#and in a hundred years people will romanticise us and say they were born in the wrong decade

[spokelseskladden]

while i wouldn't like living in any other time period due to knowing like. The basics of history or whatever, I'm gonna be real with you all. The current one I'm living in isn't all that appealing either.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Forty-Nine: He Walked Past ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

Every day, without fail, Uchiha Sasuke walks to the training grounds on the outskirts of Konoha to practice the shinobi arts. He’s done so since his release from the hospital, and even before the massacre, his habitual training was intense for one his age. But as the years have passed, and his graduation date grows ever nearer, his hours at the dusty, well-worn swathes of ground have been growing.

...but he’s not the only one.

Since the loss of her title, Hinata has also called the training fields home more often than not. Her clan, of course, has several of the nicest dojos in the village, thanks entirely to their rather hefty coffers. The Hyūga want for very little, and their pride means investing in having the grandest of any comparable object.

But there’s a few reasons why Hinata prefers the training grounds of the village itself. Mostly is the privacy. No risk of being walked in on, and no feeling of being constantly watched: hard to avoid within the Hyūga compound...especially given that judgemental gazes have only increased upon her over the years since her defeat by Hanabi.

Partially, however, it’s a feeling of being...unremarkable. She’s hardly actually here alone, after all - plenty of shinobi come and go through the multitudes of training spaces day by day. But here, she isn’t just the disgraced Hyūga ex-heiress. No...she’s just another Academy student here to practice her taijutsu, maybe some bukijutsu if she feels up to it. No one’s eyes linger on her, judging and sneering. Here, she’s unnoticed. Just how she wants it.

Sasuke, on the other hand...doesn’t have that respite. Instead, it’s here, among the rest of the village’s population, that he’s the most recognized.

The last of the Uchiha.

Even Hinata can’t help timid glances when he walks by, pausing in her routine to subtly follow him with her eyes. Unlike most of the girls in their class, she isn’t as charmed by his appearance or cold exterior. She’s never really understood why they seem to romanticise it. After all, she can still remember when they first met, when the Academy began that April several years ago. He’d been a bright, if not slightly shy boy eager to learn, and full of hope for a future as a shinobi like his brother and father.

...but now, his only drive is vengeance born of a loss so monumental, Hinata doesn’t even dare pretend to comprehend it.

...why the other girls suddenly found him so alluring once he’d suffered so much...she just can’t understand.

Of course, she has her own fallacies in logic: like trailing after a boy who wants nothing to do with her. But she can’t help but find Naruto’s resistance inspiring. While she only knows bits and pieces of why he’s so alone...she also knows that - in spite of it all - he keeps his head up. And with her own challenges to face, and her own insecurities to overcome...she can’t help but idolize him.

Him. Not his losses. It’s about his perseverance, his tenacity, his refusal to let what ails him drag him down into their depths...as she’s so often felt tempted to do.

But that’s not how the girls see Sasuke. They don’t offer sympathy, or empathy. They all want something from him. Attention, affection...neither of which he seems in any way wanting to give. Their shallow vying for his time grates on her...but she’s never had the courage to say anything. Sakura, Ino...they’re popular. Loud. Assured. If they were to turn on her...well, it wouldn’t be pretty. And Hinata already has the weight of her clan’s disappointment resting on her shoulders. She’s not sure she can bear much more.

All of this goes through her head as he goes by, her stance losing its rigidity and instead just...wilting loosely, somberly. It’s all so unfair, isn’t it…?

...but what can she do? What can any of them do? Children with burdens beyond their means tied to their ankles as they try to stay afloat. Those like Ino...those like Sakura...they don’t know that weight. And though Hinata finds herself frustrated with them...she could never wish that knowing upon them.

It would be cruel.

“Oi.”

Startled from her thoughts, Hinata actually staggers back half a step, heart leaping up her throat with a gasp. Wide, pearly eyes stare openly at her addresser.

It’s...Sasuke?

“S...Sasuke-kun…?”

“You have the Byakugan, right?”

“Um...y-yes…?” Why does her reply sound more like a question? He’s never really spoken to her directly before.

“I need your help.”

Blinking, she watches him turn around and start walking, not even giving her a chance to acquiesce. Not...that she has any reason not to, but he seems to just assume she’ll help.

After a brief pause...she follows.

He leads her to a training ground several over from her own. Like her typical spot, it’s partially nestled in the treeline, hidden from most angles (and other training nin). It’s a spot with several targets set into the trees for kunai and shuriken training. “I was trying a new technique that got out of hand. Several of my knives went off-course, and I’m having trouble finding them in the underbrush. Can you see them?”

There’s a moment to take in his words. They’re so...blunt and to the point. It reminds her of her father’s speech, wasting no time and inflected with little to no emotion. “...um...I-I should be able to…” Taking a steadying breath, she lets chakra build, rushing to the pathways leading to her eyes, which swell with energy as her dōjutsu activates.

Immediately, the world is shifted into an inverted black and white, images and energies outlined and layered. Without moving her eyes in her sockets, Hinata scans the area.

There’s...actually a lot of random gear out here. Kunai, shuriken, senbon...even a sai blade lost and abandoned in the overgrowth. Hinata can’t help but blink in surprise.

“...well?”

“Um...there’s q-quite a few. I...I’m not sure which are yours? There’s...weapons everywhere…”

That gets him to frown. “...really?”

“Yes, a-all sorts. Um...I guess I’ll just...s-show you the kunai…”

“Wait.”

She pauses.

“...we can pick it all up. Someone might get hurt.”

Shock holds her in place for a long moment. He...he wants to…? But it’ll take much longer than just finding what he’s lost.

Understanding then gets her to soften.

...maybe parts of him are still the same.

“...all right.”

With Hinata’s eyes and both of their hands, they scavenge up every piece of equipment in the area, ending up with a rather impressive pile. Some has been here so long, it’s all rusted over. The pair bend over their hoard curiously before glancing to each other.

“...w-what should we do with all of this…?”

Sasuke seems to mull it over. “...dunno.” He reaches in, taking up a few senbon, having already claimed the kunai he recognized. “Is there someone we can tell about all this? People might be looking for their gear...or at least someone might be able to use most of this if no one claims it.”

“T-that’s true. Um…” Reaching into her leg pouch, Hinata withdraws a scroll gifted by one of Neji’s teammates. “We could seal it in here, and t-take it to the administration building.”

“You know about seals?”

“Just...just a little bit.” Tenten hasn’t exactly given her private lessons, given the strained relationship between the cousins. “It’ll be easier than carrying it all by hand.”

After a short while sealing up all the blades, needles, and stars, Hinata stands awkwardly for a moment. Is she...supposed to take it by herself? Or is he going to invite himself along? There isn’t much left to do but turn it in, and...surely he wants to get back to training.

“I don’t know what department to take it to…”

“M-me neither. Is there...a lost and found?”

“No idea...guess we can ask.”

‘We’. Not ‘you’, implying she won’t be going alone. Well...all right then. Scroll in hand, Hinata just...makes her way back toward the village and into the administration building. An obliging chūnin listens to their story, and he points them to a desk for missing items.

“So, this is all unsorted weaponry?”

“Y-yes. We, um...we found it all in the training grounds. Some might not be...worth anything. But we didn’t want it to injure anyone unaware.”

The attendant tucks it away after giving the scroll a label. “Good thinking, you two. We try to do sweeps for lost or forgotten supplies, but things always get missed. Guess we might have to start relying on some Hyūga to help!”

At that, Hinata goes a bit pink, bowing sheepishly as they retreat, deed done.

“Thanks for the help.”

“Y...you’re welcome. I’m glad we found them, and...all that other stuff.”

“Least the lady seemed happy about it. And no students will fall and hurt themselves on a dropped blade.”

“That, um…” Hinata pauses, seeing him glance to her. “...that was a g-good idea.”

“Just trying to think ahead.”

...an awkward silence blooms.

“W...well, you probably want to get back to training, so…”

“Not heading back?”

“It, um...it’s getting a little late. I don’t want to get in trouble.” She avoids directly mentioning her father, conscious of how it might make Sasuke feel. “I can always go back tomorrow.”

“Mm…” He hums in response before adding, “...I’ll probably see you there.”

“Y...yeah.”

“Maybe one of these days we could spar.”

“...eh?”

“Never gone up against someone who can use Jūken,” he replies, a hint of a grin on his face. “Might be...interesting.”

At that, Hinata can’t help but go a little pink. “I...I’m not the b-best at it…”

“Then consider it practice. If you want.”

She hesitates...but then nods. “...a-all right.”

“Cool. See you then, Hyūga.”

“Y...you can call me Hinata!” she calls after him, earning nothing but a wave over his shoulder.

...well, that wasn’t how she expected today to go.

                                                     .oOo.

     I keep telling myself to make these a little shorter to make it a little easier...and yet I keep overshooting my word count goal xD      Anyway, some canon verse stuff! Genin era (or...right before it) cuz I love writing them as kiddos. This'd probably be in my team seven!Hinata AU. I just...I'm thirsty for Sasuke and Hinata interacting in canon. Like at all. YOU LEFT ME HANGING, KISHI.      ...*sighs*      Anywho, I gotta get to bed, so...that's all for now - thanks for reading!

[sanguisfulgur]

Trek verse info 

Just some basic stuff for now just so I can get this out. Some stuff is specific to threads with @mxthborn & their Christopher Pike but as that is the ‘main’ setting of this verse it’s included and may be references in threads with others in the same universe. 

Vrykos & Vrykosians:  

Vrykosians originate from the planet Vrykos. 

For all intents and purposes, they are ‘space vampires’. Though there is nothing supernatural about them, naturally. It is simply how they function 

Vrykosians drink blood and possess retractable fangs for feeding on their prey. However the wide-spread use of replicators means they typically do not have to feed in the tradition way. (This has put more prejudice species and individuals more at ease around them.)

Vrykos itself is home to an abundance of bio-luminescent flora and fauna, as well as precious gems. It is common for bio-luminescent flowers and crystals to be woven into fabric. 

Vrykosians possess birth parents and something known as blood parents. Birth parents are what they are for all sexually reproducing species: the parents who mated and produced offspring. Blood parents may or may not be birth parents. 

Vrykosians children are born not possessing much of their species’ abilities until the onset of puberty. During this time they are given a dose of blood from their blood parent which triggers their dormant cells and sparks their change. There are numerous subspecies of Vrykosians, a child will be the same as their blood parent. Sometimes mutations or hybridisation occurs, but this is exceedingly rare circa. Earth’s 23rd century. 

Vrykosians change is a significant event in their life and is celebrated every year following it, like a second birthday. 

Vrykosians possess extremely long lifespans and age differently from other humanoids once they reach adulthood. Older Vrykosians tend to hold much more authority. 

Vrykosians will stop ageing randomly during adulthood. It can happen at any point post-puberty but always before they begin to look elderly. To this end, physical appearance means little to them in regard to the wisdom, experience and authority a person may hold. It also makes them hilariously bad at guessing the ages of other humanoid species given amongst their species, someone who looks twenty may very well be hundreds of years old. 

Their eyes glow. It’s usually very subtle however it increases when on emotional highs of anger, excitement and arousal. 

Much stronger, faster and agile than humans. 

Flower crowns are a traditional gift in Vrykosian courting. They are hand-woven and painstakingly crafted with the upmost care. Different crowns formed with different flowers hold specific meanings: expressing initial attraction/desire, love, marriage intent ect. 

Multiple religions exist native to Vrykosians, the more dominant faiths are polytheistic in nature. Not all Vrykosians are religious, however. 

Vrykosian twins, triplets ect are often born with a low-level telepathic bond. In rare cases it is more developed, entwining their minds and souls deeply. 

They often find themselves subject to rather romanticised or sexualised stereotypes and misconceptions. The most innocent of these typical views them as an ethereal species, however some are much darker, painting them as ‘good for one thing’ and unlike Orions who have made an empire on these beliefs, the Vrykosians abhor it. 

The twins themselves: 

Adopted by Vlad & Setka following the supposed death of their birth mother and later death of their birth father. 

They are in the rare percentile of Vrykosian twins that possess a more developed telepathic link. Being separated over long distances for too long is detrimental to their mental health. They are acutely aware of when the other is in danger/injured. If one sustains a serious injury the other can be left catatonic from the mental backlash until the injured twin has recovered. They possess an empathic bond and whilst not in each other’s head in a literal sense, do mentally lick at the corner’s of the other’s mind. This leads to them having bouts of speaking in unison and finishing one another’s sentences since they are aware of what their twin is going to say on a subconscious level. They regard each other as both individual people and yet also one half of each other to a degree. The death of one would result in the loss of a piece of the other. 

Vlad is Salem’s blood parent and Setka is Sharna’s. Making the twins different subspecies. 

Vlad and Setka have have adopted children aside from them, five daughters. Though they were all adopted much later thus the twins are significantly older than their siblings. 

Amraphel is Vlad’s blood grandfather and is one of the oldest Vrykosians, as their great-grandfather this gives the twins great status on their homeworld but they have done their best to conceal this to avoid being treated differently. 

Both enrolled in Starfleet as soon as they could but with very different goals in mind. Salem aiming for Command and Sharna for Science post-graduation. 

Salem served aboard the USS Erebus before transferring to the USS Discovery upon learning of his sister’s reassignment. 

Sharna served aboard the USS Cernunnos and the ship was tragically destroyed during the Klingon War. Many of the crew died in its destruction as well in the destruction of several escape vessels. Amongst these was a human Starfleet officer Sharna had become romantically involved with, Liam Garcia. Sharna has PTSD stemming from this though she hides and masks any and all problems. Following a period of recovery leave, she is reassigned to the Discovery. 

Salem is an XO, currently ranked Commander. He’s been dreaming of captaining his own ship since boyhood. 

Sharna’s rank is Lt. Commander, having turned down a rank promotion following the war. However her title as Doctor takes precedence over being referred to by rank. She is an exozoologist (a zoologist who studies alien animal life, as well as their own.) 

Both are thus currently serving under the Discovery’s temporary captain, Captain Christopher Pike.

Salem goes on to marry the Captain (specific to @mxthborn‘s Pike only.)

[blficarchive]

✨ ABO Fic Rec ✨

Hi yall! This is my first fic rec post it’s a good way for me to keep all the fics I’ve read and liked together in an organized way! I’m actually really excited and I hope at least someone likes this because these are some of my favorites! If anyone has any recommendations or suggestions feel free to message me! :’)

~ Cold Little Heart by seducedbycurls

Summary:

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham

Louis really could use the help.

~ Love is like this; not a heartbeat, but a moan by angelichl

Summary:

“He hates this, more than anything in the world he hates this. His title, his rank, his DNA. Unchangeable. Fated.

And then there’s Harry, born to be unobjectively superior to Louis and all other O’s. Unlike other A’s, Harry doesn’t wear his alpha-ness very well. He’s clumsy with it, like walking around in a pair of shoes a size too big. His life is defined by uncertainty and tentativeness, and those are definitely not qualities alphas should have.

Sometimes, when Louis ponders it for too long, he thinks that maybe Harry resents being an A just as much as Louis resents being an O.”

In which Harry loves Louis, but Louis has been cold to him ever since he presented as an omega at age fifteen.

Eight years later, Louis approaches Harry with a request, and who is Harry to deny him?

~ Just My Style by Anonymous

Sunmary:

Harry is sick, and the only thing that might help him is the pheromones from his mate–problem is, he hasn’t got a mate.

Louis’ just been disowned, and taking part in a medical study where he has to cuddle with some strange alpha seems to be his only option for earning a bit of cash.

The hippies and Omega Rights campaigners are busy changing the world–but all Harry wants is a chance to live.

~ Gentle Autumn Rain by alex4968

Summary:

Louis Tomlinson moved to London with a big heart and a big dream. Harry Styles moved to London, fresh out of the police academy, with the hopes of helping as many people as he could in his eyes. When a deranged alpha forces their paths to cross, their ideas of what is meant to be will never be the same.

~ Kiss me on the Mouth and Set me Free (but please don’t bite) by seducedbycurls

Summary:

Harry is the CEO of Flora Corp, Louis is his new secretary.

“…Louis wanted him so badly. Wanted Harry to pick him up, bite him, and break him. Make Louis his, make Louis cry, make Louis a beautiful, plump, pregnant omega…”

~ I’m On the Hunt Now (I’m After You) by AFangirlFantasy

Summary:

Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything. 

Or…an AU where Alpha Harry and Omega Louis have a lot more than falling in love to deal with after The Mating Ceremony.

~ If I don’t have you (there’ll be nothing left) by SadaVeniren

Summary: 

“What is his problem?” Louis demanded as he stalked around Niall and Ed’s kitchen. They were gonna have a pow-wow and figure out what was going on with Harry.

“Maybe he can’t pop a knot?” Niall suggested.

“Ew,” Liam said.

“Doubtful,” Louis said. “He seemed perfectly fine up until his friend pulled him off of me. Also I may have called him a knothead earlier in the night and he didn’t make a single comment to me about it.”

AKA Louis thought after meeting Harry at a party everything would fall into place. If only life worked out that nicely.

~ Something to Prove by trysomecats

Summary: 

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

~ where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting

Summary: 

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it. If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now. As it is…Louis feels like shit.

.:. .:. .:.

Or the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

~ Breathe For Me by trysomecats

Summary: 

“Harry Styles?” A voice called out, and Harry blinked in shock as he was assaulted by a sweet, luscious scent. There was an omega standing in the doorway, and his looks certainly matched his smell.

Or, Harry is an alpha with a severe phobia of needles, and Louis is the cute omega phlebotomist who needs to get a blood sample from him.

~ Do You Like My Sweater? by kiwikero 

Summary: 

“Look, for a Sadie Hawkins dance the omegas are supposed to invite the alphas instead of the other way around.”

Niall and Liam shared a look. “That… sounds like the sort of thing you would usually be all over, Lou,” Liam said, face pinched in confusion. Niall nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, if omegas were hosting it,” Louis replied sourly. “It’s one thing if we decide that we’re going to ask the alphas for a change. It’s insulting that they think we need their permission.”

When Harry’s alpha fraternity decides to host a Sadie Hawkins dance, outspoken omega Louis has a thing or two to say about it.

~ Mark my word (we gon’ be alright) by harioandlouigi

Summary: 

“He’s always known that there would come a time when Harry would bond with some beautiful, quiet omega, and they would have lots of curly-haired pups and live happily ever after.

Knowing it and living it are two very different things, though. Watching the object of your affection desperately search for a mate and completely disregard you as an option is all sorts of painful, but it is what it is, and Louis is just going to have to learn to live with that.”

Or, an A/B/O AU featuring an oblivious Harry as the pack leader, a pining Louis as his second-in-command, and an entourage of friends and family who are a little too good at keeping their mouths shut.

~ Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups

Summary: 

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?”

“Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?” (Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

~ roll like thunder, burn like stars by hilourry

Summary:

In a world where the hierarchy of society is omegas and they get to pick their alphas. Omega Louis really wants Professor Harry Styles as his alpha.

~ You’ll Hear Me Calling for You by pinky_heaven19

Summary:

“I don’t know, I don’t know you,” Harry said with a shrug, knowing his replies were dumb but not able to think of anything better to say. “You don’t know me either, so I don’t know why you’re acting like this,” he said, slouching on his seat.

“Oh, but I do know you,” Louis replied, raising his eyebrows in a gesture of disdain.

His attitude made Harry stare at him in confusion. Had they met before and he didn’t remember? Was that why Louis was mad?

“You do?”

“I know the likes of you,” Louis said with a shrug of his shoulder.

“The likes of me? Excuse me?” Harry was offended and confused.

“Alpha males who enter cock first in any room and think people should bow to them or some shit like that,” Louis answered bitterly.

OR the one where Harry is an Alpha and Louis has a problem with it - until he doesn’t.

~ friends don’t kiss me like you do by larrysoulmates

Summary:

Omega Louis is a teacher at a primary school. He gets a student teacher, an alpha named Harry, to observe his class. Louis thinks they are just friends, but they are much more.

~ As deep as the sky by swallowsmateforlife

Summary:

A passed-out omega on the bathroom floor isn’t exactly what Harry had in mind when he thought about taking a cute boy home. The idea of leaving Louis there, vulnerable and unresponsive, weighs guiltily at Harry’s conscience. Turns out it’s the best decision he’ll ever make.

~ Swim In The Smoke by whoknows

Summary:

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

~ Going Nowhere Alone by SS98

Summary:

Nothing can save you from the night, and if it can then it was born there.

* * * * *

There’s Harry, Edward and Marcel. Harry serves as pack leader to the last remaining house of werewolves. Edward, his brother, finds joy in sex and banter with strangers. Marcel plays along for as long as he can before morals corrupt his act.

Louis romanticises life so it doesn’t seem as shallow to him. Being Omega isn’t a joyride but three Alphas are determined to change that.

[vee-la]

On the last guy I was seeing (although mostly me)

Not sure how to start this, but I have a lot in my head. Let’s start with how I hate to be writing this, how I hate the effect this man has on me, how I can’t even say it’s not personal – because it very much is. How I’m probably just another notch in his bedpost. How I’ve talked to my therapist about him.

Let’s talk about how he’s ruined my life, and how... how awful it is that he’s so ordinary. I’m not trying to absolve myself of blame; I know I am equally - actually, no, literally a hundred times more guilty. And not even trying to sort of trivialise it, or perform my guilt. I know I fucked up and am at fault.

Let’s talk about how he’s much of the reason why I’m back in therapy, which, is a great thing, I suppose, but I hate how he’s such a massive part of my life, of major events that have shaped me. I hate how big the mark he has left on me (not even for the first time) is. 

-

You know how sometimes in the midst of complete inebriation you get a moment of clarity? Where you are suddenly hyper-aware of your life, where you are, and you’re kind of like, what the hell am I doing?

Like the cliche that I am, I had that experience about three weeks ago, looking into the mirror in the restroom of a random bar, (or an Italian restaurant that happened to have an extensive wine list).

And it sucks because seeing him again wasn’t even exciting! romantic! fun! full of extreme highs and lows! It was okay. Like, it was fine. I had a pretty decent time, a pretty good time actually, but they weren’t dates that were particularly distinctive or memorable (robbing me of material to properly romanticise - although i still did, of course. When it comes to romanticising and projecting, I can turn water into wine). Which kind of sucks because you don’t expect pain to be so... awfully.. mundane. 

Anyway, it was then I realised (for the fifty-hundredth time) that I really had no self-respect. I project onto men I date a lot – so much so that it honestly is almost a hobby at this point; and dating him seemed to represent being with the manifestations of everything I hate about myself. Being with him was like a constant reminder of why i hate myself.

He intrigued me at first because of our shared past (which for obvious reasons, matters a whole lot more to me), and because of the humiliation of his previous rejection. And I hate that about myself so much. I truly don’t remember much of my first year in Melbourne because of how ashamed I am. And I hate that it’s not even just the guilt from what we did – what I did, but the shame from still wanting him after, the shame over the rejection, and that sick, sick craving of validation. It makes me feel like an awful person, and maybe I am a a bad person. Not just because of what I did, but because. of what I felt after. Which I thought I’d grown from since three years ago, but apparently not, because I went right back. 

I tell myself, perhaps I gave him another chance because I want to make things right, I wanted to rewrite history; perhaps, if we could be together, and if things actually worked out between us, it would erase the badness of what we did three years before. Perhaps, then, what we did would have a reason, a higher purpose. It would be worth it. We would be meant to be. But I think upon self-reflection, I just.. really, have a sick need to be wanted. It was, me trying to rewrite my past, but not even to overwrite the guilt, but to overwrite the shame of being rejected; like, I guess you didn’t want me then, but that was just timing because look who came running back? It’s like I have no moral compass and it really kind of scares me how sick this need for validation and male attention is making me.

I suppose I could say it’s not personal, but I could never muster up such thoughts and such vitriol about any other guy I ever dated – and maybe that’s still me romanticising things.

And reconnecting with him, because of that twisted craving, that twisted need to prove something to myself, gave me a sick pleasure. I almost found joy in the secret we both shared. And I know he felt it too, but it bothers me that this is who I am as a person, that my need for validation may supersede any morals or values I claim to hold. 

Everything about him, our shared past, his political views, the way he treated me – or should I say, the way I allowed myself to be treated. I think, revealed something awful about myself I’d maybe always known, but tried to keep buried, tried not to face.

Which is why I’m in therapy, I suppose. I don’t want to be a bad person. I mean, I know I am a bad person now, I know I have done bad things, but, somehow I’ve deluded myself into thinking I’m decent, and I don’t know. I suppose, I don’t want to be a bad person anymore. 

Being with him makes me feel like I’m a bad person. Which is not to say that it’s his fault, or that it’s just a feeling. I guess it’s more accurate to say that being with him makes it more obvious to myself what I’ve been trying to ignore; that I am a bad person. Being with him makes it impossible to deny to myself that I am a bad person. And blaming him makes me feel a bit better, although not by much, because in the same way me making a mistake doesn’t absolve him of guilt, him being an objectively terrible person (he isn’t actually, despite everything, I still feel for him; I think he’s just another flawed person with good intentions trying his best, or at least, trying) doesn’t make me any sort of victim. If anything, it reflects worse on me because.. all of this over.. a nobody?

And I don’t know, perhaps the worst part is that, despite all that i’ve just said, it really wasn’t even that bad. It honestly took me a lot of self-control - mixed with my hurt ego and pride from his lack of commitment - to let go of this. I still think about him. And a part of me still wants him, despite everything. which, truly seems to make me a despicable person.

-

I wish I never met him. These strong emotions, these thoughts, these feelings I can’t seem to shake off. They feel so wasted on him. Someone who is so... absolutely devoid of anything really that interesting. 

I reckon he should be honored. He should be honored to have left such a deep mark on anyone at all. He should feel happy he’s able to muster up such strong feelings in anyone, despite being a completely and utterly unremarkable person outside of his father’s wealth (which I admit is substantial, but does not replace any sort of exceptional trait or personality - although i’m STILL kind of impressed by it? what the fuck is wrong with me?).

Which to be honest, is the most scathing thing I can bring myself to feel about him – that he’s uninteresting (because it’s kind of true). I don’t know where I’m going with this or even what I’m saying. He’s just a regular guy, I suppose, a little selfish, not very understanding of consent, a little cocky, a little proud, but generally well-intentioned and full of his little insecurities and hang-ups, just like anyone else. I guess, I don’t know, he’s a little fucked up, and is okay with hurting people, but those too, seem to be borne from insecurities and wanting to feel good about himself, which I can understand all too well. I don’t know.

[bigyack-com]

Richard Jewell movie review: Clint Eastwood, at 89, is still directing outright gems and raging against the ‘p*ssy generation’ - hollywood

Richard Jewell Director - Clint Eastwood Cast - Paul Walter Hauser, Sam Rockwell, Kathy Bates, Jon Hamm, Olivia Wilde Having grown up in New Delhi, I’ve developed an intolerance for decency. There is an impatience to this city, an ingrained scepticism that has unfortunately rubbed off on the people who live in it. My gut reaction to acts of kindness is to be suspicious, to the point that whenever I experience it, I suspect good people of having ulterior motives. Director Clint Eastwood’s new film Richard Jewell, titled as unassumingly as its subject, suggests that this growing cynicism isn’t restricted to certain cities, but is more of a generational thing — and we all know the disdain Eastwood has for millennials. He likes to call us the ‘p*ssy generation’.  Watch the Richard Jewell trailer here Set five years before 9/11 sent America plummeting into a pit of paranoia, Richard Jewell tells the true story of a security guard who saved dozens of lives after he spotted a suspicious backpack containing a pipe bomb, during the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. For his bravery, Richard Jewell was hailed as a national hero. But even before the news cycle could organically omit him from the narrative, Richard was once again put into the spotlight, this time as the prime suspect, demonised by the same people who idolised him days ago. Like several of Eastwood’s late-period films such as Sully and American Sniper, Richard Jewell is also about integrity — a virtue that the great filmmaker is convinced has disappeared from the modern world. One could argue that Eastwood’s movies, at least those that he has directed in the last decade, are a shameless romanticisation of the America that he grew up in. His films are about everyday heroes, men — and they’re always men — who do the right thing because it is the right thing to do. And then came the p*ssy generation, a group of people, Eastwood says, that simply doesn’t want to work, and treats those that do with hostility and disrespect.

This image released by Warner Bros. Pictures shows Jon Hamm, left, and Paul Walter Hauser in a scene from Richard Jewell. ( AP ) An inquiry was initiated against Captain Chesley (Sully) Sullenberger, who saved hundreds of passengers after heroically landing his spluttering plane on the Hudson River. In an ideal world, Eastwood said in an interview, “Sully should be running for president.” In American Sniper, the Navy SEAL Chris Kyle was exploited by his country’s absurd foreign policies, repeatedly sent back to fight a war with no end in sight, ultimately rendering him unfit to return to civilian life. In The Mule, an octogenarian veteran of the Korean War was confronted by bankruptcy because of greedy politicians and corporations, forced into a life of crime despite having dedicated decades to honest work. Each of these three men were real people. None of them, Eastwood appears to be yelling through his films, got their due. In this regard, Richard Jewell is very much up Eastwood’s alley, and the filmmaker through the story channels some of his own anxieties about what the world has become. It is an indictment of the fake news media that can destroy a man’s life in seconds by publishing a poorly researched story; of the liberals who see men like Richard Jewell and decide that he fits the profile of a lone bomber; and of the intellectual elite who jump on the bandwagon to appear ‘woke’. As always, Eastwood’s plain directorial style allows the writing and the performances to shine, and fortunately on this occasion, both are exemplary. In typical fashion, Eastwood doesn’t rely on a musical score as a crutch — imagine asking Karan Johar to not fall into the safety net of the Dharma tune — but instead shows faith in the cast and crew that he has assembled to communicate a clear vision. As the titular character, newcomer Paul Walter Hauser is phenomenal. It’s difficult to effectively portray righteousness on screen without appearing either deluded or grating. Hauser does it with an understated efficiency that is emblematic of Eastwood’s filmmaking. Richard is an easy man to get behind because we understand where he comes from, and we believe him when he says he respects authority, which makes his slow loss-of-innocence all the more tragic.

This image released by Warner Bros. Pictures shows Sam Rockwell, from left, Kathy Bates and Paul Walter Hauser in a scene from Richard Jewell. ( AP ) Eastwood surrounds Hauser with seasoned supporting players such as Sam Rockwell and Kathy Bates as Richard’s lawyer and mother, respectively, and Olivia Wilde and Jon Hamm, both of whom play characters that, on paper, could have very easily been interpreted as villainous. But in the film, they’re shown as complicated individuals who make mistakes, not necessarily because they were born evil, but because on certain occasions, they chose to cut corners. We’re suspicious of decency because the very idea has been systematically been beaten out of us. In the film’s deeply moving final moments, Richard has a moment of clarity. After being relentlessly harassed and publicly shamed for close to a 100 days, he asks the same FBI agents whom he once idolised, “You think the next time some security guard sees a suspicious package that he or she’s going to call it in? I doubt it. They’re going to look at it and think, ‘I don’t want to be another Richard Jewell.’” And so they’re going turn a blind eye and look the other way. A couple of dozen of people will die, but they, the ‘p*ssy generation’, will not be inconvenienced. The world will go on. Follow @htshowbiz for more The author tweets @RohanNaahar Read the full article

[adelearcherwrites]

I know, I know. I’ve been lying low again. There’s no excuse. Actually, there’s a lot going on and quite a lot to write about, but none of it I actually feel at liberty to write about (I do consider myself a very honest blogger, but at the same time, it doesn’t hurt to play your cards chose to your chest). Anyway, I did write the following piece a week or two back, but it’s in a similar vein to other pieces of mine, so I thought I’d sit on it until you’d forgotten those past pieces (I’m really selling this today, aren’t I?). The trouble is this; my interests that I’m feel free to discuss are simple and few – cats, period drama, and…no, that’s it. So you see with a selectively secretive – yet unvaried – life such as it is, I’ve been all about escapism. As per uzsh. And how does somebody like me find their escapism? Well, I’ll tell you (you already know, but I’ll tell you anyway)…

If you read this blog with any regularity, you’ll be aware I have been reading a lo-ho-ho-ho-ot of historical fiction lately – to the point where it’s a bit embarrassing, really. My husband often catches me with my head in a Kindle whenever there’s a spare moment, and asks (and I wish he wouldn’t), ‘what are you reading?’. And I always wrack my brain to try to invent some very clever reply (or lie). Because some might say that a self-professed writer like me ought to be reading something very avant-garde, something hot off the presses, something of great modern literary interest. But surprise-surprise, I am usually (or always) to be found pouring over something written two hundred years ago, or at a push, in the Victorian in era. Once I’d rinsed and re-rinsed everything of Jane Austen’s and Charlotte Bronte’s – which I did long ago – I moved on to Elizabeth Gaskell and Wilkie Collins (the Victorian forerunner of the detective novel, don’t you know). That seems to be the general direction ‘Austenites’ go (apparently, Google says that’s not a thing; I just made up the term – go me!). And if I’m not doing that, on my days off, I will be re-watching a BBC adaptation (not ITV ones, they’re awful), or failing that, the movie versions of the same old classic costume dramas. Again and again and again and again – because only so many were written and I just can’t get enough. Failing that, I like nothing more than a stroll around some National Trusts houses and grounds, where I can pretend I’m surveying my estate. I know I’m not doing anything particularly unconventional or eccentric or original; many women of my age are a bit obsessed with our historical past (or more correctly, a fictional version of it), but sometimes I wonder why that should be so.

There is something about the fiction written in the Regency or Victorian era. I’m not sure why it has such an appeal; much of the time, nothing really happens as far as plot goes (just read Cranford [that was a bridge too far, literally NOTHING happened at all and had to give up on it]), but they are just periods in history one can strangely lose themselves in. Let’s face it, modern life is extremely stressful; never more than now has so much been expected of a person; hold down a full-time job, be the perfect parent, still manage to have an amazing social life. The pressure to succeed in this is so strong, that some of us crave a simpler time – like in the past. But I don’t know why we romanticise that past to such a ridiculous level.

Let’s get real about this, if I’d be born in the Georgian or Victorian period, and I’d fallen into the same socioeconomic class that I did when I was born in 1971, I would have been born into poverty. Infant mortality was rife, and life expectance was poor. I say this a lot (to myself, at least, possibly to my blog – I can’t remember), if you take into account my own experiences of childbirth, I would have died during labour (on both occasions – not that there would have been a second occasion), because neither of my children were coming out naturally. And lest we forget, there were no antibiotics. I’ve had various infections (one of which was scarlet fever) that I believe would have killed me if these medications were not freely available. Yep, I’d be dead ten times over (if not more), and most likely, so would you. Financially, if I had been lucky enough to even survive into adulthood, my greatest career opportunities would have been as a scullery maid or a seamstress – if I didn’t get sent to the poorhouse first because I was in so much debt. Education would not have been available to me – I’d have been lucky if I could read or write. Some say, modern-times me hasn’t mastered that skill either. Cheeky b*stards.

If it involves period costume or workouts, it’s mine. 

No siree bob; a life in the past would not have been suited to one such as me. I have to keep reminding myself that I would have been penniless, and then to cap it all off, I would have been dead. Nothing romantic about that, is there? Yet the literary past of bustles and bonnets; genteel women of means passing their leisurely days by adding to their many accomplishments (music, needlework, languages, painting, reading – that’s all they had to do), balls and plays, it still seems so idyllic – doesn’t it? None of that rat-race crap that the majority of us have to put up with today. And I guess that’s why old books have such an appeal with us, have such a hold over us. Simpler times would wonderful, wouldn’t they?

I know I’ve developed a pattern throughout my life; when I’m hitting the period drama hard, I’m dissatisfied with my current life. And I guess I’ll just have to do something about that. Still, you can’t deny it, there’s a lot to be said for modern times. Yes, a lot of it is absolutely rubbish, but there’s just no knocking what science and technology have done for us. I mean, could you live without your phone or laptop or the internet? I certainly couldn’t. Some would say we are lucky to be alive right now. Perhaps people will write about our era in the distant future with a longing and fanciful air. Of course, we’ll all know about the crappy negatives, but even the 1980s are now being eulogised – even the 90s to a smaller extent (not so much the 70s – I think we’re all in agreement they were horrid – I have photographic evidence of a childhood me in a horrid orange and brown dress to prove it). But I’ve lived through all those decades. And because they all fall into my lifetime, escapism can’t really be found there. For me, at least, only escapism into a past that I actually know nothing about will do. Because then I can pretend it was something that it wasn’t – and I’d have been happier there.

NB: I do have a few other posts in the pipeline that are nothing to do with cats or period drama – honest.

For Old Times’ Sake I know, I know. I’ve been lying low again. There’s no excuse. Actually, there’s a lot going on and quite a lot to write about, but none of it I actually feel at liberty to write about (I do consider myself a very honest blogger, but at the same time, it doesn’t hurt to play your cards chose to your chest).

[musicmapglobal]

Video premiere and interview: Aphty Khea

Aphty Khea may seem like she belongs in outer space, but her attention is very much focused on Planet Earth. Adopting the persona of a ‘chameleon humanoid’ extraterrestrial who is dismayed to find a planet ‘poisoned by a myopic perspective and destructive world view’ (sounds about right), Aphty Khea adopts the role of a ‘sonic healer’ set to ease the world’s pain and refresh our perspective, with spacious, downtempo compositions that sound like fka Twigs, Banks and Zero 7 being beamed from beyond the moon.

‘Peacebloom’ is one particularly restorative track. Taking its name from Aphty Khea’s spaceship, the mixture of delicate melodies and heavily swung beats is a combo that will soothe the hardest of hearts. Now ‘Peacebloom’ has a new video, following the artist in full space exploration mode, and we’re delighted to exclusively reveal it to the world today:

Aphty Khea doesn’t just talk a good game when it comes to the planet’s problems though, she walks the walk too. A Greece-born, London-based activist who is unafraid to approach social issues both in her music and her actions, she’s spent extended periods volunteering in the refugee camps of Calais. We asked her to tell us more, and give us some insight into the experiences that have shaped her music and her attitude.

Oh yeah, and we also got the shopping list for the ‘Peacebloom’ video:

MusicMap: The name Aphty Khea – what does it mean?

Aphty Khea is a mish mash of a few words… It’s a combination of ‘afti’ (‘she’ in Greek) and Khea is a mix of my real name and ‘Gaia’. The pronunciation is different however, leaning more towards the Greek sounding way… So yeah, rootsy and mythic…!

In your music you inhabit the character of an alien visitor – in this persona, what are your first thoughts about our planet?

Varied thoughts really… Tremendous beauty is encountered, and equally tremendous ugliness and corruption. Intrigue, curiosity, and beauty at first, I’d say… But the more Aphty gets to experience Earth, the more of the latter she will encounter. She will most probably use her chameleon skills to merge into her environment and gain a deeper understanding. Future music will reveal this or not, however…

You spent time volunteering and teaching music in the refugee camp known as ‘The Jungle’ in Calais – tell us a little bit about your experiences.

When most people ask me this, I usually ask them if they have 3 hours to spare haha… This is always such a hard question. It’s one of those things that you just cannot reply in a few sentences. Well at least not in order to paint an accurate picture. The ‘Jungle’ was a horrible yet very special place, where cultures and religions and people merged into this special little community built on suffering. It’s so weird now that it no longer exists. Talking about a place that once was, and so many aspects of that place, sadly, truly understood only by those who experienced it. And the beautiful aspects of that place were present only because of a lot of suffering.

Assisting in the maintenance of the camp aside, teaching music and English, and just through socialising with the refugees I feel gave to a lot of them a sense of ‘normality’. In particular with one of my very good Sudanese friends, I managed to teach him a few tunes on the guitar, and that gave him such satisfaction and sense of worth. He was so dedicated to learning the tunes and would come every afternoon to practice and learn more. I think he’s one of my best ever students! It definitely added a little bit of light to his darkness… And he was very thankful for it. I really can’t get deeper into this subject in reply to such a broad question, as I will end up writing a thesis..!

The camp has been dismantled since you were there, how much do you know about what happened to the people who were living there?

I’m actually in Calais as I write this. Winter in the northern hemisphere is generally an awful time to be a homeless person, let alone a homeless refugee. I do realise it’s no longer winter, but in Calais it might as well be. When the camp got dismantled, the French government arranged for busses to send people to ‘CAO’ camps around France, without telling them where they were being sent to. Not to mention that they only sent enough buses to accommodate roughly 6,000 people, rather than the actual amount of the refugees that were living in the Jungle, which was closer to 10,000, leaving a few hundred people with no place to go, and as a result getting arrested for still being in the general area of the dismantled camp. Very poor handling by the French government, it was more like sweeping all the dust under a carpet and pretending it’s not there.

I have many refugee friends from the Jungle that I have no idea where they are right now or how they are. Some I couldn’t even keep in contact with, as they were children. During my current Calais visit however, I received positive news about two refugees that I hold really close to my heart (one of them is a child), which brought me great relief and happiness. But to return to the current state in Calais, the vast majority of refugees still there are all underage, unaccompanied minors, some teenagers as young as 13, a lot of them 13-17. My sister is 15, and I just could not imagine her going through what they do on a daily basis for such an extent of time in the freezing cold.

With the organisation I frequently join in Calais (Utopia 56), we distribute food, sleeping bags, clothing, whatever it takes for them to survive the cold nights. Seeing such young faces in such horrid conditions is really disturbing and really highlights how society has failed them. A lot of them, unfortunately, have a romanticised idea of the UK, and because of their great effort and tribulations, it seems like a sort of ‘paradise’ to them. But the current Tory government is nowhere near helpful or has any interest in helping out with this humanitarian crisis, let alone to help out its own UK poor, disabled and minority citizens.

How important is social commentary to your music? Do you feel high-profile artists should be speaking out more?

Every artist has a right to write or create art around whatever subject they feel they relate with and can express themselves through. I do kind of feel, however, that there is not enough focus on social commentary and worldwide issues in recent years, at least in my eyes. For some reason, I sometimes get the impression that there is a notion of it being ‘uncool’. Why? I’m not really sure, maybe because it makes people feel uncomfortable, or dare I say, guilty even, sometimes? Especially in mainstream art, I think existentialism doesn’t really ‘sell’, because it doesn’t make people want to buy, so in return it’s not really promoted.

A lot of popular culture now feels like it’s more about tuning out all the stuff that make us feel uncomfortable and creating a peachy bubble. Now, I really feel that art, in this case music, must provide people with the opportunity to tune out and create their own escape bubble, I really do find it necessary, from personal experience as well. However, when we find ourselves to have so many of these bubbles, mainly due to social media, where you see what you want to see and everything you come across has been tailored to your interests, you’re most probably not going to be confronted with issues that you don’t like or that make you feel uncomfortable. The discomfort in having to ‘deal’ with social issues, especially those of great importance, I feel can be interpreted as the echo of our western privilege. The fact that we can choose to tune out all these issues and not ‘deal’ with them is solely because of our privilege, especially since we are not the ones actually experiencing or truly ‘dealing’ with them.

I don’t really think there is currently a balance between escapism and social commentary in music, but then again this is just my opinion, and I am no art-subject-dictator. Art is meant to liberate people. But, like Nina Simone has said before, ‘an artist’s duty… is to reflect the times’. Social commentary is not the main focus of my music, but it plays a major role in it, especially recently… And I will continue to experiment with ways of expressing it… And keeping the balance, as well.

You currently live in London, how has the city influenced your music (if at all)?

When I first came to London, I wanted to front a rock band… How my aspirations have drastically changed! The city has inspired me and influenced me in many ways, and the people I have met here have all influenced me in their own way at different periods of my London life. From soul and hip-hop, to experimental and noise rock, to electronica, techno and house. And it will hopefully continue to influence and inspire.

What sort of music were you exposed to when you were growing up?

Some of the first CDs I ever owned were ‘Justified’ by Justin Timberlake, ‘Survivor’ by Destiny’s Child, ‘The Eminem Show’ by Eminem and ‘Fallen’ by Evanescence..! But I grew up with my mum playing a lot of Pink Floyd and 80s music. I was also exposed to a lot of musicals and especially a lot of classical music, due to my classical studies from when I was 10. When I was a teenager I didn’t really appreciate electronic music… Now I can’t imagine not listening to it! I do love me some techno, any time of the day.

You’ve represented Greece in the Junior Eurovision Song Contest – can you tell us about that experience? How did it affect your perspective on the music industry?

The Junior Eurovision. What an experience. One that kind of haunts my past. I can never seem to escape it, as hard as I try! At the time I wanted to participate in the competition, because other than my music studies, that was the only musical related thing I could do on a professional level. It really taught me a lot. A lot about the entertainment industry, and especially TV. I really did hate TV by the end of it all. It was a really ‘dirty’ industry. Everyone was constantly out to stab you in the back for their own personal gain, you couldn’t trust anything anyone would say… it was tiring. But at the same time I had an amazing experience, and learnt all the right things about the wrong things, if that makes sense, at a very early age. Something that I am extremely grateful for. I now know what to not waste my time, aspirations and energy on as an adult and artist.

TV is all about the views and the show. Even if it is a music contest/show, as much as you’d like to think it’s about the music, it’s most likely not, but it would be more about the ‘story’, even if the story isn’t really that real, cos that’s what brings in views. In addition the Eurovision in general is all about politics, believe it or not, hah! Whether it is about the politics of what country you’re representing, or to do with the relations you have with those in the entertainment business. I just didn’t expect it to be so ingrained in the kids’ version as well. But again, it was an experience that taught me a lot and one that I am extremely grateful for.

Are there any Greek artists past and/or present who’ve particularly inspired you?

There are actually! But it’s usually specific songs of theirs, rather than their whole discography. Usually I get inspired by greek folk songs that have been done by many artists throughout the years, one specific song is ‘Thalassaki Mou’, because it reminds me of my dad, since he sings it all the time. Whenever I get homesick, I use some manipulated Greek elements in my music, it’s my form of paying tribute (again, you will hear this more in future releases).

But some Greek artists I really respect and sometimes find inspiration from are Stelios Kazatzidis and Haris Alexiou.

What/where next for Aphty Khea?

Social commentary will be evident in my next releases, if you know where to look, or listen… Musically, there are some progressions and ventures onto deeper electronic grounds, but done quite subtly (I won’t be releasing a one-hour techno set, if that’s what you’re thinking!) Also in the near to further future, there might be some further clarification and experimentation on Aphty’s story/past/future… We shall see!

Aphty Khea’s Aphty Khea EP is available now on The Sound Of Everything UK.

‘Peacebloom’ Video Credits:

Creators: Charlie & Ben Assistant: Ashley Robinson-Dodd

http://www.cargocollective.com/jegmigfilms http://www.benjaminbrookes.com/