#but like what if i’m the one in the wrong and i’m just too closeminded to realize it. granted i have a lot of privilege (upper middle class

[lettuce-on-toast]

never going on pinterest comments section again that place is a hellhole

[saintheartwing]

So. Ruby Gillman.

I...watched the film. The story was cute and the animation was surprisingly well done and vibrant but I couldn’t help but feel a better film was struggling to get out, and that’s entirely based around how it handles Chelsea, the mermaid.

I’m gonna HAVE to get into spoilers, so...fair warning.

...

...

...

...

...you ready? Okay, here it is. 

Chelsea befriends Ruby and says her mom, Nerissa, years ago got killed by Ruby’s grandma over the Trident of Neptune and that this trident could, cuz of its power, be used to heal the rift between the mermaid and kraken race. Ruby, being a nice girl who’s angry with her parents for forcing her to stay hidden and thinking her grandma is too closeminded and wants her to be what SHE wants and not what Ruby wants, decides to do her new friend a solid and get her to the trident...

But the thing is, Chelsea is Nerissa in disguise. She breaks Ruby’s trust and mocks her and then tries to kill her, then tries to kill Ruby’s mom and grandma and to lay waste to their hometown to boot with the Trident. 

The idea of the film supposedly being “They should have told her the full truth, trusted her to make the right choices, and been open and honest with the people of the town who would have been willing to hear them out once they saw that krakens aren’t scary monsters everyone thinks they are”. So the bigotry against an entire race based off preconceptions is wrong.

...except when it...comes to mermaids? Cuz all mermaids are evil, evidently? 

Wait, is bigotry bad or what? You can’t make this argument people are too mean to krakens and just need to give them a chance...but oh, those mermaids, they’re all bad. Never trust them. Evvvviiiiil. Make up your mind, movie! 

It would have been so much better if we’d seen examples of mermaids NOT being evil and the grandma was just “when Nerissa was in charge they were just so awful to us and I’ve never gotten over that”, which would at least give an inkling like it’s just bad leadership that gave the mermaids leeway to be jerks and without her in charge they’re much better. Or better still have Nerissa be conflicted about what she wants to do the more time she spends with Ruby and have her feel bad about betraying Ruby’s trust, showing she’s not just scummy through and through. 

The movie really could have been far better without this ONE thing. That’s all I’ll say.

[skaylanphear]

Only Practice Makes Perfect

Summary: Reki doesn't know the first thing about kissing and after a bit of light-hearted taunting, gets the idea to practice with Langa. They're best friends, aren't they? So they should help each other out. Boy lips couldn't be that different from girl lips anyway. Langa, meanwhile, knows this isn't a good idea. Yet, if having Reki to himself is ultimately impossible, then might as well take what he can get--even if it is going to be painful in the end.

Their experimentation starts out innocently enough, but with curiosity and raging hormones at play, they might be too late by the time they go too far. 

Chapter 20

Having dropped Nanako off at work so they could take the car for the day, Langa and Reki sat parked just outside the Kyan household. Pulled up along the street, Langa sat behind the wheel, watching Reki, while Reki was visibly nervous as he stared at the familiar stone wall lining the property. The car whirred lightly around them.

"Your sister said your mom's not home," Langa reminded gently, hoping—vainly—that this fact would help ease Reki's nerves.

Though Reki didn't feel that he could return to his parents' house anymore, that didn't stop him from texting his sister. While they'd never texted much before—or so Reki had said—Koyomi had been rather "chatty" with him since last they'd seen each other. Not invasive or probing, as she generally just sent him memes and emojis, but it was something that always made Reki smile. And made it easier to find out when would be best for them to come over and get all of Reki's stuff.

Langa had assured Reki that it didn't really matter when they went, that he'd made sure they got everything whether his parents were home or not. But Reki felt better doing it at a time when no one was around, and so with Koyomi's assurance that Masae was taking the twins with her to their grandparents' house that Wednesday morning, they'd made arrangements to take Nanako's car for the day and transport all of Reki's stuff to a storage space Cherry had just beneath his office.

"I know," Reki said weakly, to Langa's previous statement. "I just feel like I'm doing something wrong, sneaking around my own…" He slumped. "It's not my home anymore."

"You're not doing anything wrong," Langa assured gently. "You have every right to your things."

"I know that! It's just…"

Reaching out, Langa placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"But I do feel guilty!" Reki said helplessly. "It's because of me that this is happening at all! And I know I can't 'help it,' but—"

"You can't think that way," Langa replied, making sure to keep his voice gentle. "This isn't happening because of you. This is happening because your parents don't want to accept who you are. You're not hurting anyone. It's their fault for being so closeminded, not yours for… loving someone."

Hand slipping from Reki's shoulder, Langa was about to replace it on the steering wheel, but then Reki reached out and grabbed it.

"I know that," he whispered, their eyes meeting. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I just feel bad, that's all."

Read More

[prof-peach]

Hey prof ! I'm a Pokemon Coordinator who's trying to win the Pokemon Contests of Hoenn. Sadly, a lot of people see the Contests as a "girl thing", but I'm a boy and I think that Contests are great ! There's people who love these (Sometimes a bit too much in my opinion 😅) and people who hate the Contests, saying it's dumb to just make Pokemon pretty. I'm between these two groups. I like Contests but I don't say that they're everything in life. How about you ? What's your opinion about Contests ?

Contests can be fun, entertaining, and also a great way for Pokemon and humans to express themselves. They take a lot of practice, and need control. If you saw a Pokemon use a hyper beam in a crowded contest hall, then you can bet your butt that trainer and Pokemon have worked hard to make sure no harm comes to anyone, precision is the name of the game in contests and it shows, one wrong move and a contest hall could go up in flames or collapse. I like to look at contests like ballet, an art form that requires intense training, good levels of fitness, and showmanship, to channel feelings though movement and performance is an incredible skill, and I promise you people out there will still look at a male ballerina and say something unkind. The whole ‘contests are a feminine thing’ line you probably hear too often is just ignorance, I would entierly ignore it and focus on your work. Peoples opinions are just that, and you can choose to just move forward. Let them stew in their bitterness, they’ll be miserable, and you’ll be happy, doing what you love with your team. The best way to block out the haters is to be happy in yourself. It can be tough, folks can be bigoted and closeminded, but this doesn’t mean you have to pass it forward. Stay strong for yourself, for your partners, don’t let other people’s opinions cloud your life choices. They’re your decisions, no one else’s, so just give it your all, I promise you you’ll be happier in the long run for it.

I personally enjoy watching contests from time to time, I like the yearly championship they televise, but I’m not exactly one for the art, got two left feet, more of a fighter than a dancer, and can suffer from stage fright when confronted with a crowd, you should have seen the bag of nerves I became in Galar with those stadium gym battles. Made me want to puke haha!

You’re entitled to joy just as much as anyone else, remember this, move forward doing what you love, don’t let it go because someone else thinks their opinion is more important than yours. You control your actions, your thoughts, your world, and when given the choice, you should always do what’s right for you and your team first and foremost. Be selfish, love your life, love your art, love your team, there’s nothing wrong with that! I cannot stress enough how much gender based iniquality boils my blood, so utterly ridiculous, it’s a Neanderthal way of thinking.

YOU DO YOU BOO!

[life-rewritten]

The Gifted Graduation: GIRL POWER!

Alright, Gifted Graduation episode 11 aired, what else to expect apart from plot twists, reveals, thrills and worries for our characters. We also got introduced to a few WOMEN this time, each one of them being so important and so useful for this show. First of all, let's return back to the way this show is written so you can get what I'm going to be writing about: it showcases a message about idealism for a better world and how this message is fought for or interpreted in different generations ( this happens when we look at how our fated pairs portray this ideology/how they fight against the system). 

The system is a set of ways and rules, and ideas about how the gifted characters are used/treated in their world. We're going to start this with the first creator of this messed up system Supot, he’s the originator of this hellish system that the gifted programme is based on. He's the one who experiments and uses and discards people according to their importance to him. This system is a metaphor for the laws/regulation, and perceptions society has had when it comes to the perceived minorities of the world. Today I'm going to focus on the voice and the importance of the women in this show, but you know what's incredible is that we also got to see that same writing and mirroring with the girls as we look through their role with the fated pairs and how they're introduced this season.  Let's begin: 

We have our fated pairs who are destined to butt heads with each other of over this theme of idealism, power, and change, but what about the girls who found themselves in the middle, or connected to our pairs: Our three/ maybe four incredible, powerful and beautiful women? This pattern is so unbelievable for me because the story and the way these three women were portrayed was also to showcase the journey of women empowerment, advocacy and equality during the four generations of this show with the gifted programme (i.e. the problematic system of the show). 

Let's look at our wonderful girls 

We have Nate; she represents the cold, closeminded, and difficult time in a policy where women were powerless and couldn't do anything for themselves. 

We have no woman with our second fated pairing, but I feel like Darin is her placeholder (she's the same age, job and the same use as Pom in this programme) which represent the disappearance and the way women were not viewed as useful in a patriarchal society when it came to changing the world.

 We have Namtan (NAMTAN my girl) who represents when women started to want to speak out; women came out as curious, excited (the same time where we begin to see someone like Pang who wants hope for the world to change, the system is starting to be viewed as wrong and it needs to crumble) 

And lastly, we have Grace, and also Adult Grace who represents what women can be now, we can be in charge of the operation, in control, more knowing, the only solution to problems and also needed. 

I think this is powerful, and I wanted people to see and know this more because this pattern is so intriguing during a show which already showcases how generations have changed and started to fight for what is good and right: equality, freedom of speech, and justice. In a world where things seem crazy, disappointing and still needs change, the growth from seeing the transformation/importance of the roles of these women as time passes is so inspiring and powerful. So here we go this is my girl power post, my break down again of why Gifted Graduation the series is incredible and the messages of this show is so relatable and needed in this year where we too are currently trying to fight for what we want all over the world. 

NATE:SILENCED, USED AND ABANDONED

Let's look at our message; idealism for change and a better world, right? The fated pair connected to Nate is Yuth and Supot. One because she is the girlfriend of  Yuth, and she is wanted and longed for by Supot who views her as his property(she's supposed to love him and be his because she fell for a fake copy of him). 

When looking at the message of the show, Supot represents the set in their way, harsh, and pessimistic view of a system that has been winning and succeeding in hurting and maiming people, and it was acceptable to do so. In the same way, Nate represents women in this sort of time where this type of system saw women as obedient, properties and objects only seen as companions to men, only seen as successful when married or when they give birth. This is the system where it was okay that women were seen as less than men, right? 

Hear me out: Look at how Nate is used in her story/time, and we even see more of the treatment in this episode: 

One we're introduced to her as Supot's companion: She's not useful, only brings food, and there to spend time with Yuth (who she thinks is Supot). 

The real Supot sees no use for her yet until it's time to use her as an experiment (his property).  

This leads to her being used, end up being hurt and discarded once Supot and Yuth don't know how to cure her. 

She's thrown away from the story, and Supot and Yuth lose focus of her to focus on the ministry. 

When I look at this, I already see Nate being used for other's benefits, hurt and broken because of being used, and also just as an object to help Supot reach his objective with the virus that he discovers. 

Plot-wise: she is only useful when she's submissive, and allows her self to be manipulated. After she gets hurt, she's thrown away from the plot, and the focus is on something else more important like the virus and the experiment. 

This is how women were used and treated in this type of generation; they were forced to be submissive because they felt like they had no choice, they were silenced and discarded once used, and no one heard the cries or screams, and they were only used only to advance men when it came to life. Their sole purpose was to be a companion to another man. I still cry for women in the past where this was okay. But Like Supot, this system in the patriarchal world was seen as the norm/ winning way. This was accepted because women didn't think they were strong or powerful enough to fight against it.

We then look at Nate's role in episode 11: still representing the same role. 

In episode 11, we find out that Nate was forced to change her identity, to go into hiding. 

One because she has no identity of her own this further proves again a time where women were just seen as objects with no personality of their own, no voice of their own, no strengths of their own.  

She was under Supots powers this whole time to do his bidding. Again she's forced to be submissive, obedient and scared. 

She tries to fight each time she wakes up from his powers, but she's too weak to do so. 

Finally, she tells Supot she will never love him or conform to him, and she is then killed. See what I mean? 

This is like the time when if women did something to rebel or try to go against the 'law' they were hurt, broken down, or silenced so they could not stand up for themselves. Society forced women for so long to stay voiceless, accept the life they were forced into and let themselves be hidden. It hurts, and that's what happened to Nate as well. In a system where things are set in their ways, where Supot views people as dispensible, voiceless, and tools. The woman who was by his side was also the same. She couldn't do anything to make a change. I think this is so painful but needed to be understood and changed. 

N/DARIN; HIDDEN, DEVALUED AND POWERLESS

This is what intrigued me when we look at Chanon and Pom's time. Their system represents when people started to question what was right or wrong but kept quiet when different rules had begun to seem too harsh when people started to make plans in secret; things were hidden in subtext, people ran underground to hide and be safe. People tried to fight for freedom and rights, but it still ended up failing. 

The interesting thing when we get to this is that there is no girl connected to Chanon and Pom, we could argue Darin since she plays the same role to them, she's the same age range, and she fits into this role as well.  

But I just saw it as N, the representation of women's voice being hidden (like Nate was after being discarded), devalued and powerless, This is the same way that Chanon and Pom feel by the end of their time; 

Women may have started to question what's happening, started wanting to change the system,

But the system ensured that people who tried to fight just got proven that they can't, that nothing will change and it'll always be that way. 

No girl is helping Chanon and Pom, because women weren't viewed as useful or significant for change. 

They weren't seen as intelligent, and their skills were undervalued and did not add anything to the system. They were missing but not for long. 

 Let's look at Darin with this same theme. Darin is also useless, we see times where she tries to make a change, to stand up for her self, to question what's right.For example trying to not hurt Supot at first, finding a cure for the kids, and with ensuring Pang says what he wants to say. 

But her refusing to listen to the minister just makes things worse. So her advice and help is useless and not significant to the story. Also, she later gets under Supot's control, she is powerless under the ministry, and she is then hidden away from the storyline. 

She is a perfect example for the girl who could have been with Chanon and Pom as she finds her self in their situation, hopeless, devalued and defeated. 

NAMTAN: INQUISITIVE, EFFECTIVE AND INTELLECT

Then we get to our show, the message/system for this time of our generation. The Gifted first started with Pang and Wave and so with PangWave duo came someone who caused a change in our pattern so far. 

We get Namtan. 

From the beginning of Gifted Season 1, she's someone who knows she's intelligent and she goes for it.

 She's curious, the person who first discovers hints and secrets to the past and she's the brains of her new friendship group with Pang and Ohm. 

She also later speaks to Wave our next person in our fated pairs, she's the person who listens to him and convinces him with Pang that he could trust and be seen. 

We are starting to see a shift with this system: the woman is needed, she's important, she has clues we need to know, she's intelligent and helps us understand things differently, she's kind and warm and helps people too.

 We finally have a badass with Namtarn, and it's a relief to see. Pang and Wave pairing represent belief, determination, and advocacy for a change.

No longer will people just accept what's wrong, but we'll fight for it too, no longer will women sit back and not be heard. Still, we'll call things out too; we'll start to fight for equality to be seen as necessary, we'll begin to want to make headways, we'll begin to follow our dreams and our intuitions, and we'll start to matter too.

The best part of episode 11 is when she shows up again. 

She's still the brains of the mission, still the heart and the person who helps Ohm understand what he has to do, 

She's always helping and being useful even when she was forced to leave.

 Women at this time may sometimes feel compelled to give in, may sometimes feel pushed to the side, but we still fight for our voices to be heard with Pang and Wave symbolising hope and the idealism for change and equality, Namtan shows up as a refreshing symbol also for that in her own trio. 

However, in her story, they were still beaten, she still struggled towards the end of season 1, and she gave in to Supot because she wasn't trusted enough by Pang to help in his plans. 

There were still times where her help was devalued, pushed away or defeated. 

So we go to the next generation and that's:

GRACE: BOSS, HEADSTRONG AND IN CONTROL

The best one ever:

She's badass, bold, and doesn't care about people trying to stop her, she gets her way no matter what (episode 1) even if she has to find a different way to do so. She won't be pushed to the side, 

But she also is caring and intuitive. 

She's a boss; she calls her own shots in episode 11, she is useful to the operation and then she becomes in charge of the process. 

She's the person needed to keep fighting, her voice and her powers are required in order to save everyone from giving up. 

Grace is us, the new hope for our world, the hope where women don't stay behind anymore or let ourselves be treated differently. She's the voice of the voiceless this episode, a problem solver, and a  jack of all trades; I always wondered why she said she was this in episode 1 to Time when they were cheating the system to allow the gifted program (her already not conforming to rules and the system for her own wants and needs), but now I get it. It's because women can be good at anything, no labels, no difference we're equal), she's strong, and she's used by no one else but her self. 

I think this is such an important and power move from this show because whilst:

Nate being controlled and manipulated under Supot.

Darin controlled and manipulated under Supot.

Namtan's memories wiped under Pom and Supot's control.

They ended up being controlled and  influenced by others. But not Grace, Grace avoids it repeatedly because  she's always saving her self because of her potential ;

She avoids being controlled by Supot with the virus

 she evades Pom's memory pause because of her future self waking her up,

And she avoids being caught by Supot in episode 11 because her future self wakes her up

And  two she doesn't let anyone tell her what to do, and three she is controlled by her own potential (a metaphor that women have a great potential to become great and amazing if given the chance to. Tap into your potential and be whoever you want to be and change the world to how you want it )

I think it's incredible the fact her powers are to do with finding her most powerful, hopeful, needed self (the future of women) to help with the mission, the fact that she doesn't get manipulated any more by Supot's trick, and the fact that Supot will be blindsided by everything she did this episode. 

It's the message of the show, no matter how much it seems like things are falling apart for whatever or whoever you are, whatever you feel you've been fighting for that society has to respect and treat right or whatever that makes you feel useless/discarded; no matter what keep fighting, keep being you, keep opening up and standing for what's right. 

This generation is born to be woke, we don't mess around, we don't let things stay the way they are, we fight, we scream, and our opinions matter. The fact that the gifted have this parallel showing the growth of self-acceptance and importance women have gone through is so incredible. So yeah girl power! This one is for all the feminists and the women who are doing their own thing, standing up for what they believe and doing what makes them happy. Don't let anyone tell you, you're not strong, beautiful and needed. You are.  

[m3r1m4r5u333]

This is basically a super long rant on gay slurs, skip it if you like. This post hasn't even got all that much to do with Nolan Patrick, I'm just tagging it because this tag is where the discussion is since recently it came up that NP tweeted a f-slur when he was a teen. Anyway this is just my experience and I do not know if this has anything at all to do with why NP used the f slur back when he was a teen.

I just feel like this is an important topic and it just may help someone understand why SOME people say the hurtful words they say and actually help realise that the people around them are not necessarily as closeminded as they seem to be even if they use gay slurs. Now, the slurs may still hurt to hear, and they may feel ignorant and cruel but I think it helps to realise that even if you hear a gay slur it doesn't automatically mean that you've entered a place that's hostile towards you, yk? Because Merlin knows that anxiety is like a duckling that thinks you're their mom.

So, usage of gay slurs! Always bad, right? All it does is hurt, right? Why would anyone use a gay slur! Enforces systemic violence, right?!

Well not necessarily, not in my experience. I'm pansexual by the way. I feel like that's relevant since the slur relates to me and there's always that "they're/we're talking about me and my people" - feeling present.

So, why have I occasionally used gay slurs even after I got out of that gay-is-bad mindset that many kids adopt in a homophobic environment? Well, BECAUSE I was and am queer. Some (okay, most) of my friends were and are queer.

"HOW COULD YOU?!!" and "then you especially should know not to!" You scream. Well here's why.

First it was the adults. They pissed me off. They didn't get it. They were trying to teach us not to use those slurs and they didn't even understand WHY that was important. All they had been taught was that f-slurs were bad because you can use them to bully others.

"But why can you use them to bully others, my dear englightened adult, my moral compass, my guide?"

And here's what they didn't tell you but you could tell thought:

"Well because being gay is just a horrible, awful thing and nobody should attempt to ruin someone's reputation by saying they're gay!!! The horror!!!" And it was pretty clear that not only were the slurs forbidden, but even the word gay was a huge taboo.

Cue teenager rebellion! Because as it turns out, many of the teens were actually way ahead of the adults and already understood why the slurs hurt. They didn't necessarily hurt because you, the gay kid, or you, a straight kid, thought gayness is awful. They hurt because the slurs were used as an attempt to exclude, to imply bad things about you.

So telling us not to use slurs basically made us use them even more. We were trying to take those words back. Show that gay is not taboo. Show that it's not a good insult because it isn't bad to be gay. Power to the people! (And you know, it has happened before. The word queer used to be super homophobic, how it's used has changed, a lot. Queers took it back, made it their own. We said you know what, I am queer and I am fine with it. And now it's way more neutral a word than it used to be.)

Anyway, for a while, everyone in my class was using f slurs, both the gayest of the gay and the straightest of the straight. Not everyone understood why and some people were using them as an insult but still, our tiny rebellion sort of worked. When someone uses a slur towards the cool jock in your class and all they do is smile and say "thanks" or ask "why are you trying to use that as an insult, it's not a bad thing."... it has certain power you know? When the cool kids in your class use the f slur as an endearment towards their friends and nobody flips their shit because it isn't really an insult? Has a certain power, you know.

Of course after a while it pandered down. Hurling slurs can actually be pretty challenging social behavior and the risk of missunderstandings and hurt feelings was still quite big. The Straights realised that it can be pretty problematic for them to use gay slurs since they are the majority, people were growing older and they were swearing less etc.

Culture changed from people using f slurs in a classroom to me and my very rainbow friends using them in private as our inside jokes. And I still think as long as you're really certain that nobody minds in your friend group, that can be fine. There will always be someone coming in who'll tell you you can't and you shouldn't but really, telling an oppressed group how they are allowed to address each other is... Blergh. Gay slurs are tricky though because gays can be ninjas and if you use them in a public place there's a chance that people just think you're a bunch of straight people trying to insult each other. So beware.

Anyway, back to story time! Sometime later, like a decade later (I'm a real adult!), I was in a group chat of people who played pokemon go. It was a very diverse group of very random people where pretty much the only common thing was that game. I knew some of the folks better, I knew there were other LGBTQ+ people besides me in the group. I doubt that The Straights knew that, we were sort of lowkey, because all we ever talked about was the game, the whole group didn't really know each other on a personal level.

In comes this tiny human (10 years old? Something like that?) complaining that another tiny human in the group called them THE F SLUR. That of course meant that instantly there were several potentially hurt parties in the drama. The kid who was bullied, all the queer folks I knew, potentially other queer people I didn't know. This time I was an adult though and it was my responsibility to calm things down. I wasn't the admin though. Now, to their credit the admin was horrified at the situation. Many other people were horrified too. In fact, almost... TOO horrified. They acted like the kid had been called a serial killer or something, the Worst Imaginable Insult ever, like the bullied child had been accused of torturing animals, setting things on fire. It felt like an overreaction to a word that in essence should not mean anything bad.

One group of people was very, very quiet. Me and my queer friends watching silently at people freaking out because THE slur had been used. Because the child had been ACCUSED of being gay. And that made me sad. And mad. And I felt conflicted.

Ended up speaking out, saying something like yeah it's not nice to use slurs but also, gayness isn't bad, so you don't need to be offended. Maybe that was a wrong reaction, I don't know. I'm not great with kids. All I know is that while people got pissed off at me for downplaying a slur and downplaying bullying, and downplaying homophobic behavior, there were some people who finally spoke up. My gay friends. Who agreed with me.

So here's my rant. Slurs are bad. But it's not black and white. Sometimes we react to them too strongly. That can, too, be offensive.

And we shouldn't be too hard on kids. Kids are little monkeys who will act and react like they've been raised to act and react.

[elbiotipo]

MANDALORIAN SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY

ALSO LONG POST

Ok so my problem with Ahsoka refusing to train Jorge Gorgu is the lack of Change for the Jedi

The old EU was full of very stupid things, but the Jedi changed through time. The Republic Jedi Order was a terrible organization, with very good people for the most part, but it was self-centered, arrogant, it was unflexible and unable to deal with new challenges or even political issues like slavery, and of course there’s the whole “kidnapping children” thing

And yes, the “fucking is inmoral” thing which no doubt let to a lot of sexual frustration, but I don’t think that’s as bad as the main thing the prohibition of “”attachment”” implies: the Jedi Order was against its core value of love and compassion. Anakin wasn’t allowed to love Padmé, of course, but he also wasn’t allowed to love his mother, or to trust into his master or his padawan. And this led to the downfall of the Jedi Order. This isn’t just me projecting btw, it’s a subtext through all the prequels and even explicitly told to us in Attack of the Clones. George Lucas practicaly hits you with a stick and tells you that the problem isn’t that Anakin Can’t Fuck you dumbass, it’s that Anakin Can’t Love.

And thus the Order falls, and the Empire rises. And when Luke comes along, Luke who loves his friends, who loves his father despite everything, who tries to see the best in people and adheres to the Jedi values of love, compassion and justice, defeats the Empire, he refounds the Jedi Order and tries to correct the errors of the past. Now, Luke’s Jedi Order in the old EU had a lot of problems (the EU in general had them) but he TRIES, OH MY GOD DOES HE TRY to do things better than the previous order. And that was the whole point, the Jedi changed, things change.

So what does this all has to do with Ahsoka and the Mandalorian?

Well the thing is that Ahsoka is an amazing character with an amazing arc. She starts as the optimistic padawan of Anakin Skywalker, one of the order’s most powerful jedi, and ends up disillusioned with the Jedi Order, but instead of falling to the Dark Side, she tries to find her own path in the Force and becomes a knight errant and leader of the rebellion, helping people through the galaxy in her own way. She is a wandering hero who has doubtlessly experienced much, walked down a lot of paths, and sees the Force beyond the dogmatic way she was taught as a child.

And what happens after 40+ years of wandering and seeking her own path when she returns in The Mandalorian? She concludes that just like Yoda said, Attachment is Bad, and you should start training Jedi as newborns or else they will be contamintated by the evil spirit of, having a family I guess. Basically parroting the same lines of the failed order she left long ago.

If she had said “I cannot train him, I’m busy with my own quest” or “I am not sure I can train anybody, but maybe someone else can help you...” (because of course, we can’t end the series just with her taking baby yoda away in the middle of the season, I understand that) it would have been bad writing but tolerable. But instead, they confirm that the closeminded dettachment they taught was right, and her own experience during all those years of exile was wrong. This is such a disrepect to the character because it erases the path she had walked through decades. It’s just bad.

But it’s also bad because it also tries to confirm that being “detached”, loveless, and rejecting family and any connections is also a core trait of the Jedi now, something that all Jedi Must Do. The fact that that lack of connections led Anakin to the Dark Side is brushed away, the fact that it was Luke’s attachment and connection what led to the ultimate defeat of the Sith is also brushed away. There is no change. It also confirms that the old Jedi were “right”, despite the narrative telling us again and again that it wasn’t the case.

So does this mean that being a Jedi is now just wearing a bathrobe, using a blue-green lightsaber and being a virgin? After all that, we return to the same thing? We haven’t seen much if anything of Luke’s Jedi Order, but the writing seems to imply that. If so, what was the point of all this, of just returning to square one and remaking the Jedi like they were before, a closed order of arrogant mystics?

(well, it doesn’t matter because according to Disney Kyle killed them all later lol... but that’s a whole other problem)

ok maybe I’m ranting too much but whatever, my point is that the entire Star Wars narrative makes it clear that the old Jedi had flaws, and that the new Jedi should avoid them. Justifying the terrible teachings of the old Jedi order is just bad writing, and is just another example of Disney trying to write the same thing again and again (see: the entire Sequel trilogy) instead of meaningful change.

[birds-punch]

Archie! Sonadow AU: Spectrum (issue 222) Part 2

“Summary: Sonic and Shadow goes out on their first public date in New Mobotropolis, but ran into some trouble while on their date.

Characters: Sonic the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog, Sally Acorn.

Pairings: Sonadow, Sonally (Past.)

Words: 1778

Warning: Implied Homophobia.

A/N: Sorry if this looks like shit compared to the first part, but I actually was typing this while having writer’s block. But I hope you all enjoy reading this

“Shadow, please chill! Let’s just go!” said a frazzled Sonic.

The blue hedgehog was currently occupied with holding back an extremely pissed off Shadow from going back into the restaurant, so he can literally skewer any of the customers and staff with a Chaos Spear.

Sonic then gently took his boyfriend’s chin into his hand, so he can make the angry hedgehog face him.

“You don’t have to get so worked up over a bunch of stupid jerks’ opinions, Shadow. I’m sure they’ll get to used to it. Please just calm down.” he said in a soft tone, before placing a slow kiss on the black hedgehog’s cheek. 

The soft smooch on his cheek and the comforting touch on his chin helped the hybrid calm down to a more controllable amount but his expression did not change, however as he simply let out an irritated “Hmph!” before folding his arms, slightly blushing.

Sonic could smile sadly at the irritated hedgehog before gently snaking his arm around his boyfriend’s waist and speaking up: “Since our dinner was a complete flop thanks to a couple of idiots, why don’t we go somewhere more private like the Lake of Rings?”

Before Shadow could respond to his boyfriend’s offer or the arm around his waist, the restaurant doors burst open and out came the same waiter and some of the customers who were part of the argument. 

“Wait! What does the rest of the Freedom Fighters think of this?”

“Yeah! Your friends should have some doubts about your new boyfriend and that you’re no longer straight!”

The blue hedgehog couldn’t help but actually growl in annoyance, their secret dates in Capital City was much more pleasing than this! 

“Look guys could you all please just...”

As Sonic was busy trying to sort out the group, by then; the GUN agent had enough of this. He may no longer have in it in himself to throw it all away and instantly murder everyone outside and in the restaurant, there has been enough inaction for one night and he would no longer stand by and listen to these...dickheaded people insulting his relationship with Sonic. Now is the time to give them a piece of his mind. 

He started to build up Chaos energy into his body as he stepped in front of his already annoyed and irritated boyfriend.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” screamed Shadow, as he lets out a Chaos Blast.

The Chaos Blast was strong enough to knock many people off their feet, but also weak enough to avoid seriously injuring anyone or damage any nearby property. The entire group went completely silent, as they all looked up in fear of a certain glowering and chaos energy glowing hedgehog who was glaring a glare that meant all hell and unspeakable pain. Sonic who was behind Shadow, didn’t get knocked off his feet, but also looked rather surprised at what his boyfriend just did.

“Now all of you listen here and very carefully! Whether Sonic is straight, bi or even gay is not any of your choices or something you can change! He may be your hero and you all possibly worship him, but he is not some kind of object, you all can shape into some kind of delusion you all have!” He shot an extremely hateful glare at the waiter, who flinched and actually looked as if he pissed himself. “And. It’s also none of your Chaos-damned business to judge my relationship with Sonic!” 

Shadow then walked over and took Sonic’s hand, “Now then, the two of us are going to continue our date even after all of you are responsible for ruining our dinner together and don’t ever show any of your presence to us again because if I hear one more word from any of you, I won’t hesitate the next time to destroy any of you so thoroughly it will be impossible to prove any of you even existed!”

The two then disappeared in a flash of light, thanks to Shadow’s Chaos Control. After the two hedgehogs had reappeared at the Lake of Rings in a huge flash of light, Sonic placed a hand on his head, still feeling a little dizzy despite the fact the two had done this before in the past.

Once the dizziness had finally passed, the blue hedgehog spoke up. “Wow, Shadow! That was so awesome how you put those stupid jerks in their place, you should be proud of yourself.” he praised. 

Shadow only stayed quiet. Looking down at the ground, hiding his features from his boyfriend. Sonic’s proud smirk faded as concern washed over his frame before gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Shadow...are you okay?”

Hearing his boyfriend’s concerned tone in his voice, made the hybrid look up at him, his expression unchanging. It actually looked like the Ultimate Lifeform was going to cry right here, right now. 

Seeing his boyfriend’s state made the blue blur’s heart break a good amount. But having known the black hedgehog very well, because of all those past special moments they both shared; he knew what he should say. 

Placing his other hand on the distressed hedgehog’s other shoulder, Sonic began talking.

“Hey Shadow, it’ll be okay I promise. I’m very proud of you for standing up to those idiots and defending our relationship. What they said back there is not true. They either are too closeminded or not used to it yet but, it doesn’t matter. Okay?”

He then placed one of his hands against the GUN agent’s cheek. Gently caressing it with his thumb. 

“Shadow, you’re the most precious guy to me, ever since that night you were there for me. I don’t even care if my parents, my friends or even the whole world is against us. All that really matters is what we have between us and nothing else. I don’t even want to imagine what it would be like without you here or letting you go.”

Just like earlier tonight, Shadow found himself completely amazed and overwhelmed by what his lover has just proclaimed to him. A huge blush filled his entire muzzle along with a growing warmth in his chest and his heart beating rapidly. He fought the urge to grasp his chest fur like the last time he felt like this when... he discovered his feelings for the blue hedgehog after the Metal Sonic Troopers. 

He then spoke up again, "But then again, I guess I could also thank Sally for slapping and breaking up with me that night too."

The look his boyfriend gave him was the definition of "What the hell, Hedgehog?". He looked like he just heard that the doctor had somehow given birth if that's even possible. Sonic only laughed at the GUN agent's predicted reaction.

"Think about it Shadow. If Sally and I never broke up in the first place, we wouldn't be here right now talking like this. It's very possible the two of us would've stayed as rivals."

Shadow let himself think over what the blue hedgehog's words. He did not want to believe it but it seemed true! If Sonic and the princess never ended their relationship together, making the blue blur run away from his friends and into the forest; the black hedgehog never would have followed his instincts and went after the Freedom Fighter. Both of them would probably would've never discovered their feelings for each other if he said "Yes." or if Shadow did discover his feelings, then it may stay one-sided forever, which is something Shadow never wants to imagine since he's been with the blue runner for several months which only felts like years to him. Even the thought of it actually made his chest feel cold and empty like that time when Sonic got lost in space for a year while everyone believed he was dead. It felt like fate or something much more, it made him realise just how lucky he is, to even have Sonic here with him despite the speedster's strong Chaos Energy that kept him from aging.

The blue hedgehog gave an expression of concern when he noticed how quiet Shadow has gotten, when he stated the fact. "Shadow, is something wrong?"

Before Sonic could speak or even react, he suddenly found himself being held around the waist and the feel of his boyfriend’s lips over his. The blue hedgehog’s eyes went wide open the moment he felt Shadow’s lips kissing him, but allowed himself to melt into the kiss and in his arms as he gently wrapped his arms around the hybrid’s neck.

After what felt like for all eternity; the two hedgehogs pulled away from the kiss. Sonic panted slightly from a lack of oxygen and the intense passionate feeling he felt from the kiss. Letting a tender smile grow across his muzzle, he then placed his forehead against Shadow’s. Besides that protective nature that the blue blur loves so much, it’s also how real and true those kisses felt. Like he can just take off and fly with the need of the Chaos Emeralds to turn into Super Sonic. He never felt this way with Sally and her kisses or with anyone else he dated.

“Feel better?” Sonic asked, which sounded nothing more than a whisper.

Shadow did not say anything except for sitting down on the grass, gently pulling his lover onto his lap. He then lets out a small “Hmph!” which didn’t have any form of irritation or annoyance and started to pet and caress the blue hedgehog. How on Mobius did he deserve someone as loving and kind as this faker? Everything that had happened in the past between them. Their first meeting, that night, the confession and the fact Sonic can never age, thanks to his strong Chaos Energy; it must all be written in fate for both of them or maybe someone of a greater existence had something to do with this. But the Ultimate Lifeform never felt more content in his life; while the first half of their night went wrong, now? This is possibly the most precious and treasured moment for him

Sonic curled up in the Ultimate Lifeform’s lap, purring loudly from the loving caress. Yeah, this is also definitely another thing he can add to the list. He and Sally had never done this together before and thanks to his strong Chaos Energy, he and Shadow have all eternity to cuddle like this. 

Out from the corner of his eye however, he noticed a blur of brown and light running away from behind some trees. The blue hedgehog did nothing but scowl from what just seen.

‘Sally...’

END...

[tanadidreamer]

Pretending

Notes: Rhys and Kayla belong to the wonderful @outcastcommander and this is a continuation of Come Back!

(((((((((()))))))))))))))

Jax’s good eye drifted open as he felt a familiar presence enter the makeshift medical tent to see Kayla moving towards him, which caused the teen to roll over onto his side with his back facing the older girl as he closed his eyes and pretend to be asleep.

“I know you’re awake, Jax.” Kayla said as she sat beside the cot. “What’s wrong? More migraines?”.

“Like you care!” Jax muttered as he glared at the tent wall. “I’m not an idiot, okay? Jordan was right, you just used me! Just like everybody else!”.

“Jax…..”.

Jax sat up and turned on her. “You abandoned me there, Kayla! For what, huh? A good meal and a warm bed? Some shiny coins?” Jax demanded as he attempted to shove her away, which just lead to him falling against her and tears brimmed his good eye.

“I…..I couldn’t be anywhere near my mother.” Kayla answered quietly as she actually hugged him as Jax noticed something off about her presence, there was somebody else here aside from Bralor, who was quietly observing from where he had been going over some paperwork. “I...It wasn’t safe, not for the….the baby.”.

“You’re……” Jax began to say. “That scary blond…..he’s the dad, isn’t he?”.

Kayla nods slightly as she rested her chin on his head. “I didn’t……”.

“You didn’t abandon me?” Jax asked quietly and hopefully as he leaned against her before something dawned on him. “W-what are we going to do? Your mama and my father both want to make you pay! What if they go after the baby to get to you? The Trues are probably going to cast us out too! What are we going to do!?”.

“Hey, shhh, shh, don’t get yourself worked up again.” Kayla muttered. “We’ll figure it out, okay? We always do, yeah?”.

“Like hell, I’ll let Jaster cast you two out.” Bralor said from his corner which startled Kayla and caused her to release Jax and shove him behind her with a snarl. “Relax, kiddo. I’m a neutral party, you two are staying where you are. Even if I have to sedate that farmboy.”.

“How much did you hear?” Kayla snapped back which caused Bralor to smile slightly. “Enough to see that you’re not entirely a coldhearted bitch, my dear.” Bralor answered as he tapped something on his datapad and walked over. “Might I ask how far along you are? What signs have you noticed so far?”.

“Morning sickness.” Kayla answered warily. “My mother was acting strange last time I saw her.”

Bralor hummed thoughtfully at that. “When was that?”.

“About eight weeks ago or so?”.

“I see, and she’s a full-blooded Cathar.” Bralor muttered as he tapped at the datapad. “I’m not going to ask about your, ah, relationship with Rhys. It’s blatantly obvious who’s the father. But I would like you to keep me posted, hybrid species such as yours are known to have various complications.”.

“Speaking from experience?”. “Ingrid Meek is a Zygerrian-Zabrak hybrid, the pregnancy was not easy on her mother at all. Izan Lok ended up losing his wife and child, he was a hybrid like you were but his wife was human, so yeah. Speaking from experience.” Bralor offered them both a soft smile. “But don’t you worry, I’m quite the miracle worker if I do say so myself. You’ll be just fine, kiddo.”.

“He’s not lying.” Jax muttered to his sister as he looked at Bralor warily and felt some weird mix of concern, fondness, and exasperation from the tired doctor. 

“Well, more like very hopeful. But you two can trust me, I did take an oath after all.”.

The two young exiles exchanged wary looks then looked towards the doctor who smiled in return.

(((())))))))

Myles quietly watched as certain warriors glared in his direction which caused him to glare right back at them, damn them and their stupid closeminded behavior. Myles knew his father had his secrets, hell, his mama had her own secrets, that’s how Clan Rau stayed on top of stuff, each member had to have their secrets to keep stuff going. Papa saw potential in Rhys for whatever reason that Myles wasn’t aware, and ancestors knew the old man had a thing with knowing stuff so what did he know about Kayla? Did he see potential in her like he did Rhys?

Then there was the Vizsla heir, that guy…..Myles had never seen somebody so terrified of anybody in his life, Vizsla was utterly convinced they were going to kill him on the spot just for being Force-sensitive.

“Rau!” Myles broke out of his thoughts as Rhys practically roared his surname, which sent a chill up his spine as the older teen moved towards him. Speaking of unexpected behavior.

“Everything alright, Rhys?” Myles asked calmly as he tried to smile at his best friend, only to wince as Rhys glared at him with cold, flat and dark eyes. “Have you lost your kriffing mind, Rau?” Rhys asked as he glared down at the shorter teen. “They’re both Death Watch! Kayla’s already proven she can’t be trusted!”.

“Kayla’s proven that there’s more to her than she seems.” Myles corrected as he raised an eyebrow at Rhys. “You didn’t seem to care what she was when you two were messing around with each other.”.

Without warning, Rhys lashed out by grabbing Myles by his collar and picked him up with ease. “You really need to learn to shut up, Myles.” Rhys snapped as he proceeds to throw Myles to the ground roughly. “Out of all the people I expected to be a Death Watch sympathizer, you’re the last person I expected to be one.”.

“What’s gotten into you? Rhys, I know you love her! And Vizsla, hell, did you see how he reacted to Jaster and Kayla?” Myles snapped back as he quickly stood and glared at the taller teen, as well as shifting his posture to dodge if need be. “He’s more scared of us than hostile!”. 

“I was an idiot to think she could actually change.”.

“How kriffing blind are you, Rhys? She has changed!” Myles pointed at him. “Are you that thickheaded not to see that you did that? She’s Death Watch born, Rhys, survival is a default setting! D’you honestly think she’d choose you over Vizsla?”.

“She….”.

“In all the time we’ve known her, I’ve never seen he that kind and gentle! Even with you!” Myles nod towards where Kaz had taken up camp. “It’s her brother, Rhys. Ancestors know I would do the same if I were in her position, I know you would too!”.

“She tried to kill Jaster!”.

“I’m not changing my mind, Rhys. I honestly don’t know what Papa saw in making you his successor if this is how you’re going to handle this!”.

“Oh, so is that why he’s missing now?”.

Myles tensed at that. “What do you mean by that?” The younger teen asked slowly.

“You heard me.” Rhys answered as he glared at Myles. “Where’s Cedric, Myles? How’d old Montross talk ya into offing your own father?”.

((((())))))

Nico scowled as he dragged Rhys away from Myles, who was being restrained by Alastair and Nina. “Get him out of here.” Nico told the preteen and teenager as he started to back up with Rhys. “Rhys, c’mon, it’s not worth it.”.

“Let go, Nico.” Rhys snapped back.

“He’s thirteen, Rhys. We both known thirteen-year-olds do stupid crud, you need to calm down.” Nico said as he continued to pull Rhys away. “I know you’re hurting but beating the hell out of Myles isn’t going to help, you’ll regret it later on.”.

“Back off, Nico. He started this!” Rhys snapped as he went to elbow Nico who dodged it and kept his grip.

“And I’m ending it, you’re the Cab’alor so start kriffing acting like it!” Nico snapped back as the younglings vanished out of sight. “I know you’re pissed off and hurt, mate, but taking it out on Myles ain’t gonna help. Hell, do you want Madam Rau to kill ya? She’s one scary bitch when she’s want to be, and hurting her kids brings that side out.”.

“Do you think I care? She’d side with me too!”.

“Would she?” Nico asked as he released Rhys and let the younger man turn on him. “Rhys, listen to yourself! That kid looks up to you as a mentor! Clan Rau does shit like this all the time, we may not agree but they always have their…..”.

Without warning, Nico was cut off by a quick, but painful sucker punch that decked him. “Y’know, for somebody who’s supposedly mute, you sure like to talk a lot.” Rhys snipped as he looked down at Nico coldly. “Hell, are you adopted or something? Every Mereel here is against this except you!”. “My uncle….”.

“He’s just making Bralor happy, you know how vicious that man can be.”.

Nico sighed as he sat up and wiped at his nose, duly noting the blood on his hand. “That better?” Nico asked as he went to pick himself up and just looked at Rhys coolly. “Because the first shot was free, next time I’ll return the favor.”.

Nico really had no problems admitting he preferred talking over fighting, but he was no pushover either. Rhys could be like this with anybody else but Nico didn’t appreciate it one bit and he glared at the younger man who snarled at him.

“Listen, I might not like Kayla being here but what about that kid, Rhys? What were we supposed to do? Hand him back over to Tor to become manda knows what?” Nico proceeds to question as he stepped away from Rhys. “So, tell me, Cab’alor, what would Cedric do? You…..”. Nico stepped to the side as Rhys went to punch him again and stook his foot out to send the asshole stumbling a couple of steps. “You really aren’t listening, are you?!” Rhys snapped back. “Kayla….” “Broke your heart and Myles was doing what his daddy would’ve wanted so you tried to beat him up.” Nico chimed in as he frowned at Rhys. “Mate, you are a strange one. The Rhys I thought I knew would’ve probably tried to help calm that kid down, understood why Kayla did what she did, but this? Who are you, Rhys?”.

“I could ask you the same, Nico.” Rhys snapped as he tackled Nico to the ground with a clash of metal and a snarl from both young men.

[annelyseg]

“Rupi Kaur’s poetry isn’t REAL poetry”: an anti-Manifesto

so, this is sloppy/unedited and i’m copying it from comments i wrote on someone’s facebook status, but EVERY time i see a “manifesto” that tries to champion some poetries as legitimate while delegitimizing others, i get so frustrated! so i am copying my comments about why, & i especially valued thinking through this here because this person clearly does not want to think of himself as an elitist (he’s not REALLY saying “x isn’t really poetry,” he just wants to make a distinction! but of course that isn’t true).

tl;dr: my manifesto is fuck manifestos and let poems be what they are.

the statement i’m responding to:

“Can we admit that a large part of what’s popular in contemporary poetry should be considered the poetic equivalent of YA fiction, thus YA poetry? [...] What I’m drawing distinctions between are poetries that function primarily at the level of emotional appeal, which often prescribe sentiment rather than inspire inquiry, hence require minimal intellectual investment, and poetries that aim to broaden language, often requiring a good amount of intellectual engagement, inquiry and seldom provide answers. I think these are two very different modalities, neither better or worse, but each appealing different readerships, albeit with some  overlap. This categorization is in no way about a lesser or greater form, rather two rather different forms of poetry, which function in ways so different that it may be more efficient to consider them different things, rather than all of it just “contemporary poetry”. my response:

why is work that you deem 'emotional/sentiment-focused' "juvenile" and "unintellectual" & work that you deem 'intellectual' is "adult"? why do you consider some modes of writing legitimate as "inquiry" & others not, and how can you actually tell the difference? what do you mean when you say "intellectual"? do you think that young adult readers are less rigorous, less intellectually engaged, or can tolerate less complexity than adult readers? if so, why? if the actual complexity of a poem is in its effect on a reader (& not like, somehow literally embedded statically in a poem in and of itself), how can you even know if someone (other than yourself) is engaging "intellectually" with any given poem? why would, for example, an "emotional" poem that you remember for years, that you carry with you, that changes your life, be a "young adult" poem, whereas an "intellectual" poem that's instantly forgettable would be an "adult" poem? can things that are entertaining or appealing on a direct emotional level—that tug on the heartstrings—be a type of "intellectual" project? if not, why not? is engaging enormous numbers of people on an emotional level not a legitimate type of inquiry? if so, why not? why is broadening language an "adult" project and making people engage deeply with their feelings is "adolescent"? why are you so readily willing to admit that the readership between these "two modalities"  ("emotional"/"intellectual") has overlap but not that the modalities themselves have super extensive overlap & that the distinction itself isn't very rigorous ("intellectual"?)? i think what you're saying is "i care about poetry that Broadens the Possibility of Language" or whatever. me too! and i totally agree with you there are a lot of venues for poetry, popular and otherwise, that don't have "broadening the language" as the central focus. and that's fine! because there is room for all of these poetries. and it's not bad to have a preference. i think it IS bad, though—elitist, and closeminded, and patronizing—to turn "i care about x, not y" into "i care about x, therefore y is juvenile." particularly when there are tons of adults—adults who are just as "intellectual," just as complex, and just as capable of "engagement and inquiry" as you are—who LOVE the poetry that you consider "juvenile."

i would love for us to admit that poetry is for everyone & that everyone can & should read whatever poetry they want to & engage with it how they want to & that, marketing/attention-economy bullshit aside, it's NO ONE's job & definitely not ours to judge what poetry "prescribes sentiment" and what poetry "inspires inquiry" (or even whether those are things poetry should do in the first place). look: i read rupi kaur (i'm guessing she's in your "sentiment" category?) and feel NOTHING, but read ashbery (i'm guessing you consider him "intellectual"?) and feel EVERYTHING. and i know that the exact opposite is true for many people! why is that? because other people are wrong and bad at feeling things? of course not. so it's obvious that this dichotomy is bullshit. i get why you are frustrated with "popular poetry"—it is frustrating! collective attention is limited and i, like everyone else, wish the stuff *i* cared about got a little more attention!—but i'm also super super frustrated that in a culture that ALREADY is so willing to call certain poets "serious" and others "fluff," a culture that ALREADY is begging us to pat ourselves on the back for being "adult" enough and "intellectual" enough to love ashbery instead of kaur, more of us aren't willing to 'admit' that we should just disregard these categories altogether. it doesn't benefit anyone, it's not actually "efficient" as you claim (what is "inefficient" about calling both abreu & kaur "contemporary poetry"????? what kind of super important efficient process is that interfering with?). all it does is make poetry less inclusive.

and i know you're probably gonna read these comments and say what you said above: that you're not creating hierarchies or saying one is "better" than the other or being snobby. but you are! and i know that you are because you're not saying "Hey, concrete poesie & the contemporary pastoral are so different——why don't we ADMIT they don't both belong under the same umbrella?" You're specifically targeting and parceling out poetry that you think is not intellectually advanced, just because YOU think that. the actually brave thing is to admit that we don’t KNOW definitively what poetry is or what it does or what it can do or who it’s for. poetry will do things that we don’t understand, that we don’t like, that we don’t agree with, and it will be so much bigger than we bargained for. that shouldn’t be a threat—it should be why we care about it in the first place.

[jennasims]

I saw the Get to Know Me Tag floating around and I wanted to try it out. It’s also been a while since I’ve made my simself! I’m not always mad but I do have a quick temper thus my face up above. Under the cut is the rest of the questions.

I was not tagged but I tag anyone that wants to do it!

RULES: Post a pic of your simself with your traits and answer the questions!

Traits: Bookworm, Hot-headed, Foodie

1. WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME? Jenna

2. WHAT IS YOUR NICKNAME? most of my nicknames in life are based off of my last name sooooo....

3. BIRTHDAY? February 5

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BOOK SERIES? I read a lot of books, mostly stand alones. I guess Hunger Games?

5. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ALIENS OR GHOSTS? yes and yes

6. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE AUTHOR? Courtney Summers

7. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE RADIO STATION? Alt Nation on xm radio, or my spotify

8. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ANYTHING? blue raspberry!!

9. WHAT WORD WOULD YOU USE OFTEN TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING GREAT OR WONDERFUL? amazing

10. WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT FAVORITE SONG? &Run by Sir Sly

11. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE WORD? I don’t think I have a favorite word! maybe zesty

12. WHAT WAS THE LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO? something off the new 21P album, can’t remember the name

13. WHAT TV SHOW WOULD YOU RECOMMEND FOR EVERYBODY TO WATCH? Gilmore Girls, Brooklyn 99, Parks & Rec, Chef’s Table, Parts Unknown w/ Anthony Bourdain (RIP)

14. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE TO WATCH WHEN YOU’RE FEELING DOWN? I like to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race when I’m feeling terrible, I don’t have the attention span for movies.

15. DO YOU PLAY VIDEO GAMES? mostly Sims, but I like Animal Crossing and Pokemon

16. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR? dying alone

17. WHAT IS YOUR BEST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? I’m really passionate about things when I want to be

18. WHAT IS YOUR WORST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? sometimes I can be distant to close family and friends

19. DO YOU LIKE CATS OR DOGS BETTER? I love both but my kitty is the best boy

20. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON? Fall, but summer in Maine is always great

21. ARE YOU IN A RELATIONSHIP? yeah with myself thank u next

22. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU MISS FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD? No responsibilities NO BILLS

23. WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND? Kat + Jess

24. WHAT IS YOUR EYE COLOR? blue

25. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR? brown with blonde streaks

26. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU LOVE? My family and my friends and my cat

27. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU TRUST? Kat

28. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN? my friends from school who I haven’t seen in ages

29. ARE YOU CURRENTLY EXCITED ABOUT/FOR SOMETHING? Christmas? trying to plan a trip for next year too so maybe that if it comes through!!

30. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST OBSESSION? Coffeeeeee

31. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW AS A CHILD? Spongebob + Rugrats

32. WHO OF THE OPPOSITE GENDER CAN YOU TELL ANYTHING TO, IF ANYONE? I don’t think I could tell any man ANYTHING right now but there are some I’ll tell a lot to.

33. ARE YOU SUPERSTITIOUS? a little bit!

34. DO YOU HAVE ANY UNUSUAL PHOBIAS? I hate rodents!!!

35. DO YOU PREFER TO BE IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA OR BEHIND IT? a little bit of both but it’s usually me behind the camera

36. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE HOBBY? reading, writing, cooking, Sims

37. WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? Where She Went by Gayle Forman

38. WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? some christmas movie on netflix I already forget what it was called

39. WHAT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? I played the flute for about two weeks in the 5th grade

40. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ANIMAL? Cats & dogs but I also love bears

41. WHAT ARE YOUR TOP 5 FAVORITE TUMBLR BLOGS THAT YOU FOLLOW? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

42. WHAT SUPERPOWER DO YOU WISH YOU HAD? to stop time

43. WHEN AND WHERE DO YOU FEEL MOST AT PEACE? On the couch or out in the woods with a bowl

44. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE? nature! good music

45. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? lol sports. sometimes I do yoga

46. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DRINK? fountain sprite or Dunks coffee

47. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A HAND-WRITTEN LETTER OR NOTE TO SOMEBODY? today! I sent my friend a gift in the mail

48. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? a little bit

49. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? impolite and closeminded people

50. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO A CONCERT? [pasdfiosjfkjlasdk yeah I’ve been to a TON because I’m a concert junkie

51. ARE YOU VEGAN/VEGETARIAN? nah

52. WHEN YOU WERE LITTLE, WHAT DID YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GREW UP? A teacher/a journalist/an actress

53. WHAT FICTIONAL WORLD WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE IN? maybe Hogwarts?

54. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU WORRY ABOUT? losing someone very important to me, being unable to pay my bills

55. ARE YOU SCARED OF THE DARK? only like, PITCH BLACK dark

56. DO YOU LIKE TO SING? I love singing along but I think I’m terrible

57. HAVE YOU EVER SKIPPED SCHOOL? not in HS but lots in college to smoke weed on the beach

58. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE ON THE PLANET? the beach!!! I love love love the water

59. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE? I like where I am now a lot

60. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? a kitty cat named Poe

61. ARE YOU MORE OF AN EARLY BIRD OR A NIGHT OWL? a night owl, I’m up way too late for my own good

62. DO YOU LIKE SUNRISES OR SUNSETS BETTER? Sunsets

63. DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DRIVE? yes

64. DO YOU PREFER EARBUDS OR HEADPHONES? headphones 

65. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES? yes

66. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC? I like pretty much everything but rap/country

67. WHO IS YOUR HERO? my mom

68. DO YOU READ COMIC BOOKS? not really

69. WHAT MAKES YOU THE MOST ANGRY? lol my road rage is real

70. DO YOU PREFER TO READ ON AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE OR WITH A REAL BOOK? mostly real books but don’t mind electronic devices

71. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? History & English

72. DO YOU HAVE ANY SIBLINGS? older brother + older sister

73. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT? coffee

74. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5′3″

75. CAN YOU COOK? yes I love to cook

76. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU LOVE? laughing, listening to others, adventures

77. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU HATE? confrontation when it doesn’t involve me, emotions, stupid heads

78. DO YOU HAVE MORE FEMALE FRIENDS OR MORE MALE FRIENDS? even mix I’d say

79. WHAT IS YOUR SEXUAL ORIENTATION? straight

80. WHERE DO YOU CURRENTLY LIVE? Maine

81. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TEXTED? my friend

82. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? on Monday lol

83. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE YOUTUBER? like a lot of Youtubers tbh

84. DO YOU LIKE TO TAKE SELFIES? every once in a while

85. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE APP? Instagram

86. WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR PARENT(S) LIKE? I love them both and they love me! sometimes my mom and I butt heads but we’re just both really headstrong lol

87. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOREIGN ACCENT? British & New Zealand

88. WHAT IS A PLACE THAT YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO, BUT YOU WANT TO VISIT? Sweden 

89. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 5

90. CAN YOU JUGGLE? nope

91. ARE YOU RELIGIOUS? not really

92. DO YOU FIND OUTER SPACE OF THE DEEP OCEAN TO BE MORE INTERESTING? deep ocean!! 

93. DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF TO BE A DAREDEVIL? sometimes

94. ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO ANYTHING? nope

95. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? yes

96. CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR EARS? nope

97. HOW OFTEN DO YOU ADMIT THAT YOU WERE WRONG ABOUT SOMETHING? ahahahaha every once in a while I guess

98. DO YOU PREFER THE FOREST OR THE BEACH? beach!!

99. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIECE OF ADVICE THAT ANYONE HAS EVER GIVEN YOU? control what you can // confront what you can’t // always remember how lucky you are to have yourself

100. ARE YOU A GOOD LIAR? yes with small lies

101. WHAT IS YOUR HOGWARTS HOUSE? Ravenclaw

102. DO YOU TALK TO YOURSELF? all the timeeee

103. ARE YOU AN INTROVERT OR AN EXTROVERT? depends on the day

104. DO YOU KEEP A JOURNAL/DIARY? I try to keep one but it never works

105. DO YOU BELIEVE IN SECOND CHANCES? depends on the circumstance

106. IF YOU FOUND A WALLET FULL OF MONEY ON THE GROUND, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? Return it to the owner (if I can find the address & it isn’t too far) otherwise bring it to the police station

107. DO YOU BELIEVE THAT PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF CHANGE? Yes, but not always.

108. ARE YOU TICKLISH? verrrry

109. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A PLANE? yes I love to fly I wish I did it more

110. DO YOU HAVE ANY PIERCINGS? just my ears

111. WHAT FICTIONAL CHARACTER DO YOU WISH WAS REAL? meh

112. DO YOU HAVE ANY TATTOOS? yes “(un)lost” on my wrist

113. WHAT IS THE BEST DECISION THAT YOU’VE MADE IN YOUR LIFE SO FAR? move to Maine by myself

114. DO YOU BELIEVE IN KARMA? yes she’s a bitch

115. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES OR CONTACTS? nope

116. DO YOU WANT CHILDREN? maybe someday! too early in my life to tell

117. WHO IS THE SMARTEST PERSON YOU KNOW? my older brother

118. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING MEMORY? god why ask

119. HAVE YOU EVER PULLED AN ALL-NIGHTER? yes many times

120. WHAT COLOR ARE MOST OF YOU CLOTHES? Dark blue/gray/black

121. DO YOU LIKE ADVENTURES? YES!!

122. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON TV? yeah! I was on the Today Show when I was 10 

123. HOW OLD ARE YOU? 23

124. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE QUOTE? always be your own sunshine

125. DO YOU PREFER SWEET OR SAVORY FOODS? i’ve got a lethal sweet tooth

[witchcastors]

How do you cope with the fact that you can see what other people can't... I mean I get grounded if I even mention to my mom I saw something so I grew up feeling like being able to see is bad ability... like it makes me bad. Just the other day I have a situation with a friend of mine and he wants to ask me more about it... but it makes me uncomfortable. I wanna be able to talk about it like you do on your blog.

Oh, hunny…I’m so sorry; I sympathize with you immensely. 

I grew up in a house that wasn’t particularly religious, but my mom is. Things on my dad’s side is…estranged. And I can remember, quite vividly, getting in severe trouble when one of my spirit journals was found. My mom, however, wasn’t so much as harsh as she was scared–she was/is more worried about my soul than anything, she (and the rest of my mom’s side) can’t really seem to understand my point of view at all. Half of them don’t even try to, (my mom, aunt, gma being the three exceptions)

I grew up thinking I was crazy, battled a lot of depression/anxiety, paranoia, etc, it was awful, and I’m so sorry you’ve got to experience this as well. I became very secretive, defensive, (I still snap at my mom and will cry any time she asks a mundane personal question–because I’m terrified of being judged. It’s not so much a huge deal anymore, but years of keeping parts of me hidden has taken an obvious toll–I shut everyone in my family out on anything personal in my life, I don’t recommend)

As for coping, I don’t do it very well. I’ve got an explosive defensive side, and I can be very secretive and paranoid about things; but I’ve been working on it. It takes awhile to find a few good hearted people you can trust with your soul, and it’s important not to let walls build up. I’ve taken a lot of therapy to get to this point, (it’s comical, my therapist once said “can you believe you’ve been coming to me for over 8 months and I still don’t know anything about you?”–it takes a lot for me. I think the reason I’m so open here is because my blog’s main purpose is to be helpful to others who are in the same craft field/those who are beginners or are curious. Oh! And another thing, my craft, when I finally embraced it, did wonders. Particularly, my deities. Hecate helped me feel more empowered, more confident. And I decided I wanted to help others. Nothing makes me happier than being a witchy mama/mentor/friend. I’ve been able to witness and help quite a large number now of witchy babes realize/start their paths, and it’s easier to be yourself around like-minded individuals. I feel much less judged in this community then anywhere else.

As for your mother…this just breaks my heart. I understand the unknown can be scary, and most of the time it’s just ignorance and closeminded-ness that leads to the intense reactions to the witch/spirit communities. But I can say for a fact that there’s nothing wrong with you, and you’re certainly not bad. You’ve got an ability, and that’s a neutral thing. How you use it is up to you, it can be super helpful and a very powerful thing, but it’s not innately negative, and I’m sorry you’re mother can’t seem to grasp it. I hope with time, like my mother, she’ll come around. Until then, you might have to simply not include her in it. Not that you ever have to, technically, it’s your body and it’s none of her business how you use it (obviously if you’re a harm to yourself or others, that’s a different story–please make sure you protect yourself and do research before diving too far into spirit work)

It’s not a bad thing, hunny. You’re not bad for this. You should try to help your friend, if you feel ready (if not you can message me for help if you need it!). You should be happy and proud of who you are, you’re lovely and gifted and there’s nothing to be ashamed of, I promise. I hope you can find a way to experience your ability in a safe manner, and that you’ll be able to experiment and find your path in your own way, without anyone else bogging you down! And you’re more than welcome to keep me and my followers updated with your progress, I’d be excited to be apart of it!!

[imaginethedragon]

No one really tagged me, but this looks like fun. I’m gonna do it for a bunch of my OCs. I’ll add commentary on some too. I’ve bolded the stuff that is particularly true

rules: take this test for your muse and post the results.

Lily Mahariel (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Warmth: 38% cold, selfish (she’s more chaotic good than cold/selfish, though she definitely has her moments) Intellect: 46% instinctive, unstable /  cerebral, analytical (yeah she definitely flies by the seat of her pants) Emotional Stability: 66% level headed, calm (not really calm…) Aggressiveness: 86% controlling, tough Liveliness: 90% wild, fun loving Dutifulness: 30% untraditional, rebellious Social Assertiveness: 90% uninhibited, bold Sensitivity: 18% coarse, tough Paranoia: 54% trusting, easy going / wary, suspicious (she’s easy going, but trusts VERY few people) Abstractness: 74% strange, imaginative Introversion: 14% open, friendly Anxiety: 10% confident, self assured Open mindedness: 82% curious, exploratory Independence: 22% outgoing, social Perfectionism: 14% disorganized, messy Tension: 22% relaxed, cool

Issala Adaar (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Warmth: 54%  cold, selfish / supportive, comforting (if she considers you a friend, she’s comforting. in public hover, people see her as an ice queen) Intellect: 46%  instinctive, unstable / cerebral, analytical (in the heat of the moment, she’s instinctive; but as soon as she’s alone, she’s extremely analytical) Emotional Stability: 42%  irritable, moody  Aggressiveness: 46%  modest, docile / controlling, tough (in public, controling/tough. in private, she’s pretty docile *wink wink*) Liveliness: 26%  somber, restrained Dutifulness: 54%  untraditional, rebellious / conforming, traditional (… i mean… she can’t stand the qun, but she tries to live up to what is expected of her as inquisitor..? not sure what happened here) Social Assertiveness: 14%  shy, withdrawn (she’ll speak up if she feels the need, but will otherwise quietly observe) Sensitivity: 74%  touchy, soft (not really, just very very very private) Paranoia: 90%  wary, suspicious (OH YEAH) Abstractness: 38% practical, regular Introversion: 82%  private, quiet Anxiety: 74% fearful, self-doubting (fearful in the sense that SHE DOUBTS HERSELF AND SHE THINKS SHE’S MADE THE WRONG DECISIONS) Open mindedness: 58% curious, exploratory (i guess? she doesn’t force her way of seeing life onto anyone else, but she also doesn’t stick her nose where she thinks it doesn’t belong) Independence: 58% loner, craves solitude (not really. she loves low-key hangouts with her close friends but it takes a lot for her to make those friends) Perfectionism: 74% orderly, thorough  Tension: 70% stressed, unsatisfied

Rose Damiani (Fallout 4)

Warmth: 10% cold, selfish Intellect: 50% instinctive, unstable / cerebral, analytical (in the commonwealth, she pretty much runs on instinct, but in my modern au for her she’s pretty analytical… i guess that’s why this is fifty/fifty) Emotional Stability: 66% level headed, calm Aggressiveness: 90% controlling, tough (no matter what universe, this is true) Liveliness: 90% wild, fun loving Dutifulness: 10% untraditional, rebellious Social Assertiveness:66% uninhibited, bold Sensitivity: 22% coarse, tough Paranoia: 82% wary, suspicious Abstractness: 14% practical, regular Introversion: 90% private, quiet (she’s loud and brash, but somehow people hardly know anything about her) Anxiety: 14% confident, self assured Open mindedness: 50% closeminded, set-in-ways / curious, exploratory (she is stubborn and willful and hard to change, but she wants to see all life has to offer) Independence: 50% outgoing, social / loner, craves solitude (no clue what happened here. maybe the whole ‘loud and outgoing but no one knows anything about her personally’ thing messed this one up?) Perfectionism: 46% disorganized, messy / orderly, thorough (my hot mess bby) Tension: 58% stressed, unsatisfied (very stressed 80% of the time, but hides it well)

Eve (XMen)

Warmth: 10% cold, selfish (she couldn’t survive if she wasn’t... or at least she sees it that way) Intellect: 90% cerebral, analytical (my smart bby) Emotional Stability: 14% irritable, moody Aggressiveness: 66% controlling, tough (do not fuck with her) Liveliness: 38% somber, restrained Dutifulness: 10% untraditional, rebellious (in the “fuck the government I’m gonna burn it all down and start from scratch” sort of way) Social Assertiveness: 10% shy, withdrawn (not shy, just avoids drawing attention to herself as a survival tactic) Sensitivity: 26% coarse, tough Paranoia: 90% wary, suspicious (again, a survival tactic) Abstractness: 10% practical, regular (she doesn’t have time for dreams and desires) Introversion: 90% private, quiet (no one knows ANYTHING about her) Anxiety: 30% confident, self assured Open mindedness: 26% closeminded, set-in-ways Independence: 90% loner, craves solitude (she definitely doesn’t believe in safety in numbers. She only truly trusts herself) Perfectionism: 58% orderly, thorough Tension: 74% stressed, unsatisfied

[heartwielded]

i would like to know more about cecil's mental state actually,,, like he seems p chill but i know you've mentioned that him breaking down is bad™ (i think) so i wanted to know more about what really goes on and how he things about things/how that reflects on the outside and how he speaks/deals with other people 'o'

ooooo,  alright !!  well,  i am actually really hesitant when it comes to assigning any  mental illnesses  to cecil,  because i don’t think i know enough about any nor have the experience ( first hand or second hand ) to comfortably and accurately portray a mental illness.  however !  i would love to tell you more about cecil’s thought process !  especially about himself,  since that’s mostly where the fault is at.

HEADCANON #034:CECIL’S MENTAL STATE

his  chillness  actually has 2 causes:  1.  he bottles everything up & is in constant denial,  2.  i am actually really nervous to write about cecil’s emotional instability outside of headcanons ?  i just !  aaaa i  want to,  because this is also a part of cecil’s personality and i feel like i’m not doing him justice by not including it,  but i’m.  so nervous.  weak.  i don’t even know why.

so basically,  what it really comes down to with cecil is that he is  convinced  that he is a bad person.  straight up bad,  for how he used to live,  for his parents’ occupation,  for sharing their closeminded views and opinions.  it doesn’t matter that he  changed,  because the thoughts & views were still there at some point.  he still lived the way he did &  enjoyed  it.  he is still the son of two brokers.  he won’t ever really be anything else.

for example,  the death of cecil’s parents affected him  really badly.  but he  it shouldn’t have.  they were bad people,  he was never even all that close with them,  he shouldn’t be so upset and affected.  yet he is.  to this day,  their deaths still affect cecil negatively.  similarly,  cecil still finds comfort in things that remind him of home.  but his home & his life were no good,  so he shouldn’t be comforted by these things.  it just confirms to him that he is indeed  terrible,  but he cannot stop.  he doesn’t  want  these things to stop comforting him or stop reminding him of his home.

in addition to this,  cecil is actually quite the useless exorcist.  he is  frightened  by akuma and noah,  he is not particularly strong  ( actually,  he is quite weak ;  cecil is incapable of killing a level 3 on his own )  and he  hates  fighting.  all he wants to do when facing his enemy is run,  surrender,  give up.  cecil would be capable of  ‘ pulling a suman dark ’.

so really,  cecil is a  bad person,  he is weak and easily frightened and just straight up  useless.

he is a  wimp.

but no one can ever know.

he is not  allowed  to feel this way or to express these feelings,  he is an  exorcist  so he is supposed to be strong,  capable of bearing the burden,  of fighting this war.  he is not allowed to be weak. 

he can’t  admit  that he is a bad person because he doesn’t  want to be.  if he admits to others that he is no good,  then he will have to admit it to himself to and then it becomes definite.

so what he does instead is  help people.  offer anyone his aid,  look after people,  put their needs before his own,  because  that is not something a bad person would do,  is it ?  he does it not just because he wants everyone to be okay,  but also to  prove himself.

that is also where the denial comes in play.  he goes through great lengths to deny his useless,  not just to others but to himself too,  to the point where he puts himself at risk.  cecil is super stubborn.  if someone says he is  scared  or  weak,  naturally he has to prove he is not  ( eg. refuse to admit he is scared of someone to the point where a blade is pressed to his neck ).

similarly,  he pushes himself far too much,  sets unrealistic goals for himself and then gets mad and upset when he cannot reach them.

he blames himself for  anything  that goes wrong,  even if it isn’t his fault,  because it would be  easier  if it was his fault ;  he is already a bad person,  if he just takes the blame,  no one else has to become tainted.  he puts all this pressure on himself and expects himself to be able to bear it,  but he can’t.  he is  not strong enough.

which really only makes it worse,  because he cannot break out of this endless loop and it only gets  worse  and  worse  and  worse  but he can never express it,  he can never break because then he will prove  everyone  who ever told him he couldn’t do it right,  and he  doesn’t want them to be right.

even if they are.

he would rather lie to himself & everyone else than  admit they were right.

to be honest though,  cecil  really  doesn’t give himself enough credit.

but that is a story for another day aha

[we-live-in-a--society]

Cola de Golondrina

Funerals are weird.

And more or less, grandpa has been acting weird the whole afternoon.

In one hand it is totally understandable, since his wife is dead and her burial was just a few hours ago, but there is something else about his behavior, something odd, something that truly concerns her. During the ceremony itself, she got the impression as if he was not accompanying them, as if he was somewhere far, far away, lost in his own thoughts – his body ever present but soul – right the opposite.

When it comes to her grandpa, he is an incredibly stern, ambitious person, living according to the set of rules made up by whoever was fucked up enough to create anything of that sort, according to the needs of whoever was fucked up enough to actually follow them. His smile is one of the rarest sights ever encountered, not because of the dental aspect, but because he rarely feels like it is necessary, to flash anything more than a bitter smirk, since ‘it may ruin his image’.

Aside from that, he always wears a suit, but not the basic kind, only the expensive, fancy one. She literally never got a chance to see him in a different kind of clothing, which only adds something more professional to his exterior as if he was not professional enough, as if the neatly slicked-back hair, surprisingly thick considering his seventy years, was not enough.

But when is it ever enough for such an overachiever her grandpa is?

In all honesty, she has never viewed him as a typical kind of grandpa – the one who would read stories to his grandkids, who would build them a treehouse, who would go fishing with his neighbors. No, he was far from it. But instead of that, he is renown from his work skills, the way he always cracks any case – at least according to what he tells others, but it does not seem to lay too far from the truth. Otherwise people would not be hiring him for such ridiculously high amounts of money.

“You loved her, didn’t you?” She asks softly, enlacing their arms together, as they mindlessly stare at the marble gravestone. “I mean, I guess I can’t imagine how it feels, to lose someone you spent so many years with. Maybe you should at least consider taking a break from work.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, child. The defendants won’t guilt themselves,” he huffs, already getting impatient. How can she be so short-sighted? Ah yes, youth defines itself by the very unique set of principles, not that he understands them anymore. It seems like he is well-aware of their existence, but not really to the point where he knows what they truly mean, beyond that.

“But-”

“And grieve is a waste of time,” he states with a careless brow raise.

“So you are just planning to move on, forgetting that it ever happened at all?” She questions again. “If you really loved her, I feel like you should sort of, I don’t know, think of it as a tribute.”

“If I really loved her,” he snorts mockingly. “Think of it as a tribute.”

“Jeez, give me a break,” she sighs, clearly getting fed up with his bitter attitude. “Why do you always have to be such a jerk about everything?”

“Because being a jerk gets you further than being a non-jerk.”

“So what?” She dwells on further. “You’re trying to say you never loved her?”

“In fact, this is true. I don’t think I ever loved her,” he avows bitterly, catching her out of guard for more than a brief moment. “Don’t look so surprised. She was a good woman, my best friend actually, but I never loved her. Why should I?”

“Because you were married to her?” She implies sarcastically.

“Darling,” he flashes her a pitiful, patronizing smile that she hates more than anything. “It’s not that simple.”

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, starting to regret even bringing up the subject in the first place. “Were you ever in love with anyone then?”

Her question is followed by a few minutes of perfect silence with only a few birds chanting in the distance, and when it occurs to her how unlikely it is to gain such an answer from him, he speaks again.

“I think that maybe, just maybe, I was in love once.”

She gasps as soon as she hears his unforeseen confession, her eyes igniting with that kind of childish excitement that infuriates him more than anything.

“What happened?”

He chuckles bitterly at the foolish question. How come a girl her age cannot figure it out on her own truly lays beyond his understanding.

“I wasted my chance, that’s what happened.”

* * *

The scent of freshly made coffee stirred within his nostrils, enveloping him pleasantly, at least as pleasantly as it could, considering the fact that it is six in the morning.

Although he would be lying, if he said he never liked to get up early for work, he indeed has never been able to find the process itself appealing, but has always considered it as the essential part of the play – some sort of a compromise he is forced to lean into, if he wants to drive to his love of beloved law firm.

Since he was a kid, he has had the need to possess, to earn money and buy the things that create his flawless image, that make him appear as a certain kind of man in the eyes of others. He will never admit it, but he spends enormous amounts of money on all these tailor-made suits, at least according to Jane, but it is not like he cannot afford them. He has too much money anyway, and nothing fancy to spend it on, nothing fancy except for the suits – nothing too quirky, just an attempt to look more like a well-dressed lawyer than a badly-dressed lawyer.

“Chester invited me to dinner tonight,” he announces between the two cautious sips of coffee. “Would you like to come with me?”

“You know we’re not very fond of each other,” she smiles apologetically. “I don’t like him, I really don’t. I’m sorry, darling.”

“It’s an important meeting,” he adds, although he knows that in this case even reasoning will get him nowhere.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” she apologizes once more – a slightly annoying habit of hers, but he is well aware of the fact that it comes from the need to make others feel better, even if she refuses, and to suppress any discomfort the act causes.

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, although he knows it will not stifle her guilt.

Because the guilt has to stifle itself.

“I’ll just go alone then,” he reassures with a forced smile plastered to his lips. Maybe her absence will only turn out for the better, since she will not have to listen to Chester’s remarks all evening. “Don’t expect me till late.”

Before she gets a chance to apologize once more, he gets up, desperate to avoid any more excuses. He kisses her cheek as he goes and leaves the empty cup in the sink – his last attempts to remain a decent husband.

“Have a nice day, darling,” he greets from the hall, not really paying attention to her response, already deep in his thoughts about the job.

And has he ever loved his job…

As far as he can remember, he has treated the law firm as a prove that he falls into the category created for successful men, successful enough to maintain their prestige titles throughout the years. He takes pride in that, in the fact that he is still the best, renown due to his experience and professionalism, renown due to his hard work.

Little he knows, today’s car ride is meant to lead him towards an inevitable end.

His inevitable end.

But he is yet to realize that.

* * *

Candice moans softly as the late morning sunlight tickles her closed eyelids as if trying to force them open, to force her to greet the brand new day.

As if she even wanted to do that.

There is no such thing that she hates more than getting up in the mornings. Or maybe she hates her father more, even though she is hesitant whether he is supposed to be classified as a thing, or is it supposed to be any of her concern where he fits in the end?

It probably shouldn’t, she thinks as she carefully untangles the man’s arm from around her waist, getting up as quietly and as quickly as she can, setting the former one as her top priority for now. She collects her clothes, deciding to ditch the panties, since he will probably keep them for whatever reasons, and she does not have time to dwell upon where to find her lingerie. Also, it will not be considered as the worst thing that has ever happened to her – a twenty minute long car ride without underwear – she managed much worse before.

The tsk sound coming from behind makes her flinch, immediately reshuffling the Order of Greater Importance – quick above quiet.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Fuck.

“Wherever that isn’t here,” she back talks smoothly, topping it with a bitter smile. “And I’d much appreciate if you let me out. I’m running late.”

“Don’t you think it’s kind of rude to leave like this?” He questions, raising a single judging eyebrow at her.

Well, seems like he is one of those guys.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of illegal to keep people in the place of your choice against their own will?” She mocks, silently hoping it would be enough to break him.

“Unless they’re together as a couple,” he shrugs, feeling beyond ludicrous to be forced to explain such an obvious thing to her. If her level of stupidity is really that high, then maybe he should break up with her?

“I don’t think so, honey,” she brushes off his reasoning, too poor to be even considered as such. “Now let me out.”

“Is it your way to break up with me?” He frowns, truly puzzled with her changing attitudes. His father used to warn him about women – they are sly and sinful creatures that lead good and decent men on the wrong path.

“Take it however you want,” she rolls her eyes dismissively, somehow amazed with how closeminded a man can be, and somehow amazed with how she could even find him attractive last night. Maybe the reason was tequila, or whatever she decided to drink, since it probably was not just the tequila. “But let me out.”

* * *

The bitter taste of a cold coffee settles upon his tongue, the clearest evidence of her unhuman incompetence. How had she even managed to cool down his coffee before it was served on the desk? Had she been waiting until the beverage’s temperature fell to serve it? Is it how she spends her working hours every day – cooling down his coffee? To be honest, the positive answer would not be much of a surprise.

His secretary is the most useless person he has ever met. Sometimes he wonders whether she is aware of her existence that reaches beyond the critical point of her polished nails, or whether the critical point of her polished nails is equal with the critical point of her existence.

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” He exclaims in disbelief, after almost spitting the contents of his mouth back into the cup. “It’s fucking salty! The coffee is fucking salty! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You added fucking salt to my fucking coffee!”

“I’m sorry sir,” she adverts her gaze, bashfully eyeing her bubblegum nails.

“I bet you are,” he nods with a mocking smile enlightening his handsome but cold features. “Now tell me, what do they teach you wherever the fuck they make secretaries like you? To salt my fucking coffee? That has to be the second most disrespectful thing that has ever happened to me, since the first was recruiting you as an employee.”

“Sir I-” she tries interrupting him, but her effort remains unnoticed by him, lost in his own rage, rage caused by a single cup of salted coffee.

“To be honest I pity your parents, I pity them to have such a failure of a child. I mean, I would’ve fucking slit my throat open, if I were them-”

“There’s no need to get personal,” she interrupts once more, this time successfully as if to remain the world’s ever present rule of balance.

“There is, because you salted my fucking coffee,” he rubs his aching temples – a gesture she has seen him perform more than once during any heated argument with a client. “You know what, I fire you! I fucking fire you, and I want you to be gone in fifteen minutes, I don’t care how, I don’t care where you go, just get out of my fucking sight.”

“You’re the worst boss I’ve ever had!” She fusses childishly, much to his amusement.

“Probably the only one who made the mistake of hiring you,” he tops his speech with another bitter remark, silently hoping she will leave without throwing a tantrum, since his head is truly killing him.

My God, he really is getting too old for this.

* * *

“You need to get your shit together,” she sighs, her gaze fixated on the brownie crumbs for a few seconds. “I mean it, Madelaine. How long do you think you can keep doing this?”

“As long as necessary,” she sighs, combing the tickling strands out of her face in a nervous manner. “I was working so hard to get this job, and I won’t be able to pay the bills if I drop out.”

“You have any leftover respect for yourself?” Candice shakes her head in disbelief. “Why you let him treat you like this?”

“Why are you so rude when it comes to him? He’s your father. You should be grateful for what he does, and all you do is talking behind his back.”

“So I’m not allowed to tell the truth about my family members just because we’re fucking related?” she raises her voice, just enough to make the woman in front of her tense but not enough to attract anyone else’s attention yet. Despite the morning situation and all of the past ones, she still remains somehow amazed with how closeminded a person can be.

“Sometimes I wonder if you do this just to make me drop out and take my place,” she sighs carelessly on the surface, but aiming for another drama deep down. If she was honest, she would admit Madelaine is willing to do anything to cause a good drama as if it made a proper substitute for food in her case.

“What-the-fuck-ever, Madelaine,” she shrugs, not wanting to give her even the slightest taste of satisfaction. “Seems like you’re qualified enough to make your own stupid decisions.”

“Excuse me?” She exclaims with a slight raise of her perfectly tweezed eyebrows. Of course, Chester’s secretary has to keep a flawless appearance.

“You heard me, so I don’t think there’s a need to repeat myself,” she huffs, another bitter smirk already threatening to mark her reddish lips. “By the way, I also happen to wonder sometimes. I wonder if you’re trying to befriend me in order to keep your job.”

“Of course not,” she chuckles nervously as if her previous words have not given the game anyway. “I’m sorry, Candy.

(don’t fucking call me Candy)                                                        

I know I might seem rude sometimes, but I’m just trying to be honest with you. You know, like friends are, and… I’m just so, so sorry, I really am.”

As she speaks, Candice can only sigh helplessly, grazing at her with pity, before asking one last question – the one that is supposed to make her wonder.

“Are you familiar with the term of a golden cage?”

* * *

Slowly, maybe even hesitantly, the man untangles a simple red tie from around his neck, lying it on the pearly bathroom stall. For a moment he is mesmerized by the way it reflects the fluorescent light, its cool tone illuminating his cheekbones, giving him the sinister look he often obtains in this particular gleam.

Douglas can be classified as the lucky bearer of this particular kind of cold charm, the one that allowed him to attract some of the college girls since the broadcast of An Evening with Fred Astaire. What a stupid fucking show, he used to think, but since he learned how much Jane loves it he somehow found the will to tolerate it as the essential part of his married life. Although it used to be the last thing occupying his mind back then – if the show was stupid or bearable – throughout his college years he also learned that a lot of things change when you form any kind of relationship with someone.

There are days when he really misses college, and today seems to fall into the catalog created especially for all of these days. He was the Man back then, not the Lawyer Man, but just the Man and sometimes he feels like he went back in the terms of self-improvement, instead of forward like he is supposed to, by adding the L-title. Now he is the Lawyer Man but also the Lawyer Man amongst other Lawyer Men, and back then he was the Man of His Campus, although at some levels he had to share this title. It seemed like he reached the end of eternity, the point where our reality curves so much that it feels like you stand in the final point of your life, the point where you are immune to any charms expect for the Suspension and the Expulsion.

But what is the threat of a flimsy suspension and a pathetic expulsion for the young, ambitious, and soon-to-be-a-lawyer man?

As much as the concept of Roman Law for any secretary he has ever employed.

One day he realized that it was not the final point of his life, that there was a curve he had not noticed before, the curve that has led him to another part of his confined reality, the part where he owns a law firm and is married to Jane – a woman who absolutely adores An Evening with Fred Astaire. As a matter of fact, he will never admit that throughout all these years he has grown to undoubtedly enjoy any re-watch of An Evening with Fred Astaire.

In the course of our lives we come across these moments that can be addressed as the Turn – a critical point of our lives, a gate to an entirely new place. In his case that moment was when he watched An Evening with Fred Astaire for the first time, accompanied by his yet-to-be wife, when he realized he wanted to marry her, not that he would but that he was willing to. Maybe not propose to her in that specific moment when the host said: “We’re gonna get together on the show before the evening’s over”, but somewhere in the future, when they would both graduate, find stable jobs, or whatsoever.

But back then the only thing occupying his mind was the soft piano tune of ‘Man with the Blues’.

* * *

Slowly, maybe even hesitantly, the woman applies a thin line of jet black eyeliner, double checking if it looks even, comparing to her first attempt. For a moment she is mesmerized by the perfection of a black curve, the way it makes her sapphire irises stand out on the pale canvas of her face.

Candice can be classified as the lucky bearer of this amazing ability to make anything she decides to pull on herself look decent. It does not matter whether she shaves the sides of her head, applies some weird cheap lipstick, or changes into these old sweatpants she has had since the release of Sudden Impact – a movie Chester loves more than his own daughter. She has no idea why he has chosen this particular one to endow with the title of ‘his favorite movie’, and yet she needs to accept the way things are – Chester prefers Sudden Impact above her.

Actually Chester prefers a lot of thing above her, Sudden Impact making just one of them.

Sometimes, when she is unable to sleep at night, her thoughts drift back to the movie’s implications. There surely is something misogynistic about Harry Callahan, which is probably why Chester esteems him so much. By any means, she is not implying that the policeman is a chauvinist in general – shout out to The Enforcer – but he has that small dose of sexist attitude, or maybe this is just misanthropy, but he still reminds her of Chester under specific circumstances.

There are other times when she seems to associate herself with Harry Callahan, but the truth is that if you are resolved enough, you can find a connection between any character and yourself. It is simply because all of them are created to visualize some of the social attitudes, tendencies, or motives (not a good choice of words considering she is thinking about a mostly homicide cop but whatsoever), but it does not change the fact that she is aware of the correlation between her and the inspector.

First connection that comes to mind is the assumption about ketchup and hot dogs, or at least what lays beyond garnishing your sausage with ketchup – the act that is considered to be sickening in its sinful form. During one of the sleepless nights she came to the conclusion that it might refer to the process of maturing, but everyone laughs at her when she states it, forcing her to turn it into a joke attempt. The question that causes them to silence and then erupt in one of those silly giggles goes something like this: aren’t adults supposed to search for more sophisticated sensations than the sweetish taste of ketchup on their tongue?

Or maybe Harry Callahan just hates ketchup.

Another aspect, not the last one but the only one that is worth mentioning while she is unremittingly trying to iron her dress with a hair straightener

(is it even supposed to be ironed?),

is surprisingly a quote, not as iconic as the punk one but still important enough to bother her in its rough form. First of all because the chances of it being the last sentence she bestowed Chester with are quite high, and second of all because it seems to define her life attitude – “Go ahead, make my day”.

She has always enjoyed to challenge people, to see if they are confident enough to repeat any mean remark that slips past their lips – a prove most of them treat it as a way to vent of any negative emotions. If they restate it, they become special for her, at least some sort of special, not enough to like them yet, but enough to memorize them as people who had the balls to admit what was on their minds and not be afraid of it, afraid of who they are underneath all of those professional façades.

It is a rare trait – a white raven amongst its black kinsmen.

* * *

Knock.

She opens the door as if a confident knock was a command, which it is in some sort of a way, revealing tonight’s guest – Chester’s love of beloved associate who probably, at least according to her speculations, is not very fond of him, although he stays in touch. It is most likely a money thing anyway, but she is still somehow surprised to see him. It has been quite a while since they saw each other for the last time, and it feels kind of odd to have him glaring at you from the doorway.

It feels out of place, or Out Of Time as someone once said.

“Candice,” he flashes her a small smirk, just barely lifting the lip corners as if he treats it more like a suggestion than an actual act of smiling.

Last time they met, a good ten years back, Candice was a teenager – a sassy yet somehow charming girl, who was nice to talk to from time to time. By the way she used to carry her looks, he could easily tell she was just about to blossom into a beautiful woman, but never shared his remarks with her, since compliments, especially connected with her physical appearance, seemed to infuriate her for whatever reasons.

Although he was positive about any of his conclusions, the sight of her standing in the doorway, as if to prove he was not mistaken about a single detail, somehow interrupts his train of thoughts.

She looks divine.

And on contrary he looks married.

“Mister McConnell,” she mimics his expression, and steps out of the way, inviting him in. “Long time, no see. Isn’t it what they say?”

“It can be if you put it this way,” he shrugs, somehow glad that she is the one who greeted him tonight, not Chester. He is pretty sure he would implode, if Chester’s voice was the first he was meant to hear.

Candice could say a lot of things about Douglas, but since they have not seen each other for quite a while, she is diffident about their topicality, so she lets them slide by, focusing just on the appearance.

First thing she notices about the aforementioned aspect of the proud man in front of her are his eyes. If eyes are the windows of the soul – is it not what they say? – than he has the coldest set of eyes she has ever came across, the icy irises staring at her as if they were poking her spirit in a way that can only be described as an odd cause of her fascination and fear.

The second thing she notices is the fact that he is wearing a tailor-made suit – perfectly fitted piece of some expensive fabric – but has decided to skip the tie.

Who the fuck spends his money on tailor-made suits?

No one, at least no one in her circle of friends.

Then maybe it is just the lawyer thing.

“Tell me, Mister McConnell, if I get the wrong impression, but I feel like the suit is only meant to make you appear as someone more sophisticated, not that you actually need it.”

“Excuse me?” He looks at her with astonishment, blinking a few times.

“You’ve heard me,” she cocks a single eyebrow at him, waiting for his answer.

“No,” he smirks bitterly. “I don’t think I got it right. Say it again.”

“I said that in my opinion you wear those tailor-made suits to appear as someone more professional, elegant, or richer maybe, not that you couldn’t get away with a regular one,” she repeats, much to his annoyance. He expected her to back off, to apologize, or to brush it off, pretending as if it never happened, but she did not.

She surprised him.

“I hate to disappoint you, but come to think of it, I have this constant burning need to have them in my life,” he demurs, giving her his best patronizing look as if attempting to show her how silly it was to even consider going against him like this.

“Do you now?” She inquires in a rather rhetorical manner, before finally gesturing him to follow her down the corridor all the way to the elegant dining area.

The place itself has not change much since his last visit as if it was meant to become some sort of a contrasting factor for Candice. The mahogany table is still where it used to be back in the days, sprawling across the floor, giving him the impression as if one day it will push away any other expensive pieces of furniture just to take their place. Whereas, the upholstered chairs still surround it as if their only life goal was to be decent servants to the table.

“And who’s that man?” His jovial tone cuts through the previous comparative silence, almost making him roll his eyes at the silly welcoming. “Doug, it’s so great to see you!”

“And vice versa,” he replies – a mere, futile attempt to sound polite.

“C’mon, take a sit. We were just about to serve.”

He can give one thing to Chester – he has the most comfortable set of chairs he has ever had a chance to sit on, but little does he know, the dinner will not be served tonight. Although it starts off as usual – with Chester’s misogynistic crap – so that none of the participants will suspect anything, it is meant to resolve into something neither of them expect.

“Women: can't live with them, can't live without them,” he chortles coarsely, making Candice visibly cringe at the sound. “Isn’t it right, my dear friend?”

“You expect me to say something about words of wisdom?” His eyebrows raise as if anticipating his answer, but even Chester knows better to keep his mouth shut. “Am I right?”

“As usual,” he agrees, which gives Candice an impression that Douglas has to possess some kind of a divine

(or devilish)

ability – Chester never agrees with others just for a simple sake of denying.

“So Clinton’s wifey,” he resumes, not waiting for anyone’s response. He has been dying to discuss this with Douglas, or maybe not discuss since he treats such conversations as one of major ways to express his insights, not to actually listen to the other side’s outlook, which kind of disagrees with the whole idea of debating.

“She has a name,” Candice interrupts him, her words flooded with some kind of venomous indication that he is not yet to catch. “Don’t be afraid of saying it. She’s just a woman, so it doesn’t hold any special powers.”

“Men are talking, my dear,” he sighs, a well-known saying that infuriates her more than anything. “Men are talking, so stop interrupting.”

“I think you should let her speak,” the lawyer implies, a slight, barely noticeable shift in his tone indicating the irritation, which still is not enough for a man like his associate, man who needs a clear and direct statement instead of a blurry implication.

“With all due respect, my dearest friend, I know what’s best for my daughter,” he smirks bitterly. He has never been able to understand Douglas’ attitude towards women – those flimsy creatures inhabiting the men’s world.

“If you say so,” he replies carelessly, still hoping Chester is not planning to bring back Kennedy tonight. Who is he fooling at this point is even beyond his own reasoning – of course he is aiming to disinter the former president from his grave.

“Actually I can’t believe he let her speak in that hotel,” he shakes his head in utter disbelief as if he simply let Douglas’ words slide by. “What a way to ruin your image, such a shame, really. Sometimes I get the impression that our world is overpopulated by fools, isn’t it?”

“Sure it is,” he snorts, obviously referring to one and only – the Chosen Fool.

“Hope we won’t get another Kennedy,” he chortles again, this time causing the lawyer to frown at the disgusting sound. “I mean, establishing PCSW was a clown act in its purest form. It was like a ticket for women to empower men.”

“If women are so weak, then it shouldn’t concern you this much,” Douglas snorts bitterly, letting him simmer on the sarcastic tingle in his voice for a couple more seconds, before continuing. “Giving them a ‘ticket’ won’t do any harm.”

“C’mon, mate,” Douglas cannot help but roll his eyes at the foolish term. “I bet you don’t even believe in the word you’re saying. You shower me with all those stupid statements simply because of the pressure that society-”

“You want honesty, Chester?” he raises his eyebrows, glaring at him with his signature bitter smirk. “Then let’s play open cards for once, like friends do. First thing you should know is why I haven’t fired your fucking misogynistic ass yet, despite the amount of cases I almost screwed up, thanks to you. Maybe it’s my langsyne, maybe it is what makes me weak, the fact that I couldn’t break the entailments. But you know what? I feel like today is the day to break the fucking entailments, because why not?”

“I-”

“Do not fucking interrupt me right now,” he almost snarls. “You always bitch about Kennedy, anytime we meet. I know that it still torments you very much, but it was years ago, and you’re unable to change anything now. Our society is progressing, and if you don’t get it, then you’re just like an overripe apple amongst those freshly out of an orchard – not rotten yet but already on your way there.”

“Et tu, Brute, contra me?” Chester shakes his head in disbelief, pushing another prim Latin quote between parts of Douglas’ monolog. “After all these years you just brush me off like this, you just-”

“Give me a fucking break with all your Latin quotes,” this time Candice is the one who interrupts, her eyes practically shooting daggers as she gazes into his. “You think that knowing them makes you a smarter person? Whatever, right? It’s not like I care anymore, since arguing with you on this one would be a fucking waste of time, you wouldn’t get it anyway.”

“You fucking ungrateful, bitch,” he snarls, ready to yank her by the collar of her dress and slam her down on the table, which does not get past her attention. “I raised you, I gave you my money, my time, and what you give me in return?”

“Go ahead, hit me, make my fucking day,” she taunts, her gaze piercing and a little wild as if some twisted part of her expected, maybe even anticipated, him to do that, as if it was searching for an excuse to accomplish what was on her mind for quite a while now.

“If you hit her,” he stops, letting him soak over the words, letting them ring in the air for a couple more sinisterly quiet seconds. “I’m gonna fire you, I can assure you that.”

The heavy weight of his words settles upon Chester’s shoulders. He cannot be serious, considering he is referring to a woman, which in turn makes him wonder whether this whole display is connected with something sexual – maybe, just maybe, he pretends to be some kind of a prince charming just because he wants to fuck her. Well, that would make a lot of sense, at least more than any scenario where he actually means what he said, which leads him to another crucial conclusion.

Which opens a door to the reality where he slaps his daughter across the face.

And where she just stares at him with her cheek hot and flushed, and her lip quivering slightly – one of the saddest images Douglas has ever seen. Then she smiles at him – one of the most sinister smiles he has ever seen – and speaks – one of the most purely honest words he has ever heard.

“Good luck for the rest of your life, but I’m fucking outta here, once and for all.”

And then she leaves, just like that, as if nothing ever happened, and he lets him watch her until she disappears in the doorway, before finally fulfilling his promise.

“And I fire you, just like that, because I can,” Douglas flashes him a genuine smirk this time, one of the smuggest he has ever seen settled upon his lips. “And because I’m fed up with you bringing back Kennedy during every fucking meeting.”

“What? I-”

“Just stop talking for at least one goddamn second,” he rubs his aching temples – a gesture Chester has seen him perform more than once at work. “What a fucking relief I won’t be obliged to see your fucking face ever again.”

And then he leaves, just like that, as if nothing ever happened.

* * *      

“Bad life, or just bad day?” She chuckles bitterly, very much aware of the fact that there is only one man here who is be willing to talk to her, and who will not cause any more unnecessary dramas.

“Just bad evening, I guess.”

“Ouch,” her mouth falls open in a mockingly shocked expression. “That was the insult that truly insulted me.”

“Then I’m terribly sorry, darling,” he teases, plopping down on the porch stairs next to her.

“Are you now?”

“And aren’t you cold?” He asks, glancing at her slightly trembling figure.

“My God,” she laughs, throwing her head back. “That’s so cheesy. I mean it’s nice, but still cheesy. It reminds me of those romcoms, where the female gets cold, so the male offers her his jacket and so on, and so on… as if she couldn’t take care of herself.”

He only huffs in response, always annoyed with any kind of rejection.

“Tell me, Dougie,” she silently takes pleasure in the way his jaw tenses at the given nickname. “Are you always this grumpy?”

“I’m just a realist, darling.”

“Being a realist doesn’t necessary mean being grumpy,” she states, raising a challenging eyebrow at him as if waiting for him to fight back.

“Seems like in does, at least since you’ve given me that horrible nickname,” he almost smiles, thinking about how silly it sounds inside his head. “Now tell me, darling. What’s on your mind? What’s bothering you?”

“Everything and nothing at the same time, I guess,” she laughs softly, feeling somehow stupid for exposing this more vulnerable side of her. “Just my father and all of his misogynistic crap, no more no less.”

“That wasn’t very hard to come up with, but anyway, thanks for setting the record straight,” he replies with a sarcastic tingle marking his voice, something he will never be able to fully get rid of, and decides to go against her for once, actually draping the expensive blazer around her shoulders. She shivers at the sudden temperature shift, but takes advantage of the situation in the meantime, secretly inhaling the spicy scent of his aftershave. When she starts to suspect that by any chances he might be a nice person, he adds a new request, unpleasant as always, but not entirely. “Just don’t get any dirt on it, it’s probably more expensive than you can afford.”

“Thank you for informing me, before I got to welter in that mud over there,” she replies with the same, as if perfectly mirrored, sarcastic tingle that annoys him

(gets him going)

more than anything else.

“I mean, let lying dogs sleep, or sleeping dogs lie, or whatever,” she shrugs, laughing softly at the stupid metaphor. “But he doesn’t get it, he never did actually.”

“Sounds more like Chester than anything I’ve ever heard,” he snorts. “I know he can be a little… how to put it correctly… authoritarian?”

“So do you,” she snorts. “But you know what differs him from you?”

“I most certainly do not,” he rolls his eyes. “Enlighten me.”

“I feel like you actually care about what I’m saying,” she stares into the darkness, letting the words flow freely through her lips. “And that you don’t underestimate me because I’m female. I mean, he’s genuinely the only person I know who treats women like this. And I’m forced to cope with him, listen to him telling me college was a waste of time. Where does it even come from? That way of thinking, of processing reality?”

“Most likely he’s been raised this way, and now he’s too old, too close-minded to change,” he ponders, blunt nails scratching over his chin. “I think you should focus on something else, since there’s nothing you can do about this.”

“Okay,” she hesitates for a moment. “How about you help me to focus on something else?”

“What do you mean?” He frowns, flashing her a confused expression.

“Let’s get out of here, let’s go somewhere,” he notices her eyes flash, and she is glowing, at this particular moment she is glowing, glowing with some kind of a childish excitement. “Just for tonight.”

“For tonight, huh?”

(What about Jane?)

(Jesus, relax, it’s not like I’m planning to cheat on her.)

“Just for tonight, I promise,” she smiles softly. “Dougie, c’mon, live a little.”

C’mon, live a little.

This is the phrase he has heard many times before, from many people, in many places and many occasions. He presumes that by saying this, they all meant something different, maybe it was just a slight shift but still a shift – a source of change. Most of them did not make any advance for him – people say a lot of things, just for the sake of speaking, not signifying anything – but there was that one time he keeps in mind as something important, that one time from the past that has changed everything and nothing at the same time.

And moving back in time never flirts with self-improvement.

“You know what?” He smiles, he genuinely smiles this time, maybe even grins, but that might be a false belief. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

Something tickles her calf, a mere brush on the exposed skin that sends a disturbing tingle through her body, this particular kind of tingle that can be either unpleasant or pleasurable. However, she ignores it, waiting for it to fade away, as she follows him further down the seemingly secluded path.

There has to be something sinister about forests at night. The darkish gleam of moonlight, barely sipping through the canopy layer, leaves most of its parts indiscernible to human’s eye, imposing her to wander in the poorly visible surrounding, where her visual range is rather scarce. These blurred shadows casted by the conifers, overlapping into something that causes shivers to run down her spine. Nevertheless, there is some kind of sacred beauty within it, the one that is yet to be discovered, the one that is not within her reach.

What seems to be within her reach is the decaying tree line and the shiny water below with a tiny, barely noticeable glimpse of sun bashfully popping out of ocean’s surface.

“This is a nice sight,” she notes with a small smile lacing her lips as he stretches his arm towards her – a hint for her to grab it as she jumps down on the sandy surface. His skin is cool to touch, since he has decided to leave the blazer in his car and roll up the sleeves of his shirt – “they’re too expensive to get any dirt on them,” was what he said as he was doing so.

“Indeed it is,” he murmured more to himself than to her, mindlessly enlacing their arms together, as they walk down to the water.

Why has he even brought her here in the first place?

Because he misses the past – that is why he has brought her here.

Because he misses the college days.

Because he misses the way things used to be before the broadcast of An Evening with Fred Astaire.

Sometimes he wishes he has never met Jane. She has changed him in the ways he has never wanted to change – she is the source of shifts, the force that drags him over an itchy carpet until he decides to succumb for his own good and pretend that he is interested in her tales about any mundane things she was doing through the day. He has never been able to understand why she stays at home instead of working, since he could easily hire a maid to fill in her place, but any time he had brought up that topic, she refused.

Furthermore, she limits him in the ways he does not want to be limited. He finds it utterly infuriating, the fact that all factors which seem to play the crucial part in her life are stability, domesticity, or routine, and of course there is some kind of beauty in all of them, but he has always thought that by doing so she deprives herself from any other benefits that come with life. It wearies him, her attitude wearies him, bores him to the nth degree, and all he craves for is a little bit of variability in life.

As he is standing here, on the sandy beach, he cannot even recall why he proposed to her right after the graduation. Maybe he should have ignored An Evening with Fred Astaire, move on with his life and forget about her, but for some unknown reasons he did right the opposite.

Jane is the most benignant and compassionate person he has ever encountered. It has never ceased to amaze him how she puts others before herself, how other people’s problems upsets her, how she offers them emotional reassurance, a shoulder to cry on whenever it is necessary.

Why is it not enough for him?

Why?

“When you look at the sky, what does it tell you?” She asks as soon as she catches him staring at the gradually vanishing stars, snapping him out of the trance.

“What does it tell me, huh?” He repeats, scratching his chin with his free hand. “The sky confirms my belief that our lives are somehow meaningless, if we compare it to the vastness of the universe, and yet they’re everything we have.”

“Fair enough,” she nods softly. “But when I look at the sky, it gives me hope, hope that we’re never alone, that we won’t be alone until the last star is burning. I’ve read once that stars are supposed to resemble hope, tranquility, just like swallows do… and sometimes it makes me feel like it all makes sense, at least this is what lightens my life… and this is meaningful.”

“Is this why you carry one of them around your neck?”

“I know the answer will be disappointingly obvious for you,” she smiles merely as her fingertips brush over the metallic lavaliere. “But yes, I carry a swallow around my neck because of that.”

“Surprisingly, it’s not as disappointing as I thought it would be,” she notices the corners of his lips quiver slightly as if he was just about to smiles but never did. “Trust me, I’ve heard far worse.”

“Like what?”

“Are you sure you want an example?”

“No,” she hesitates for a split second, a split second she need to quickly reconsider what has been on her mind since they sat on the porch stairs together. “But you know what I want?”

“What do you want?”

He already expects one certain kind of answer, and yet, as far as he is concerned, it is not going to disappoint him.

However, her answers is everything but verbal.

Her answer consists of a kiss – a simple, classic, chaste kiss that makes his lips tingle as hers brush them softly – just a mere stroke, and yet this is all it takes for him to fall, to throw all his insecurities out of the window, to forget Jane and all the women before.

His hands find their place on the dip of her waist, squeezing the soft flesh, as his palms cradle the sides of her ribcage. Her lips part subtly in response, a soft moan slipping past them, as he teases the side of her breast mindlessly, fingers fiddling with the silky fabric of her dress. It feels nice to touch someone like this again, to share this particular human contact – sweet yet laced with a hint of lust that threatens to soak through the cloth of decency, which he is planning to avoid.

At least on the exposed beach.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he chuckles, like genuinely chuckles, between the kisses, gently pushing her away. “Let’s take it somewhere else. You know, I’ve seen that motel down the road and-”

“No,” she shakes her head softly, staring at him with some kind of pensive awareness. “Because you’re gonna change your mind.”

“Trust me, I’m not.”

And yet, for some unknown reasons she does not trust him.

* * *

The motel’s name is Burning Giraffe, and she gets the impression that it would sound weird, if she said it aloud. Maybe because the place itself looks as if it was from a different reality, as if it was something she was never supposed to come across but she has anyway.

Everything seems to be on its appointed spot and yet it still look out of place

(Time),

especially the giraffe neon – its sinister reddish gleam reminds her of something malicious, evil, something that is not meant to be discover, something that was never supposed to appear in any parallel reality. But it has anyway, and because of some abnormal turn of events she is here to witness it, which is most likely not a good thing.

All motels seems to feed on sins, on wicked, salacious behavior of equally wicked, salacious people. This place is no different, that is for sure, but underneath all of these lays something else – a source of everything nefarious and malevolent, yet alluring and enticing in its sinful form.

Hypnotizing like a soft click of the lock reverberating in the air, like a quiet creak of the door – genesis of their shared damnation.

She senses his looming presence behind, his diffusing body heat causes her to shiver in acknowledgment to her own feverish hotness that tickles over her nerves as if opening a gate to some delusional place of eternal bliss. Hearing the door shut, she turns to face him, his face bathed in ominous light, sharp cheekbones enhanced by its crimson gleam.

“Strip,” he demands gruffly as if taunting her to evade, but she decides to deprave him of this pleasure, to dance to his tune for now. She unzips her dress, tugging the zipper as low as her arms allow to, and lets the garment fall down her arms, silky fabric pooling around her feet. The act itself remains surprisingly graceful until she steps out of the ring and kicks off her shoes – way to ruin the impression, but Candice is not a woman who would shy away because of such a stupid reason.

“The rest too,” his voice still sounds a tad horse, but the stern cadence is long gone as if he was somewhere else, taking to someone else,

(your little Giraffe Motel poses the ability to attract distant memories)

(huh?)

(it feeds on them, it needs them to endure, remain here in its advanced form).

So she takes the rest of too, breasts spilling from the confinement of her brassiere, panties rolling down her smooth thighs only to drop on the floor with a nonexistent thud. He remains fully clothed – of course – while she stands stark-naked in front of him, her skin pricking with goosebumps, as his gaze rakes over her bare form. She looks sinful, bathed in the red gleam, as if she was meant to become his eternal damnation, his inevitable end that creeps closer and closer with every step she takes.

She is twenty six, his conscience scolds him, its voice laced with utter indignation towards the action he is about to perform.

But she is twenty six, he almost shivers at the lecherous purr of his own voice, whispering lewd phrases into his ear.

While Douglas is a lawyer, a stern man who tolerates no disobedience, who creates his own set of rather socially bankrupt rules only to follow them and crack any case, he is just a man too, and most men do not poses the immunity for stark-naked women.

So he does the only reasonable think for his blasé mind right now – with two long steps and a harsh push he pins her to the wall, bodies flush against each other as their teeth clash in a feverish bruising kiss. He pulls on her plush bottom lip, biting hard enough to break the tender flesh, and in this peculiar moment she considers whether he might get off on her mewls.

Soon enough he allays the doubt, a brisk swipe of his tongue against her bottom lip and a hint of cooper lingering on her taste buds prove it well enough. It is like an unspoken agreement between the two of them – pleasure that mingles with pain, and both of them conceive it to the point where it is possible to remain nonverbal.

She should have known better, since they met for the first time, what kind of man he is, that kind of man who would be meaning to break her just to hear her desperate pleads – a rare, maybe even extinct sight, in terms of Candice. Some twisted part of her brain is willing to see how far he is planning to push in order to accomplish the goal of shoving her past the personal breaking point.

“What should I do to you, sweetheart?” He inquires, speaking more to himself then to her, his fingers dancing over her exposed cleavage, skipping past the tops of her breasts. He twists one of the hardening peaks, maneuvering it between the pads of his fingers, before he tugs it sharply, eliciting a quiet gasp from her slightly parted lips.

“Taste me,” she taunts, both eyes and voice laced with a smoking hint of lust – a hint dedicated to him and only him. She mindlessly arches to his touch as his hands stroke down the length of her body, brazenly kneading her breasts as he makes his way to the floor.

He kneels in front of her, his movements slow but deliberate, a sly smirk playing upon his lips as he watches her thighs quiver slightly. He would be lying, if he said it does not fuel his pride, seeing her fall apart, piece by piece, her tough demeanor unravelling as soon as he grips her hips, the smell of her sex makes him throb in way that is equally pleasant and disturbing.

She is going to taste divine, he already knows that.

Douglas has always enjoyed going down on women. There is something about the power he holds over them during this peculiar act, the way they squirm underneath soft but firm pressure of his mouth, how he coaxes them to open their legs with sweet promises of an unforgettable experience, how they are willing to do anything he wants right after their worlds shatter into pieces.

And besides, he has really missed it since he got married.

He grips one of her thighs and she gasps softly, his touch leaving her skin tingling in the most exquisite ways. He orders the brunette to hoist it up his shoulder, pinning her to the wall, trying to gain some more leverage. She whimpers softly at the unpleasant sensation of wallpaper’s porous texture, which becomes long forgotten as his lips find their place between her legs.

Sweet kisses on her thighs, almost too sweet for a man like Douglas, as his lips gently tickle her tender skin. A few seconds pass before she allows herself to lean into the sensation, her eyelids falling shut, shivering as his tongue glides over her heated flesh. His cool hands feel like heaven on her overheated skin, soothing the burning of her sinful agony, despite the protruding sting of his nails digging into her outer thigh.

However, what comprehensively brings her back to reality after those few carefree moments, is a harsh nip that causes a shrill tingle of pain to lick over the nerves, but also increases the itchy throbbing of her clit. When their eyes meet, she gets the notion that he looks a way too smug, his teeth remarkably straight and astonishingly white which gives her the impression that he had to whiten them at some point of his life.

He glares at her, cocking a mere sardonic eyebrow that infuriates her

(gets her going)

more than anything else. If he asks her to beg, she will much likely slap him across the face, which makes her even more surprised when she hears his answer.

“Touch me, or I’ll fucking-”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head in disapproval. “Say ‘please’.”

“Douglas, I swear I’ll-”

“Say ‘please’,” he murmurs against her skin, a mere tip of his tongue pressing against her quivering entrance as if he wanted to give her a taste for what is about to come but not any real relief.

“You’re such a fucking-”

“Tease? Asshole? Jerk?” He gauges with amusement. “C’mon darling, it’s not that hard.”

“Fucking fine,” she sighs, in one hand considering the act of begging itself to be humiliating but in other hand he has brought her to the point where she is too desperate to care. “Please touch me before I bite your dick off.”

“Was it that hard?” He asks rhetorically, deciding to ignore the sarcastic tingle of her voice and the mocking promise. Since she could make an exception for him, he can undoubtedly return the favor, he can and he will.

She moans in relief, pretty sure he feels her throbbing, as he licks a broad stripe down her folds, shunning the tingling nub on purpose. He smirks against her flesh, somehow amused by her reaction – a frustrated huff followed by another breathless gasp of his name. The sensation is ticklish, barely there to feel, all wrong considering the sticky wetness covering her inner thighs.

She feels beyond desperate for more, her dainty form quivering slightly, cadenced with the throbs of her swollen clit, mingled with the prickly sensation of her nails digging crescent shapes in her skin. In addiction he looks rapt, absolutely entranced, with dilated pupils, the cavernous ebony of his pupils almost swallowing the icy blue, as he gazes into her eyes. For a brief moment she catches a glimpse of something almost maniac, something that might concern her, unless he envelopes her tingling bundle with his greedy mouth.

Her ears prick at the high-pitched squeal, sound that is entirely foreign for her, until she realizes it has been released past her trembling lips just seconds prior. His grasp around her thigh emphatically tightens, drawing a sinful cry from her constricted throat, mauve bruises already forming beneath his fingers. In response to the harsh gesture, she grabs him by the hair, barely noticing hints of whatever hair product he uses coat her fingers, her hips rolling unwittingly. She can hardly keep an upright posture at this point as he slowly devours her, the agonizing pace that causes her to tug at the strands hard enough to make him groan against her sensitive bud.

As the time passes, his movements become a way more expeditious, brazen even, to the point where she aches to scoot away, escaping from his touch, but he holds her steady, preventing any excess writhing. However, her whole body jerks in one rapid motion in time with a gentle prod of his tongue against her entrance. She nods, already short of breath, her hips unconsciously grinding against his mouth, desperate for him to fill her in any way he pleases.

“Say that you want it,” he growls, the animalistic hoarseness of his voice causes her to shiver in his grasp, but she remains silent, no words slipping past her trembling lips. He nips at her folds, drawing another pained squeal out of her throat. “Fucking say it.”

“Yes, I want it,” she pushes past the inability to form any coherent sentences, her approval coming as a trembling whine that makes him twitch within the confinement of his pants.

“How badly?” He inquires, forcing her blasé brain to come out with another response, while he seems to suck it right through her pussy.

“Badly,” her response is muddled but her gestures exigent – hips bucking on their own, seeking for more stimulation.

“Badly, huh?” He teases, right before the tip of his tongue delves inside, drawing a salacious purr that turns into a moan as soon as he begins to move. His thrusts are erratic, relentless as if he was starving and she was his meal, lacking in any kind of rhythm, in any kind of cadence. He laps at her with obscenely loud slurps as if driven by some sort of carnal lust, insatiable, desperate for more, and she keens with pleasure, messily grinding against his mouth, willing to take anything he offers.

Nevertheless, there is something feral in the way he eyes her, shallow exhales billowing upon her heated flesh, and she cannot help but wonder how is he able to breath with his nose practically mashed against her clit. All of sudden, another wave of heat washes through her dainty body, breaking her poor reverie, licking over her nerves with this peculiar pre-orgasmic fiber of pleasure. It is harsh, rapid, ravenous, and she is drowning in it, so, so close to the blink.

And then it happens – the fall, with a mere scrape of his teeth, applied in just the right way, he pushes her over the edge. She moans vaguely, incoherent chain of words slipping past her lips, some of them consisting of odd variations of his name, while others – not so much. As her high subsides, she tries to push him away but he ignores her attempts, shamelessly drinking up any traces of her arousal, humming pleasantly at the musky taste lingering upon his tongue.

“Stop, please,” she whimpers pitifully, tugging at the darkish strands to discard his face from its place between her now quivering thighs. “Too much.”

Uncommonly and much to her surprise, he obeys, no words added, no vexing remarks, just a reticent rise from the previous kneeling position. She backs away, even if for a one little step – innate response for his now towering position. She has never bothered to notice how tall he is, comparing to her, and although she is not very short herself, she finds him utterly intimidating, gazing at her with features framed by the crimson neon.

She approaches the bed at his nonverbal command – a simple shift of his eyes towards the mattress – and plops down onto the coarse sheets, propping herself on the elbows to watch his movements with silent intent. He clearly takes his time, much to her exasperation, removing the pieces one by one, nimble fingers dancing over various expensive fabrics that cover his lengthy frame. He discards them onto the armchair one by one as she keeps staring, her gaze fixated on the unveiled bare skin. Maybe it is impolite to stare, but she cannot help herself, driven by some kind of a burning need to memorize everything about his appearance, all the little details that are poking her eyes as if they craved for her undivided attention.

Maybe they do.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he jeers

(he is nothing but right)                  

with a subtle yet mean cadence lacing his voice in a tight knot that seems to clench around her throat, retrieving any ability to fight back.

Instead she bestows him with a different kind of response, with a simple gesture of drawing her legs apart, even if for the slightest bit, but still enough for him to pick up a hint. He looks painfully hard, feels heavy and hot against her slick thigh as he settles between her spread legs, accidently nudging her clit. Her hips buck instinctively at the jarring stab of pleasure, already craving for more friction, but he simply retreats with the same blatant amusement as a few minutes prior glimmering in his eyes.

However, she does right the opposite, pushing him away in order to switch their positions, but fails completely as he snaps out of her grasp in an unnervingly swift movement, preventively pinning both of her wrists above the head. She is about to writhe away from the docile position he has put her into, when all of sudden he thrusts into her with a low groan – an action that is followed by another sharp cry, undeniable reason of the painful intrusion. He does not seem to care, or maybe this is just his unique Art of Fucking, claiming her with rough shoves that send her to the pinnacle of incoherence, that leave her torn between pleading him to slow down, or begging for more.

He is everything but gentle, his movement deliberately rough, but the jarring stab of pain only fuels her pleasure, contrasting yet mingling together so perfectly. It brings her to the point of inevitable contemplation whether he is doing it just to see if he can break her.

Who is she trying to fool? Of course he is.

Her fleeting conclusion becomes long forgotten as soon as his hands release her now sore wrists only to wrap around her throat a brief moment later. Although he refrains from choking her, his grip is firm as if he was meaning to indicate some kind of a threat, as if he was trying to tame her. She swallows hard, staring into his eyes with fazed look upon her flushed face, but it does not seem to scatter his concentration if not the opposite. His brows are knitted slightly, eyes wide open and awake, lean body bathed in the sinful crimson, forming an image that is meant to invade most of her dreams in the following years.

Her newly released hands rest upon his shoulders – an attempt to steady her jerking body, to anchor herself to passing reality with a firm grip around his rounded muscles. It feels good to be able to touch him, to squeeze his heated flesh in time with the rapid thrusts as if she intended to distract him with the oddly soft gesture. She is unusually close by now, so close that she can almost taste it, her stomach coiling with unbridled desperate excitement, her hips bucking half-consciously to match his movements, the willpower to savor the moment lost somewhere between pulsing waves of heat. Her back arch from the mattress, her eyes shut, ready to savor the upcoming bliss, and then, all of sudden, he simply halts, making her whine in utter frustration.

“Really?” He chuckles, his features marked with an expression of blatant amusement that infuriates her almost as much as his denial. “You thought I would let you cum that quickly? Then you clearly underestimate me, darling, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re a fucking sadist,” she hisses, frustrated with the rejection, her body burning with the need for release, stomach coiling disturbingly. He is most likely to punish her for the mean remark, but she finds herself not caring for the slightest at this point.

“Fucking sadist…” he mutters under his breath as if he was considering the sincere meaning of her confession. She shivers at the disturbingly soft manner of the spoken words, and yet decides to overstep her boundaries once more, to test him, to see if she can be the one who breaks him for a change.

“You know what? ” She inquires with a mischievous glint in her sapphire colored eyes, the distinctive hue temporary latent by the crimson light. “I bet your wifey doesn’t let you fuck her like this.”

“And yet, I bet you envy her anyway,” he jeers, tightening his grip around her throat, forcing a choked moan out of her constricted windpipe.

She definitely should not have said that.

I definitely shouldn’t have said that, she thinks, shivering as he eyes her dainty form with some kind of unsettling malevolence dancing in his icy irises, now fierce with passion. She stares at him, her chest rising and falling in time with every sharp breath she takes, pretty much aware that irking him is equal with playing with fire.

Maybe she wants to get burned.

He finds another steady rhythm, slower than before, but still deep enough to repetitively nudge her g-spot. She lets out a weak moan in response, her legs wrapping around his waist in search for a different angle, nails digging painfully into his shoulders

(she wants to hurt him),

drawing a hoarse groan out of him. She clenches around him purposely, already close to the blink due to both of the previous and the ongoing stimulation, somehow desperate to see him fall apart. His head drops to the junction where her neck meets the shoulder, teeth nibbling at the skin to muffle the innate sounds threatening to slip past his lips, when suddenly, completely out of blue… he stops again.

And again.

And again.

And maybe once more, it is hard to tell since her perception is rather poor, considering, give or take, four nearly schematic sequences of bliss and denial.

“Please, please, please, I- I-” she sobs helplessly, her insides aching to the point where she is willing to make any exception for him if that will guarantee her the much needed gratification. “Let me cum, I need to cum.”

“I don’t think you’ve earned it, sweetheart,” he counters despite his obvious inner struggle, still grazing the swollen nub with reticent strokes of his thumb – a refined action that leaves her writhing below him, burning for release.

“I don’t care,” she whimpers desperately, at the blink of tears. “Please, let me.”

And so he lets her, he lets her because she clearly had enough

(she is not the only one),

angling his hips just right to push her over the edge. She screams, although she is unable to hear it, her senses remain somehow muted as it washes over her, wave after wave, her body tossing and turning, nails raking fiercely down his back

(crimson nails in crimson neon),

unconsciously drawing blood, which elicits another pained groan out of him. All of these little sensations showering her trembling body, from the pulsing of her core to the tingling of her clit, immerse Candice to the point she is barely aware of what comes next.

(the unawareness has always been a blessing)

With a last snap of his hips, last throaty groan, last squeeze of her bruised flesh, he comes, his movements halting as the bliss washes over him, blacking out his vision for a mere second, all while he is shivering in her arms with rapid aftershocks. It takes him a few longer moments to come to his senses, pull out (“Jesus Fucking Christ, Douglas!”) and roll over onto his back.

The aftermath is always weird, nothing has changed in that matter, but today it has been enriched with something else, something that he has not experience in quite a long time, if ever, something that allows itself to be describe as bittersweet, and yet he has no idea how to call it. Melancholy? Is it melancholy? Maybe, maybe not. Nevertheless, as a coping mechanism with the so-called ‘melancholy’, he drapes one forearm over his eyes, shielding himself from the debauchery of the crimson light, from the debauchery of his deed.

Why does he have to keep doing this?

And why does it have hurt so much tonight?

Why?

(World is an empty place.)

* * *

“Check the mail, darling, will you?” He asks, unusually preoccupied with cutting the vegetables. To her it seems like he might have finally found out what his true and only passion is, or maybe she just gets that kind of an impression, because she is acting like a geek again.

The second one.

“I will,” she agrees, mindlessly staring at the porch. Today seems to be one of these days when her mind leaves its body to travel to places that she wishes she could visit instead.

“By the way we have to finally take care of seating our guests in proper spots,” he reminds, much to her annoyance. “I feel like your father shouldn’t sit with Tammy, otherwise they’ll eat each other alive. No offence, but you know how triggered she gets with all of his chauvinistic crap.”

“Yeah whatever,” she replies with a careless shrug, suddenly filled with a burning need to collect any possible letters.

And so she does, stepping out of the house, all the way down the driveway to reach the mailbox – a simple routine that she normally hates, apart from all of the times when James decides to ask her a question connected with the organization of their Big Event. Today’s mail is supposed to be just an ordinary mail – no letters, because who would bother to send them if he can replace any papers with an email? Despite the obvious reasonability of this fact, James feels some kind of need, apparently determined by internal factors, to check it anyway.

However, today something catches her attention – a bouquet of dead flowers tied with an elegant velvet ribbon along with a small card attached to it, filled with equality elegant handwriting.

~Happy Wedding Day~

All of sudden, she laughs, cackling a laugh that is jarring, bone-chilling, and almost maniac, foreign even for her. It cuts through the peaceful silence of a plain Sunday morning like a metaphorical knife through the mist, mist that has been clouding her life since the Giraffe Night, that has been floating back and forth as if waiting for her to finally loose the last bits of sanity she has been so unwearyingly holding onto.

Of course, Dead Flowers. How sweet of him.

“What’s going on honey?” James asks from the threshold, probably lured by her sick cackle, his worried voice breaking her reverie.

“Nothing,” she replies mindlessly, staring at the gift with a small, bittersweet smile. There are some days when she really misses him.

Her mother was right and she was right, that day when he left her.

World is truly an empty place.

 Created: 02/24/20

Completed: 04/18/20

Edited: 04/20/20

[dangan-happy]

(1/2)| It’s an avocado… thanks! | (possible Tws: insecurity, self-esteem issues(??)) To Korekiyo, Kiyotaka and Shuichi. Hello, it is really nice to meet you all. I'd like to apologize in advance if I misunderstood something while sending this and basically perhaps for getting it wrong, I'm kinda new to all of this, hehe... And for the language as well, this one is not my native, in case I make some mistakes. Anyways...

(2/2) I've started to worry too much about how people think of me, I am afraid of being too boring or stupid or weird for them. I can't help but have thoughts like these for no reason in particular, as well as have doubts and insecurities about my body shape and appearance in general. If it is really ok with you, is it possible to get a hug and maybe some advice? Thank you in advance, and have a nice day/evening!

————-

Hello anon, it's a pleasure to meet you as well. Please do not worry, you're doing just fine. It's quite commendable for you to use a language that isn't your native one. I know how difficult that can be, and you have my respects for that. Don't worry about any errors, I assure you we can understand just fine. I can understand your difficulties as well. I'm hardly what many would call "normal", and weird is a word often used to describe me. I am sorry to hear that you're experiencing the societal pressure. It's human nature to want to fit in, and I can promise you that you aren't doing anything wrong. It's society that needs to change, not you. No matter what you think your personality is, it's enough, and it's wonderful. I don't think you're boring, stupid, or weird in the least. On the contrary, you seem like a very interesting person who I believe that I would sincerely enjoy talking to, as I am enjoying speaking to you now.

Insecurities are common, and I'm sorry you're being plagued with a few more than most right now. Yes, they do feel like there's no reason for them, but there usually is. I would try to think about what causes these thoughts so you're more aware of what makes you feel the way you do. Body shape is ultimately genetic, meaning that most humans are predisposed to have the body type that they do. Yes, medical alterations are possible, but natural beauty has the most value in my opinion. I don't believe that you need to change anything about your body type or appearance.

You don't need to change for anyone, and anyone who doesn't accept you as you are is ultimately shallow and closeminded. You don't need those kinds of people, if someone gives you the need to change, then they aren't worth your time. Embrace who you are as best you can, as difficult as it is with the doubts. Try to think about what you like about yourself. Having a positive outlook, as cliché as it sounds, can actually make a large difference in how you view yourself and the things around you. It does take a certain amount of practice, but if you put the effort in I'm confident that you will be perfectly fine, and even excel at it. Of course it is alright to ask for advice, I hope it can serve you well. I would be pleased to give you a hug as well. I'm happy to comfort and support you in any way that I can. It was wonderful to speak to you anon, and I hope you have a wonderful day or evening as well.