by the ability to make free choice and determine your own destiny in some sense, or if I fail to treat you as if you're a valued contributing member of the polity as a sovereign individual, then you'll find that very offensive. It's like okay, then that's what you believe. If I ask you if you believe any of that, well that's a whole different story. You might give me some radical leftist nonsense, but that doesn't take away from the fundamentals of your action.

When you and Sam Harris argue about religion you're arguing about fundamentally different things.

Well he tends to think about religious thought the way a smart 13 year old atheist thinks about a fundamentalist Christian. It's like yeah okay, you're just not getting to the heart of the matter. I just finished reading all of Sam's books in the last couple of weeks and as far as I'm concerned he doesn't ever get to the bottom of the issue. He doesn't address the fundamental thinkers. There are some profound thinkers. Dostoievski is one, Tolstoy, Nietzsche, Jung. And the same with Dawkins. All that conceptualization is completely absent from their corpus of work. They don't even have an understanding for the psychological utility of religion. And it's a big problem. You don't get to be an atheist when the people you attack are naive fundamentalists.

And I have some sympathy for the naive fundamentalists. What they're basically saying is something like this. Look, we have an ethos that's valuable. You scientist types are casually dismantling it. What the hell are we supposed to do? Well the fundamentalists don't know what to do about that so they say creationism is science. It's like no, it's not. But that doesn't mean they don't have a point. Their point is there's something valuable here. Don't break it casually. What are you going to replace it with? The new atheists' wish that everybody becomes rational? Yeah sure, like that's going to happen.

#jordanpeterson

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