#but at least i have had the immense privilege and fortune to know and feel that deep and profound joy.

[echthr0s]

oftentimes there will be a video or article or whatever that is giving advice about, essentially, how to show up more authentically in the world, and there will inevitably be a bit that is like "don't automatically walk into a space with the thought that you'll be rejected". which, on the surface, yeah -- makes total sense. rejection sensitivity does create a sub/conscious energy that either people pick up on and sub/consciously respond to, or just hamstrings your efforts and stifles your personality and makes you appear to not be interested at all (in which case the other party is the one feeling rejected first, so they're just responding in kind).

okay, great. but here's the thing. the idea is that you have this internal belief about yourself, that you're unloveable or undesireable or boring or whatever it is, and you're expecting that to be reinforced by other people. and what the advice is saying, is to not think that way. except... why do people tend to think that way in the first place? self-rejection is a learned behaviour.

I don't actually think I'm any of those things. I think I'm a fucking delight. but the problem is that my body -- the subconscious processes that really run the show here -- does not recognise that as a truth. my body has plenty of experiential data determining that no matter what I think about myself, other people will invariably be less charitable and far less enthusiastic about me, and will respond accordingly. it doesn't matter what I think. what matters is the evidence -- the "reality" as my body interprets it. frankly, sometimes it seems my body thinks I'm a bit of an idiot and is going "yeah, yeah, you're a delight, sure. anyway, back in the real world,"

I think people really put a lot of stock into "just change your mindset!" without incorporating the reality that there's no amount of affirmations or whatever that's going to override repeatedly being treated as if there's something wrong with you or that you're unfit for relationship. at this point, the best I can do is just be frank about this from the outset -- if you are like most people, you probably won't dig me very much. or at the very least, you'll dig me superficially, but the deep stuff will be off-putting to you. if you are not like most people, you will have to put in quite a bit of effort for me to really see and understand that. this is reality. and if that happens enough times -- more than once, that is -- then maybe my body's story will change. but there will never be a guarantee of that, and I can't expect one. beating my fists against brick walls going "but I am loveable! I do have interpersonal value!" isn't going to convince other people of that. they'll just have to come to that conclusion on their own (or not, as it were).

there's got to be a secret third thing -- not self-abandonment and self-rejection, not magically convincing my brain to somehow deny what it knows to be real, but maybe just accepting life as a complexly traumatised and very strange individual who will always be hard to know and hard to love, and that's not a flaw or a condemnation but it is a disability

[tailorvizsla]

I'm not going to give this a huge build-up, so just imagine being Sith Obi-Wan's pregnant assistant. You're tired and fed up with him, it's all his fault you're so uncomfortable, and so you're being a brat. He tells you to get in his office right now, because he's going to make sure you remember how to be his good girl by cockwarming him.

HERE WE GO SOME THIRST FOR YOU MY DEAR WIGGLES

Warnings: cockwarming, pregnancy, PIV sex, and a hint of plot at the end.

You wipe the bead of sweat off your forehead and rub your swollen belly. The baby is being irritable today, and you wonder if he gets that from his father. Why is it this damn hot in such a frigid room? You fan yourself with the stack of paper, ignoring the side-eye that action gets you. Your belly is so big that you cannot comfortably wear the maternity uniform, so you’ve been granted permission to wear a wrap dress in the same color as the regular uniform. You do have to wear your jacket, but you can leave it open. You’re beyond happy to be pregnant by Lord Kenobi, but did he really need to put this big of a baby inside you?

Rude. 

The bigger your belly gets, the more possessive he gets. You would not tolerate this from anyone else, but you know he does what he does for a reason. There have been several attempts on your position in the past months, and even a handful of attempts on your life. He cares about you in his own way, and he does not want you or the baby to be hurt. But you’ve been cooped up all week, and you desperately want to leave your room. Gnawing on your lip, you decide that you’re going to go down to the atrium to see some of the indoor greenery, at least. The market is a no-go - you at least won’t put yourself in complete danger today.

Wrapping yourself in an old cloak, you pull the hood up and sneak downstairs for a few minutes in the fresh greenery. To your immense surprise, you make it. No one stops you. In fact, you’re wondering if you’re actually invisible as you step into the beautifully curated indoor garden. You spend way too long, just basking under one of the trees, your hand on your belly as you melt into the beauty of nature. Sure, it’s not the same as being outside, but this is as close as you can get. For several hours, you relax in the dappled sunlight, and you even manage a short nap between chapters in your book. At long last, it gets close to the end of the day, and you know you need to get home before Lord Kenobi revokes your elevator privileges.

You don’t make it off the elevator before your pad buzzes.

My office. Now.

Kenobi

Fuck. He knows. It had been too easy to get past the guards. Even now, you wonder which of the Inquisitors he sent to watch after you. Sighing, you turn on your heel and head to his office. You just let yourself in and wait at the door. He looks up at you, his face neutral. You can feel his anger simmering just outside of reach. He’s careful to not direct it at you, but he’s not trying to hide it.

“Where were you earlier?” he asks calmly.

“I went down to the atrium,” you say quietly. “I’ve been cooped up for a month…I just wanted some sunlight…”

His eyes narrow a bit. He taps his finger on the desk as you stand there, waiting in miserable silence for him to sentence you to something horrible. Like confinement to your room for the rest of your pregnancy or something like that. He sighs.

“You have never defied me in such a way before,” he says, leaning back in his big, comfy chair. Sometimes, when he goes away for long periods, you borrow his office, and just curl up in that big chair. You nod in agreement. There’s no point in trying to explain or anything - he already knows. “You know what happens when someone disobeys me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod. Punishment, though you aren’t sure what he’s going to do with you. Fire you? His brow goes up. 

“Fortunately for you, I will not be firing you,” he says. “However, I hope your punishment will be enough to deter further mischief.” He gestures you over to him and you obediently step in front of him, resting your belly on the desk. “Turn around,” he remarks mildly. “And take your clothes off.”

You frown, but you obey in silence, neatly folding the articles up and stacking them on his desk. You hear the whisper of fabric against skin and the sound of him moving around a bit. You wonder if he’s going to spank you, but that’s not his thing, usually. The most he will do to you is a bit of choking, and he rarely leaves marks on your body…unless they’re bite marks where others can see them.

Immediate warmth tingles through you as he kisses your mind with his. You can feel his arousal starting to creep in, starting at your toes, and inching its way up. Within moments, you’re squirming slightly, your cunt dripping and aching for his cock. 

“Here is how we will resolve your disobedience, sweetheart,” he says in a gentle voice, one that makes your mouth go dry. 

That tone is never good. You nervously peek over your shoulder at him. His pants are down around his knees, and his cock is straining up toward his belly button. Your mouth waters at the sight, but you know you’re not going to get to suck his cock today. Or probably for a couple days.

“You are going to split that pretty pussy open on my cock,” he says, and you start moving before he has to tell you to do so. 

Carefully, with his assistance, you climb onto the seat, your knees on either side of his thighs. His hands are firm - but gentle - as they guide you, offering his strength to keep you from falling or hurting yourself. You use the edge of the desk for leverage as you position yourself atop his stiff cock. He spits on his fingers and moistens the head for you, but you probably won’t need it today. Not with how drenched you are.

“Slowly,” he murmurs, as the blunt head bumps against your entrance. “Very slowly, sweetheart. I want you to feel it all.”

You close your eyes and obediently start to lower yourself onto his shaft. With the exception of a few long trips, there hasn’t been a day where you haven’t been wrapped around his cock in some fashion. Despite this, you still need to work carefully, especially now that you’re carrying his child. Pregnancy has made your entire body sensitive. It’s good in some places, awful in others. 

Lord Kenobi has both hands on your asscheeks, spreading you wide open so he can see your pussy lips stretch around his cock. A whine escapes you as it starts getting uncomfortable, but he doesn’t respond, save to squeeze your ass to encourage you to keep going. He’s heavy and thick inside you, spreading your inner walls wide open. A drop of sweat rolls down your forehead as you finally take him all the way inside. Your cunt is throbbing, and your breath is coming in sharp gasps from the sheer exertion. As you try to adjust, his hand stills you.

“Now,” he says in the same steady voice. “You are going to sit here on my cock and think about what it means to be obedient, sweetheart.”

A whimper escapes you.

“Yes, my Lord,” you whisper.

Silently, you sit there, desperate for friction to alleviate the throbbing inside you, but you don’t dare move, even as Lord Kenobi works on his data pad. Your entire body is covered in a fine layer of sweat. He even makes a couple calls with you wrapped around him. He doesn’t even seem affected by this. He’s so thick you can’t quite get comfortable, especially with a huge pregnant belly on you. You glance at the clock and realize you’ve only been here for twenty minutes and you’re already shaking. Your legs are starting to cramp. You can’t stop squeezing around him, but it simply isn’t enough to get you off.

You grit your jaw. You got yourself into this mess, and you will take whatever he dishes out without complaint. You miss the raised eyebrow he gives you as you try to focus on something. Anything but the aching stretch of his cock inside you. The cramping in your legs starts to grow more annoying, but you push it away, trying to endure your punishment. He’ll be very disappointed if you try to weasel your way out of it. You let yourself think about work, and the reports you had written earlier, and the many, many other things demanding your attention. 

You know your thoughts have drifted too far from the throbbing arousal between your legs when Lord Kenobi reaches up and tweaks your nipple to redirect your attention. You curse and jump in surprise. Unfortunately, that sends a bolt of pain shooting up from your calf as it cramps and protests the sudden movement. You don’t even have time to whimper before Lord Kenobi is lifting you off his cock. He’s strong - almost impossibly strong - as he maneuvers you onto the desk.

His fingers fall to your calf, where the muscle burns in agony. Tears fill your eyes - it hurts.

“There, there, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He presses his fingers to the spasming muscle and pushes down, drawing another whimper from you. Then his fingertips turn cold and the pain ebbs away, and you are able to move your foot and ankle without pain.

“You will never hide your pain from me again,” he says quietly, his fingers turning your face up to his. “Are we clear, sweetheart?”

Pregnancy hormones suck, and today, they suck the most. You burst into tears and press your face into your hands. The words come out of your mouth in a torrent. It’s all jumbled and probably none of it makes sense, but you are so disappointed in yourself that you can’t stop apologizing.

“ - didn’t mean to,” you manage to get out around your sobs. “W-was trying to be good and - didn’t want t-to disappoint you - I didn’t follow your or-orders - “

“It’s alright,” he whispers against your lips, as he steps between your legs, his cock nudging you in the thigh. His tongue darts out to lap up one of your tears and you gasp in surprise. Lord Kenobi pulls your hips to the edge of the desk and slowly starts to push back in, drawing a high-pitched whine from you as he seats himself inside you.

“Keep crying for me, sweetheart,” Lord Kenobi whispers against your cheek. “Tell me you’ll be very good for me…tell me you are mine…”

You’re not sure how you manage it, but a couple more tears fall onto your cheeks and you arch your back to lean back a bit. 

“I’ll be very good from now on,” you whisper back to him, your hand tangling in his gorgeous, soft hair. You dare to tug lightly, your cunt shuddering as he groans. His warm, wet tongue licks a fiery hot path along your jaw and cheek as he chases your tears down. “Please, my Lord, I’ll be so, so very good for you. I swear it. I’ll do anything…anything you want…”

His hips are moving steadily now, his cock churning your slick and his precum into you.

“I’m yours,” you gasp as he starts hitting that spot deep inside you. His mouth drops down to your neck, where he nibbles along the hickies he had left there yesterday. Then to your shoulder, and to the top of your engorged breasts. He’s gentle with your nipples - this late in pregnancy, you’re too sensitive to take more than a few gentle kisses. His tongue circles your puffy areola and his lips suck you into his mouth. Then he releases his wet grip with a pop.

“Tell me, sweetheart, what you would do for me,” he groans into your breast. “Would you betray the Emperor?”

Digging your heels into his ass, you groan in delight. It’s fucking treason to have even asked that question, and it would be a death sentence for both of you. But your loyalty is to Lord Kenobi, and no one else.

“Tell me,” you whisper back. “Tell me how you want it done, my Lord…I will end him for you.”

He groans in response, his fingertips digging into your hips. 

“I can bring you his head,” you whisper. “His heart…whatever brings you the most joy, my love.”

You’re so close to orgasm you don’t even realize what you’ve said.

He nips at your nipple a little harder than before, making you squeal. You grasp his hair with both hands and tug, surprising him with your sudden aggression. You cover his mouth with yours and kiss him hard. Lord Kenobi returns it, thrusting harder and harder, filling the office with the sound of his cock pounding into your drenched cunt. You hit the peak a moment later, your sobs of pleasure nearly drowning out his marvelous groan. You lock your ankles around him as he fills you up with pulse after pulse of cum. He stays inside you as he starts licking at the hollow of your throat.

Obediently, you tilt your head back, letting him taste the salt along your pulse. Then he reaches your jaw. His breath is hot and damp against your skin. Reaching up, you smooth down the mess you’ve made of his hair. He catches your hand and kisses your palm.

“It won’t be by your hand,” he murmurs, and you frown at him. Then he presses a kiss to your lips. “Get dressed, sweetheart. You must rest.”

Sudden exhaustion claims you and you realize you’ve exerted yourself far more than you intended. As you reach for the door, he speaks again.

"Obi-Wan," he says, and you frown at him in confusion. "That is my name. You may use my name in private."

He then dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

[therealgothambychelsealauren]

Chapter IX: There's No Alfred Pennyworth At This Wayne Manor

I remember earlier in the semester I had written about how I was anxious about living with two white nuns in a building purposed for organizations built on White Saviorism initiatives. Now, almost 2 months later, the historical white saviorism haunting the floorboards is the least of my concerns with that house.

The primary distinction between me and Batman is our financial circumstances. According to the logic within Batman comic book lore, my upbringing in poverty and inherent resentment towards the insanely rich should have put me on a path more similar to the fates of the Joker or Catwoman than that of the Dark Knight - after all, it's Bruce Wayne's immense wealth that affords him the opportunity to be Batman in the first place. Despite lacking wealth comparable to Bruce Wayne's, I've always been led by the conviction of the Dark Knight to avenge my past and to protect those neglected by the system through means that gangsters and police cannot (they're really not that dissimilar). I didn't let my low-income first-generation college grad status keep me from getting into law school, and I don't plan to let my current (because we're manifesting the breakage of generational curses) lack of generational wealth keep me from pursuing a career in this work of vigilante justice.

I'll admit though, this work would be a bit easier if I could shower in my own house like Bruce Wayne can.

Since moving into The House, a lot has occurred to make my current circumstances feel like what I've dubbed "high-end homelessness." The shower is out, I am not permitted to use the fridge or freezer, my bed has a severe dent in it that I try to stabilize by placing my suitcase under it, and the wifi is out. Though thankfully I can afford a gym membership to shower and there are community fridges available for student use at school, it's a complicated lifestyle to live. Not to mention the immense shame that comes with it.

Growing up, my family and I moved frequently because we were unable to afford any place long term. We stayed at motels and with neighbors/grandma/on-again-off-again baby daddy #3 in spurts when we could avoid homeless shelters. We showered at the YMCA and used "one-day passes" at local gyms when we hit our 3-day limit to shower at the Y. I remember feeling so embarrassed in school when my classmates would point out how I smelled (they didn't know our water had been cut off for 3 days) or how I scarfed down school food like a cartoonish fat person (they had no idea we were on our last bag of ramen at the house). This boy I liked, the goalie for the varsity soccer team, was given a car when he turned 16 and a house when he dropped out of college at 19. I did everything I could to hide my poverty from him and pretended like I was in his same tax bracket because to me (and my mother, who refused to go to soup kitchens where my classmates' parents volunteered) it was more important to preserve our pride than provide our survival.

So in contrast to my childhood, I should be thankful for my circumstances now despite the challenges - and I am! But the shame and embarrassment I felt when students came into the community room and watched me pull out a whole bag of groceries from the fridge to make a sandwich stung similarly to the shame I felt in middle school when classmates saw me at the Y with a towel and shower shoes.

And my own current circumstance makes me wonder about those who aren't as fortunate as I am right now; I mean yeah, it sucks that I can't shower where I live and that I can't cook affordable meals I enjoy eating (not to mention how much of my time/sleep I'm losing traveling between the gym, school, and The House and staying on campus til 1am to have the wifi I need to get school work done). But I've dubbed this circumstance as "high-end homelessness" for a reason; I can afford the gym membership and thus afford myself the privilege of no one wondering if I'm there because I need a place to shower or if I'm just a gym girlie who happens to shower after each work out. I have a safe place to sleep where I don't have to worry about who I'm sharing the bathroom with. I don't have to pay for a monthly storage unit to keep my possessions.

So what about those who don't have these privileges? I couldn't imagine going to law school while being homeless - I mean shit I'm doing it and my circumstances are most oddly fortunate compared to what it could otherwise be like. I couldn't imagine trying to sleep in a homeless shelter with strangers before going to school each day. I don't know what I'd do for food if I didn't have excess student loans or a credit card or even a locker to keep snacks in.

[pleasantanathema]

Pleasant’s Writer Recs!

I’ve gotten a few asks in my inbox over the past few weeks asking me for writer recs, so I thought the best way to do this was to compile a list of my fav authors on tumblr and rec my favorite fic of theirs! A lot of these amazing authors are moots—I’m very lucky to call many of them close friends. This list could be much longer, and I could go on for days about every single author, but I’ll try to keep it brief. Most all of these authors, like myself, write 18+ only content. Hopefully this can be a useful tool for authors and readers alike looking for amazing fanfic 💕

@bakatenshii | Angel is so phenomenal with her writing that I almost can’t put her style and amazing ability into words (but I’ll try). Angel’s work is beautiful, masterful, full of poetry, elegance, and smut that will all leave you gasping. Fav Fic: Blitz [Ushijima x Reader]

@blahkugo | Sunnt, Thunnth, Sunny, whatever you call her, she is brilliant. No one writes Tsukishima quite like she does. She is beyond creative and her writing style flows like the sexiest water, it’ll make you thirsty and quench your aches. Fav Fic: Tower [Tsukishima x Reader]

@deathcab4daddy | Tay is all about details, details, details. She fills in every gap and paints gorgeous, sexy pictures and situations for the reader to feel immersed in. Fav Fic: Cerulean Blue [Akaashi x Reader]

@dymphnasprose | Dymphna is all about fun, sex, and slowly filling out her holy bible of smut. She’s amazing at creating realistic sub/dom relationships and her smut almost always comes with a healthy dose of build-up. Fav Fic: Green Scrunchies [Ukai x Reader]

@enjifuckersupreme | Ketsl reigns supreme over pure, unadulterated porn. They are phenomenal at making me the reader wet, and every fic is crafted with so much care. Enji fuckers should bow down at their feet, no one loves and writes Enji like Ketsl. Fav Fic: Attitude Adjustment [Enji x Reader]

@hisoknen | Raph is one of the first dark blogs I ever started reading, and she never, ever disappoints. She writes pieces that chill you to the bone, but warms your sex- her writing is casual, smooth, and realistic, always giving you everything you need, but leaving you wanting a little more. Fav Fic: Sleeping Beauty [Dabi x Reader]

@hoe-doroki | Ana is one of the sweetest writers I know. Every time I talk to her, she’s working on comfort requests or beta-reading for other people. Her writing is such a pleasure to read, as you can tell she pours love and consideration into every fic for her readers. Fav Fic: Can’t Find My Breath [Bakugou x Reader]

@joyousandverywarlike | Zo...holy fucking shit. Zo is a writer who consistently blows me out of the water with her skill. This woman is a novelist blessing us with juicy, rich smut and love stories like no one else can. She is incredibly poetic and her writing is an absolute joy to read; she also writes amazing fics for black readers and has an amazing voice that she uses for asmr audios! Fav Fic: How We Met [Ushijima x Reader]

@lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten | Leah is an author who takes immense care with her work. She works incredibly hard to craft sexy, healthy bdsm fics for bnha. She is a great blog to go to for bdsm education, and she’s also got a side blog @lemonlordleah-extra-sour for all you extra naughty readers who like the darker side of fanfic. You should also check out her Patreon! Fav Fic: Between the Evergreen [Aizawa x Reader]

@linestrider | Nyki’s work is like smooth water, it’s calming, refreshing, but she also adds a nice, chill bite to it as well with her darker style. Nyki puts such an impressive amount of care into her work; a word is never out of place, every sentence has meaning, every paragraph gives you something new. It was very hard to choose just one fic to recommend. Fav Fic: What’s Said is Said [Hawks x Reader]

@lookslikeleese | Leese is one of the most fun writers on Tumblr, and by that I mean you just have a shitload of fun reading her fics. They are like little, sexy treats to take in right before bed and feel a little more full than you were before. She is also the Cucking Queen. Fav Fic: Cola [Enji x Reader] 

@messwriting | Lee is also another fun writer! Her writing is exhilarating to read, and you’d never guess she’s a sexy Brazilian whose second language is English based on how well she writes. She’s a little sex goddess who will give you everything you want and more in every fic. Fav Fic: What We Could’ve Been [Tsukishima x Reader]

@mindninjax | Marquie is a full on sweetie with a sexy side. She. Is. So. Creative. Every fic of hers is so unique and her masterlist is a whole reading experience. She writes Bakugou Katsuki so damn well, she’s a master at characterization, even in au’s. She also writes beautiful fics for black readers. Fav Fic: Bound to You [Bakugou x Reader]

@nekokoafanfictions | I first found Ai on Ao3, and then was fortunate enough to come across their blog here on Tumblr! I’ve said this before in previous rec lists, and I’ll say it again, I still read their fics some nights to fall asleep to, they are just that good, every fic will have you coming back at some point to read it again. Fav Fic: City Lights [Enji x Reader]

@present-mel | The. Queen. Of. Dialogue. Mel is a master at making her fanfic feel real, gritty, sexy, and beautiful all at the same time. This woman pours her heart and soul into fanfic, especially into her Erwin series Fragments of Memories. I was so captivated by her work that I just had to become her friend, her work is enchanting and thrilling. Fav Fic: Until the Fire Played [Enji x Reader]

@rat-suki | Annie makes me horny. Like, real horny. Her smut is fantastic and are often little thrill rides within themselves. Fuck rollercoasters, just go to Annie’s masterlist to find a joy ride. Fav Fic: Hell Fire [Enji x Reader]

@rivendell101 | I’m such a big fan of Alisha, that I sent her a request months ago before we even became friends. This author knows how to craft a story, her work is very meticulous with details and her plots are always so spot on. Fav Fic: Sweet Thing [Natsuo x Reader]

@smutbardpeach | Smutbard is the most accurate title for Peach, as her fics read like poetry and song, filled with beautiful language, imagery, and allusions to the brim. If you’re ever looking for something romantic, sensual, delightful, and just overall magnificent to read, this is the blog to go to. Peach’s work is like reading poetry and classics right off the shelf. Fav Fic: Truth in Wine [Hizashi x Reader]

@spicyness | Are you thirsty? Do you like fun, sexy headcanons? Ness is the author for you. Ness is so, so fun and sweet, and is active with her followers and is always posting something new and creative for us to nibble at. Her blog is full of fun thirsts and she’s always a joy to see pop-up on my dash. Fav Fic: Pride [Bakugou x Reader]

@sugardaddykenma | Lin has the most amazing brain. I wish I could just...see and understand how she thinks. Her blog is full to the brim with hilarious, iconic, and down right fucking true headcanons for haikyuu characters. Many nights I have stayed up laughing my ass off and saying “why is that so true?” while reading through her astonishingly creative work. Fav Fic: Haikyuu on Drugs

@thewheezingwyvern | Wyv is a writer who gets straight to the point; her words are poignant, meaningful, and always paint a very clear picture. She is a Shinsou and Aizawa lover/fucker all the way to her core, and she’s amazing at bringing those characters to life in her work. Fav Fic: Salt Lines [Aizawa & Shinsou x Reader]

@thisisthehardestthing | Claudia is one of the most talented writers I have ever met. Period. She has a vocabulary, a depth, an ability to craft the most intense, alluring, and magnificent fanfic you’ve ever read. Most of her work doesn’t even seem like fanfic, it reads like love letters stuffed into the pages of a book that stand the test of time with her marvelous writing abilities. She always awes me, as every single fic is unique and powerful it its own way. Fav Fic: Tocka [Tanaka x Reader]

@tomurasprincess | The Queen of Darkness herself, Mari is amazing at fulfilling all of your dark desires. I’ve never met anyone else who is as active as she is with her followers, as she’s constantly pushing herself to answer requests and give people exactly what they want to see. She has such an expansive masterlist, any dark fic lover can find something worthwhile from her! She’s almost made a Shigaraki fucker out of me, almost. Fav Fic: Wraith’s Touch [Shigaraki x Reader]

@undermattsun | Miki taught me what a skate rat is. Do I understand it yet? Not really, but I fucking like it. Miki is so much fun and is always active with her followers, giving out awesome thirsts, visuals, and headcanons for her fav haikyuu characters. Fav Fic: Flavor of the Month [Matsukawa x Reader]

@vixen-scribbles | Vixen is someone who cares about everyone around her, and her blog reflects that. Amongst all her amazing writing, you’ll always find her recommending her friends and supporting other writers. Her writing is fucking sexy, she knows her way around the bedroom when it comes to fics, and she’s got a lengthy masterlist to fawn over. Fav Fic: Take All of Me [Ushijima x Reader]

@whats-her-quirk | Truly, the best has been saved for last. June’s work is the heart and soul of classic, fucking amazing fanfic. I can’t even explain how much I love her fics, like they will put the biggest smile on your face and have your thighs rubbing together in anticipation. June is writing her fantasies and having fun, and we are privileged to enjoy the ride with her. She knocked kinktober out of the fucking park, with each fic being a new, fresh delight. Fav Fic: Once in a Blue Moon [Karasuno x Reader Gangbang]

This list could honestly be twice as long, and perhaps in the future I’ll make a companion to it as I meet new authors and read more amazing fanfic. Please give all these authors a follow or at least check out their blogs. 💖

[beauchieful]

The Story behind the 'Curls for my Girls' Tshirt of Michael Jackson that he wore the day before of his death.

I don’t know why I’m writing this long story. Perhaps because I am afraid of forgetting, of letting go. Constantly thinking and writing of him keeps me sane. And because I want to share with you how I perceived Michael, the wonderful, incredible man, behind the superstar. I know you understand his true essence and need some peace in this crazy aftermath.

I was a fan just like most of us: fell in love with his voice first, during the Dangerous tour, and followed him from afar, always in my heart, since then. For various reasons, I wasn’t fortunate enough to be able to travel to his various appearances. But this June, the stars aligned for me and I was able to go to LA and meet him. I hang out with some of his dearest fans who had been by his side for years, loyal, discreet and showering him with love and attention. They are wonderful people, united by a common passion.

On my first trip there I saw him briefly every day, going to or coming from the rehearsals, movie studio or the movies (he saw UP). I was in heaven when I held his hand and got chills when I heard his truly angelic voice in my ear. He was amazing: gracious, patient, always wanting to let fans know they are the most important thing besides his kids. No matter how tired he was (because he indeed used to work more than 8 hours each day), he would at least acknowledge us with a waive and a smile. From the first day I felt a burning need to just thank him for everything and shower him with gifts, supporting letters and words of love. I gave him letters, pictures, classical music CDs (the Lonely Shepherd, David Garret, etc).

One day I had the immense privilege of briefly talking to him alone. I talked about the concerts, thanking him for his hard work and reinforcing to him that he has this unique power to make millions of people happy just by his essence, his presence. I said that despite this, what matters to me is that he was happy. He said he will be if we are happy. I almost cried then at his unearthly selflessness if it weren’t for my nerves. “He is so beautiful, inside and out” is what was going through my mind that moment. He thanked me and said I love you a few times, with a peaceful demeanor. In one of my previous letters I had described to him how I envisioned his grand finale in the last concerts, the songs and the imagery and message that could have solidified him in history as the greatest entertainer. But guess what, he said these concerts were not about him, but about the world and the message of love….He is human, but indeed a prophet of love to me. This exchange really reinforced that Michael is a special, chosen soul and I was fortunate to see first hand this side of him, above and beyond his superstar persona. This is a priceless memory, but the funniest/ silliest is when two of my friends convinced me to join them serenade the whole I just can’t stop loving you to Michael twice, near his garden and then on intercom

In his last two days in this world, I gave him two letters and two gifts: a fantasy book for him and the kids and a shirt he actually wore to rehearsals and on stage on Wednesday. Fate would have it that the last time he danced on stage he would wear a gift from fans with a message for fans

The last time I saw him on Wednesday night he smiled, waived, pumped his fist and said I love you. He was in good spirits. My last words to him were “love you so much Michael”.

He is unlike any other. He read our letters and I got confirmation. We really mattered to him. In fact, in his words, “we were his world”. Because he left with these nice words in his mind, I will share a few highlights with you in a subsequent post, because it’s about you too.

Finally and most importantly, this may bring some solace to you, knowing that he didn’t rise to Heaven without a prayer and feeling loved. His kids were praying inside, while two of his fans were praying outside that morning, very hard, fearful, with all the soul. In the end, he wasn’t alone. He was close enough to people he loved the most, people for whom he gave his everything, even his life: his kids and his fans. That’s why I’m sure he will continue to be with us forever. But we need to continue to make our King proud and carry forward his legacy, as his army of love…

[sofuckingdarling-blog-blog]

Erwin, Levi and tea. Part one of two.

This headcanon drabble hybrid is related to the one I posted earlier regarding Erwin getting joy from teaching/showing Levi new things. it's a long one guys, so i decided to split into two parts!

Erwin is a frugal man by habit. It's not that he has any real convictions against indulging in luxuries it's more that he has no real urge to indulge himself. Erwin tells himself that his frugality is just part of the straight laced stiff postured mask he finds himself wearing all to often, it has nothing to do with an inability to indulge in pleasure without guilt. He doesn't want to analyze the reasons for that and so he very pointedly doesn't.

Anyway the years spent working with/on/around the Survey Corps budget have affected the way he looks at money. He's often had to watch the Corp struggle to afford critical items like morphine and warm winter clothing. Meanwhile the rich own enough gaudy, frivolous trinkets worth enough to keep the Survey Corp warm 10 times over. Yet he finds himself part of an almost constant battle to secure donations.

So when one day he looks over his budget and sees a pretty hefty sum dedicated to tea, he feels a little sheepish, but any discomfort he feels in relation to his new spending habits are quickly replaced with a sense of pleased accomplishment. The feeling is enough to make him flush on the spot, his cheeks and neck burn red as he thinks of his budget ledger as evidence of winning over his sour faced comrade. It feels almost illicit and Erwin loves it.

From the first moment Erwin saw Levi fly over rooftops with a grace that he was certain was unearned but totally natural, he wanted to know the man. It was a challenge at first, said man wanted little to do with him. Other then wanting him dead, but Erwin refused to accept that, he knew he still had a bounty on him and that Levi and his friends had not given up hope on collecting the reward. But Erwin loved a challenge.

So he watched Levi, whenever he could get away with it, which was sometimes hard to do as Levi had also taken to watching him as well, although for entirely less charitable reasons. Erwin felt that his study of Levi was necessary, for the benefit of humanity he needed to find an in. Or at least that's the reason he gave himself for his continued interest, his almost grating desire to know more about his small statured comrade.

It didn't take long for Erwin to notice that Levi appreciated tea, he had it with every meal and lingered over every cup as though the sub par tea they served in the Corps mess hall was something to be savored. That and the tea stores were somehow declining at a faster rate then they should be...it wasn't hard for Erwin to put two and two together.

His plan was simple really, he would let the expensive samples of tea do most of the convincing for him, because he honestly doubted that Levi would accept his offer for tea any other way. So the day after he had purchased and expensive tin containing a mixture of fine black tea leaves he approached Levi and tried his best to ignore the way his heart was pounding in his throat. He told Levi that he had recently gotten his hands on some of the finest black tea from Sina, that apparently the tea was well circulated among the nobles and as soon as he saw Levi's eye's switch from barely concealed disdain to subtle interest Erwin knew that he had him. Still he was relieved when Levi grit out a begrudging yes.

It was a little tense at first, Erwin tried to make conversation and Levi scoffed. But when Erwin brought the tea up to his office Levi finally manage to throw out "You brew tea like shit. This tastes like shit Smith." Erwin snorted somehow charmed by the disrespect, had anyone else spoke to him like that he wasn't sure his reaction would be half as accommodating. He suggested that maybe Levi could teach him how. Levi rolled his eyes, shrugged and took small sips of the offensive tea. Erwin told him he didn't have to finish it, but Levi said the tea was to fine to waste and despite Erwin's incredible talent in destroying high quality tea it still tasted better then some of the shit he had in the underground. For some reason even this small acknowledgment that Erwin had given Levi something that was any bit better then what he had underground made his neck feel hot. So they sat across from one another and Erwin filled the time with idle chatter about formations he was working on for the Corp, Levi did little else but grunt and sometimes give a curt nod but Erwin felt this to be a huge victory, a monumental first step to something he wasn't ready to give a name to.

Erwin loved these occasions with Levi, he paid detailed attention to the way Levi appreciated tea with each one of his senses. The way his eyes scanned over each new package of tea, taking in the colors, the painted pictures of flowers and plants, the curling letters prettily declaring the strains and flavors. Erwin was enthralled with the way Levi felt each package with fingers that were almost reverent in the way they would poke, prod and stroke at the fine tins and papers, how delicately they would grasp a few loose leaves feeling the dry delicate texture on his fingertips. Levi's head would make the slightest tilt when he listened for the soft crush of tea leaves against fancy tins or the crinkle of paper and cellophane. He would linger over the steam from his cup nostrils flared, inhaling each rich herbal scent, his throat worked the taste of each sip of tea down into his stomach a pool of warmth that could be anything from soothing to invigorating and Erwin felt incredibly privileged to witness Levi's enjoyment of each cup of overly expensive tea.

It made it to easy to shell out the coin, he didn't think twice about it, there was nothing more addicting then watching Levi indulge and Erwin was more then happy to make that happen. He felt fortunate that he was the one who was able to introduce Levi to each new blend and was made even more content when Levi discovered a favorite and would make requests for the ones he loved the most. Levi had asked him once why he was so willing to indulge in luxury tea, why he had such a large collection and Erwin a smooth liar at the worst of times told him plainly that he had loved tea since he was a child. Levi replied "If you've liked it so long then why do you brew it like shit?" but didn't pry any further and Erwin was immensely grateful because he wasn't ready to say the real reasons out loud and he knew for a fact that Levi was in no place to want to hear them.

For a while it was always Erwin who had to approach Levi with offers of tea so that he could enjoy his company and make small steps towards the inside of the younger mans incredibly fortified walls. Levi never sought out Erwin on his own, he was still obviously torn between his original plan of taking up the bounty on Erwin's head and begrudging respect for the man. Erwin didn't want to push to hard so allowed Levi to mostly come to terms with Erwin on his own, Erwin was nothing if not confident and he knew he would win Levi over. It wasn't just because of vanity that he thought that way. It was because he could see so much in Levi, beyond the blatant strength and talent was a heart that was incredibly pure and loving despite the man's harsh demeaner and even harsher background.

Erwin saw so much in Levi, to him the steel eyed gaze held so much depth of character, such a strong over flow of strength and a depth of humanity that would sometimes catch Erwin's breath in his throat and throw his words into a useless limbo. After each cup of tea they shared Erwin's heart would be left feeling swollen and stuck in the wrong place. Even when very little was said, or when they spoke of incredibly mundane things. It was confusing at first that he could feel so passionately, but be so unwilling to name the feelings. It scared him that his feelings could scare the man away from him, Erwin could see the distrust in the way Levi examined him and he didn't want to give him a single reason to feel vindicated in that distrust.

[it-vexes-me]

To Emperor Commodus,

Before I begin, I hope that this open letter finds you well, Caesar. And I hope that while you’re protecting and defending Rome, you’re protecting and caring for yourself as often as you can - getting some sleep, partaking in nutritious food, and receiving some fresh air. 

The reason I felt like writing this to you is simply to say thank you, no occasion in particular. From the moment I met you, Caesar, you have been absolutely wonderful. Not only did you help renew my interests in both Ancient History and cinema, introduce me to some of the best friends I’ve ever had, but most of all, you gave me a reason to keep going everyday. 

You make me smile whenever I’m down, even if it’s while I’m crying tears of joy at how lucky I am to know you. When I’m anxious, you’re my pillar of serenity even if it’s just holding my shoulders when I vent, or reaching for my hand when things get uncomfortable. You never call me unreasonable for worrying, or dismiss what I’m thinking of as ‘silly’, and I cannot tell you enough how gratifying it is. 

In fact, you’re one of the best influences in my life. Listening to you speak about ambition as a virtue, your elaborate dreams to better Rome, and your desire to make a mark in history - all of those make me want to expect and want more out of my own life too. 

And when I see you fight your own battles everyday - whether it be your past behind closed doors, or making your voice heard in the Senate meetings - not only does it make me immensely proud of you, but it also makes me glad that I had the great fortune of meeting you. Your courage and resilience never fail to amaze me, Caesar. 

A lot of days - especially on my worst ones when everything feels impossible - I admit to feeling disenchanted with most things, even love. But if there is anything I’ve always believed, good days and bad, it is that you’re my hero, and you are always someone worth fighting for.

I will forever be grateful to you for all that you’ve done and all that you continue to do. It would be an honor if I could make you feel the same happiness that I feel when I’m with you. At the very least, though, you deserve to be properly thanked for everything.

A million and more thanks to you, Caesar. Thank you for coming into my life, thank you for staying a part of my life, and thank you for giving me the privilege of knowing you.

With love,

Your Not-So-Secret Admirer 

[softluci]

moo

[a/n: so i read this imagine by @needyounow-love and they gave mammon the nickname “moo” and it has been living in the penthouse suite of my mind, rent free, ever since i read it, and as a result of that, i wrote this—whatever this is—because i love thinking about the brothers' relationships to each other, especially luci + mammon, so this is gonna be two parts, and, lastly mc is gn, enjoy ^__^]

everyone has an innate need to cause problems on purpose. some make theirs more obvious than others, and others will try to make it seem like they simply don't feel the need to do that. however, even individuals who try to make it seem like they want no part of the excitement that is breeding chaos will do exactly that. they just so happen to be subtle enough in their problem causing that nobody seems to bat an eye—unless, of course, the outcome of their need for trouble is absolutely catastrophic. 

now, lucifer is not someone who takes pride in being able to cause problems with subtlety. really—he isn’t. he does, however, take an immense amount of pride in the fact that, after eons of torment and the like, mammon hasn't managed to find a single person who can get under his skin quite like him—and mammon hasn't managed to find a single person who enjoys it as much either.

the reasoning for this is simple enough: lucifer is a ruthless sadist, lucifer has known him longer than anyone, knows him better than anyone, and when it comes to teasing, has a bigger arsenal to draw from, than anyone. 

fortunately for mammon, lucifer doesn't use their time as children against him because, as amazing as it is to see mammon in an absolute frenzy over a small remark, it also opens up the possibility of mammon returning the favor—and that simply would not do. 

be that as it may, mammon isn't the cunning type, nor is he quick-witted, so the chances of him being able to retaliate in a calm manner, if at all? slim to none. lucifer knew this, and he knew it well, which is exactly why he almost always took his chances—albeit those times were few and far in between. 

however—there are times when an opportunity is presented, and once it's there, he simply has to seize it. otherwise he might have to wait for the next chance, and who knows when that may be, or he'd have to abandon his subtlety, and neither of those options were desirable. 

this time, it was during dinner on the retreat. 

mammon sat across from him, completely absorbed in conversation with mc and a few others. the topic at hand was nicknames, it seemed. mc mentioned a nickname their family calls them, and mammon, in typical mammon fashion, poked fun at them, teasing them about how cute ridiculous it was. 

"oh, what, are you telling me you don't have any nicknames that are equally as embarrassing?" asked mc, arching an eyebrow at him. 

now, lucifer was not eavesdropping. he was not. he wasn't. he was completely engaged in a conversation with diavolo—it just so happened that mammon was right there, and he was never known for his subtlety. and, as the oldest, it was absolutely lucifer's duty to be at least slightly aware of each of his brothers' endeavors, which, of course, included conversations. so, naturally, he couldn't help the way his ears quite literally pricked up—ever so slightly, of course—upon hearing mammon say: 

"i'll do you one better—i don't have any nicknames." 

lucifer has control over most of his expressions, most of the time. however, in that moment, he could not hide the absolute shit-eating grin that crept onto his face. of course, on him, it looked more like he was plotting something absolutely heinous, which he wasn't (oh, but wasn't he, though?). 

diavolo noticed this immediately, completely intrigued by lucifer's change in demeanor. he didn't overlook the way his ears twitched, and he certainly didn't overlook the expression he wore. so, in typical dia fashion, he raised his eyebrows, and he waited. for what, he had no idea, but it was a rarity to see lucifer so very clearly about to cause problems—he had no choice but to wait and see. 

"that really hurt my feelings," said lucifer, voice low in order to avoid the possibility of making mammon suspicious. 

however, diavolo heard it, as he hears everything, and judging by lucifer's tone of voice and his telltale expression, he concluded that lucifer's feelings were, in fact, not hurt. 

even if lucifer didn't sound hurt, there was a slight pang in his chest at how quickly mammon denied having a nickname. he absolutely had a nickname, and it was perfect in every way—lucifer would know, he gave it to him when they were kids. it was an adorable one, too—it was the cutest nickname out of all his brothers, how could mammon say that he didn't even have one? as if it wasn't bad enough that mammon already made him swear not to use it around people, which, by the way, did nothing to help his pride. 

okay, so, maybe lucifer was a little hurt, maybe he was a bit stung, but also, no he wasn't, and leave him alone.

mc was horrified. while they weren’t looking at lucifer, they heard him say something in a ridiculously low tone, they felt the shift in atmosphere, however subtle it may have been, and they just knew lucifer was up to something—no matter how poised he made himself out to be. what lucifer was plotting, they had no idea, as lucifer didn’t seem like the plotting type, but it didn't stop the chill that went up their spine as they tried to relax. surely, lucifer wouldn't do anything heinous right there, right then—right? it wouldn't make any sense. 

neither the prince nor the human (nor anyone at the table, for that matter) were prepared for—

"moo," called lucifer, extending a gloved hand towards his brother, "can you pass me the bread?" 

what they were somehow less prepared for, was for mammon to hand him the basket of bread without missing a beat, going back to his conversation like nothing happened. 

mc blinked. did they hear that right? were they unwell? they must have been unwell. surely—surely, they didn't just hear— 

"anyway, like i was saying, 'the great mammon,' is a nickname, if you think about it," mammon brought their thoughts to a halt.

"first of all, that's a title, second of all, nobody calls you that except for you," said satan, beginning to grin, "and are you sure you don't have a nickname?" 

"how would i be unsure?" mammon looked insulted. affronted, even. "nicknames haven't mattered to me for the longest time, so nobody's been using one for me." 

"okay," satan conceded, voice deceptively light. "you'd know better than anyone." 

yes—right—of course. mc must have been hearing things. they often did. whispers here and there every time they were in the castle, faint footsteps echoing through empty hallways—devildom really had a haunting effect to it, so it was no surprise if they heard a thing or two that—

"moomoo," came lucifer's voice, "the olive oil." 

mammon rolled his eyes, passing him the bottle without a second thought. "you get needier and needier with each passing decade, you know that?" 

lucifer scoffed, baring his teeth in a grin, "you're one to talk, little brother."

mc was having an out of body experience. and not the good kind. 

diavolo was elated. this was one of the few times he'd seen lucifer engage in any form of mischief, and to top it off, mammon hadn't even noticed. usually, a lack of reaction would be disappointing, but diavolo knew exactly what it meant—lucifer used this nickname for mammon when they were kids, definitely, but he never stopped. knowing lucifer, he probably only called mammon "moo" (and apparently "moomoo") while they were alone (or he did so while they were in front of people most relevant to mammon, for the sole purpose of teasing him). dia had no idea lucifer was even capable of teasing this lighthearted. 

it was heartwarming to see that lucifer was capable of being soft towards his brother, even though he was often the opposite—and even though he was only doing it to be cruel. 

not to mention the fact that mammon allowed his nickname to be spoken so freely without any resistance; it was a nice change. for as long as it lasted, anyway. 

while the lack of reaction didn't bother diavolo at all, lucifer was growing impatient. he wanted the usual entertainment that came with teasing mammon, and he wanted it soon. that is to say: now. 

"you know, mammon, i'm very impressed," he started, "you usually get so upset whenever i call you that." 

confusion flickered across mammon's features. a scrunch of the nose, a raise of an eyebrow, a half hearted, half finished sentence, "whenever you call me…" 

and then—and then—the show began.

mammon's eyes widened, pupils shrinking to needlepoints. his lips began to part as his jaw went slack, realization beginning to set in. his expression twisted into indignation, a deep flush creeping up his neck.  

and then came lucifer's favorite part: when mammon tried to speak. 

except for one thing. 

mammon wasn't speaking, which could only mean one (other) thing. he was thinking—which could only mean one (other other) thing: mammon was about to absolutely shit on lucifer's fun.

mammon put up with a lot—a lot—from his brothers, and he never gave as much as he got. of course, he knew he could be a handful or ten at times, but centuries of allowing them to use him as a punching bag for their trauma equated to at least twice as many of the things he's done—and he's done a lot. he could handle the torment. he could handle the bullying. he could even handle the fact that his older brother's sadism seemed to be reserved just for him if it meant that their time after their fall wouldn't be so bad. 

but this? this was crossing a line. nicknames were sacred. they were a privilege in mammon's eyes, which is why he was so quick to deny even having one. of course, he cared about mc and his other brothers more than he would ever dare admit, but it was different with lucifer. they went way, way back—so far back that it would be incomprehensible to mc's mortal mind. it was them before it was anyone else, they had a closer bond being the oldest, it was just a fact of life. 

there were things lucifer knew about mammon that nobody else did—and that included nicknames. mammon had never been certain of anything the way he was certain nobody knew about "moo" or had the privilege of calling him as such—except for lucifer. he could distinctly remember making lucifer promise to stop using it so often once levi was born for the sole fact that he wanted it to stay between the two of them and he wouldn't know how to handle it if his younger siblings knew about such an easily exploitable weakness when he already had, like, twelve. it was supposed to be one of the pillars of their relationship, an inside thing, so to speak—and what did he do? what did his beloved brother do to him, completely unprovoked? he exposed mammon to every valued individual in the realm—valuable to mammon, anyway. 

it was okay, though. it wasn't, at all, but it was. because mammon knew things about lucifer that nobody else did—that included nicknames, and lucifer had a few. and if mammon would make sure of one thing, it would be that lucifer didn't get the fucking satisfaction. 

"mammon—mammon. i don't think he's breathing," mc's voice brought mammon out of his brief, betrayal induced brooding. 

their hands were on his upper arm, shaking him gently. he blinked, curling his fingers around their wrists and placing their hands in their lap. this was the most calm they'd ever seen him, and quite frankly, they were unsettled. 

diavolo was getting into this. clearly it had taken a turn that lucifer wasn't counting on—and that just made it twice as good. it was so rare for lucifer to be caught off guard, diavolo could only do it every so often—lucifer was always expecting his antics. but mammon taking him by surprise? that was something different. that was unheard of. his eyes flitted back and forth between them, not even trying to hide his investment as he chewed his—what was this? mc made it, but the name escaped him. whatever it was, it enhanced his experience tenfold, he'd have to thank them later. 

nobody was prepared for the string of events that happened next, specifically lucifer. unfortunately for him, it seemed as though he miscalculated when taking his chances this time around. 

"moo, are you—" started lucifer, apparently concerned by the mix of emotions staining mammon's face red, but not concerned enough to drop the nickname.

"'ah, i suppose if it means that much to you, i swear,'” started mammon, voice taking an eerily familiar tone, “isn't that what you said, lulu?" 

damn. 

mc was terrified. this was getting really bad—mammon never acted like this, and it was clear from the silence that fell over the table. they hated it. 

diavolo was brimming with excitement, albeit it didn't show. this was all so interesting! it was his first time seeing mammon so serious, and to make things even better, he had an excellent impression of lucifer. who knew? 

[annaofthenorthernlights]

It´s your life

Chapter 5

High and low

A short drop of a sweet Kristanna surprising trip (Modern AU)

Rating: G

Word counting: 2057

Previous chapters (on AO3)

Summary: That day had been great – no, it had been splendid! It had been a dream and she was wondering if she would even wake up again! But then, life can sometimes be cruel and switch within seconds... from high to low...

Anna plopped down onto the bed, sighing contentedly and simply happy.

That day had been great – no, it had been splendid! It had been a dream and she was wondering if she would even wake up again! Kristoff had laid down next to her. So, here they were again, like the evening before when they had arrived. Anna turned to face him, beaming with sparkling eyes, her hand on his chest. Kristoff reached out and covered her fingers with his own hand, glancing at her with a grin. He was exhausted, but her radiant smile sent a warm satisfaction through his mind and body.

“Okay, tonight is yours and you´ll set the program, or maybe NO program anymore for us?!” Anna giggled and rested her head on Kristoff shoulders. “You were amazing, and this day was just soooo… wonderful! I won´t ask anything from you on my behalf, believe me!”

“Hey feisty pants,” Kristoff stroked her hand and reassured her quietly, “honestly it was pretty fun for me, too. I swear – I must admit I got more intrigued than I had expected.” He mused over all the shows, exhibits, and the rides they had attended. Not to mention their participation in the parade. He would even think to feel sort of excited about another go the next day.

Anna chuckled next to him and fumbled for her mobile out of her jeans pocket. She pushed herself up on her elbow and started flipping through the taken pics of the day. She laughed and shook her head, when she´d just found the one she was looking for especially.

“I think we should enlarge this one and hang it framed in your kitchen.” She held it up for him to see. Kristoff grimaced and then brushed his hand over his face. “Yeah right, thanks – now I can´t get the picture out of my head anymore.”

He stood grinning broadly, standing enclosed by a oversized Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

All the while, Anna had pranced and laughed, taking that photo…

There were many more lovely pictures, mostly involving some gigantic plushie figures for which Anna couldn´t pass without hugging.

Now, she was tired – but happily tired.

*****

Hey Anna – hope you´re having a good time. Things are quiet here. Please let me know when you´re back home, okay? Enjoy!

Anna sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Kristoff to emerge from the bathroom, when Elsa´s message popped up on her screen. She wasn´t sure how to respond at all. Yes, she did enjoy herself immensely. But would Elsa understand? Should she inquire about “the quiet things”? She felt like in a dream and would love to last it at least to the moment when she had to face her grandfather…

Hi sis, thanks I´m overwhelmed with all. Will text you when I get home. Love x

She turned the mobile off and threw it on the bed, when just at that moment Kristoff´s phone started vibrating and buzzing on his nightstand. Startled for the moment, Anna leaned over to notice Sven´s contact shown on the screen. She reached for it before it hopped of the little table.

“Hey Sven!” Anna chirped into the phone. It was always good to have Kristoff´s best friend to talk to. For some reason he seemed to take Anna as his “best friend” along with Kristoff. He was so nice.

“Hey Anna! Sorry, to come at you guys on your romantic weekend. I wouldn´t intrude on you if there weren´t great news. I thought of leaving a note, but this is to amazing. Is Kris around?”

“Don´t apologise Sven! You know, you never disturb – at least not at this hour!” Anna laughed. “Hang on, Kristoff will be right there, just a second.” She held the mobile to her chest to turn, just when Kristoff came out, with his trousers on and shirt half buttoned up.

He sat down next to Anna and took the phone with one hand, trying to finish his buttoning with the other. Anna gave a hand to this task.

“Hey buddy, what´s up?”

“Hey Kris, sorry for the interruption – but I had to tell you personally. You would not believe what happened!”

Then Sven would tell his partner that they got the application confirmed to involve in a building complex construction of ten new family homes. That project announced, approx. 20 miles from their place. The builder of this developing family site project had been specific on choosing local companies to construct the houses. The competition should be a fair one with no oversized companies that dumped their prizes to get the most job calls.

“So, I´ve signed the pre-contract in the name of us both. We´re good in time if you can sign it yourself on Monday. So, enjoy the rest of your trip with the princess of the year, will ye?”

Silence.

“Kris, you´re still on?”

“He is!” Anna giggled into the phone. Kristoff had turned on the speakers and Anna had overheard it all. She was so excited about that news, that she had practically crawled onto Kristoff´s back, kneeling behind him and having laid her arms around his neck. She felt like steading him, as Kristoff sat in a stare, glaring down on the phone.

“I…. I…. I don´t believe it! We got ourselves in ´North-valley side´? That´s not some bad joke, is it?” By now, Kristoff had clasped a hand around Anna´s wrist, to make sure, he was not alone on this.

“No. Buddy. It´s true. Okay? We´ll be fine. And hey, I´m proud to be your partner! Now, please promise me, to take Anna to Dinner and treat yourselves with a good bottle of the best wine and lavish in your time that you have! Love you two!”

Kristoff swallowed hard. Sven was a true friend, had always been. He wondered if Sven knew that… but yes, that pal knew more than he sometimes showed…

“We will! Thank you, Sven. We love you, too!” Anna replied softly.

“Thanks buddy!” Kristoff whispered huskily.

Later at dinner, Honeymaren would take a picture with Anna´s mobile of them sitting together, close cheek to cheek, happily smiling with a good glass of red wine in their hands.

Anna enjoyed so much sending this pic to Sven! So much more, than the text message she had to send to her sister before…

*****

2 days later…

Anna sat on the couch, staring at what was left that would belong to her.

One box full of books and stationary for her studies. Two suitcases with her clothes. A travel bag with little this and that which she had bought from her own money. The little money that she had rightfully earned during her summer jobs at her family´s company.

There was no more left.

Elsa had just left, after she had helped Anna to sort out her few belongings.

“Call me, if you need anything”, she had said. But both knew, there was little range for Elsa to help. Their grandfather had been clear. Anna knew, Elsa wanted to help, to be there, to talk… But Anna had catapulted herself out of that realm. And she had signed that dreadful document.

Reflecting on those last few hours, she wondered if she had the courage and the wits to stick to her decision she had made.

She had faced her grandfather, while Elsa had to attend as witness in the room. He had sharply reminded her of their family tradition, of the many hard worked years of several generations to get their name where they were today. He had asked her if she were aware of how lucky Anna could call herself being born into such a secure nest. And if she truly decided to step out into “her life”, if she had a sense of what would await her?

Anna hadn´t denied this all. She had been privileged. Yes, all good work deserved respect and to be honoured. All good work, especially those who started from zero. By this she thought so much of Kristoff and Sven and their less fortunate backgrounds.

Runeard Rendelle then got at her with his deal. It had all been arranged by the solicitor that took care of the Rendelle´s private affairs. Anna could choose, either to stay with them and go along with their business, or she could leave on her wish. If the latter were the case, she would be denied her monthly support nor any dowry. Of course, Runeard would not be the monster that he seemed and the college fees that had been paid already, he would not withdraw. Not that he would be told to be ungratifying to his own offspring. He wished Anna to complete her final term and go through her exams with merit or not. But at least she would have the title that was worth her name. After that, it was up to her what to do.

Before she would say anything, he was giving her a last speech. Anna should consider the fact that in this world she would land nowhere without money. Her so called friends would soon get rid of her if she couldn´t show off her financial safety. He had sat across the mahogany desk, with a blank face and stated, “of course, it´s up to you, since it´s your life!”. He had emphasised on the last phrase and raised an eyebrow.

Elsa had sat all quiet, but the agony raging within her could be sensed through the room. She was so loyal and dutiful. Anna knew that and she would not blame her sister. But it would not work for her. She thought for an instant, but her mind went numb, her abdomen crinched and all she could think of was to make a fast exit out of this room.

“Thank you, Sir, for letting me finish my finals. I´ll do best I can, I promise. About my decision to follow your advice and this business… I can´t. You might not like my friends, especially Kristoff. But this doesn´t matter to me anymore, your world is not my world.”

After that, she signed the prepared document.

Therefore, Anna Rendelle denied all rights of heritage and support from her family side.

Should she decide to return into the Rendelle business, that´s when she was to withdraw from her former contacts that had been of bad influence upon her person. Then, she would be welcomed back into contract.

It had been disgusting…

She had underestimated the impact this disconnecting step would bestow upon her. Not that she wanted to go back. But then, where would she belong to from now on. Kristoff was on his way to pick her up, to take her home with him. To his home. There was no other place she could rather think of to feel mor home that with him. But she didn´t want to burden him with her scattered self. She had nothing to bring, nothing to offer him for support on rent or making for living for the moment. It would still be a few weeks till her finals and up then…

She felt sort of lost in space, dangling between two worlds. One, she didn´t want to return to and the other, that she didn´t mean to intrude…

Anna had not heard the knock on the front door and looked up weary when Kristoff stood in front of her, his head tilted, concern in his eyes. She would stand up slowly and gesture to her packed stuff.

“This is all. There´s not much left… I´ve nothing to bring, Kristoff… Nothing to offer you that makes me great catch to be taken home with. Will you still have me?” She had clenched her hands in front of her belly, pressing them to her middle, unsure of how to move on from this point. What if her grandfather might had been right and she would lose her friends – and most of all, her boyfriend – because she was stripped of all that wealth and financial backup?

Kristoff had barely noticeable shook his head, replying with a silent crooked smile and opening his arms for her to step closer, directly into his hold. He whispered some loving words into her hair, soothing words. Of course, he would take her home!

So Runeard Rendelle was wrong after all…

[beca-mitchell]

wish i could pretend i didn’t need you (3/?)

Summary: Two weeks later. Beca has to work with an old acquaintance while her relationship with Chloe has flourished all the while

Word Count: 4,081

A/N: Chapter title from Gavin Haley and Ella Vos’ “The Way I Am”. Unbeta’d, sorry (except for Chloe yelling at me this morning when she woke up and read the chapter)! Smut warning for this chapter!

* * * * *

Excerpt:

She hates this game, however. Whenever her father’s associates pretend to not know who she is, or at least, feign politeness upon greeting her as if it is the first time they are meeting. The fact of the matter is, their business circles already aren’t necessarily the largest. It isn’t like she doesn’t know who wants to talk to her.

“Good morning,” she greets politely, though she does not put her spoon down. Instead, she idly stirs her oatmeal, finding it infinitely more interesting than the man next to her. “On your way out?” she asks quickly. Pointedly.

“Yes, but it’s always a pleasure to see you. We really should talk about grabbing a bite.”

She had spared him a brief glance and once-over a few seconds ago, but she does not linger. In her mind, she categorizes everything she knows about him at first glance. Son of a wealthy contract with a lot of influence in L.A. and the surrounding area. Young—probably around her age. Mid-twenties. She supposes he isn’t bad to look at. He just has the same hungry look in his eye, as do most young men whenever they’ve seemingly been promised an opportunity to talk to her.

She sighs, knowing that she’s going to have to annoy her father once more.

Read below (AO3 link under the cut)

AO3 - chapter 3: wish i could take your hand

“Are you sure you don’t want something else?”

Beca peers up at the staff waiting on her. It makes her feel simultaneously small and grandiose all at once. It was never something she got used to, even if she grew up in this very house, surrounded by many of the same people. She’s sure her family would like her to consider them her friends, but she often feels more like a stranger than anything else.

“Miss Mitchell?”

“I’m—uh, no. It’s okay. I’m good with this.” She gestures at the measly oatmeal she has placed in front of her.

She catches the brief panic that flashes across his face, looking very much like he wants to insist on feeding her something more substantial.

“Um, but where is my dad? I was told he wanted to have breakfast together,” she grumbles. “After dragging me out of bed too.” She glances at him to see if she has managed to elicit a smile. Half a smile. A quarter.

Nothing. “Mr. Mitchell is in a meeting right now, but he will be with you shortly.”

Beca resists the impulse to roll her eyes and turns back to her food, uncaring that she has her jacket draped sloppily over the dining chair armrest or that her shirt is mildly rumpled, having just been picked from her dresser carelessly. Another thing she hates—being treated like another one of her father’s business associates. It’s often hard to believe they’re from the same bloodline at all. It’s hard to believe that he considers her his daughter at all.

“Did you need something?”

Beca pinches the bridge of her nose, annoyed. “No. Thanks.”

“I’ll...be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Beca watches him go with a sigh. Her brooding is interrupted by a short buzz from her phone, resting on the table.

Chloe Beale Dinner tonight? Missed you last night <3

That puts her in better spirits. She immediately picks up her phone, spoon hanging loosely from her mouth, dumb smile on her face.

Beca Mitchell Yesss please. Missed you too. Sick of me yet??

Chloe Beale Never

It is absolutely incredible how a simple text exchange manages to lift her spirits. She clicks her phone off, putting it on the table and returning to her breakfast.

“Beca Mitchell?”

She glances up. Beca flashes a tight smile at the young man now interrupting her breakfast. She chooses to spend as little time in her father’s house as possible, but he had arranged for a car to pick her up from her apartment that morning, which had been rather fortunate, considering that she had actually spent the night at her apartment for the first time in a few weeks.

She hates this game, however. Whenever her father’s associates pretend to not know who she is, or at least, feign politeness upon greeting her as if it is the first time they are meeting. The fact of the matter is, their business circles already aren’t necessarily the largest. It isn’t like she doesn’t know who wants to talk to her.

“Good morning,” she greets politely, though she does not put her spoon down. Instead, she idly stirs her oatmeal, finding it infinitely more interesting than the man next to her. “On your way out?” she asks quickly. Pointedly.

“Yes, but it’s always a pleasure to see you. We really should talk about grabbing a bite.”

She had spared him a brief glance and once-over a few seconds ago, but she does not linger. In her mind, she categorizes everything she knows about him at first glance. Son of a wealthy contract with a lot of influence in L.A. and the surrounding area. Young—probably around her age. Mid-twenties. She supposes he isn’t bad to look at. He just has the same hungry look in his eye, as do most young men whenever they’ve seemingly been promised an opportunity to talk to her.

She sighs, knowing that she’s going to have to annoy her father once more.

She hates this part the most. She hates being regarded as a piece of meat of some kind. People who didn’t know her, walking up to her and starting conversations. People like her who barely understood what it meant to live a life of struggle. A life outside of privilege. And on top of that, she already knows what he wants. He wants two things: first, probably to get into her pants, which. Gross. Second, he wants to talk up his company—his father’s company—until she wants to slice her own ears off. She knows the formula. She knows the formula too well at this point. In the same way that her father is set in his ways, she figures that some things never change.

“I’ll have my people call your people,” Beca replies, quickly putting a spoon of oatmeal into her mouth so she can resist the peal of laughter that threatens to burst from her at the sight of his despondent expression. “Nice seeing you, Darren.”

“It’s Derek.”

She smirks, tapping her spoon against the table. “Oops.” He leaves in a huff. Beca, pleased by this reaction, contentedly rises from her seat and twists, bowl in hand only to see—“Jesse?”

Jesse Swanson, in all his smug glory and leaning against the arch opening into the living room, is quite possibly the last person Beca wants to see at the moment, but she draws comfort from the fact that he is, at least somebody she can moderately trust. Which is a lot more than she can say for ninety-nine percent of the people her father brings into his home.

“Happy to see me, Beca?”

“Not particularly, no. You only roll into town whenever there’s a huge shipment coming in.”

“Look at us,” Jesse drawls, moving closer. “Back together again. And you haven’t changed. What’s it been? Two years? Three?”

“Three since I rejected you at university, I believe,” Beca says, tapping her chin slowly. “Time passes when you’re having fun.”

“He was into you,” Jesse comments. “Totally into you. It was like watching a trainwreck, watching him flirt with you.”

Beca scoffs. “Was that what that was? Was I supposed to be impressed with that?” She sighs, finally close enough to slug Jesse in the shoulder. “How have you been? How’s the girlfriend?”

“Beca,” he pouts. “You know my heart only beats for you.”

Beca grimaces, shoving him out of the way as she goes. That, she hates. She hates that Jesse, for whatever reason, still holds some kind of torch for her. It had started as an early attempt at an arranged...something...between their families. Jesse’s family, one of the biggest shareholders at Los Angeles Port had been highly interested (read: invested) in a potential romance between their only son and the only daughter and heir to the Mitchell fortune.

It was a match made in hypothetical heaven.

It was just that...Beca couldn’t bring herself to muster feelings for Jesse. He was too much, too forceful about their relationship, and too into her at the time. It was all more than she could handle when she had already been coerced into getting a degree.

On top of that, it left a bad taste in her mouth knowing that it would have been yet another thing tying her to this shitshow of a lifestyle.

And, though she would never really admit it to her family, it was the fact that Jesse was...Jesse. They had grown up together. They had trained in martial arts together. They had overseen incredibly illegal trades together.

She just couldn’t take him seriously as a romantic prospect, despite never having had experience dating many people to begin with.

So...yes. It bothers her that her father is still trying to force this upon her, even years later. She knows it’s his way of attempting to seal their relationship in the same way he always does—like a puppetmaster behind the scenes.

The thought enrages her enough that she shoves through her father’s study doors. “No,” she announces boldly, ignoring Jesse’s stammering behind her.

“Beca, good morning to you too. I’ll overlook your disregard for rules and inability to knock when requested.”

“Dude,” Jesse hisses to her. “Mr. Mitchell,” he announces. “You wanted to see me? Um.” He shifts closer to Beca, whether for protection or something else, she doesn’t want to find out and steps away. “Us,” he corrects.

“Yes, thank you, Jesse. And please, what’s with this Mr. Mitchell nonsense.” To Beca’s immense surprise, her father stands and moves from behind his incredibly unnecessary and large antique desk. He moves to pat Jesse jovially on the shoulder. “You’re practically family.”

Beca clenches her jaw, watching the exchange. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until her father stops in front of her. He cups her cheek, smiling at her with something akin to tenderness. Or perhaps an impression of it, as if he had seen it once in a movie. “Always nice to see you, my dear,” he says. “You never really stop by much anymore unless it’s to get irritated about something entirely out of our control.”

I want to be out of your control.

The thought passes by so fleetingly that she almost doesn’t catch it, but she does. She catches it and holds on to it, letting herself drift along with it for a few short moments as her father returns to his perch behind the ornate desk.

Beca hates that desk.

“I need you two to supervise a shipment coming in tonight. Jesse, your parents will have the exact drop-off point at the port.”

Beca hates stake-outs more than that desk. She holds her tongue, merely nodding as her father gives directions. “It might take all night.”

At that, her head lifts. “All night?” she questions.

“Yes.” He places his hands on the table. “Is that a problem, Beca?”

She senses that Jesse shifts next to her. The air seems to grow still around them as her father awaits her response.

“No,” she murmurs, finally, thinking only of Chloe and the text she’ll have to send. “Not a problem.”

“Good. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

She hates that he looks directly at her.

 * * * * *

  “Rebecca! Get in here!”

Beca startles, nearly dropping her walkman on the ground as her father’s booming voice echoes from his study, down the ominous hallway she hates walking through.

He had full-named her. She can’t imagine what horror awaits her. Desperately, she tries to wrack her brain for something she might have done or not done.

She rushes, wincing as she bumps into a chair along the way. The pain burns through her and she pauses, momentarily stricken by how hard the chair had resisted against her movement.

“BECA!”

“Coming!” she calls back, wincing at the tremor in her own voice.

She knocks quietly on the study door, noting that it stands slightly open.

“Enter.”

Beca enters, still clutching her walkman as something comforting to hold on to at this point. “You wanted to see me?” she asks.

“You want to explain this?” He points at a paper on his desk, not even bothering to look up at her. For that, she’s grateful, unable to explain why she fears her father so much...especially whenever he looks her in the eyes.

She approaches the desk, unable to see what it is exactly. When she is close enough, she sees her school emblem atop the paper and her eyes widen, knowing it must be her report card for the semester.

“What is it?” she asks. “What do you want me to—”

“Don’t be smart with me now, Beca. Look at this. A B? Another B? A B-?”

“It—it…” She wants to explain that it had been hard, switching schools again in the middle of the semester. It had been hard to make friends, but she was trying. She was trying to fit in and she genuinely did like school. She liked the people she had managed to become friends with. She liked her teachers. She loved music class.

“Are you stupid?”

Beca’s face grows hot. She feels like she might cry. “No,” she murmurs.

“No, you are not. Because you are a Mitchell. And we don’t fail.”

“I—”

His eyes zero in on her walkman, still pressed against her chest. “Give me that.”

She whimpers. “Please, daddy—”

He stands, chair pushing back roughly. She wills herself to stand still at the sound. His previous instructions echo around her mind erratically. Stand still. Back straight. Shoulders back.

Stand like you mean it.

He snatches the walkman from her. “This is a horrible distraction. You need real education.”

She barely has time to protest, words dying on her throat, when her father drops the walkman on the floor and crushes it under the heel of his foot.

“Do you see this?” he demands over her sudden, erratic sobs. “This is what happens to failure in this house. We don’t accept it. This is what we do to people who put our futures in jeopardy.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Beca cries, hands coming up to her face. She feels such shame for crying in front of her father, knowing that he must think so lowly of her.

“Apologies won’t bring that back,” he says, pointing at her walkman. “Apologies won’t fix your grades.”

“What—” her mother bursts into the room, taking in the scene before her: Beca, shoulders hunched as she cries, smashed walkman on the ground, CD and all. “What’s going on in here?”

“Some lessons need to be taught. Did you see the grades from that school you wanted to put her in?”

“She’s seven!” her mother cries, pulling Beca tight against her. Beca continues to cry, pressing her face against her mother’s shoulder. Her mother’s hand presses tight against the back of her head, a comforting grip. “She’s seven, she’s trying!”

“Public school was a mistake. This was your idea, Sofia. Don’t think I've forgotten.”

“And you agreed. She needs the socialization, Enzo. She needs to meet people her age and grow.”

“She can get that just fine here. With private tutors. She needs to be homeschooled so she can—”

“No. I don’t want to talk about this right now. Look at her. You made our baby cry.”

Beca doesn’t hear her father’s response, too distracted by the warmth of her mother’s hold and the beating of her heart beneath her ear.

 * * * * *

 Beca checks her phone for the millionth time. She sees nothing out of the ordinary in Chloe’s goodnight text. They had agreed to postpone their dinner date to brunch the next day, but God, the disappointment Beca feels is unparalleled. She had been looking forward to curling up in Chloe’s arms, drifting off to sleep in Chloe’s bed. She had been looking forward to Chloe’s attempt at cooking dinner. She had been looking forward to it all.

“You seem agitated tonight.” Jesse watches her carefully. “Hot date that you’re missing out on tonight?”

“Why would you automatically assume that the only reason I wouldn’t want to spend time with you is that I have other plans?”

“Oh you wound me as always, Beca.”

“Just. Focus, okay? Let’s just get this done.” She wraps her jacket around herself tighter, wondering why, of all nights, Los Angeles decided to be abnormally chilly. The chill seems to seep into her bones.

“You’re not that into this, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This whole...thing. Being here.”

“Jesse, it’s not about you.”

“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about this life. This charmed life we live. Waiting for a shipment of questionable materials and making sure nobody steals from us because God forbid that we become less rich. That whole life. But it’s just...this is pretty much it for us, you know? Mess up once and that’s the end of the line.”

Beca is silent, contemplating the breadth of Jesse’s words. She’s sure he isn’t necessarily baiting her into saying anything, but she is still wary of responding too affirmatively, lest he take that information and use it to his own advantage.

But it’s Jesse—he has been fairly mellow over the period of time that they have known each other. He has been somewhat kind, somewhat understanding. He seemed fairly hands-off in terms of his own parents’ business, similar to Beca’s own disdain for this lifestyle.

“So...that’s why…” Jesse sighs. “Who is it? Do I know him?”

Beca blinks, refocusing on the horizon. The water looks especially daunting at this time of day. Rippling calm. Moon glinting off the surface. Blackness. Darkness.

This is pretty much it for us, you know?

“It’s nobody,” she finally responds. “It’s nothing.”

 * * * * *

 She ends up leaving the stake-out early, under Jesse’s reassurance that he would handle it.

Beca doesn’t mean to arrive at Chloe’s apartment, but her feet moved her automatically. She checks the time, noting that it isn’t too ridiculously late for a Friday night. A small smile graces her lips at the memory of how she had met Chloe on a random Friday night. Now, three and a half weeks later, and she’s dating this woman, murky future in sight, but a future nonetheless.

She reaches up to knock, but hesitates.

It’s too soon for you to be showing up this late. Too soon—she doesn’t want to see you.

Her own thoughts knock the wind out of her; she knows that this level of self-doubt is unwarranted considering that she and Chloe have been moving fairly steadily along over the past month. A month and Beca’s feelings have only developed further, growing along the way.

She bites her lip, hesitating. She has no reason to believe that Chloe doesn’t feel the same way. Chloe, who is incredibly open and genuine. She wears her emotions for all to see.

Now, her father’s voice, chiming in: the lack of self-preservation. Remember that emotion is a weapon and a curse. Depends on how you use it.

But, Beca thinks. Is it so bad to be wanted?

Beca Mitchell Hey Are you awake?

The briefest moment of radio silence, but it’s enough to send Beca’s fingers back to the keyboard as she makes her way back down the apartment hallway. She is about to type out nevermind when Chloe texts her back.

Chloe Beale yeah, what’s up?

Beca Mitchell would you mind opening your door?

Chloe Beale :O :O :O beca mitchell! yes! coming!

Beca barely has time to suck in a relieved breath when Chloe’s apartment door flies open and Chloe herself is leaping onto Beca’s back with a delighted squeal.

“You made it!”

“You’re not mad I came so late?” Beca asks, lifting her hand and curling it around Chloe’s forearm. Chloe’s hug tightens momentarily before she loosens up enough to let Beca spin in her arms. Lazily, she drapes her arms over Beca’s shoulders, kissing her right in the middle of the hallway, without a care in the world.

“I’m just glad you came, Bec.”

The nickname, still as jarring as it was when Chloe first used it, somehow warms Beca’s heart. She finds comfort in it; she finds comfort in how out of left-field it feels. And beyond that, beyond the nickname, she finds comfort in Chloe’s sincerity.

“I’m late,” Beca repeats, wonder creeping into her tone.

“I don’t care.”

“Really?” Beca asks, unsure why she is fixating on this one little instance. This one moment between them in their new, budding relationship. Everything between them is passion and desire, but also an undercurrent of something incredibly deep. She pulls on Chloe’s hips, having only just a moment of clarity which she finds in Chloe’s blue eyes before Chloe’s lips collide into her own. Like the softest of blows, Chloe’s kiss knocks the wind out of her.

But, as Chloe has proven over and over in just a short period of time, Chloe catches her. She holds Beca close, deepening the kiss only slightly with the intent of inflicting passion and nothing more. Gently, her lips move against Beca’s—a greeting to surpass all greetings—as a hello.

Hello, you’re here. I’m happy to see you.

That and nothing more.

“Stay the night?” Chloe asks, breathless as she tilts her forehead to press against Beca’s.

“I would love to. But, um. I should definitely shower first.”

 * * * * *

 Beca had been tired, but she can’t think of anything else now with water dripping down her forehead and nose. The steam is almost overpowering, but her gasps have nothing to do with steam. She gasps, loudly and wantonly, because Chloe’s tongue is doing sinful things between her legs. She wants to grab something other than Chloe’s hair, but she knows that she can’t for fear of breaking something in Chloe’s shower.

Chloe’s tongue flicks out expertly against her clit, bullying it gently and stimulating it, pushing Beca’s sensitivity to its limits. Again and again, she flicks, occasionally sucking at whatever her mouth can reach. Chloe’s movements are almost lazy, with how sluggishly her hands scrape up and down Beca’s thighs, sending fresh waves of tingles across Beca’s skin.

With each pass of Chloe’s lips and tongue through and around her cunt, Beca trembles, shaking off every last moment from the day she just had. “Fuck...Chloe…” She tapers off into a broken-off moan when Chloe sucks on clit rather harshly. Her mouth falls open and her head tilts back, smacking against the hard tile behind her. The sensation is lost soon enough however, when Chloe draws away, sliding up Beca’s body. Chloe is panting herself when she comes face to face with Beca. Their lips collide, messy and sloppy in technique, but rife with desire and lust. Beca clutches onto Chloe’s shoulders with her remaining strength, attempting to keep up with how desperately Chloe’s tongue moves inside her mouth.

Shower all but forgotten, Chloe’s fingers navigate between her thighs. “I want to feel you like this,” Chloe murmurs. She nips a line down Beca’s jaw. “Feel you around my fingers.” She sucks at the spot she knows drives Beca crazy, unrelenting as two fingers slip inside her dripping pussy.

Beca moans, giving Chloe the sounds she enjoys most. She tenses, tight around Chloe’s fingers, attempting to draw in her girlfriend’s fingers further. They fit so well together, Chloe’s fingers pressed tightly inside her, Beca’s hands holding tightly to Chloe’s shoulders.

“Harder,” Beca breathes, clutching Chloe’s head to her chest. “Fuck, Chloe. Harder.”

Chloe whimpers at her words, lifting her head to press a kiss to Beca’s mouth as best as she can. “I’m—I just want—” She moans, moving her fingers in and out of Beca. “To take care of you, fuck—” She shudders, pressing herself more firmly against Beca’s thigh, wedged as best as she can against Chloe’s cunt. Her thrusts increase in intensity, both of them doing their best to maintain an upright position.

You are, Beca wants to say. She can do nothing more than cry out, pulling at Chloe’s hair as she finally comes, falling apart in Chloe’s arms.

 * * * * *

 The phone buzzes obnoxiously.

“Who is it?” Chloe asks sleepily. She moves as if to rise from the bed to retrieve their phones. Beca groans, pulling Chloe back into their comfortable cocoon-slash-duvet. “But—”

Beca could care less about who it is. All she knows is that she wants Chloe wrapped around her in more ways than one, but she’ll settle for at least cuddling at the bare minimum. Naked cuddling, on top of that.

“You’re so clingy tonight,” Chloe observes, but she does not sound upset about it. Instead, she sighs, wrapping her arms around Beca’s shoulders and nestling even closer. “And warm,” she adds happily. “Awesome.”

Beca hums, distracted by the soft curves of Chloe’s body. She presses her lips against Chloe’s collarbones—a kiss on each side—before she begins lazily kissing the column of her neck. Chloe shivers against her, though her arm tenses around her shoulders, tightening her hold.

“Again?” Chloe murmurs. She uses her free hand to trace the curve of Beca’s cheek and the line of her jaw. “You’re insatiable.”

Beca doesn’t bother arguing. She just tilts her head back so Chloe can see her face and she smirks for good measure, knowing that Chloe will cave soon enough.

On her phone—three missed calls: Jesse Swanson.

fin chapter 3

[ofsleights]

            ✱ ╱ song joong ki + cis man + he / him / his ━ if you happen to find yourself stuck in tartarus, make sure you don't run into SHIN YO-HAN there. the THIRTY FIVE year old has made quite the reputation for themselves under their alias as HECATERUS, a CAPOREGIME OF DRUG DEALERS AND THIEVES for TITANS. while their enemies often describe them as doctrinaire and quarrelsome, their syndicate would say that they're highbrow and urbane. they DO NOT think that zane was murdered, but they'll be keeping that to themselves for now. ( the gentle click of italian leather shoes announcing his presence, dim lamp light illuminating his office at the early morning hours, dark hues dancing with curiosity and chaos, the windows of luxury vehicles kissed by heavy clouds of steam ).

            hi  again,  everyone  !  this  took  me ... forever  to  get  together,  and  is  probably  filled  with  useless details,  but  i’m  so  excited  to  introduce  yohan  to  everyone.  once  more,  i’m  kiva,  twenty4,  prefer  either  she / her  or  they / them  pronouns,  and  i  reside  in  the  eastern  tz  !  also  pls  don’t  roast  my  pinned  JNVCNVC  i  have  a  prettier  one  in  my  drafts,  but  i’m  saving  it  for  when  i  bring  my  second  chara  hehe.  that  being  said,  ‘  yohan,  you  bastard  !  ’  was  filmed  in  front  of  a  live  studio  audience.  😌

*   🃏   𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂.

            name  :  dr.  shin yo-han.  nicknames:  went  by  sebastian  during  his  school  years,  rarely  called  han.  age  +  date  of  birth  :  35  +  june  10th,  1986.  moral  alignment  :  lawful  evil.  gender  +  pronouns  :  cis  man  +  he / him / hims.  place  of  birth  :  carnegie  jill,  new  york.  place  of  residence  :  tartarus,  california.  orientation  :  bisexual  biromantic.  occupation  :  caporegime  professor  of  game  theory.  nationality  :  korean - american.  ethnicity  :  korean.  languages  spoken  :  korean,  english,  japanese,  and  conversational  spanish.

*   🃏   𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈.

            —   when  one  hears  the  shin  family  name,  they  are  aware  of  who  they’re  about  encounter.  made  up  of  shin  cho - hee  and  shin  jin - hwan,  the  two  were  set  up  for  life  from  the  moments  they  were  born,  but  that  doesn’t  mean  that  they  didn’t  know  how  to  work  to  get  more  of  what  they  already  had.  with  the  best  colleges  on  their  resumés  and  the  amount  of  money  in  their  bank  accounts,  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  for  them  to  meet  (  even  if  it  was  their  parents  who  set  up  the  meeting  ).

            —   they  turn  out  to  be  a  match  made  in  heaven  as  the  couple  are  both  ruthless  and  cunning,  with  desires  to  expand  their  families  fortunes.  cho - hee  and  jin - hwan  marry  in  a  lavish  ceremony,  and  not  even  five  years  later,  they’re  moving  to  new  york  city  to  take  their  companies  from  strictly  europe  and  asia  based  to  the  west.  the  company  grows  exponentially  within  a  few  short  years,  and  during  that  time,  they  have  their  only  child  yo-han.  

            —  yohan  is  a  child  that  fell  in  line  when  he  was  supposed  to  and  was  clearly  grateful  of  the  life  he  was  able  to  live.  attending  the  trinity  school  in  new  york  city,  yohan  was  afforded  the  best  education  that  money  could  buy,  so  it  was  no  surprise  that  he  graduated  with  high  marks.  the  only  downside  that  he  faced  was  the  lack  of  bonding  time  that  he  had  with  his  parents  (  as  they  were  often  too  busy  for  him  ),  but  when  soccer  games  continuously  got  missed,  dinners  were  often  had  alone,  or  field  trip  permission  slip  signatures  were  forged,  yohan  easily  grasped  that  he  was  essentially  on  his  own.

            —   college  acceptances  roll  out,  and  yohan  goes  off  to  study  economics  at  columbia  university.  an  honors  student,  yohan  does  well  as  he’s  expected  to,  and  although  they’ve  missed  most  of  his  life,  his  parents  are  able  to  brag  about  having  their  child  graduate  from  one  of  the  ivies.  academically,  yohan  appeases  his  parents,  going  on  to  study  economics  at  stanford  for  his  masters  degree  and  princeton  for  his  phd.  during  those  years,  yohan  develops  an  interest  in  game  theory.  while  he  was  good  at  beating  anyone  in  a  game  of  logic,  yohan’s  immense  knowledge  is  what  eventually  gets  him  into  trouble.

           —   while  getting  his  masters,  yohan  began  using  said  knowledge  to  start  counting  cards  at  casinos.  he’ll  lose  a  few  hands  here  and  there  to  make  up  for  his  big  wins,  but  of  course  it  doesn’t  take  long  for  him  to  start  getting  some  . . .  unwanted  attention.  forever  able  to  get  himself  out  of  trouble  with  a  bit  of  smooth  talking,  it  works  for  a  while  until  he  gets  the  attention  of  the  titans.  if  there  was  one  thing  about  yohan,  he  may  have  been  privileged  since  birth,  but  he  was  both  book  and  street  smart  . . .  maybe  too  much  for  his  good.  it  was  inevitable  that  yohan’s  abilities  to  get  what  he  wants  while  charming  the  pants  off  others  works  in  his  favor.

            —   by  night,  yohan  was  once  a  lowly  thief  himself,  greedy  fingers  taking  what  was  needed  and  executing  flawless  heists  where  they  were  in  and  out  in  record  time.  by  day,  he  was  soon  a  phd  student  which  then  turned  into  having  a  more . . . legitimate  job  as  a  professor  of  game  theory  at  a  local  university.  through  those  years  of  moonlighting,  yohan  moves  up  in  the  ranks,  and  has  now  taken  over  as  capo  of  the  drug  dealers  and  thieves.  (  this  was  bad  i’m  so  sorry  )

*   🃏   𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂.

a  piece  of  shit,  i’ll  be  the  first  to  admit  it.  he’s  a  one  and  done  kind  of  man  which  makes  him  sound  SO  bad,  but  he’s  just  casual  about  a  lot  of  things  he  does  in  a  romantic  light.

brash  !  straightforward  !  will  tell  you  you’re  stupid  to  your  face  in  the  form  of  :  ‘  are  you  dumb  ?  ’  and  he’s  not  asking.  

since  his  godly  alias  is  hecaterus,  basically  he’s  just  really  good  at  sleight  of  hand  !  which  is  why,  it  makes  sense  that  he’s  good  at  stealing  lol.  probably  teaches  the  dealers  a  thing  or  two  about  how  to  do  quick  transactions  and  the  like,  and  is  good  at  well  executed  heists.  five  minutes  or  less  is  the  goal.

at  most  he  probably  gets  along  with  his  cat  the  best  💀.  the  cat  doesn’t  even  have  a  name  they  just  vibe  in  his  fancy  apartment  together.

well  dressed  . . .  so  well  dressed  he’ll  make  you  cry  (  JOKE  ).  but  in  all  seriousness,  he’s  sharply  dressed  in  well  tailored  suits  or  at  least  well  tailored  button  downs  and  trousers  at  all  times.  hair  is  styled  off  off  his  forehead,  only  ever  down  at  home.  not  much  of  a  sneakers  man  unless  working  out.

probably  has  a  therapist  who  can’t  stand  him  because  he  doesn’t  open  up  and  answers  questions  with  questions.

*   🃏   𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙳.

his  heavenly  companion.  maybe  this  is  kinda  silly,  but  basically  one  of  the  strippers  that  he  gets  along  v  well  with  and  idk,  they  vibe  whenever  he  comes  around.  usually  it’s  just  to  hang  out  and  get  a  drink  or  two,  he’ll  pay  them  well  for  literally  five  minutes  of  time  lol  bonus  points  if  they  spill  him  the  beans  about  customers  hehe.

damn  . . .  an  ex  !  i’m  thinking  they  got  really  serious  and  were  so  into  each  other  but  then  they  could have  found  out  what  he  does  really  or  they’re  from  another  syndicate  so  their  breakup  was  really  inevitable.

a  best  friend  !  someone  who  calls  him  out  on  his  shit  and  he  does  vice  versa.  they  get  along  too  well,  almost  bordering  on  the  line  of  siblings.  they  probably  bicker  like  siblings  too.

friends  with  benefits  kinda  situation.  simply  put,  they’re  there  for  one  another  when  they  need  to  relieve  some  steam  but  they  also  get  along  really  well.  someone  catching  feelings  . . .  👀.

crush  ?  idk,  someone  who  might  like  him  (  for  whatever  reason  )  but  it’s  too  damn  oblivious  to  notice  .

of  course,  connections  from  the  titans  !  positive,  negative,  neutral  . . .  hand  it  over  !  and  i’m  down  to  fill  any  wanted  connections  where  you  could  see  yohan  fitting  but  pls  let’s  plot  i’ve  waited  long  enough  !

[jlenvs3000]

Personal Ethics, Approach and Reflection on Nature Interpretation

Personal ethics are quite an interesting topic to me. I understand it as the ability of an individual to recognize what is morally right and wrong, the reasoning as to why a certain decision is right or wrong however is completely dependent on individual in question. This is what makes it so unique between individuals and differentiates it from other fields of ethics such as business ethics and legal ethics. I believe making these decisions as to what is morally proper is based upon one’s own past experiences, their ability to understanding how it may affect others and their ability to analyse the situation and all its potential outcomes. Whether we recognise it or not, we make these decisions on a daily basis, many times with little reflection and consideration.

But what relevance does all this have with nature interpretation? The field of nature interpretation seems to be filled with many kind-hearted individuals, many of whom have different beliefs and understandings. I have numerous different beliefs concerning nature interpretation, many of which I’ve acquired through the experiences that I have been privileged enough to have lived. One of these beliefs is that everyone should have a chance to experience nature in a manner suitable for themselves. While the world may seem more connected than ever before thanks to the internet and cellphones, some of the more natural connections to our surrounding environments has been lost by many. Some perhaps never had the opportunity to create these connections and I know that when I interpret, I especially enjoy interpreting in an attempt to create that connection and light the spark. There are many things I’ve learned to appreciate in the natural world around me; the melodious songs of a warblers at dawn, the seemingly endless diversity of local plants and the many interactions between species within a community. Although I may be interested in spending hours at a time admiring trees, others will surely be far more interested in a different aspect of the environment. So, I try to recognize my preferences before creating an interpretive activity in an effort to focus on what would be the most memorable experience for the participants. It may be easier to interpret in ways that I would enjoy experiencing the activity, but it’s far more important to make that connection and encourage the curiosity of the audience.

I often try to present something cool to get the attention of the audience, such as this Attacus atlas, one of the largest moths in the world!

Another belief I have is that nature interpretation is our most efficient tool in not only creating those connections but also in educating a wide audience and changing their behaviour, particularly concerning environmental issues. As many people might expect, increasing the feeling of connectedness to nature using environmental education through nature interpretation has been shown to positively influence the way people act towards the environment (Otto and Pensini, 2017). Encouraging individuals to act in a sustainable manner to lessen their own impact on the environment may help in dealing with pressing environmental issues such as climate change and habitat loss. Large corporations are also greatly at fault but being able to recognize that our choices at the grocery store and at the ballot box can also impact their ability to contribute to these problems is also a step forward. I believe even nature interpretation in its simplest form can at the very least encourage some to take a step in the right direction.

As I mentioned earlier, I’m in continuous awe of the natural world, mainly from a science-oriented view as that is what has been available to me throughout education. This is why I primarily enjoy interpreting in the form of nature walks and interactive activities, as I attempt to express how amazing the environment is with the use of what scientific information is available. I’m very fond of this method for the most part as our scientific understanding of most things is the result of the combined theories and hypotheses that attempt to make sense of this expansive world we live in. I feel as though this idea of coming together to discover with a solution that everyone can agree upon is something we should apply more often outside of science. In any case, it seems to be great way to communicate as it feels like you’re presenting something that many people would be able to understand and hopefully relate to.

As I’ve reflected upon my past nature interpretation experiences within the past few months, I’ve come to appreciate other forms of interpretation that I had previously not taken into too much consideration before. Interpretation of indigenous cultures through the stories they told and the art they created is one I hope many Canadians can relate to. The depictions of these wild spaces and the creatures that inhabit them is truly an incredible way of interpreting the connection that the indigenous people of an area had in a time long past and hopefully still do, and is without a doubt worth preserving and experiencing. Participants involved in this form of interpretation have even been shown to develop a greater “care of place” (Walker and Moscardo, 2016) which I believe is beneficial for everyone.

One of the amazing Nuu-chah-nulth totem poles I had the fortune of seeing during my time at Pacific Rim National Park, BC. Retrieved from: https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/11470174024694423/

Nature interpretation has played an immense role in my life, both as a participant and as a presenter. Perhaps it has had a more significance than I can even recall at this moment. I surely cannot tell where I’ll be within 10, 5 or even a year from now, not for certain, in any case. Despite this uncertainty, there is one thing that I am certain of; I wish to further explore nature interpretation as a means to understand more about nature, how others perceive the world around them and how I can potentially better others and myself through nature interpretation.

References

Otto, S., & Pensini, P. (2017). Nature-based environmental education of children: Environmental knowledge and connectedness to nature, together, are related to ecological behaviour. Global Environmental Change, 47, 88-94.

Walker, K., & Moscardo, G. (2016). Moving beyond sense of place to care of place: the role of Indigenous values and interpretation in promoting transformative change in tourists' place images and personal values. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 24(8-9), 1243-1261.

[shadowphoenixrider]

(I wrote more Katla/Kabu stuff because why the hell not. Sometime after this fic here. Katla is 26 years old.)

“Alright Sirfetch’d, finish it off! Brick Break!” Katla cried.

The Wild Duck Pokemon uttered a loud cry, charging into the fray. His Snorlax opponent swung out an arm to stop him, only for Sirfetch’d to parry the blow with his leek shield, accompanying sword glowing bright white.

“Sir-fetch’d!” He slashed the sword up and into Snorlax’s immense belly, causing the Sleeping Pokemon to utter a deep, defeated moan, tottering back before crumpling to the floor with a loud thud.

“And you win again...” Hop groaned, returning his Pokemon back to its Pokeball as their impromptu crowd erupted into applause.

“Yup.” Katla smiled, giving her Sirfetch’d an affectionate pat on the head before she too returned him to his ball. “But you don’t do too bad for yourself, Hop. Get your Pokemon rested up, and you’ll be ready to take on Gordie straight away.”

The younger man brightened, scratching the back of his head.

“You really think so, mate?”

“Sure!” The young woman nodded, slipping her hands into her hoodie pockets. “You gave me a good fight, and I’ve only just come out of there. So you’ll be just fine. Go for it!”

“Alright!” Hop grinned widely, already on the move again. “Look out Gordie, here I come!”

Sonia chuckled, shaking her head as the young trainer bounded away.

“Seems like he finally shook off that gloom.” She commented. “I’m glad - Leon’d worry if Hop wasn’t feeling alright.”

“Yeah.” Katla nodded, hiding her scowl. One of these days I’m going to give Bede what he deserves. “I worry too. Kid’s a ball of sunshine. If I can keep him blazing bright as long as I can, I will.”

“Sure.” Sonia nodded, curling her orange hair around her finger. “You wouldn’t want your rival to be down in the dumps, after all.” The trainer was about to retort it had more to do with the fact he was her friend when the researcher continued: “Anyway, I’m planning to look into things in the Slumbering Weald a little more. See ya!”

Katla waved her goodbye, noticing that the crowd that had mostly dispersed now the action was over, chattering excitedly about the two Gym Challengers, and who they were supporting in the upcoming matches. The trainer hadn’t expected a history lesson to have resulted in a Pokemon battle, but when Hop was raring to go, there was little that could dissuade him. At least everything was still as they found it.

She was about to make her own way towards the Pokemon Centre when she glimpsed a familiar black and red coat, just visible behind one of the ancient stone columns. Her heart skipped a beat, and the trainer wandered idly over, pretending to just pass by.

“Hey stranger,” she said, glancing at the older man out of the corner of her eye. “Shall we find somewhere a little quieter?”

“Lead on.” His soft, deep voice replied, his smile clear within.

The pair walked away from the Hero’s Bath, making their way through Circhester’s numerous winding streets until they found an empty patch of land on the edge of town, a copse of snow-laden trees guarding them from curious eyes.

“I did not expect to find you and Hop having a Pokemon battle in the middle of the Hero’s Bath.” Kabu commented, a warm smile on his lips. “Especially so soon after your stupendous battle with Gordie.”

Katla blushed, chuckling shyly.

“O-Oh well, it wasn’t anything special, just a nice tough fight, went through all the motions...”

“Perhaps, but I'm very glad I had the good fortune to be in the crowd.” Kabu replied. “To witness the bond between you and your Pokemon is a privilege, whichever side of the field I’m on.”

“Aw, thanks.” Her face was burning up now, despite the chill in the air. “But you’re definitely flattering me now.”

“Nonsense.” His smile widened, twinkling in his eyes. “I am merely giving a masterful trainer the honours she deserves.”

“Stooop!” Katla giggled, waving a hand at him. “I’m not toast, don’t butter me up like this!”

The Gym Leader chuckled, making her heart skip its next beat and Murkrow feet crinkle in the corners of his eyes.

“You’re fun to tease, Katla,” he said, something soft to his tone that made her heart do a somersault, another in the series of gymnastics it was apparently performing.

“Don’t tell me the only reason you were watching us fight was to torment me later.” She replied, trying to salvage some composure from the situation.

“In truth, I was hoping to cross paths with you again.” Kabu said. “It was lucky coincidence that I happened to notice your sparring with Hop.” His smile widened. “More so that we now have this fleeting time to ourselves.”

“Yeah.” The young woman nodded, glancing around them. Aside from the occasional soft whisper of wind through the trees, the snow absorbed all sound, cloaking the pair with silence. “It’s nice. Just wish it was warmer.”

“Yes. I like to think I have adapted to Galar’s fickle weather patterns, but I have never managed to insulate myself from the cold, especially here.” The Gym Leader commented, creases appearing between his eyebrows. “You’re not too cold, are you Katla? We can find somewhere warmer if you need-”

“Oh no no!” She replied hurriedly, pulling her hoodie a little tighter around herself. “I’m alright, thanks Kabu. I just...I’m not really a fan of chilly places either. The only place I went to that had an Ice type gym that wasn’t freezing cold was Mahogany Town in Johto, and even that place had a chill in the air.” Katla gave a lopsided smile. “I guess that’s why I don’t tend to have many Ice type Pokemon. Prefer the heat over the cold.”

“Perhaps.” Kabu’s concerned frown remained for a moment, before he opened his arm out to her. “Regardless, if you are cold, come a little closer. I’m told I run hot.”

Katla hesitated for a moment, glancing behind her. Yet, safe in the knowledge that no-one would see them at a cursory glance, she took his offer, moving to stand at his side. To her surprise, he curled his arm around her, pulling her close into his body. Katla felt herself warm up, but she didn’t think it was just from Kabu’s heat.

There was a pause.

“Better?” He asked softly.

“Yeah. Thank you.” She shifted slightly closer, noting how nicely her body fit against his.

Another brief moment of silence passed between them before Kabu spoke again.

“You’ll be leaving for Spikemuth tomorrow, I presume?”

Katla nodded.

“Yeah. Hopefully it’s a little warmer than this place.”

“Once you pass through the icy stretch of Circhester Bay, you will be pleased to find it warms up again.” Kabu smiled. “Unlike the other towns and cities you have been to, however, it lacks a Power Spot.”

“Oh, so no Dynamaxing, then.” The trainer lifted a shoulder, smirking. “No skin off my back - pretty much back to basics for me.”

The Man of Fire’s smile was amused.

“Of course. Then Piers should pose little challenge for you.”

“Oh no, the last time I was that confident was against Opal, and, well, we know how well that went.” Katla replied, glancing away. “Besides, considering he’s just behind Raihan in rankings without access to a Power Spot, that probably means he’s a force to be reckoned with.”

She swore she saw Kabu’s silver eyes sparkle.

“Very perceptive. Now I see another facet in what makes you such a skilled trainer and Gym Challenger.”

Katla blushed.

“C’mon Kabu, we’ve been over this! Stop buttering me up.” As the older man chuckled, a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Wait. I don’t remember a Piers. He wasn’t at the opening ceremony, was he?”

“You’re correct, he wasn’t.” Kabu sighed. “Piers is very...independent. He and Chairman Rose have clashed numerous times. Piers cares deeply for the future of Spikemuth, and he blames the town’s misfortunes on its lack of a Power Spot.” The Gym Leader shook his head. “Whilst he prefers to keep to himself, it is clear to see the issue troubles him deeply. I only wish I could offer him answers for his problems.”

“I can understand why he’d probably not want to go to the opening ceremony, then.” Katla commented. “What does he specialise in?”

“Dark types.” The older man replied.

“Huh.” The younger woman hummed. “Reminds me of a guy I met in Alola. Kinda abrasive and aloof, but deep down you knew he really gave a shit.”

For a moment, she let images swim up from her memory - red eyes; glowing in the dark, a smirk; full of promise, his face between- and then she quickly pushed them down again, blinking hard and hoping that she wasn’t blushing. Again.

She glanced back up at Kabu, who was looking down at her thoughtfully, his eyes glazed as his gaze was turned inwards. His face didn’t betray his thoughts, however, when he resurfaced.

“Yes. Indeed...” A small smile pulled at his lips. “I don’t suppose I need to ask you if you've ever fought Dark types before, do I?”

“No.” Katla replied. “I’ve fought them before, and the Alola guy was specialised in them, so I know what they’re like in the hands of a master.” And weren’t those hands masterful- she quickly squelched that thought by adding: “Trouble. Very troublesome. I was lucky to beat him. Which is why I’m not gonna get drawn in to thinking I’ve already got this.” She stuffed her hands into her hoodie pockets. “Like I said, learned my lesson the last time.”

“Of course.” Kabu nodded. “Yet forewarned is forearmed.” His smile widened. “I have every faith that you will do well against Piers, Katla. I look forward to seeing your match.”

“T-Thanks.” The young woman couldn’t help but smile shyly, her face flushing. “It means a lot to hear you say that. I’ll do my best.”

The Gym Leader nodded again, satisfied, and a brief silence settled around them, like the snow that was beginning to fall.

“Guess you’ve got stuff to be getting back to as well.” Katla said, looking up at him.

“Yes. I will be taking a taxi back to Motostoke this evening to resume my duties. There are still trainers attempting my Gym Challenge, though it will not be long before their window of opportunity will close.” His silver eyes slid over to meet hers, a smile pulling at his lips. “I don’t think it will be long before at least two trainers will qualify for the Semifinals.”

The trainer arched an eyebrow at him.

“Putting the cart before the Mudbray a little there, Kabu. I’ve gotta beat Piers and Raihan. Either one could put an end to it.”

“Perhaps.” Kabu turned to face her properly, reaching out to gently take her hands. “But I have faith you can do it. I see the spark in your eyes, Katla. You have a burning flame that cannot be extinguished. I sensed it when I first met you, and felt it in our battle. I am sure you will make it through to the Semifinals.”

‘The Ever-Burning Man of Fire’ seemed an appropriate moniker for the Hoenn Gym Leader, with the way his touch seemed to cause Katla’s face and heart to heat up, the latter skipping a beat. His smile was as warm as his hands, and for a moment, they remained like this, Katla wondering how fate had brought her to this point in time.

And then Kabu leaned closer, paused, before he tentatively pressed a kiss to her lips. It only took a second, maybe just two, but the heat it caused, rippling out from the Galar trainer’s heart, seemed to sharpen every sense she possessed as if Katla had awoken from the deepest, most restful slumber she’d ever had.

She blinked Rowlet-ishly up at him, noticing the older man’s sheepish expression - despite his bold move, a blush was beginning to darken across his cheeks, and he glanced away.

Suddenly his scarf poked its head up, peering up at him with an inquisitive: ‘Si?’ Kabu’s blush darkened, and he chuckled at his little companion’s confusion, Katla unable to resist giggling too.

“It’s alright, little one,” he said softly, stroking the Radiator Pokemon’s flat head with his finger. “Be at peace.” The Sizzlipede’s eyes closed, and it trilled with pleasure before returning to its duty around Kabu’s neck, the young woman wondering if her blood was made of magma, the amount of warmth she could feel leaking from her heart.

“Looks like you took your friend by surprise.” Katla spoke, and almost kicked herself for trying to make light of the situation. He smiled shyly, an expression she never thought she’d ever see on the older man’s face.

“Yes. And several others.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I...I apologise, Katla. That was...foolish of me.”

“No no, it wasn’t.” She shook her head, stepping closer. “You surprised me, sure, but, but it wasn’t unwelcome.” If she kept blushing like this, her face was going to get stuck this way. “I liked it.”

The trainer had to admit it was amusing to see his composure slip out of his fingertips again, his blush creeping across his face.

“Oh? Are you sure? I don’t want to- you mustn’t feel like you should accept my advances because-”

“Kabu.” It was Katla’s turn to grasp his hands, squeezing them between her own. “It’s fine. If I didn’t want it, you would know.” A pause, deciding not to provide the example. “I promise, I will let you know if we start going too fast or too far. I know this might be the first relationship I’ve ever been in, but I’m twenty six - I’ve been around long enough to know what I want and who I want it with.”

Her blue eyes met Kabu’s grey, the older man watching her intently. “Trust me, please?”

“I do.” He nodded. “I’m just-” A pause. “Forgive me, Katla. I worry.”

“I know.” She squeezed his hands again. “It works both ways, though. If you feel uncomfortable, or like I’m the one going too fast or too far, you let me know too, okay?”

“Of course. Of course.” He replied, giving her hands an answering, if more tentative squeeze. Another pause, before a shy smile graced his lips. “For this being your first relationship, you show considerable wisdom.”

“Heh, I’ve just been working from what I picked up from various places.” Katla chuckled weakly. “I’m pretty sure I’ve still got a lot to learn.”

“As have I.” Kabu smiled, giving her hands one last squeeze before he pulled away. “Anyway, I fear I have taken up more than enough of your time, Katla. My apologies.”

“It’s fine, Kabu. I’m more worried that I’ve been the one taking up your time, with you being a Gym Leader and everything.” A half-smile pulled at her lips. “But, before you go...”

As the Hoenn man gave her a quizzical look, Katla leaned up and pressed her own kiss to his lips, unable to hide her smile as he blinked widely, his blush starting to reappear on his cheeks.

“...Oh.” He uttered quietly, lifting a hand as if to touch an imprint she left behind.

“I, I better go.” Katla said, stepping away. “I-It’s been nice chatting with you, Kabu. We’ll talk again sometime soon, yeah?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” The Gym Leader replied. “Safe travels, Katla. Best of luck for Piers.”

“Safe journey back to Motostoke!” She waved, before turning to walk back into Circhester, trying restrain the excited skip in her step.

---

“Siiizz?” Kabu had been watching the young woman leave when his Sizzlipede called to him again, having uncurled just enough to give him a Look, one that he couldn’t quite identify.

Despite the cold snow settling over his bench coat and into his hair, his face felt as hot as his Pokemon’s belly scales, and Kabu swore his lips were still tingling from Katla’s kiss. He managed a lopsided smile at his companion.

“It’s, it’s fine, little one,” he said, again, although he found his gaze drifting back to where the trainer had gone. “She’s just...a very special friend.”

The Radiator Pokemon did not look convinced this time, tilting its head and quivering its fiery moustache. Kabu sighed softly.

“Perhaps...Perhaps a bit more than that.” He admitted.

[vroenis]

Reaching Out, Reaching In

It would be criminal not to use ABIIOR for the lede given I’m going to quote Matty albeit not quite verbatim - nevertheless - buy this album, it’s incredible.

But of-course, I’m going to start by talking about

BT

I mention BT a lot; he enters the lists often in my writing, in my discussions. Like many artists in my collection and listening rotation, I seem to be really into an artist for a period of time and then reach a cutoff point where I stop being into them. This probably happens for most people, I don’t know, I’ve not asked most people, but I do want to be very careful of not living in the past or rather dying in it. Still, I like to keep finding new things or rather I’m compelled to. I enjoy things that continue to grow older each second time passes, but I always thirst for new creations by all artists of all ages, whether they bring to bear the experience of years, or they’ve only been around for a few. The point is everyone is here on this wild ride and art is their response to the stimuli; it’s what comes out of us in abstract and semi-abstract, re-translated and it forms these amazing emotional and often transcending connections and multifaceted responses in us and by us I mean me.

I’m getting distracted.

In the last and understandably downcast piece on my deathbed playlist, there are three key BT albums and it’s worth noting the years he released them;

2006 - This Binary Universe

2012 - Nuovo Morceau Subrosa

2016 - _ (untitled - there’s a story, you can look it up if you like, it’s more or less just referred to as the character *underscore*(verbal))

There were other albums in-between but naturally those don’t make the list as far as what I want to be hearing if I’m half or unconscious or in a delirium on my way to imminent death. In 2019, BT released two albums;

October 2019 - Between Here And You

December 2019 - Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear

You may remember I wrote a whole lot about 2009 - 2019 and these albums were absent.

If you go to the wiki for BT, which are his initials for Brian (Wayne) Transeau, you’ll see a wonderfully rich history of a stupendously talented musician and immensely intelligent individual. He is part of a collective of people most wouldn’t know about (which is perfectly fine, to be honest) who are responsible for the digital audio revolution that has completely changed the way we create, record, produce, publish and distribute music as we know it. There are parts of that people may think are negative and some elements certainly are, but the net benefit is unquestionably positive even if only on the sole subject of accessibility. Accessible digital audio has put creation and power within reach of everyone and of-course this means there’s a glut of material available, but it also means we catch sight of more amazing art rather than never see it, or it not seeing the light of day. I lean on humans seeing it and saying that directly rather than speaking in abstract. The light of day is literally us - we humans, seeing the expressions of one-another and hopefully remunerating appropriately so that we can continue to live and improve each other’s lives.

I have always had and continue to have immense respect for BT. He began writing This Binary Universe when his daughter was born, and as she grew, continued working on the album with this tiny infant often in his lap as he worked. He wrote it from creation in 5.1 surround sound, rather than all other “surround sound mixes” being done in retrospect from the stereo stems. It is an astonishing work and See You On The Other Side may very well be one of the greatest pieces of music in history. When I first listened to TBU in 2006, I  had a myriad of emotional responses and I certainly didn’t have as much knowledge of BT’s creation process and background for the album at the time, but I can appreciate that shortly thereafter upon learning it, it probably does form biases in how I feel about the album. This will be important to the discussion later. Nevertheless, the album feels massively injected with specific intent and yes, surely every artistic work is regardless and we’ll get there. This is going to be personal but all writing is - that doesn’t warrant further discussion, we should always be making that assumption.

I follow BT on Instagram and saw him build his awesome new studio, an amazing space for all his gear and synths and something any music professional would love to have in some way... which I may check in a moment, or perhaps not so soon but I hope I don’t forget to come back to that. I will say that I do like it. It is a wonderful playground of vintage, rare and new synths, of super powerful computers with extremely new software and plugs, of high-end analogue desks and outboard units, extremely nice monitors and custom designed absorbers, panels, racks and furniture. It is an absolutely amazing space.

After the studio was finished, he did some collabs with some other artists and folks, some of which I also follow on Instagram whose setups are wildly different so it was nice to see some cross-over. He also interspersed with increasing regularity work on his albums which included clips of 100+ piece orchestras and often DAW session captures of the stems and him working on them. It was all pretty cool and the tiny snippets he posted were rad.

In October 2019, I was travelling to visit family due to cancer treatment, something that’s been at the centre of my life for well over 18 months, and I have my first full listen-thru of Between Here And You on an early morning when the rest of the house is asleep. It’s pretty great, sonically I like it a lot. I don’t have the same response to TBU but I don’t expect to, I should give it a chance, but it still doesn’t elicit a really significant response in me. At this point it has to be said that on the same trip, I have my first full listen-thru of Telefon Tel Aviv’s Dreams Are Not Enough, having slept on its initial September release, and that might be enough to give context to how I responded - it may have been where my head was at and remains to this day. I couldn’t shake it tho, as I still really have an affinity for TBU and I was wondering what was up.

Fast-forward to December and the release of Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear, and I do not respond to this album at all. It has some decent BT synth and sample work in it that exhibits his amazing talent, but it’s cut with orchestral and choral music that to me is indistinct from any other contemporary material available on a Pandora channel playing similar genres. I hate the sound of myself being so critical of someone I admire so much, because for someone who can write bangin’ trance and intricately complicated micro-rhythms and sample-chopped music, someone who writes their own freaken’ software and who edits audio down to the sample because their attention to detail is so specific and demanding - for that same person to be so talented to also be able to write scores and choral vocal arrangements is immense. I’m sure it all means so much to BT and I’m so proud of him for creating what to him must be an amazing work. I’m not trying to say anything negative about the work itself...

But I just don’t respond to it. Almost all the other music I’ve been listening to over the last 10 years including very recently, feels like it’s been created in response to extremely personal experiences that haven’t all been great - singular or accumulations of events that have precipitated significant introspection, and the art that has resulted from it for me reflects it clearly. BT’s two albums feel like... a very fortunate and privileged guy who’s had a lot of time and opportunity to play with his gear, record it and release it. The title also sounds presumptuous as if to position that systemic poverty and oppression and struggle outside of ones’ control can be solved by the oppressed simply stopping being afraid and I border on hating it every time I read it... - and that sounds so horribly mean because it is, I don’t intend for it to be mean. I need to check my expectations and I need to respect that Brian is still doing what he wants to do and he doesn’t owe me anything, least of all in something as abstract as how something sounds and whether or not I like it, because ultimately that’s all I’m talking about here, no matter how obscure I want to make the discussion. The intent of the title, especially - I’m certain - isn’t to diminish those who suffer, and I should be careful in my reading of it. So keeping myself in check, I’m here to explore the rest of my response, and I’m going to try and give further context.

Coldplay

I’ve no problem telling you I like Coldplay. I guess if you knew more about my musical background, it’d be less of a surprise, tho if you’ve been following along, it’ll make sense. If you’re reading this journal backwards, it may or may not, depending on how much I write about production in the future. To cut a long story short, like many bands I’m almost not at all into the band themselves and almost entirely into the production that surrounds them. Meow meow meow, all the art purists will bang-on about how music is about the performers but producers and engineers are artists in every way as much as performers are, and even bands or individuals who “just perform” with their instrument and no-one else on stage and no technicals (screens, lights, unseen backing musos etc.) still have a myriad of people surrounding them without which they can’t execute their working careers. Anyway, feel free to remain ignorant of those facts if you like and be all “pure performers”, no problem - magic can be real for you.

I lost track of Coldplay at after their 2015 album A Head Full Of Dreams. I’m less emotionally invested in the band and totally don’t mind that they’d up until that point releasing more or less the same sound for four consecutive albums. I really like the sound and if you pay close enough attention, it was actually evolving nicely, enough for me at any rate. I’d forgotten all about the band which is easy to do when you don’t really pay attention to pop-music and the activities therein, and then a couple of months ago (January maybe?) by whatever divination of the YouTube algorithm, a video titled Coldplay: Everyday Life Live in Jordan came up in my recommendations - a thing I was until then, unaware even existed. I’d no idea what the band was doing and I’m always keen to give them a shot, so I clicked-thru.

Moments ago I said I was happy with the band doing the same sound over and over again, and when I listen back to those albums, I’m still fine with them - let’s call it the Viva/Prospekt’s/Dreams anthology. Several things struck me about Everyday Life. Given my personal experiences of the last ten years, my struggles and the struggles of everyone around me, both personal and the cultures I observe and choose to observe, watching these four guys geared up in these ruins in Jordan looked stupendously privileged and a massive flex of wealth and influence. It looked like money buying good photography, framing and impossible location kudos and style. The sound in culture to my personal experiences also felt irrelevant.

And now I can finally talk about

The 1975 - Reaching Out, Reaching In

I now don’t remember whether it was at the ABIIOR concert in Melbourne, September 2019, or in one of the many interview snippets on YouTube or an article - I’m fairly sure it was his voice, so I either saw him say it in a video or he said it at the concert or both. Matt Healy said something along the lines of...

“... I know our last album was very inwardly focused... but A Brief Inquiry is very outwardly focused... it’s more about the world... and you... and us...”

That is not at all what he said verbatim but it was something very similar to that so I desperately hope a 1975 fan drops in and corrects me or can find a clip of him repeating it. Anyway there are a lot of really good things to extract from that, firstly from what it means about The 1975′s music and the culture that forms around it, and then about the discussion I’m having.

BT, Coldplay and The 1975 all live in my Ultimate folder on my hard-drive,  but while BT and Coldplay fall where they will alpha-numerically as far as directory structure is concerned, The 1975 have the auspicious honour of having leading zeros in their text so they appear first. This is so that I never have to scroll all the way down to T in any program or utility (like my car’s head unit) to find them. Worth noting that composer Yoko Kanno is 01 and Underworld are 02.

The album that preceded A Brief Inquiry... was released in 2016, titled I Like It When You Sleep, For You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware Of It, an intentionally Emo title, I believe or at least hope, and it is definitely an inwardly focused album in the themes indicated by its lyrical content. It’s to date one of my favourite albums of all time, superbly performed and produced and overflowing with emotion - there’s some truly heartbreaking sound and words therein. I feel like this album is a perfect inclusion with the others in my Circa 2009 - 2019 piece that was somehow vaguely about how much of a struggle those 10 years have been. I guess it’d be difficult to get a notion of that if you’re not familiar with the music and material, but all of that music is introspective - it’s all about reaching in. As mentioned above, the art these artists are producing is the result of deeply intimate experiences, some they share directly with us outside of the abstract of art - relationships, family loss, drug addiction, mental health - but many that they don’t so clearly telegraph and leave us with the abstract; the art.

A Brief Inquiry.../ABIIOR certainly is about reaching out, even when the lyrics do seem to be personal, but to me as an individual, it feels to reach out in the right way - that is to say *I* feel it’s reaching out to a world *I* identify with, in a way that *I* agree with or find agreeable. The songs in ABIIOR are about misunderstanding, they’re about not giving up, making mistakes, desperation, honesty, the chaos of the destruction of modern society. One of my all-time favourite songs has sprung from this album and has become anthemic for me - Love It If We Made It and I’m going to embed it;

And now I feel I want to say that naming an album “Everything You’re Searching For Is On The Other Side Of Fear” and also performing a concert in ancient ruins on the top of a mountain during a picturesque sunrise in Jordan with expensive drone photography both feel to me like also reaching out but in ways that I don’t like and agree with, that feel irrelevant and/or culturally inappropriate but I use the term culturally to mean my personal culture; the culture I see myself fit into as an individual that interacts with others, the struggles we seem to share as a collective.

I feel as tho Coldplay once did reach out in the good way I’m trying and possibly failing to describe, or perhaps just trying to frame from a position I prefer. I felt they had a more grounded sense of community with everyday people which makes the irony of their most recent project more apparent. It may well be that I just don’t like what these artists are doing any more and that’s fine. Sometimes we might feel entitled to a sense of righteousness, to validate our distaste for something on a more grand cultural level, to co-opt others into our critique so more fingers can point and collectively say “See?! That thing you’re doing really *is* BAD! More people said so!” but I really am keeping myself in check and not wanting to do that. I think I’m writing this journal to explain myself to myself - yes, to log my justifications because I believe in them, but also ensure I don’t turn into an arsehole. 

Still - I stand by my criticisms because they’re important. I don’t know why in-particular these few examples struck in this way when others didn’t. I bought a bunch of Anjuna music that has nothing to do with culture and emotional response in the ways I’ve discussed them and I love them. Sometimes music is about bangin’ beats and euphoria and that’s OK. Still, the world isn’t entirely a joyous place for me at the moment and hasn’t been. There are positives to celebrate, but I have never been one to only log my celebrations. In particular from a mental health perspective, only documenting positives is incredibly hazardous and I condemn the practice. As much as these entries are laced with darkness and difficulties, each one also contains the things that assist me in surviving, keeping me nourished and navigating this often hellish experience of life. Ultimately of all my skills, seeking out art I identify with is the most valuable survival skill I have, it is the only one that matters. 

Love is a kind of art, there’s nothing abstract in that statement - the love between people is artful, in any and all forms it takes - hence the tags; Art Worth Dying For, and Art Worth Living For.

[lizzybeth1986]

Sorry for this XD, but 1, 4, 9, 11, 26 and 27 for the salty ask? If it's not too much, of course

Don't say sorry! 😁 Thanks for the ask Nonny and apologies for the delay.

I must caution you, the post is going to be long and and there's too much salt in my responses for even me to handle.

1. OTP in fandom that you just do not get.

IDK I most don't give much of a thought to OTPs that I don't get. Like that is the nature of any fandom, that you can see potential for ships even without a say-so from canon.

What I really don't get is the absurd double standards that I see sometimes - how some fans will pull down other LIs/characters to make a favourite look good, how some LIs will be nitpicked to high hell while others can say the grossest things and not be judged. How one character can be judged for the same thing we will admire in another (I'll get to this later).

It's weird, considering the app literally allows you to choose who you will fall for (unless you're wlw or like a character that's a person of colour in a majority-white cast, in which case they will dangle scraps in front of you once every ten chapters, I suppose). You don't need to trash one LI to justify your choice of another. They're there. Stop tearing down an LI while deliberately tagging the character's tag and ship tags for your notes. Go generate (and promote) content for your own ships and characters instead.

4. A personal NOTP? Are they considered an OTP in the fandom?

Hana x Madeleine. Fortunately, lots of people had plenty of problems with this pair and the way it was written in Book 3. The narrative was subtly pushing that ship over the course of Book 3, but the backlash was strong enough that they got Madeleine to issue an apology for her bullying in the epilogue instead (I doubt they even remember the chocolate allergy scene, given that the MC acts like this information is brand new).

It still left a bad taste in my mouth, because it showed me how little the writers cared for Hana as a character, but at least the fandom made sure it didn't become a ship.

9. Most Disliked Character(s):

Hoo boy. I have a freaking list. Besides the really really obvious ones:

• Drake Walker: has way more privilege than he knows what to do with. Narrative acts like he is the Voice of the Commoner...well. I feel sorry for the commoners that don't get to practically live in court without having to change their attire or yap all day about steak, burgers and whiskey. And whose sisters don't have friends that will fleece their entire ancestral house's already-plummeting finances to keep her house running while her brother trash-talks the same friend in Book 1.

• Damien Nazario: is a hypocrite. That is all.

• Constantine: Almost every apology of his has to come punctuated with an excuse. Even if it involves orchestrating sexual assault.

• Madeleine (TRR) and Mallory (RoE): The demonic duo of People PB Wants So Desperately For Me To Forgive™. Without them even having to earn that forgiveness, too (Nana deserves to be on this list too, except the question of forgiveness doesn't even arise when it comes to her. She is worshipped in this series!). I see a small step towards change in D&D Book 2 with Lady Grandmother, but only time will tell if they will actually execute the "will never forgive you" route properly.

• Penelope: is so, so fucking entitled I just can't. I understood how her condition, and manipulation from people like Constantine and Bastien, got her to the point where she would be ready to harm someone. But I can't for the life of me understand how she can forget this so easily after the tea party.

I was hoping for a redemption arc where Penelope recognizes what she's done and unconditionally tries to make amends in Book 3, but that never happened. There was not a single reference in Book 3 to the harm she did you in Book 1. We had to do an immense amount of coddling to convince her to come for the wedding, and there were consequences if you didn't call her your "best friend" or support her demands. The narrative has Drake Walker...Drake "Ambassadors Go To Dangerous Areas, Lady Kiara (So Get Over It)" Freaking Walker...reassure Penelope in a way that Kiara never gets from anyone in the group, and she suffered a knife attack. Ezekiel is literally created out of thin air as a reward for her.

Why does she need a reward again? Who knows.

• Ajay: Didn't apologize.

11. Unpopular Character that You Like that Fandom Doesn't.

(This is going to be loooong. I'm not sorry. This rant has been really, really building up. It's like a dam).

Kiara. It's popular to sorta kinda like her now, but back when she started showing feelings for Drake she got a lot of hate...hate that I feel bled into the treatment she got in the third book.

It took me a while to warm up to Kiara, but I think what did it for me was her friendship with Penelope. She was protective and supportive, even though she lacked an understanding of what Penelope was going through. I was even more pleasantly surprised when she spoke about her bond with Savannah. There was a warmth and a sweetness about Kiara in Book 2 that we didn't see much of in Book 1 and she slowly won me over. When they spoke about her injuries in Book 3, I was looking forward to seeing that story explored.

I will always maintain that Kiara in Book 3 is what happens when both the writing team and the louder, more vocal portion of the fandom are heartless towards a particular character. Heartless is a heavy word, and a word I don't want to be using willy-nilly, but I've seen enough to come to that conclusion in this case.

Kiara was often called an opportunist and a host of other names in the fandom for not supporting the MC through the scandal. Except that we all forget she never promised anything beyond supporting your claim to being picked as future Queen. She tells you straight off the bat in Book 1 that she is looking for allies and not friends (guess who is often admired for that mindset? Madeleine...well, until she harms Hana for flimsy reasons). Meanwhile we have Penelope being all adorable and happy and congratulating you knowing that you're going to be slut-shamed, humiliated and dragged out of court for a scandal she helped generate. Kiara on the other hand was honest. She wanted a job in the ministry and a bomb married life while she was at it. I'd rather have an ambitious (but won't abuse her power like Madeleine does) Kiara in my corner than a person who lies to my face about supporting me, does little more to help than just tell me who her boss was, then expects me to call her my best friend later.

Kiara had to only look at and flirt with Drake for people to hate on her. Meanwhile Olivia could spring an unwanted kiss on Liam in public, and the fandom would still be blaming Liam for not loving her back. In regular fandom content Kiara was mocked and sometimes suspected of having an illicit affair with Drake, in fanfic that featured her she was often either villainized, or written as the "other woman". Which is okay - fanfic is your own personal sandbox, after all - but it does highlight a pattern.

In canon...Kiara was made a survivor of a terrorist attack and nobody cared. Not the MC, not the country's king, not her closest friends, not the man who got injured at the same ball. It was bad enough that her parents were considering leaving the goddamn country (they should have). She was ignored in her own estate. The MC speaks to her not with sympathy and reassurances, but instead reminds her of her 'duty' and pressurizes her. (@callmetippytumbles illustrates this amazingly in her ask here, having Liam say "have a apple and buck up for Cordonia". No lie there. No lie there at all). All the 'sympathy' goes to a brother who has absolutely nothing to do with court.

She was suspected and interrogated at Lythikos. The MC has the option to be dismissive and to minimize - by labelling her "not as driven" - as Kiara literally pours her heart out about her trauma. Sample this:

(Ngl folks. Reading this was really, really triggering for me. I know exactly what it feels like to have my trauma dismissed like this. It doesn't feel great. Fuck you MC. Fuck you Drake. Fuck you TRR writers)

There are no consequences for doing this to her, btw. She still returns and she still fights at the boutique and she'll still speak very positively about you to her mother. I imagine if Joelle found out the truth of how the group really treated her daughter, she'd verbally destroy them and never support the kingdom again. And she'd be right not to.

On its own that scenario looks bad enough already, but when you hold it up next to how we treat the other ladies? Pure, stinking trash:

Madeleine: A diamond scene to console and encourage her, and all the right options are meant to support her to her parents. If you don't succeed in making her parents understand what she wants, you lose out on their support. There are consequences.

Penelope: A diamond scene to comfort and reassure her that they will not be like Madeleine. Immense coddling from the group. If you don't call her your best friend or altogether be nice and supportive to her, that negatively impacts the way Landon responds to you. AND I have heard that if her parents don't believe Penelope is safe with you, she doesn't even join the tour. There are consequences.

Kiara: No diamond scenes to even figure out how she is or what she thinks. A one-minute scene to convince (emotionally blackmail, actually) her to "do your duty", which will happen no matter which option, then a diamond option for her brother...who exists only because they want to give Penelope a reward for something I still cannot fathom. Her brother's response depends on his own issues and the presence of Penelope, and Hakim and Joelle's depend on what you do at the Festival. Kiara's situation of being an attack victim should have warranted the kind of coddling Penelope felt entitled to, yet when it comes right down to it her plight matters to literally no one.

In Lythikos no special diamond scenes for her either, just an interrogation. While we can choose to view Kiara as innocent in Chapter 11, her leaving is branded "suspicious" by both Drake and the MC by default the next chapter, and Maxwell literally says (disappointment writ large on his face) "jeez, that's one suspect off our list" after we're done. We go to her pretending to be her well-wishers, but in reality we're interrogating a traumatized woman, and not even ashamed when she trusts our untrustworthy asses with her secret.

You get the option to forget what happened to her (for which she rightfully slams you). You get the option to be a trauma-minimizing pile of steaming fecal matter (for which she doesn't slam you, even though she should). No matter what, Drake is your puppet and will agree with you, and you get away with all this. Drake stands there and minimizes her experiences with you, and shows zero remorse for putting an attack victim in that situation.

Like, it's actually quite shameful the more you think about it. Kiara was interrogated. After two traumatic experiences that at the very least should have her questioning whether we are worth her support at all. In a scenario that any fool would realise was at least scary to her if not altogether traumatizing. Madeleine and Penelope feel entitled to good treatment, Kiara has to make do with the crumbs we throw at her. She is never given a chance to speak of this as problematic, and the group never gets truly called out on their bullshit.

Even if you do pick the absolute nicest options...the fact remains that the MC, Duchess of Valtoria (and possible future Queen) and her group of influential friends, ignored the concerns a person who was badly injured at their event, pressurized her into showing support for them, didn't do jackshit to ensure her safety, suspected and questioned her when she rightfully withdrew public support, and dishonestly interrogated this traumatized woman, while still keeping the expectation that she support them. All without earning a shred of that support. They felt zero remorse, every last one of them, for putting her in that position.

Kiara not getting much attention isn't exactly a surprise. She has always been given the least focus among the ladies of the court and Book 3 wouldn't have been an exception...if they hadn't made her a victim of a terrorist attack!! Once they placed Kiara in that position, she deserved to have her concerns addressed, and addressed properly. What happened to her was a highlight of the failure of the security system at the palace and Royal Court, and to have that ignored while we had all the time in the world to address Madeleine's parents' petty family squabbles was disgusting. That there are absolutely no consequences for doing this to Kiara, while there are for not attending to Penelope or Madeleine's concerns, and it all ends with Kiara praising us to her mother, is disgusting. That the writers were more busy trying to backtrack on Driara and make the ship impossible to happen in canon, than on focusing on Kiara's own story in her own estate, is disgusting. And I cannot ignore that the latter decision sprung in a large part from the hate the fandom was spewing on Kiara for most of Book 2. The writers wouldn't have dared to do such a thing to Penelope, and it was clearly because there would be a backlash. They knew they could get away with insensitive writing for Kiara easier than they would with Penelope - and they did.

The other thing is this. Back in Books 2 and 3, loads of people in the fandom used to aggressively ship Liam and Olivia (to the point where he would be blamed for not returning her affections). Loads of people would also find excuses to hate on Kiara once she began to show she liked Drake. Nowadays, it's popular to state that "Olivia deserves better" (I'd be inclined to agree if it weren't for the way that argument is often framed. She deserves a man who loves her completely) - again, in a way that blames Liam for not returning her affections.

Yet, when people speak of Kiara's feelings being one-sided? Little to no blame for Drake there, even though he was rude or dismissive to her more than once (for me, personally, Lythikos was the last straw). Hardly a handful would say "Kiara deserves better than Drake". I can bet if Liam treated Olivia even half as poorly as Drake behaved with Kiara, we'd be bashing that man to the high heavens. I guess it's because it's Kiara who is the recipient of this kind of treatment that it matters to so few. I shouldn't be surprised.

26. Most shippable character?

Hayden xD Mostly because they're so much fun to customize, yet there's a very strong inner core there that does not change and that grounds the character.

27. Least shippable character?

I don't know. Nana?

[parniarazi]

2 0 1 9

A few days into the fresh energy of the new year, I’m still processing a lot from 2019 because it was a huge year for me. I think it’s a big missed opportunity for self-growth if you don’t take some time to reflect on your year, what it taught you, how it shaped you, and what your goals are moving into a new year. Resolutions can be cheesy and cheap, but serious self-reflection and actions towards your goals are what will move you forward.

In 2019, I got to experience a lot of things I love. I photographed one of my favorite artists, I went to 6 music festivals (including my first SXSW and EDCLV), I traveled to Vegas, Italy, Germany, France, Colorado, and Mexico (not to mention a few weekends away in the lovely Austin, Texas). I connected with many different people this year, a few of whom have stuck around to be good friends. I graduated college surrounded by the support of my amazing family, started my first semester of grad school and my first real job, and I fell even more in love with Pavel after we made the decision to move in together.

Whew. Talk about self-growth. Years like this that are filled with change are definitely among the most difficult ones I remember, but getting older is cool sometimes because I recall other similar times when I felt challenged, pushed, and even frustrated, but then ended up getting through it and life being way better on the other side. For example, when I first moved to Houston in 2016. Another similarly big transition year, 2019 didn’t come without its struggles, but those have been incredible learning moments and just as important as my highs. 

Overall though, growing up is hard. I think this is something I say often, but I really feel that in my soul. Sometimes I feel like I have a grip on adulthood, I’m now financing larger trips and travel plans for Pavel and I, I’m seeing more of the world, I’m less afraid of doing adult things alone and less afraid of the unknown general. At the same time though, so much of my identity is rooted in my youth. Young, wild, and free, you know? Nothing is better. So in many ways, feeling this slip away from me year by year as I get older and have to handle more and more of my own responsibilities really sucks. Not being able to be as carefree or have as much free time can be a challenge that comes with adulthood, but fortunately having the level of self-awareness I’ve developed, I’m also realizing that I don’t actually have to buy into that narrative anymore. Can I be a fully responsible, independent adult and still create time for myself and give myself breaks to play, dance, and rest? Absolutely. Can I be a smart, professional, respectable person while still being funny and quirky and myself? Hell yeah. Getting settled into adulthood by moving out and going through all these changes I did this year has helped me realize that my life is really my own to shape and create however I want. I’ve learned that no matter what advice others give me or see fit for me, the decisions are mine to make at the end of the day and I’m the one who has to live my life every day. As the indecisive libra I am, this was hard at first but I can literally feel myself growing into my power and that feels fucking amazing. 

Major shifts also happened in my academic/professional life that were extremely difficult to go through, but I have a feeling were a huge plunge in the right direction for me. For most of undergrad (which was only 3 years), I was committed to staying in academia to get my Ph.D. in political science and then working as a professor. This was mainly for 3 reasons — I was always good at school so I thought putting off finding a job to stay in school longer would be an easy solution, I wanted to stay in an area I excelled in and felt comfortable in, and I didn’t explore my other interests/options enough at the time. I also couldn’t see myself dressing in business clothes, working in an office or corporate-type job. Essentially, I settled for something I thought would be more comfortable, but it turned out my undergrad program had not challenged me or prepared me for this grad program at all. Instead of being comfortable, I was thrown to the wolves in classes and material I was completely unprepared for and not even interested in. Not to mention, I felt incredibly alone and isolated from my classmates because many of them were older, already had a Master’s degree, and their lives revolved completely around the department because most of them worked as TAs while being full-time students. Meanwhile, I was working outside of academics, wanted to maintain my personal life and hobbies, and simply could not keep up with the pace and demands of the program. Nor did I want to, because seeing both the Ph.D. student and professor life up and close as a grad student made me realize that’s not the life I want as a professional. Academia can be incredibly stifling of new ideas, very bureaucratic, and has cookie-cutter ways to ‘making it’ in your given field. I learned that it is not an environment where my skills and personality would flourish, and I deserve better than that. I realized it’s unfair to both myself and the people who could benefit from my skills to force myself to fit into a box I simply don’t fit into.

That doesn’t go to say I have it all figured out now because I surely don’t. In fact, I’m on a whole new journey of finding jobs and fields I’m interested in, then gaining the right experiences and connections to get those jobs. Fortunately, I saved my grad school career by advocating for myself. Last semester, I immediately realized I hated the poli sci program, started exploring other related degree options, dropped my most difficult class after midterms, and then pushed and begged my advisors to actually do something to help me do something about my situation. After exploring and talking to people a bit, I realized my skillset would be a lot more applicable for something in Communications, like Public Relations or Mass Communications. I’ve always had a mind for communication, media, and relating to others as a deep empath. With broad applications in the world, I also realized this is a degree that I can make, not one that makes me. I can apply it and use it to do anything I'm interested in — from entertainment PR and marketing, to journalism and writing, to leadership and team management. My advisors were able to transfer me into the Communications MA for this spring, even though technically I would have had to apply and start in the fall. An important consideration about leaving political science was that they had given me a full scholarship covering my tuition, but since I’ve transferred I’ll now have to figure out paying for this semester myself and then finding scholarships or other ways to pay for the next 2 years (because I’ve made it this far and I refuse to have student loans). I’m so glad I didn’t let the money stop me because I would have lost that scholarship anyway since I dropped a class and didn’t get the most impressive grades, plus no scholarship is worth suffering in something you don’t want to be in and that won’t get you where you want to be.

Aside from the whirlwind that was this last semester, I am incredibly proud of myself for getting through all these crazy changes and still managing to be my joyful and best self (at least most of the time). I had my days where I cried hard after school and work, and some dark weeks this semester, but I made still doing things that make me happy a priority. Yoga, music, travel, going to festivals, going out with friends, seeing my family, and just slowing down for self-care. Finding familiarity and comfort in these things that bring me joy, combined with support from Pavel, are what got me through my hardest times this semester. Now I feel more settled into my new life being moved out, I feel more confident and powerful because I made my own decisions, and I feel excited about this new journey and the fulfillment and abundance this new path will bring me. 

Speaking of Pavel, it’s actually unreal how seamless and perfect moving in with him has been. Of course, we are immensely privileged because we aren’t dealing with rent, bills, or even cleaning much. But nonetheless, we’ve dealt with challenging times together but just going to bed together and waking up together makes life better. He’s my best friend in every way, living with him and sharing a space together is so magical and beautiful. I feel so safe, welcomed, and open to create the space and life I want here. I feel so cared for, valued, and loved with Pavel. We work so well together, it feels effortless and deliciously perfect. He grounds me, and this space has become home so quickly because of the way he makes me feel here. Moving out has taught me so much, helped me start overcoming a lot of fear and anxiety, and just allowed me to blossom more into myself. I will be forever grateful for Pavel helping make that happen with me at this point in our lives where it was so perfectly needed. I respect and love him endlessly for being the mature, intelligent, caring, patient partner that I need in my life. 

2019 was also a year of letting go of a lot of friendships, people, and energies that no longer serve me. I realized that I am a wonderful friend who is ready to give support, love, guidance, hugs, and my whole heart to someone who is willing to give all of that back and who is deserving of receiving that from me. Even though I’m in a healthy and happy long-term relationship, I still feel myself holding space in my heart for deep friendships and connections with other people (specifically with women/feminine energy), but I haven’t been able to fill that space since moving to Texas. I miss the friendships I grew up having, and I put a lot of pressure on filling that space for a while, but I realizing forcing it gets me nowhere and a lot of people simply aren’t in a place to be able to reciprocate my energy in a meaningful way. A lot of people are really caught up in their own lives (which is totally understandable), already have other people filling the space for friendship in their lives, or simply aren’t at the level of maturity and growth that I am so they can’t connect with me on a deep level. Making close friends as an adult is way harder, people are just busier, but I really do trust that I will attract the right people and they will come into my life at the right time.

Continuing to expand and grow into my spirituality and spiritual practices by meditating, journaling, listening to podcasts, and practicing yoga has also brought me solace and internal happiness. It’s hard to describe and most people my age/similar to me are really disconnected from having their own authentic beliefs/practices because they either go with what they’re taught or dismiss it altogether. For me, having a career path I find exciting and fulfilling, a stable romantic relationship, healthy friendships, a spiritual practice, and fun hobbies are all areas of my life that I need to satisfy to feel balanced and genuinely happy. Knowing this, and after reflecting on all of these areas within the past year, I’m manifesting the following for each area in 2020, but I also know the Universe knows more than me and things may go differently for a reason (like my poli sci program not working out) so I trust that I will receive this, or something better...

☽ Career — I will get a second job/start a side hustle that will help fund my school and travels this year, I will start learning exciting new things that prepare me for a field/job I’m passionate about, I will secure an internship that pays well and allows me to practice/gain useful skills, I will get scholarships for next school year, I will feel a sense of belonging and make friends in my new program, I will continue learning and exploring different options/opportunities, and I will make connections with people who can mentor me and help me grow into starting my career.  

☽ Relationship — Pavel and I will continue to support, love, and care for each other in all aspects. Our love will continue to grow and flourish as we grow in life together. We will go on adventures that make us feel happy, excited, exhausted and refreshed. We will add to our stories and crazy experiences. We will continue treating each other with love and respect, supporting each others’ growth as individuals while also growing together in a really beautiful way. 

☽ Friendship — I will continue to grow my valuable friendships with people who are on the same wavelength as me. I will have a lot of laughs and good memories with people I care about. I will get deeper into the communities of like-minded people around me (music, yoga). I will find more friends who inspire me and actively support my creative ideas/work. I will develop deeper and more fulfilling friendships with people who reciprocate my energy, and I will extend myself in new ways by being the person I needed for others. 

☽ Spirituality — I will continue practicing meditation and yoga as much as I can. I will also continue to read one book per month and listen to one podcast per week to grow the value in my practice. I will journal and synchronize my self-growth with lunar and astrological cycles, which allows me to tap into my higher power and divine connection with the universe. I will also consider doing a YTT this summer or winter, but regardless I will find outlets to be of assistance to others and give back in this area that has been of such deep value in my life. I will practice breathing, mindfulness, and presence to feel grounded during stressful times. I will get better at protecting my energy and staying rooted in my own positive energy and affirmations (aka, not letting other people’s BS or toxic energy affect me). 

☽ Fun — I will continue going to events that surround me with good energy and good people. I will continue doing what brings me joy, allows me to move and release tension and energy, and that brings me closer with like-minded friends. I will continue to make the incredible trips and experiences I desire a reality by saving money and smart planning. I make more of an effort to bring this good energy with me into my every day by being myself and sharing my laughs and joy with the people around me. I will continue to feed my inner child, my creativity, and my natural human existence on this earth.

I have no doubt that 2020 will continue this amazing momentum and growth that I have cultivated over the past year. I am beyond blissful and grateful for the incredible year I had and all it taught me, but I’m also ready to move forward feeling more prepared, confident, and capable of making everything I can imagine a reality.