#how saga is confident enough to work through that and reach her happy ending but alan can't

[cherrymoonvol6]

.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Of Academic Interest

Fandom: Indiana Jones

Collection/Series: Tribute to/Part of @alloftheimaginesblog ‘s ‘Secret’s Out’ Saga world.

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Plus Size Female History Lecturer Reader (Glasses are mentioned very briefly)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T 

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You’re one of the newest history lecturers and Indiana turns up to watch your open lecture on the Cult of the Beautiful Dead

Notes: I love Angela’s Secret’s Out Saga, i’m happy that I get to send her requests and see the amazing things she writes for it and lately i’ve been getting the urge to write something for the world/au/series. 

This is a homage, a tribute, to it, obviously none of this is canon unless Angela says so. 

This is set before Indy and the Reader are dating.

All facts come from an essay I did at university on the Cult of the Beautiful Dead, which I also did an hour long presentation on. 

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You were relatively new to the history department at Marshall College and were somewhat of a novelty to students and staff alike having only been there for a few months. Being one of the few female professors and on top of that specialising in some more taboo or ground breaking historical takes on the history of gender and sexuality, you had successfully caused quite the stir. 

The majority of your colleagues were accepting, happy to have you and generally interested by your studies and research. Despite being relatively new to academic teaching they were supportive, although there was a small subsection of the humanities department who, in typical old man fashion, talked down to you, treated you like a coffee girl and disrespected your expertise. You had taken to stealing their students from their modules and attracting them to your modules instead as a passive form of fighting back.

Students were clamouring to be taught by you, to get onto the list for your modules or to get to see your open lectures. You were the only member of the faculty who talked about the more riveting elements of history such as prostitution, sexualisation, and even ghosts. In comparison to the same lectures on Anglo-Saxon England and the Civil War, you were significantly more interesting to the student population. That did not, however, remove sexism within the student population. While female students actively enjoyed your lectures, got involved more so than in other modules, and felt a sense of comfort in a more female friendly space, you found that a small portion of the student male population tried at every turn to either explain your own specialism to you or to discredit you. You had long since taken to finding it rather amusing, especially when most of those individuals were failing your course. 

You had been asked many months ago to prepare an open lecture on the history of surgery and medicine, the faculty head had told you to pick any topic you wished so long as it was well researched and you could put on a good lecture for the student population. For some it might well be their first ever history lecture, for others it was just an addition to their usual workload, nonetheless you’d chosen a topic that was of interest to you and that you felt confident presenting. 

Standing before a podium in a large lecture hall, you push your glass further up the bridge of your nose and flick through the pages of notes in front of you to temporarily distract yourself from the crowds of people that were slowly making their way inside and to seats. It was a large hall, one that could hold upwards of 200 people and despite years of public speaking under your belt there was always an anticipation, a sense of nerves, before you began a lecture or presentation. 

You checked the microphone on the podium, happy to find it in working order and smiled at a few familiar faces in the front row, some of your students who had apparently decided to spend their free period listening to you talk some more. Checking the time you waited a few more minutes before choosing to start, letting the last stragglers find a seat or for those unlucky enough to stand at the back after all seats were filled. It was a large turn out and you could feel those nerves buzzing in the pit of your stomach as you cleared your throat and picked up your notes. 

“Good morning, everyone! Thank you for coming despite your busy schedules to hear me drone on once more about dead people,” Light laughter and small chuckles filled the space as you began, your students looking at each other with a shake of their heads. “Today i’m going to be talking to you about something called the Cult of the Beautiful Dead in Victorian medicine. Specifically surgery.” 

You find yourself drifting from the podium, pacing across the stage even as this requires you to speak louder without the microphone. There is a familiar energy in your body that demands you move as you speak, to expend it in some physical way. “The Cult of the Beautiful Dead pervaded the world of art within the 18th and 19th centuries. It has been defined as ‘a subjective fascination with idealised images of the deceased in such a way that permanently embalmed bodies and stable images displace and replace impermanent reality’, but I would characterise it within medical and surgical art somewhat differently.”

You stop briefly, give yourself time to breathe and them time to process your words, in that brief moment your eyes glance across the crowd and spot a familiar face that makes your cheeks warm and your heart stutter. Professor Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones Junior. 

Professor Jones was known throughout the history and archaeology department for his digs, his finds, and his immense knowledge, that and his good looks and charming persona. He was friendly, enticing, handsome, and treated you as an equal. While you could not consider yourself friends, you did have a healthy respect and rather decent crush on the man. In fact, the only reason you weren’t friends, you suspected, was your inability to talk around the man without stuttering. He had no reason to be at your lecture, but he’d come anyway, in fact it looked as if he were the only member of the archaeology department present. 

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away and continue, “It is the idealised image of the female body on the dissection room table or the surgical bed with her flowing hair, her soft, pale skin, her perfect, unharmed nature and her sexualised passivity which characterises the Cult of the Beautiful Dead within medical art. On your seats you would have found copies of a painting by Henri Gervaux and an illustration by Hasselhorst, I will be talking today about these pieces of art and how they fit in with the realities of the dissection room.” 

You move across the stage again, wait as they find out their papers and find yourself looking over at Dr Jones again. He is intent in his observations of the papers in his hands, interested, actively engaged and that is a bigger compliment than anything you think. It would be heartbreaking, you decide, if he were bored by or disinterested in your lecture. While you don’t need his approval, you are an academic in your own right, you do desire it. 

You continue on when he looks up, shifting your eyes away quickly, “In the 19th century women were less likely to be patients of surgeons than men and even when they were operated on they were by no means symbols of the Cult of the Beautiful dead. See Before the Operation by Henri Gervaux,” You wait for them to find the print of the painting, “It is a portrait of Dr Pean, a French Surgeon, and depicts the moment before an operation on a young woman and fits into the ideal of the Cult even though the woman is anaesthetised and not dead.” 

In this fashion you continue your lecture, moving across the stage discussing the sexualisation of the female body in medical art and the realities of surgery in comparison. You’re highly aware of Dr Jones’ eyes on you as you move across the stage, to the point that you stumble at points in your oration. As time goes on you find yourself relaxing under his gaze, accepting that he is here purely out of interest, not to judge you or pass criticism. His active engagement with your lecture, the notes you can see him scribbling down in a notebook, is rewarding and reassures you that he is enjoying himself even on a topic so far removed from his own studies of ancient civilisations and centuries old artefacts and skeletons. 

You reach the end of your lecture, returning to the podium and straightening your skirt, “Are there any questions?”

Hands pop up across the room, but it is one in particular that you are drawn to. You don’t expect him to ask questions, you don’t expect him to have any, but you are a little scared to hear what he has to say. It shouldn’t scare you, this active academic engagement, the meeting of minds, but you so desperately do not want to make a fool of yourself. 

“Dr Jones?” You gesture for him to go on and ask and he stands in response. Tugging at the tweed waistcoat and adjusting his glasses on his nose.

He smiles at you as he begins, “Dr Y/L/N,” He addresses you by your title, formal and respectful. You are reminded, once more, that he has never failed to treat you as an equal. Unlike some of the other male professors, “I was just wondering what your opinion was on the eroticisation of death in this period?” You let out a little laugh, for no reason other than a little relief at the ease with which you can answer that question. 

“Thank you for your question Dr Jones, well art such as Hasselhorst’s helped to eroticise death in the 18th and 19th centuries, death became equated with beauty, even if the reality of the dissection room failed to live up to the standards of the Cult of the Beautiful Dead. What we see is death portrayed often as a young woman. She is often portrayed as beautiful with long flowing hair, a fair face, a soft pale body, naked, open to the eye and most importantly passive. The dead woman in this period is a passive object, dead, yet sleeping, immortally captured at her most beautiful and unable to object to any sexualisation or objectification. She cannot talk back. Death is an obsession of the Victorians and it’s prevalence in medical art like Hasselhorst’s shows just how deeply connected death, beauty and the erotic became at this time.”

“Do you think we’ve continued that desire for passivity today? The way in which we expect women to act?” 

“What do you think, Dr Jones?” You turn the question back on him, eager to hear his opinion, knowing that your own certainly sees the way 1930s society demands passivity from women even if death is no longer eroticised in the same way. 

“I think we’ve perpetuated that desire for passivity from women within our society, demanded they hold their tongue, keep themselves in check and in place and as objects of desire, but not too much or else they’re no longer respectable. I think we expect women to be passively sexual, unknowingly so, innocently so, yet they must be attractive else their worth is diminished. An outspoken or intelligent woman is demeaned, pushed out from academics or workplaces. Don’t you agree?”

“I do.” You take a moment, give him a smile before answering the next question and the next and the next. You expect him to leave like many of the other members of the audience once his question has been answered, instead he stays, listens to your responses to each question and pays you rapt attention. 

You find yourself even more interested in Dr Jones than you were before. His acknowledgement of the treatment you and other women have faced when attempting to make a name in a career or in academics is refreshing and his engagement with your lecture is enjoyable and endearing. You curse him a little for making your crush, your infatuation deeper simply by coming to your lecture. 

You find yourself packing up your notes at the end, listening to the sound of feet leaving as you grab your notes and stuff them into your leather satchel. A tall shadow falls over you as you heft the bag onto your shoulder and you smile up at Dr Jones as he stands before the podium notebook in hand, he folds the glasses off of his nose and pockets them. 

“How did you enjoy the lecture, Dr Jones?” You run an anxious hand through your hair and twist your wide hips in a nervous movement, always finding yourself a little flustered when one on one with the man. There’s a part of you that worries about coming under scrutiny from him, the part that has so often been judged in life for your gender, your area of study, and your weight. Years of nasty comments, suggested diets and family obsession with the size of your body had created a paranoia almost, a sense of expectation. You were just waiting for the scrutiny to be voiced.

“It was one of the most interesting lectures I've had the pleasure of watching. You should write a book, it might be a worthy next research project and please call me Indiana.” 

“Only if you call me by name. I think we can both drop the doctor? I wasn’t expecting to see you here, I...I didn’t think the Victorians would interest an archaeologist.” In truth the idea of Indiana Jones wanting to learn about people not long dead, a period which rarely requires archaeological excavation and has few true mysteries, had never crossed your mind. 

“In all honesty?” There’s a pause as he looks away from you with a charming smirk before turning back to you, teeth showing through his smile. “You interest me. I’ve read all your books, all your papers, every time you lecture I stop at the door and listen. You’re a compelling orator.”

“You listen to my lectures?” You can feel warmth flooding your cheeks, your neck, your ears at his admission. Feel a familiar sense of butterflies flapping about in your stomach. You look down briefly, smiling at the ground before meeting his blue eyes again.

“When I have time, surprised you haven’t noticed me hovering in the doorway. You really are one of the best academics I've ever met.”

“I...thank you.” You’re a little lost for words, you have barely shared more than a few polite conversations with Indiana, too intimidated to talk in depth with him and yet here he is extolling your values and praising you. 

“Don’t let Dr Carr convince you otherwise.” He taps his fingers in a rhythm on the wood of the podium, looking away from you and towards the door where you can see the much older Dr Carr standing waiting impatiently for you to leave the room for his next lecture. 

“You heard...the other day.” You think back to the argument you’d gotten into with the old professor over his sexist attitude towards you, his constant demeaning comments. You had thought it had been a private argument, but it seems not. You were still rather angry about the whole thing in truth.

“Yeah, look he’s old school. Doesn’t think women should have degrees or PhDs, ignore him. You’re a better academic by far and he’s just angry that he’s been passed over for the chair again. He’s a washed up old academic, he’s only still got a job because the Dean feels bad for him.” He says the last part loudly, on purpose you’re sure, loud enough for Dr Carr to hear and turn a glare on him. You know he won’t say anything to him though, Dr Jones was the university’s prized archaeology professor, he brought in more artefacts than the other’s combined and more students. Dr Carr wouldn’t say a bad word against him. Couldn’t. It was enjoyable to watch the old fuddy professor go red in the face and huff at the doors. 

“I don’t know what to say. I...Thank you. I know we don’t...we don’t really talk, but thank you, I. It’s been hard joining the faculty, it’s a very masculine environment and I...it’s nice to know there’s someone in my corner.” You think to your Grandfather telling you that academics would make you barren, cause you to go insane, think to your mother telling you to find a nice husband and settle down, that you should desire the life of a housewife alone. It has been very difficult simply getting this far and to know you have him in your corner, someone in your corner means a great deal, in a new city, a new job, a new career. 

“Always.” The two of you stand there in silence, just staring at each other, despite the impatient noises being made at the door by Dr Carr. You grip the satchel strap tighter over your shoulder and tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“Would you like to get some coffee?”

“Now?” You don’t have any more lectures for the day, just your office hours later to answer any student questions, but the offer still surprises you. 

“Yeah, I don’t have a lecture until later and...if you’re free I have more questions.” He holds up the notebook, little post notes coming out of the side, it’s thick from writings and usage. It flatters you that he’s so interested in what you have to say, in your mind. You think it might be more of a compliment than anything physical. 

“So it’s entirely professional then, Dr Jones?” You’re not sure where the confidence comes from to cause the words to fall from your lips, to cause a little smirk to lift at them as you look at him over the top of your glasses. Flirtation is one area you are not confident in, despite it all. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say entirely, sweetheart...I’d like to get to know you better.” He’s utterly too charming for his own good you think and too charming for your poor little heart, but despite any concerns you have, any worries about his intentions you still find yourself agreeing. You’ve wanted to get to know him better for so long, too scared to talk to him in more than passing that you can’t let this opportunity pass you by. Refuse to. 

“That sounds...lovely.” 

“Shall we?” He offers his elbow out to you and you take it, wrapping your arm through his and pulling yourself to his side. He is taller, broader, and warmer than you. He smells woodsy and a little like black coffee and everything about this moment has your heart skipping a beat. 

“We shall.”  

You take great pleasure in the dissatisfied sneer on Dr Carr’s face as the two of you walk arm in arm out of the lecture hall. 

                                                            ----

Taglists: 

@charradelange @belfry-bat @gabile18 @beccaboo929  @trasheater

[scrawnytreedemon]

Shit I’ve Been Winding Up For A Long Time Now But Am Very Aware Will Probably Hold No Relevance Should I Actually Go Into This More--

This is about Bhunivelze.

I.

You know, when I was chilling out, on my bed, that evening on that half term in early June, deciding to check up on ClementJ64′s FF retrospective because-- Hey! It’s been awhile, I wonder if he’s got around to doing the final bit of the FFXIII saga --You know, I was there, chilling, just for a laff. Just a laff.

The rest of that week was spent spiralling into a hyperfixation I absolutely did not anticipate in any way, shape, or form, because the way they introduced that character was “wwhdhfjjhHJDFJKHKJHW H A T??”

That retrospective and a good amount of wiki-scrounging is all I have as a basis for this. This is not a coherent character analysis-- Though I might tag it as that for ease of access. This is not, by any means, the thoughts of someone deeply familiar with FFXIII on the whole beyond plot synopses and overarching themes.

I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.

Reading the vast yet surface-deep lore on those wiki pages on my birthday while in a delirious state of mind was enough to make me somewhat nauseous.

Do you think I’m going to go through all of that in real time?

(Someday, someday.)

Ugh, I don’t know how to begin, but let us, I guess. I’d recommend you read this church-mime-demiurge’s FF Wiki page if you want the same level of base-knowledge I had, and maybe the aformentioned retrospective if you want the experience, because I don’t think I have the wherewithal to get into all of that from the bottom-up.

I am also, so, so fucking sorry for any remaining FFXIII fans in advance. There is like, a good chance I may be butchering the characterisation completely, so bear with me here.

With that... we begin?

Where do we even start with this guy?

How on earth to you begin to explain the absolute monolith you’ve constructed from crumbs of a Guy, some material no doubt spliced in from the Pale King, Sephiroth, y o u r  o w n  G o d  O C and other characters, and the mountains of religious trauma you carry around at all times that is probably the only reason you’ve been able to latch on as hard as you did?

I’m going to try.

What gets me, in summary, about Bhunivelze is how he’s a prime example of how love and concern can become deadly forces if in the wrong hands. His first acquainting with human emotion was by deceiving and possessing Hope, reverting his body to a teenage state, and planning to live among humanity through him. He sees human sorrow and suffering, and decides that, to End This(because it must be ended, you see) he’s going to destroy all the souls of the deceased that make up the Chaos that’s been eating this world for the past five-hundred years so they all forget and Are Happy. :).

Capital G God here hasn’t been present for the vast part of human history because he’s hidden himself away from Everything due to paranoia from killing his own mother and throwing her body into the Cosmic Basement, THEN creating the beings that would come to create humanity and OTHER beings because he didn’t have the keys to the cosmic basement. And also he believes death is a thing because she’d’ve somehow cursed all things to pass(including him) out of Spite.

Which explains why he’s so fucking averse to it and anything to do with it.

Bhunivelze, to put it lightly, is Shit at stepping into others’ shoes and Getting their experiences-- All the FalCie in FFXIII are, but him especially. It’s clear(again, in the f u c k i n g JP--) that he makes attempts to sympathise with them and does what he can to help, but it’s with such a loftiness and a complete inability to Understand why anyone would want grief, The Worst Fucking Experience In Existence, and even less why they’d be willing to Go Up Against Him And HisThe New Perfect World just for it-- And what would it matter, anyway, forgetting their loved ones. It’s not like you can grieve lost memories, right?

Right.

It reminds me of when at the end of the story of Job in the Bible, where, after putting this man through hell on earth, God rewards Job by giving him ten new children to make up for the ones that he lost. I. And that’s fucked! Nothing can replace the sheer uniqueness of each individual person you loved so dearly! But if you were a nigh-omnipotent deity high and mighty, with a cursory, almost mechanical knowledge on the functionings of the human psyche, that would seem adequete; enough.

Bhunivelze is doing that on a cosmic level.

I now want to get onto the romance: that being, his affections for Lightning. I don’t know how much I’m going to say, but it’ll probably be alot. It’s something that hits very close to home.

There is this... thing, within certain branches of Christianity, perhaps even in those of various Abrahamic faiths, where God’s love is posited to be the love-- The ultimate, most-fulfilling, all-encompassing love you could ever imagine --Because, well, he is love, so the story goes, and so often the best way to convey that is through the imagery of...

Marriage.

Giving up yourself so completely, to serve, to be the Bride; to be bound by him for all eternity; and for there to be no higher bliss than this.

This angle is pushed on young girls and women the most; from the mere parallels to the woman’s role in marriage, all the way down to downright-horrifying ultra-Evangelical purity pacts. With men, God is your dad, your best bud and confidant, your boss, your king, your this, your that, and the ‘marriage‘ as it were is relegated to a sort of half-thought; a metaphor.

For me, God was an attempt at all that, and my arranged groom.

(It was almost incestuous; was incestuous, that my own Divine Father would reach for my hand in marriage.)

Bhunivelze experiences Emotions™ for the first time through Hope, experiences Hope’s sheer overwhelming admiration for Lighting(whether there were any baby-crush feelings mixed in, I can’t say), and promptly falls into a nigh-romantic obsession with Lightning, deciding that she will be Etro(his all-but daughter)’s replacement, will be his Goddess of Death to-be-- He even calls her as such, before the final boss-battle--

...In the JP.

What happened in localisation, probably due to a number of factors, all the way back in early 2014, was that everything emotionally challenging about Bhunivelze was scraped off, like it was extra fat, and tossed aside, leaving us with the bland, clichéd shell of a foe-god we’ve seen time and time again. And I mean everything. I mean his very love for humanity; the fact his ploy was, in his eyes, to save them. Because if they’d left that all on, then it would raise the question of even if there was such a seemingly pure, all-knowing, loving being hell-bent on setting things “straight,“ would they truly be unquestionable? Would we have the right to fight for our humanity in the face of the Creator of the Universe?

To reject a love so personal?

That’s what gets me about FFXIII’s tackling of God, no matter how hackneyed and poorly-executed. It’s personal.

It’s from a feminine experience.

I know that terming is... vague, and problematic, but the way Christianity and much of the video game industry handle femininity itself is weird and problematic, so as it stands, I’ll have to simplify it. Apologies.

What sets FFXIII’s Let’s Kill God™ plot aside from most JRPG Let’s Kill God™ plots is that with our protagonist being a woman, and one who is very in touch with her femininity alongside her sheer strength; often, in these stories, God is reduced to Yet Another Foe, expected or unexpected, and you are tasked with taking him down unquestioningly for the Good of Mankind-- You will fight God, because you are right to, and you will go man-to-man-to-however-many-men you decide to bring along for the bloodbath.

And that just, doesn’t speak to me.

Even as an Extian.

Especially as an Extian. And an AFAB one with a deeply complicated experience with my gender, at that.

Leaving Christianity was painful. Questioning God was painful. Coming to terms with the fact that I had been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually traumatised under the guise of All-Encompassing Love was so, so fucking painful. I had been taught since I was five years old to devote myself to him, spent my life desperate to feel something, anything, to stay connected because I just, I never could Feel It on a deeper level, never could Give Up Myself, all I was, couldn’t Die A Spiritual Death And Be Reborn As His Eager Vessel, thus deeming myself to be worthless and a broken vessel for years and years on end... And for all that to have been... Nothing.

Lightning is hollowed out, the shards of her dead sister ripped from her in-stasis, leaving her emotionally numb for the majority of the game, Bhunivelze sweeps it under the rug, pretends he’ll perform a miracle and return Serah to life in exchange for her compliance, then sends her on her way to do his work, all the while knowing he’s going to pull said-rug from under her and elevate her such dizzying heights in the aftermath--

That he’ll deny her humanity.

Sand down all the rough edges that make her her, and polish her up afterwards, gild her as he is gilded, make her a Goddess.

And he’ll do it all because he loves her.

You can’t fight God like you can everything else. To fight It is the fight Existence Itself; FFXIII even conveys that by making Bhunivelze’s model part of the arena; it’s baked into the fabric of the game, no matter how minute.

While Lightning Returns is far from perfect in its execution of this concept, and that in itself makes me wince, not even taking into account the horribly botched excuse for a localisation Bhunivelze endured, it speaks to me more than anything else I’ve seen so far.

And it’s helped uncover some things within me. Helped me untangle them, just a little more.

So, yeah. I have alot of Thoughts on Bhunivelze, I want to share them, and I’m kinda really sad I have no one but my currently-absent friend Vee to share them with. I could get into alot more, like his very Fucked relationship with familial bonds, and how Lightning’s role as saviour so deeply parallels the overwhelming panic and never-ending guilt of Evangelical proselytisation, but I think I’ll leave those for another time.

In short, Bhunivelze is the epitome of Divine Love gone deeply wrong; on all fronts.

And if all of that isn’t enough to intrigue you, then, in Vee’s words, Lightning and Velze are literally canon endgame Sefikura lmaOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

[voodoochili]

My 75 Favorite Albums of 2020

Every year produces excellent music and 2020 was no exception. The exceptional thing about this year, though, is the loss of livelihood so many musicians suffered as a result of the pandemic. To better celebrate all I’ve listened to and loved this year, I’ve expanded my albums list from 50 to 75 albums and included a highlight track from each in the Spotify playlist below. If you like what you hear, why not throw the artist a few dollars on Bandcamp?

Check the Spotify playlist HERE.

Without further ado, my favorite albums of 2020. Happy New Year, and happy listening!

10. Playboi Carti - Whole Lotta Red: Carti’s long-awaited opus has only been out for a week, which is probably not a long enough time to give an album as sprawling and surprising as this one a full critical evaluation. But I do know when I’m hearing something that’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard: this album rearranges hip-hop at the molecular level. 

Whole Lotta Red is overstuffed with invention, the glitchy, expansive production giving Carti ample opportunity to glom onto the contours of the beat and experiment with his voice. That voice is the album’s main attraction: it squeaks, it squeals, it roars, it spits, it shudders, and organizes itself into irresistibly ignorant mantras (my current favorite is “Lamborghini parked outside, it’s purple like lean”). 

Across its 24 tracks (which feels like too many, sure, but only the 5-minute long Kid Cudi-infected droner “Metamorphosis” overstays its welcome), Carti plays with listener expectations, annihilating rap songwriting conventions (why do you need verse-chorus structure if every line is a hook) as he defiantly proclaims his desire to be unlike anybody else. Though it bears some resemblance in sound and subject matter to Future’s Monster (and much of the production owes a debt to the work of Lil Uzi Vert’s favored Working Of Dying collective), Whole Lotta Red firmly establishes Carti as a totemic figure connecting mainstream and underground sounds.

9. BbyMutha - Muthaland: BbyMutha is a natural born spitter, armed with a drawly stutter-stepping flow that routinely annihilates unconventional instrumentals. She glows with supreme confidence and comfort in her own skin, especially when she’s dripping with disdain with those who’d dare refuse her the respect she deserves. A 25-track opus that earns every minute of its runtime, Muthaland is an engrossing immersion into Mutha’s world, balancing a fascination with the occult (“Sorry I don’t fuck with n****s who don’t fuck with Satan”) with grounding interjections from close friends and her four children. Boasting rockstar fantasies like “Heavy Metal,” bad girl anthems like “Nice Guy,” and dancefloor-ready jams like “Cocaine Catwalk,” Muthaland is a tour-de-force by one of rap’s singular voices, and if she’s really finished with music as she’s claimed (rappers never really retire, but Mutha has indicated she wants to focus full time on her Apothecary), the game will greatly miss her incisive punchlines and crudely empowering perspective.

8. Westerman - Your Hero Is Not Dead: In 2020, Mid-’80s sophistipop grew into one of my favorite comfort foods. Westerman’s Your Hero Is Not Dead struck me directly in the sophistipop sweet spot, evoking the attention-to-detail and synth-heavy craftsmanship of that era and pairing it with harmonic complexity and a piercing emotionalism that recalls his idol Neil Young. On songs like “Blue Comanche” and “The Line,” Westerman constructs tales as twisty as his melodies, economically exploring how people relate to each other at the beginning and end of romantic relationships. Westerman complements his tasteful palette of synth sounds with intricate and lyrical guitar playing, most notably on the sighing, gorgeous instrumental “Float Over,” which softly segues into the title track to end the album on a gently-rising high note.

7. WizKid - Made In Lagos: The focal point of the sub-Saharan Afrobeats renaissance, Lagos is having one of the most exciting musical moments of any city since Kingston in the early ‘70s. WizKid is one of the scene’s biggest stars, with an ability to combine the sonic tapestry of his hometown with Caribbean-influenced beats and vocal styles. Made In Lagos is a masterwork of sound design, bringing creamy bass, chicken-scratch speckles of guitar, tasteful interjections of saxophone and brass, and an intoxicating mix of acoustic and electronic percussion, all offered in service to an immaculate vibe that matches the album cover’s shiny, monochromatic color scheme. Made with lockdown in mind, the album eschews uptempo dancefloor workouts in favor of stress-relief and romance. WizKid plays the perfect host, tamping down his melodic flights of fancy and embracing a song-serving smoothness. He’s a warm and inviting presence throughout, laying out the red carpet for a cross-continental cast of collaborators like H.E.R., Skepta, Burna Boy, and Damian Marley. The result is a truly global pop masterpiece, capable of brightening even the dourest day of a miserable year.

6. Ka - Descendants of Cain: Firefighter by day and rapper/producer by night, Ka is a master of allusion. He organizes his thoughts into themed collections of metaphor, illustrating the bleak realities of street life with gnomic symbolism. On Descendants Of Cain, Ka’s strongest work to date, the enigmatic rapper expresses himself through a litany of biblical references, drawing parallels between ancient parables (he goes far deeper than the Cain/’caine double entendre that rappers have been using for decades) and the stark code of morality with which he lives his life. The 48-year-old hermit produced the project himself, creating an immersive sonic realm, crafting expansive, noir-ish backing tracks populated by late-night saxophones, sparkling pianos, and the occasional shot of sweeping strings. Once again, Ka’s music comes almost entirely without drums (certainly without “beats” in the traditional hip-hop sense–every once in a while, he adds an open hi-hat or a subdued shaker), the artist preferring to let his music swirl around his half-whispered words of wisdom. The album ends on a tearful, sentimental note with “I Love (Mimi, Moms, Kev),” in which the artist ditches the biblical lyrical conceit and expresses his love for his wife, his mom, and his best friend atop light percussion and a warm soul sample.

5. SAULT - Untitled (Rise): Rise is the second part of a diptych that SAULT recorded in response to the movement that exploded in the wake of George Floyd’s death. Black Is, the first part, is a great album (you’ll find it in the lower reaches of my 2020 list), but the mysterious UK collective fulfilled their immense potential with Rise, a propulsive, powerful, and danceable album that doubles as a thought-provoking examination of the nature of freedom and liberation. The album tackles weighty topics–police violence, fake-woke “allies,” protest, cultural appropriation–but handles them with an inspiring effervescence and a propulsion meant to usher right-thinking people into the streets. The music itself is an intoxicating marvel, combining elements from every trendy musical movement from the early ‘80s (post-disco, post-punk, house, hip-hop, whatever the hell ESG was) into a percussive and surprisingly cohesive cocktail. The album immediately makes its greatness known with its first four songs, one of the strongest opening runs of any album in recent memory: the swaggering, funky, keep-your-head-up anthem “Strong,” which features a drum solo from SAULT architect Inflo, the soaring, club-ready vamp “Fearless,” concept-establishing, string-heavy interlude “Rise,” and especially “I Just Want to Dance,” the best song ESG never wrote. 

4. Fiona Apple - Fetch The Bolt Cutters: Fetch The Bolt Cutters arrived with the kind of universal acclaim that can make some people suspicious. The Pitchfork review got a lot of attention, not just for its perfect score but for its bold statement that “no music has ever sounded quite like it.” 

That statement might’ve been slightly hyperbolic. Fetch The Bolt Cutters has the kind of propulsive left-hand piano figures, chest-thumping percussion, and impassioned vocal performances that we haven’t heard since...the last Fiona Apple album. But the album deserves its experimental reputation. These songs mess around with song structure and melody in ways that resemble avant-garde singers like Meredith Monk, use overlapping vocals that occasionally evoke the works of post-modern composers like Luciano Berio, and echoing modernist composers like Edgard Varese in the way she wrings pathos out of rhythmic elements.

Though Fetch might be a slight step down from The Idler Wheel, it’s an invigorating listen, packed with the soul-baring confessionals that only Fiona is capable of executing. Combining literary wordplay with plainspoken directness, Fiona forces the listener to confront her trauma and contemplate her diagnoses of patriarchal ills. The songs are uniformly excellent–especially opener “I Want You To Love Me,” the most “traditional” song on the record, and “Shameika,” a burrowing childhood rumination with a happy ending–but Fetch The Bolt Cutters stands out to me as a collection of amazing moments: when the jig-like “For Her” fades into an unforgettably painful cadence (“Good mornin’, good mornin’/You raped me in the same bed your daughter was born in”), Fiona’s ground-shaking vocal intensity at the end of “Newspaper,” her dogs howling over the outro of “Fetch The Bolt Cutters,” the winking repetition of the title phrase on “Ladies.” Her albums display more than enough ambition to forgive the long gestation periods, but hopefully we won’t have to wait another 8 years for Fiona to bare her soul once again.

3. Drakeo The Ruler - Thank You For Using GTL: Embroiled in a Kafkaesque legal saga that shines a light on the worst aspects of our horrendous justice system, Drakeo The Ruler spent more than three years wrongly incarcerated for a crime he not only did not commit, but for which he was acquitted (for more info on Drakeo’s ordeal, read Jeff Weiss). He’s now mercifully a free man, mostly due to the work of his lawyer, but at least partially because of publicity generated by Thank You For Using GTL. Recorded over the phone from prison during the height of the pandemic, it’s a miracle that an album created under such sub-optimal conditions sounds as excellent as it does, but credit producer JoogSzn–who not only supplied the creeping, head-nodding backing tracks but recorded Drakeo’s phoned-in vocals–and engineer MixedByNavin for the project’s astonishing fidelity. Drakeo and Joog spent hours on the phone to record the album, in the process paying thousands of dollars to GTL, the predatory telecom company of choice for the L.A. corrections system, whose mechanical interjections serve as a constant reminder of the injustice that made the album necessary. Of course, a good story is a good story, but that alone doesn’t get an album on 2020’s most prestigious Best Albums list (mine). It’s a classic rap album, perhaps the best ever released by an incarcerated rapper, and a thumb directly in the nose of the D.A. and the LAPD. The album is a lyrical marvel, packed with winding wordplay and outlandish flexes, as Mr. Mosley takes aim at 6ix9ine, cackles at sorry-ass Instagram haters, and sneers at American-made cars (“To be honest, a Hellcat isn’t a foreign”). Each song has a carefully considered concept, the rapper’s punchlines building upon one another to make an airtight case for his status as L.A.’s top dog. He contrasts his own whip-crashing lifestyle with flashy wannabes on “GTA VI” and “Backflip or Sumn,” mourns a favorite department store on “RIP Barneys,” and proves he still doesn’t rap beef on “Maestro’s Tension.” The album’s masterstroke comes with “Fictional,” the final track, in which Drakeo exposes the prosecution’s use of his lyrics as evidence in criminal proceedings as the farce it is: “It might sound real, but it’s fictional/I love that my imagination gets to you.” Drakeo’s story was a rare bright spot in 2020, and a rare one with a happy ending. Just last week, the rapper released Because Y’All Asked, a studio-recorded version of Thank You For Using GTL, giving the album’s songs the clarity they deserve. But I think I’ll mostly return to the original, which will live on as an excellent album and a vital document of post-George Floyd America.

2. Pa Salieu - Send Them to Coventry: Hailing from the middle of nowhere–or, more accurately city in the English Midlands only known in the states for its middling Premier League team–Gambian-British artist Pa Salieu served up the most distinctive, visceral, and daring rap debut of the year. His style fuses elements of grime, drill, afro-trap, dancehall, and the darker edges of U.S. hip-hop into a percussive slurry, injected with the urgency of his struggle to survive. The magic of the album comes from the way Pa’s fluid flows interact with the shimmering and foreboding production (Felix Joseph and Aod lead the cast of the project’s sound architects), which is perfectly suited for cold city nights. He slips effortlessly into the pocket, toe-tagging the beats with a combination of aggression and trance-like meditation and uttering casually powerful pronouncements (“I'd make a killa riddim offa any riddim/The grind can never stop 'til I'm wrapped in linen”) that make you believe he’s Britain’s next great rapper. Pa keeps the vibe consistent throughout, but the moments that stand out are the moments when he locks into an unbreakable groove over no-frills production, like on singles “Block Boy,” “Betty,” and “B***K.” The artist’s wry sense of humor and brash confidence keeps the album from feeling bleak, but Send Them To Coventry wisely ends on “Energy,” a warm and bright ode to keeping your creative spark safe from the prying forces of fame and fortune.

1. Kassa Overall - I Think I’m Good: “I think I’m good”–a phrase that’s ran through my head throughout this shitstorm of a year. Sure, I postponed a wedding, cancelled trips, and saw my friends and family much less often than I would like, but I count myself among the lucky ones. Still breathing, still sane. Though it was recorded and released before the pandemic started, Kassa Overall’s I Think I’m Good became a lodestar of sorts for me. It’s a brilliantly introspective and deeply personal album about existing in enclosed spaces–whether a jail cell, an NYC subway car, or the inescapable prison of your own body.

Kassa Overall made his name as a jazz drummer, touring with icons like Geri Allen, but his solo music incorporates elements of hip-hop, classical, and trap to create a wholly original milieu. The album features contributions from over 30 accomplished voices, ranging from luminary Vijay Iyer, to Kassa’s saxophonist brother Carlos Overall, to virtuosic pianist Sullivan Fortner, to venerated activist Angela Davis. But all the disparate elements come together in service of Kassa’s deeply personal and engrossing vision.

Taking partial inspiration from Kassa’s struggle with manic depression, the music fluctuates between meditative calm and unbearable tension, mimicking the patter of an unquiet mind. Album opener “Visible Walls,” is a mesmerizing prayer for salvation soundtracked by fluttering harps, piercing woodwinds, and heartbeat percussion. “Find Me” buries a plea for help within a cacophony of sampled voices and rattling piano notes. Fortner’s piano guides us through the hauntingly devastating “Halfway House” and the Chopin-indebted “Darkness In Mind,” each highlighting a different stage of grief (despair and acceptance, respectively). The arc of I Think I’m Good concludes with the hopeful “Got Me A Plan” and “Was She Happy (For Geri Allen),” a Vijay Iyer-assisted tribute to his late friend and mentor. 

It’s ironic that an album that so deeply explores the feeling of isolation vibrates with such a collaborative spirit. I Think I’m Good feels like an answered prayer–a community coming together to check on a beloved friend who’s gone through a tough time: “You good, man?” “I think so.”

Here’s the rest of my list.

11. Yves Tumor - Heaven To A Tortured Mind 12. Shackleton & Waclaw Zimpel - Primal Forms 13. Bob Dylan - Rough & Rowdy Ways 14. Duval Timothy - Help 15. Lil Uzi Vert - Eternal Atake 16. Moodymann - Taken Away 17. Secret Drum Band - Chuva 18. J Hus - Big Conspiracy 19. Headie One & Fred Again - GANG 20. Tiwa Savage - Celia 21. Andras - Joyful 22. Bill Callahan - Gold Record 23. King Von - Welcome To O’Block 24. Flo Milli - Ho, Why Is You Here? 25. Chubby & The Gang - Speed Kills 26. Madeline Kenney - Sucker’s Lunch 27. Empty Country - Empty Country 28. Smino - She Already Decided 29. Destroyer - Have We Met 30. Yves Jarvis - Sundry Rock Song Stock 31. Ela Minus - Acts Of Rebellion 32. Creeper - Sex, Death & The Infinite Void 33. Alabaster DePlume - To Cy & Lee: Instrumentals, Vol. 1 34. Good Sad Happy Bad - Shades 35. The 1975 - Notes On a Conditional Form 36. Kate NV - Room For The Moon 37. $ilkmoney - Attack of the Future Shocked, Flesh Covered, Meatbags of the 85 38. Eddie Chacon - Pleasure, Joy and Happiness 39. Kenny Segal & Serengeti - Ajai 40. Bad Bunny - YHLQMDLG 41. Kahlil Blu - DOG 42. Califone - Echo Mine 43. Boldy James - The Price of Tea in China/Manger On McNichols/The Versace Tape 44. Bufiman - Albumsi 45. Moses Boyd - Dark Matter 46. Thanya Iyer - KIND 47. Jyoti - Mama You Can Bet! 48. Obongjayar - Which Way Is Forward? 49. Rio Da Yung OG - City On My Back 50. Young Jesus - Welcome To Conceptual Beach 51. Owen Pallett - Island 52. Oceanator - Things I Never Said 53. Shootergang Kony - Red Paint Reverend 54. Shabason, Krgovich & Harris - Philadelphia 55. Six Organs of Admittance - Companion Rises 56. Lido Pimienta - Miss Colombia 57. Kelly Lee Owens - Inner Song 58. Polo G - The GOAT 59. Actress - Karma & Desire 60. Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher 61. Porridge Radio - Every Bad 62. Yg Teck - Eyes Won’t Close 63. Mozzy - Beyond Bulletproof 64. Ratboys - Printer’s Devil 65. R.A.P. Ferreira - Purple Moonlight Pages 66. Ulver - Flowers of Evil 67. Rina Sawayama - SAWAYAMA 68. SAULT - Untitled (Black Is) 69. Ezra Feinberg - Recumbent Speech 70. Davido - A Better Time 71. Hailu Mergia - Yene Mircha 72. HAIM - Women In Music Pt. III 73. Half Waif - The Caretaker 74. Key Glock - Yellow Tape 75. KeiyAa - Forever Your Girl

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Less I Know The Better (Peter Parker's iPod, Part 9.)

Description: Blip was hard. Dating MJ was a pleasure in Parker’s life, so it was even harder when she told him that things aren’t working as she anticipated - one month before college. Although they remained friends. But Peter isn’t too sure if he can handle liking yet another girl.

Part Summary: As another week came by, another visit from the masked hero was granted. And this time, MJ maybe started to pick up some vibes of you being even bigger weirdo than normally.

A/N: We're feeling fierce today, my babies. Let's give this boy a taste of heaven, shall we?

Word count: 2.5 K

Tagging: @fanboyswhereare-you, @lukesbabylon, @eridanuswave​

Master list: H E R E

This time, when Peter decided to come by, it was raining like crazy. The season of crazy spring thunders came by, it was just two weeks away from May. There were gallons of water pouring down every damn second. If you would like a shower or go out for a swim, you could. You just needed to count on having a cold afterward.

Peter came by your window two days earlier actually, with a rose in his hand even, being in one of his super romantic moods, but he forgot that you were about to visit Betty's place along with MJ, so he just gently opened up the window and closed the flower into the doorframe. And now, while the ice-cold water poured down on him, he watched as you laid on your bed, dressed only in a t-shirt and shorts, doing work for school on your old laptop. He could hear a tune playing pretty loudly - and he saw even the rose put in the vase on your desk, which excited him.

Carefully, he knocked on the glass, waiting before you noticed. Your eyes almost popped out when you realized who that even is - quickly, you locked the door and went to open the window.

"I'm certainly not coming on the rooftop with you today in this freaking weather, so, come on in." - You stepped aside, tugging his forearm in, and you could already tell that he's grinning under his mask. He was also insanely cold to touch. That boy was about to be sick, just because he wanted to see you. While he tried to get into your room through the window somehow, you cleaned up some mess before you turned back right at him.

"I'll let you be if you're working, I can come later or tomorrow." - Peter said when he finally got in, looking at you sitting down with your laptop again. Oh, you were playing a happy tune today. It was Vance Joy and his Mess is Mine, which was just radiating with joy and love. You looked at Spidey a bit cluelessly, showing him the math problem.

"I would use some help now. I don't have any idea what the hell am I supposed to do now. But... Are you cold? Won't you take the spandex off? I can lend you something." - You offered. Yes, you wanted to see him undressing and maybe even see more of his body, but also, you didn't want to see the boy get sick. - "And I can warm you up if you want." - You said with a devilish giggle. You, of course, didn't think anything nasty with that comment, you thought about some snuggles in the worst and best-case scenario.

That kinda caught Peter off guard. He started to blush again, for an unknown, stupid reason as he was watching you slowly looking back at the math. Did you just... Could he... Didn't you think something else..? Peter could say yes, since, for a reason, his body was missing your warmth ever since you had to wake up for school after the Twilight Saga marathon. But, let's be honest, Peter had his morals and these couldn't be crossed.

"I'm fine. I can just press a little button on the suit and it does this." - He showed you and the only thing you could see was steam coming out of him along with an intense heat since his suit had turned on the heating function. You nodded and a grin appeared on your face as you wrote down something into your math notebook.

"You could just say yes and take such a privilege, but you need to play the gentleman until the end, don't you?" - You said while looking at the numbers you had written down. Peter shook his head and sat on the chair in front of your desk while you put your blanket over your legs. Before you started to look at the problem again, the man stole your laptop, automatically doing your homework.

"Give me the paper and a calculator would be nice." - He asked you, but the only thing you could give him was the paper since you were consistent with stealing Peter's calculator. You still hadn't bought one. He just let a long inhale out, knowing there isn't any calculator coming, as he found the app in your notebook, finishing the page in the next few minutes.

"How can you be so smart? Math is a torture device, and I'm sure of it." - You mumbled when you stuck your head from behind his back as you watched him just... Finishing the whole homework off just like that. He turned his head on you and you just noticed that he had already pushed his mask a bit up, to breathe some normal, fresh, cold air.

"I'm not that smart, come on. I just like this thing. Also, instead of 3.5, you should get 4.8 here. Now you see why it wasn't working. It kinda makes sense." - Speedy pointed on the screen, showing you where you wrote the wrong number you'd know what to do the next time. - "Why aren't you freaking out? I heard stalkers do that when they have their idol in their bedroom." - He mumbled and his mouth was just flat. For a moment, you thought that maybe he's serious.

But when you opened up your mouth, that boy just started laughing out loud. You bumped his shoulder, saying him that he's a dumb frick before you send the e-mail off to your teacher's address.

"I'm joking, come on, I'm just joking." - He sat next to you on the bed, watching as your expression didn't change a single bit. You looked pissed for a reason, but to be honest, you were just concentrated so you wouldn't do that much typos in that one e-mail. - "Hey, talk to me. If anything, it's only fair to give me something for writing your homework for you, missy."

"I don't know who's the stalker. Do I knock on your windows at eight o'clock in the evening, Speedy?" - You mumbled and send the message off, closing the laptop. Then, you were looking at him. And with that, Peter had to say that you had a point. He was acting like a stalker at that point. - "But to your luck, I'm okay with having a stalker." - A whisper came out when you put that piece of technology away and leaned in to catch his chin in with your thumb as MJ just knocked on your door, making you both jump at that sound.

Jesus, what was her deal at nine p.m. when you had something more exciting going on. You shoved the Spidey boy behind your bed, going to unlock the door for her. She was standing there with her hair let down and her face was just dead from the inside. MJ was holding a cup with ice-cream in her hand, staring you down.

"What's that about?" - She asked, feeling the air in your room. It was extremely humid but pretty cold. - "Are you having a party without asking me to come?" - MJ rose her eyebrows. You smiled at her, opening the door more so she could see that you're all alone in there.

"I don't know what you're talking about, girl. I just finished my math, if you want help with that, I can send you the homework." - You mumbled and leaned your temple into your door. MJ closed her eyes a bit, noticing a rose on your desk. Why didn't she noticed anyone giving you that flower? It seemed to be pretty fresh.

"What you were talking to, then? And why did you lock the door? You never do that." - She mumbled with suspicion in her voice. With a long sigh, you told her that you had Peter on the phone and that you locked the door so the flat wouldn't get too cold since you knew she doesn't like that.

"Yeah. Right. Do you even know that locking your door doesn't help with the temperature at all? You only have to close it, dummy. Physics aren't your thing, are they?" - She mumbled and turned around to walk back to the living room, eating on the ice-cream. Her brain started working and thinking about the mysterious rose in your room. When you locked the door again, you walked to the door to close it a bit, and afterward, you rose your blanket which was hiding the boy.  

"Momma Capulet is gone now, Romeo. You can come out." - You whispered, stepping away from him. You saw him looking at the door, licking his lips.

"I will have to take you out on some balcony, then." - Speedy answered, walking to the window. You seemed to be surprised to see him leaving, but he was pretty scared of MJ. - "Since, you know, you're calling me Romeo and stuff."

"What’s the matter? She hadn't seen anything, calm down." - You mumbled and closed the window just when he was reaching out to it. - "You think you're going, don't you? But there weren't any criminals misbehaving or Avengers searching for their youngest addition, so no, I don't think you're leaving."

"Miss, this is considered threatening personal space and kinda holding me as a hostage. And I know you know that I can file a lawsuit at you for that." - Spidey tried to resist, but that was when you pushed him down onto the bed. And Peter just knew that at that moment, he won't be leaving no matter what.

"Oh, you won't do a thing about that, boy." - You said confidently, leaning yourself down to sit on his lap, smiling into his face. The tone of music shifted drastically, as Tame Impala came in with his seductive base guitar.

"You seem to be sure." - The boy remarked as you hugged his outer thighs with your inner ones, leaning your lovely bottom into his knees. You moved your hair away, biting your lip while you looked down on him. When your thumb rested on the top of his chin again, he felt a bit like a little kid whos getting a lecture. Just before you finally kissed him again, he felt a gentle whisper on his lips.

"Watch and learn, boy." - That was the only smart remark you had before getting full silence from that boy. Peter couldn't get enough of your lips, those were just the fact. But there also were the small things like your grip on one of his shoulders, small whimpers before you leaned before another kiss and occasional smiles every time he opened up his eyes.

"Are you fine with this?" - You asked suddenly, making Peter look at you as he slowly tuned back into reality. He looked at you, panting, hearing the song slowly fading away, tuning Jawny’s Honeypie.

"Why? Do I look like I'm running away?" - He joked back and your eyes traveled to his hands just laying around his body. Oh, OH. Peter was just so taken by you kissing him that he forgot to touch you. That was normal for him. He was taken away by you all the time.

"I mean, do you like... Want to dance or will you participate in this activity as well? You know, I don't know if someone told you, but because you're single you might not know that... There are two people when they're making out." - You said courageously, biting your lips as you tried not to laugh. Peter closed his eyes at this and laughed out loud as well. Just seconds after, you almost let a scream out when you were thrown onto your pillows like a sack of potatoes.

"Does this count as me participating enough or what do you want me to do exactly?" - He shot back in the same tone, feeling your palms gently circling his waist again. He leaned into the bed with one of his elbows, holding your face with the other one. The song in the background was playful as well, which made him hum the tune.

"I'm quite fine with this situation going on, Gonzales." - You nodded, rising your knee to meet his hips, laughing when his lips blew air into your neck, making loud farting before he pushed you a bit closer to bring you in for another kiss. MJ intervening was long forgotten as you lost the track of the time or of what was even going on.

"Will you stay to watch a movie or you're in a rush?" - You mumbled sleepily, just having your head leaned into the funny feeling spandex, listening to his heartbeat. He was keeping you closer, having an arm over your shoulder.

"What about you'll play something and I’ll stay until you fall asleep? Hm?" - He hummed back, kissing the top of your head. For a good portion of your fourth date, you were just making out - and even if Peter knew that he won't fall asleep for a pretty long time, he could understand that you're tired. Especially when the weather was crazy outside.

You nodded, playing the first thing you found on Netflix, sniggling under the warm blanket. It felt quite nice to feel someone pressed to your back, having their hand on your waist. You fell dead asleep rather quickly, snorting lightly after just ten minutes. When Peter poked your waist and you haven't moved an inch, he slowly took the mask off, finally looking at you with his eyes only.

He knew that Karen kept on recording everything he saw, that was why could simply rewatch the two hours of you making out, but there was some intimacy about looking at you in the dark room. His face slowly leaned in until his forehead rested on your shoulder as he took a few long, deep breaths.

This maybe was beautiful and much more, but he just wanted to be Peter with you. Oh Lord, he wished you to kiss him with such an eagerness every single morning. Or he could tickle you until you'd woke up in the morning. And... With that, it hit him.

Another realization. And he just knew that he doesn't only has a huge crush on you. He felt that small impulse - as if something inside of him clicked. That feeling everyone told him about. That something which made you wanna do stuff with someone else. Not just kiss them or snuggle them. But stuff, like... Adult stuff.

How he was about to survive all of that? He didn't know. Peter just hoped that you might be able to love Peter as much as you felt affectionate toward Speedy Gonzales.

[fairy-changeling]

The first time Loki met Thor, the boy was five years old.

Loki had not meant to leave it so late. It had judged Frigga's pregnancy by the standards of his own people. He had assumed it would take her as long as it might an Frost Giant to birth a child and he had calculated accordingly. He returned to Asgard on the eve of Thor's birthday, in those calculations he had been correct, but in everything else he had been wrong.

He had swept into the throne room in a flurry of snow, head to toe in black, filled to the brim with the bitterness he had been cultivating since he last saw Odin.

The room had fallen silent in horror. The only sound had been that of swords being drawn, the noise of metal bared to air and Loki had welcomed it, had welcomed the power it showed he possessed. Odin had been fearful of him, and well he should have been.

"I have a gift for your child," Loki had said, the words so innocuous but he saw Odin flinch.  

Then that smiling, blond haired child had run forward - so big and happy, and completely unafraid of Loki - eager for the gift Loki had brought him and it had dumbfounded Loki.

He wove something from the air - a glittering ball of sparkling lights to amuse a child - then vanished as quickly as he had come.

He returned the next year, for Thor's sixth birthday, with a present already planned. This time it was sugar and nectar that he spun in front of Thor's delighted eyes, creating for him a delicious edible gift that hardly lasted the day. Loki did not mind. He enjoyed watching Odin's face as the man looked on, watching to see any sign, any hint of betrayal. Loki had laughed and created further treats; enough in the end for the whole of the royal court.

He came again the next year and the next. Each time he made Thor something new - fire that did not burn him, a cloak of feathers that hid him from his father's eye, and each time Thor delighted in Loki's attendance. Loki stayed late into the night, weaving magic that was nothing more than parlor tricks but enchanting the young prince and his friends.

Then Loki had begun to adventure, bringing back with him not only books and trinkets of the ancient worlds, but Thor's birthday gifts as well.

From the land of the dwarfs he bought Thor a beautiful clockwork toy and Thor managed not to break it until the night before his next birthday.

Loki gave him then a gift befitting the fact that he would one day be a grand warrior - a hammer that could only be wielded by Thor himself, although the boy could hardly support its weight. From that day forward, Thor was never without his beloved hammer.

Loki went to the home of the dark elves and returned with stolen treasure. For Thor's birthday that year he gifted the youth fine iron gauntlets inlaid with precious rubies - ones Loki had plucked from the elves’ treasury himself.

The next year he returned with spell work - a bow that would never miss it's target when fired by Thor.

In that year as well he chose to make his home in Asgard. 

Loki had been a nomad, travelling as the spirit took him, never remaining for too long. The only constant in his life had been his return at high summer for Thor's birthday each year. Now though, he staked out ground and worked his magic and grew great spires of ice that jutted up into the clouds. He crafted himself a tower from that ice and lived there, overlooking the royal palace.

Queen Frigga taught him some of her own magic that year as well, simple spells that Loki had never taken the time to learn. She taught him to make flowers bloom and Loki grew roses - black and sharp thorned and he let them grow over his tower, reminding all who looked upon it that he was still Loki, the god of lies and betrayal and they should not take his new closeness as any sign that he had softened.

He gave Thor a belt that year and smiled at Thor's surprised face. "Wear it when you fight," he told the young man. "It will make you stronger still."

For Thor's fourteenth year, Loki appeared late in the day, and brought a strange music box. It was wooden, and when opened had nothing inside it, but it played whatever Thor desired - sagas or chants, battle songs or ballads. It had within it multitudes, anything Thor could want to hear and into the night the people of Asgard danced, carried along by the music Loki had gifted them.

**

It would be Thor's fifteenth birthday in three days. Despite having a year to plan, to find himself a greater gift than he had in the years before, Loki was without anything. 

He had adventured extensively in the autumn, but nothing he felt worthy of the prince had come into his possession at the time. He had studied and studied his books of magic during the winter months and nothing had presented itself as a possible present. In spring he had sought to renew his tentative friendship with the Queen in order to understand better what she thought Thor might like. 

Loki had learned much about what his mother wanted for him, but he had not learned what it was Thor wanted.

It had been easy to please Thor when he was a child. All Loki had needed to do was create spun sugar. Now it grew harder with each passing year. 

Thor was becoming a man and Loki had no idea what to gift one such as he. 

Magic prickled at Loki’s skin, alerting him to an intruder, alerting him that his wards had been compromised. 

Loki had warded his tower as soon as he had built it. He was not so foolish as to think he was accepted in Asgard. He knew that any night there might come soldiers from the palace, ready with swords and fire, to drive him out or kill him. They needn't come at Odin's request, although Loki assumed they would have his blessing if they managed to rid the king of the eternal thorn in his side. 

He stood up and strode to the tower window, flinging it wide so he could look down.

He recognized the tousled blonde head immediately. Only Thor would be brave and fool hardy enough to try to climb the roses surrounding Loki's tower. The thorns were sharp on purpose, to discourage such acts, but it seemed that Thor had not an ounce of sense in his head. 

"You are impossible, Odinson," Loki shouted down to him, frowning. "And why are you here? Your birthday is not for three more days."

He did not want to invite anyone into his tower. He certainly did not want Thor to think he could come and climb up to see him whenever he liked. He did not wish for anyone to assume that they could have him whenever they wanted. 

Thor had often begged for him to stay after the cock had crowed and his birthday was over, but Loki had refused. He had refused invitations from Frigga to visit throughout the year; or the grand summons that came during some state visit or feast to which Loki had been begrudgingly invited. He liked his privacy. He liked to come and go as he pleased, on his own terms. He did not wish for anyone, especially a spoiled prince, to believe that he was entitled entry into Loki's personal sanctum. 

All the same, he reached down, feeling his magic flow through his fingers. The thorns blunted and the brambles grew thicker, sturdier, easing Thor's way up to him.

it was infuriating how Thor smiled up at him, all sunshine and the confidence of youth as if he’d had known Loki would bend his wards and his protections for him. 

[oldadastra]

Where do we go from here? A look back and a speculative look ahead in the wake of The Last Jedi

Now that The Last Jedi has finally arrived, I wanted to take a look back at some of the analysis and speculative essays I wrote over the past two years to see how those ideas fit (or don’t fit) into the story Rian Johnson has given us, and what surprised me most about the character revelations in TLJ. I’ll use these ideas as a springboard to look ahead to where the saga might lead in its third act, and since I love speculation as much as the next fan, I’ll wrap this essay up with a crack theory.

All this is spoiler-intensive, of course, and this got long-ass, so...

Looking back

In what remains my primary analysis of the new saga, I argued that we can safely assume the new saga is telling a redemption story for its main character, Ben Solo; not only because redemption is a primary theme in Star Wars, but also because that’s the kind of story Adam Driver would be interested in telling, based upon his own personal story and the work he and Joann Tucker are doing through their non-profit, Arts In the Armed Forces.

I delved into what appeared to be conflicting canon accounts of Snoke’s influence on young Ben, how much this interference might have affected Ben’s agency in his fall to the dark side, and the degree to which the storytellers were willing to embrace a storyline in which the main character has been subjected to abuse at the hands of a villain able to intrusively enter and influence his thoughts.

I asked questions about what might really have happened to destroy Luke Skywalkers’ Jedi training program, and presented the argument that things did not go in the way we were invited to believe in The Force Awakens.

Finally, I examined Leia’s role in the fall of her son, how politics in the galaxy far far away may have influenced his fall, and how the broken saga can reach a meaningful conclusion after Carrie Fisher’s death.

Where do we stand now?

Clearly, Ben Solo will be redeemed.

The clues were there in The Force Awakens, and Rian Johnson’s Last Jedi went further than my wildest dreams in the presentation of Ben Solo as a sympathetic character. Those of us who came out of The Force Awakens two years ago saying, “Save Ben Solo” were…in the minority. This is no longer the case.

I’m taking some pleasure in having been half-right in my guess about the truth of what happened when Ben fell to the dark. I’d hoped (perhaps ironically, given how I feel about the Prequels) that Ben’s turn would have been rooted in political and ideological beliefs, and may not have included any deaths at Luke’s training site, but The Last Jedi makes clear that there were fatalities there.

What surprised me the most about TLJ was the fall of Luke Skywalker. Based on the vicious condemnation of Last Jedi from certain segments of the fanbase, I was not alone in this. Knowing now that Ben Solo didn’t so much fall to the dark as he was pulled by Snoke, and pushed by Luke, the circumstances of his departure from Luke’s tutelage have to be seen in a different, morally ambiguous light, and Adam Driver’s repeated statements that he has been playing Kylo/Ben as a character who believes he is right make perfect sense now.  

 Looking ahead

Much like The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi left us with mysteries and unanswered questions. Plenty of disgruntled Star Wars fans with a bloated sense of entitlement have taken this as evidence that the storytellers have no plan, that Rian Johnson ignored JJ Abrams’ work in TFA, or that the saga as presented in The Last Jedi is somehow, absurdly, “not Star Wars.” 

I have no patience for people who present themselves as fans and then proceed to sh*t on the work of the thousands of people involved in bringing Star Wars to life. I’m making a conscious effort in this essay not to write in rebuttal to people lobbing hate at the Last Jedi, but let me just say this: The Last Jedi is part two of three. Important parts of the story are yet to be told.

Aside: I really miss Carrie Fisher, whose acid wit would have helped cut Star Wars trolls down to size, but if nothing else, The Last Jedi tells us that we have to stand up for ourselves, even if we’re ‘nobody.’ We all have a role to play, and we can be the hero we need. I loved The Last Jedi, and I think it may be the best Star Wars movie to date. With that, let’s look ahead:

No one’s ever really gone

I’m an old, old fan of the OT, but I was never a Luke Skywalker partisan. Maybe I was distracted by Han and Leia’s relationship, but somehow Luke’s transformation from this

to this

Never quite worked for me. How did his change of heart happen so quickly and so completely? The Luke Skywalker of Return of the Jedi always struck me as, frankly, a bit of a sanctimonious prick.  

The bitter, disillusioned Luke who has isolated himself on Ahch-To is the most human and relatable version of this character I have encountered, and I love him.

I was surprised that Rian Johnson made Luke’s fall the central sin of The Last Jedi, but in no way does this make me think less of Luke as a character, nor does it seem that Luke acted out of character in either the backstory to Ben’s fall, or in his confrontation with Ben at the end of TLJ. Grief and guilt motivated his self-imposed exile. Was there anger there, too? At himself? At the Force? In any event, his parting line to Leia, “No one’s ever really gone,” is true at many levels. Luke is speaking about Ben. Mark is talking about Carrie. Luke is talking about himself.

Fans who just think that Luke Skywalker died in TLJ have missed the point. Luke was so broken by his role in Ben’s fall that he cut himself off from the force. He found this connection again, used it to save the spark of the rebellion, made the first connection back to Ben since their falling out (and incidentally, held his nephew back from acts which would have sent him further into the dark), and finally became one with the force and ascended as a true Jedi master; filled with peace and purpose. It’s beautiful!

And it’s not the end.  Luke Skywalker will still have an important role to play in episode IX. I’m sure of it.

Claudia Gray’s Bloodline and The last Jedi

The Last Jedi did not directly address what we learned about galactic politics and Leia’s relationship with Ben during the timeframe of Claudia Gray’s Bloodline. I was surprised by this in my first viewing of TLJ, but from a storytelling standpoint, I understand how including these details would have required additional exposition in a way that didn’t fit within the structure of the film. What is implied in Bloodline about the events leading to Ben’s fall complements the version of the tale we hear in TLJ without adding detail which the audience didn’t need at this time, and which may unfold in episode IX.

Luke senses the darkness rising in Ben and goes to confront him: Based upon what we know from Bloodline, this confrontation probably took place at the end of a long day (or days) following the revelation that Ben is the grandson of Darth Vader (and Master Luke is Vader’s son!). I can imagine the chaos and turmoil this created within the small group of Luke and his students. Luke, in his moment of weakness, mistakes Snoke’s darkness for Ben’s, and contemplates his murder. Ben fights back against the threat to his life, and then battles with those who saw him strike down their master. He escapes in the company of his friends. Luke tells us he had a dozen students, plus Ben. If we want a body count at the end of what people called the “jedi massacre,” I’m going to say it stands at about five, and we have no idea how many of those were killed by the fearsome Kylo Ren.

The Knights of Ren

It’s obvious who they are now, yes? I’d hoped we would meet the Knights in The Last Jedi, but this is a pleasure that will have to wait until Episode IX.

Luke mentions them so briefly, you could almost miss it. Ben “vanished with a handful of my students and slaughtered the rest.”  

Adam Driver almost let slip who they are in an old interview from 2015, when he said, “It was a group that existed before him, that he was a part of.”

The Knights are Ben’s fellow students from Luke’s training project. If people are still doubtful about whether the storytellers have an overall plan, let me remind you that this image of the knights, mysteriously titled, “the seven light,” was part of The Force Awakens pre-production artwork as early as November of 2013.

Why didn’t the Knights appear in The Last Jedi? Because the storytellers haven’t had time to get to them, and Ben didn’t need them yet. In universe, little more than a week has elapsed since the opening crawl of The Force Awakens. 

Why am I confident we’ll see them in Episode IX? Because Ben, as the newly-minted Supreme Leader of the First Order, is going to need trusted allies to help him hold onto power. The Knights, Ben’s Jedi-trained friends who were willing to follow him into the dark, are easily the most promising set of characters we have yet to meet in the new saga.

This illustration from The Art of The Last Jedi gives me hope that at least one of Ben’s Knights is a girl.

It would make me even happier if not all of them are human. The FO, like the Empire before it, has a bias against non-humans, and seeing the new Supreme Leader surround himself with enforcers and advisors who defy the racist norms of the FO makes me happy just thinking about it.

And Ben’s going to need all the help he can get. He’s surrounded by enemies in the First Order, and it was strangely easy to dispatch Snoke. Almost too easy.  

 Snoke

How is it that Snoke, a force user powerful enough to shadow Ben Solo’s life from before he was born, and so evil that a glimpse of his darkness in Ben’s mind led Jedi Master Luke Skywalker to nearly murder his sister’s son, was killed so easily in The Last Jedi? And who was Snoke, anyway?

It was too easy to kill Snoke. Ben used Snoke’s power against him to kill him in the throne room, tricking Snoke into seeing one thing while Ben did another; but even in that moment we glimpse the terrible scope of Snoke’s power. He could see everything in Ben’s mind, and it was impossible for Ben to completely hide his thoughts from Snoke. Snoke built the link between Ben and Rey in an attempt to lure Rey into his clutches, but the link survived after Snoke was gone.

This image is from The Art of The Last Jedi: 

“We’ve seen Jedi come back as blue ghosts. Maybe Sith can come back. And maybe there’s some all-powerful mastermind Sith that’s controlling whatever the dark side is. We did talk a lot about how the final frontier for Jedi might be in the spirit realm. So you have to have a bad-guy ghost.”

It’s obvious that Hux will be one of Ben’s enemies in Episode IX, but I suspect that we have not heard the last from Snoke, either. Chuck Wendig’s Aftermath novels teased Snoke’s identity, implying that he might be Gallius Rax, though that character died at the end of the book (murdered at the edge of an erupting dark force borehole on Jakku, so ‘dead’ may be from a certain point of view). Aftermath also suggests that a dark source of the force was calling to the emperor from the unknown regions, into which the Imperial remnant fled. These could just be red herrings, or they may point towards a more enduring source of darkness that is not easily defeated.

The storytellers have told us repeatedly that Snoke is a new character, but I think it’s possible he was inspired by an Old Republic Sith Emperor Vitiate, who transferred his essence from one body to another. Snoke the entity was caught by surprise by Ben’s trick (Snoke was monologuing!), and Ben got the drop on him, destroying his physical body (which frankly, already looked like a reanimated corpse). Snoke’s essence, obviously able to project itself in powerful ways, was probably not destroyed. I think there’s a high probability Snoke, or the dark force entity that was Snoke, will be back in IX. 

Ready for that crack theory? Here you go: Snoke will be back, possibly wearing a new body.

When I tossed this idea out to my daughter, her first thought was that Hux might be a receptacle for Snoke’s consciousness, but I think Hux is already well positioned to be a foil to Ben Solo’s attempt to rule the galaxy, and doesn’t need any encouragement to work against his new Supreme Leader. There is one First Order character we saw fall just moments after Snoke, though.

Like I said, Crrrrraaccckk!!!!

In any event, I think I’m safe in predicting that Ben will struggle to hold the throne he’s won, and bring old allies to his side to help him.  I think we’ll see Snoke back in some form, and there will come a point in the story when those who are presently enemies may find themselves joining forces to fight a final battle that takes place at least in part, in the spirit realm of the Force. Ben and Rey will have to work together, along with the Resistance, and force ghosts, to defeat the ultimate darkness. Luke will be back. If the storytellers love us, he won’t come alone.

Seriously. Bring all the force ghosts in IX. I want Luke. And Anakin Skywalker. And Obi-Wan Kenobi. And Yoda. And force ghost Leia. Hell, bring me all the Jedi lost in Order 66. 

Shout out and thanks to @theboywhocan11 who knows more about Star Wars lore than I ever shall, for reminding me who Vitiate was.

And yeah, I’m tagging this Reylo, because that’s how I’ve tagged all my meta, regardless of subject matter, for the past two years. I don’t care what the rest of this stupid fandom thinks.  <3

[cressasdbfanfics]

The Derailed Date

Paring: Goku and Chichi 

Words: 3,009

Summary: A date night doesn't quite go as planned. But Chichi handles it. And Goku likes what he sees. Takes place not real long after the Buu Saga. 

A/N: Thanks to @jadefyre for the beta read!!!! 

Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12580831/1/The-Derailed-Date

Archive of Our Own: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11561145

The Derailed Date

"So, Goku…" Chichi trailed off as she hung the last sheet up to dry on the clotheslines. "We have the house to ourselves all evening. What do you want to do today?"

I shrugged.

Gohan decided to go spend the hot summer day with Videl and Goten left for a sleepover with Trunks soon after Gohan. It really had been a long time since we were truly alone in the house together.

Chichi folded the last piece of dry laundry into the basket and carried it inside. But not before throwing me that look – the one with her eyebrow slightly raised and wearing a small smile and her teeth tugging lightly on her lower lip.

I swallowed, a little bit of heat flooding my cheeks as I followed her inside and upstairs to our room where she proceeded to sort the clean laundry into stacks for each of us. When she was through with that, she gave me orders to put each stack of the boys' laundry on their beds for them to put away when they returned.

That gave me a little time to think of something to do for her. Just the day prior, I had sold another huge load of vegetables to the local market and came home with a lot of money.

When she opened that envelope, a huge smile lit up her face and before I could blink, she was on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against mine, but for only a brief moment since the boys were watching.

Her good mood carried into the next day and I was determined not to destroy it.

We had the money. Maybe a night out was a safe bet – even though she didn't normally like having money spent on her. But sometimes she'd make an exception.

She hummed a happy tune while she dusted some pictures on our dresser and headed downstairs to dust the rest of the house.

"What do you think of going out tonight, Chichi?"

She stopped dusting and turned toward me with an eyebrow raised. "Out?"

I squirmed on the spot. "Well… yeah. I was thinking we could get dinner…?"

Her skeptical look brightened into that same smile she wore when she opened that envelope. "That would be lovely, Goku! I'll call that new sushi restaurant and make reservations."

She kissed my cheek as she breezed past me and carried on with her dusting.

Before I knew it, it was early evening and time to get ready. Chichi liked it when I wore something other than my gi so I pulled on jeans, a black button up shirt, and black tennis shoes, leaving Chichi to get ready alone.

About an hour later, she finally came down stairs. And my jaw dropped.

Her hair was half down, half up and tumbling over her shoulders in glossy, loose curls that covered the thin straps of the ice-blue dress that ended just above her knees. She was a little bit taller all of a sudden and I looked down at her feet to see strappy, light pink high heels.

She giggled and waved a hand in front of my face. "Ready, Goku?"

I swallowed and nodded as she left a quick note for the boys on a side table. We stepped out into the warm air of early evening.

"COME TO ME, FLYING NIMBUS!"

Funny. My voice broke a little bit there. Probably something to do with the way she looked.

A moment later, the little yellow cloud zoomed in for a landing, stopping neatly right in front of us.

I helped Chichi get comfy and hopped on in front of her so she wouldn't get cold. It was a warm night, but Nimbus liked to fly high. Sure enough, she leaned into my back and sighed contentedly.

My face heated up a little bit.

We flew in silence toward Satan City, seeing the first distant lights after only about forty-five minutes. We flew in low over the outskirts and Chichi shifted so her chin rested on my shoulder.

"We should land here, Goku. The restaurant is close and I don't want to make a scene."

I agreed and moments later, our feet touched cement and I waved Nimbus off.

I glanced up and down the mostly empty street. One direction marked the entrance to a quiet neighborhood, the other brightly lit and bustling with activity. Chichi took off at a fast walk toward the bright lights and loud noises of the city and I kept pace behind.

A block or so down the road, she pointed across the street at a fancy looking sushi restaurant. We crossed the street and stepped inside where the hostess greeted us with a smile and took us to a table for two.

Flipping through the wide selection in the menu, the restaurant obviously specialized in sushi but had all kinds of other stuff, too. Including a very yummy looking teriyaki plate.

Chichi looked at me with an eyebrow raised. "Let me guess. You're going to order everything."

I chuckled. "How'd ya know?"

She peeked at me over the top of her menu, dark eyes crinkling. "I'm your wife. I know everything."

I laughed again.

Our server walked up to us with a smile. "Welcome! What can I get you to drink this evening? Miss?"

"Iced tea, please," she said.

"And you, sir?"

I glanced up at him. "Make that two. Thanks."

The server jotted down our drinks on his pad and left.

I looked around at the expensive looking decorations while Chichi flipped through the menu once more and set it down.

"What are you getting, Chichi?"

She smiled at me. "Sushi."

A moment later, the server returned balancing a tray on one hand with two glasses of iced tea.

He handed one to each of us, set the tray down on an empty table next to ours, and took out his notepad. "Have you both made your selections?"

Chichi nodded with a polite smile and placed her order and handed her menu to the server who then looked at me. "And what would you like, sir?"

"The teriyaki plate–" I ran my finger down the list "–plus all of this, please."

The server looked baffled, to say the least.

"Seriously. I want all of this," I repeated.

His eyes grew wide. "But… sir… that would feed a table of…" He trailed off, factoring everything together and continued, "At least eight!"

I chuckled as I handed my menu to him. "Yeah. I know."

He tucked it under his arm and frantically scribbled in the rest of my order in his book, and walked away shaking his head.

Chichi raised an eyebrow. "Eating lightly, I see."

I shrugged. "Guess so. I'll eat all that and see if I still want some more later."

She shook her head and sipped her tea.

About ten minutes later, the food began arriving. Chichi's colorful sushi plate was placed in front of her first and then my teriyaki plate was placed in front of me, a line of servers delivering the rest of my order and piling it on a larger table next to us. I supposed it was lucky they weren't very busy that night.

In the time it took Chichi to eat what she wanted of her sushi plate, I was starting on my fourth course, a very fancy looking sushi plate of my own. She passed me her leftovers and I grinned at her.

She giggled and shook her head.

It wasn't long after that I finished off the last plate and decided I'd had enough. I wasn't stuffed, not like I'd normally be at home with her cooking. I was just satisfied.

The server returned and handed me the check – and it was then I noticed the small crowd of slightly frazzled looking restaurant staff standing off to the side and watching us with wide eyes. "Um… here you are, sir. Is there anything else I can get either of you tonight?"

Chichi shook her head and smiled at him. "No, thank you. We're quite finished."

They all looked relieved.

I paid our bill – Chichi reminding me to tip them – and we left.

I glanced down at her as we walked deeper into the city. "So… now what?"

"Well, why don't we walk around a little bit and see what we see? I'd like to do a little bit of shopping, too."

I shrugged and nodded.

I followed Chichi as she zipped in and out of bright and colorful storefronts, constantly adding to the growing stack of boxes and bags in my arms – while I was still trying to figure out how her feet weren't killing her from all that walking in those shoes.

After a long while – and the umpteenth store – she yawned and checked the time. "Oh, it's getting late. Let's go home."

I nodded. "Okay. I'll be right back. I gotta go pee."

She frowned. "Goku! You can't just announce that!"

But she followed me to some public restrooms where I stacked our stuff out front and rushed in.

While washing my hands, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end and my senses instinctively reached out for Chichi. Her energy spiked and I ran out of the bathroom to find her in a ready stance and surrounded by five huge thugs.

Skimming their minds, I bared my teeth at the horrendous thoughts they had about her and at their lust and anticipation. The unspeakable things they imagined doing to her made Master Roshi look like the picture of innocence. The only outward signs of their intentions for her were their sickening smiles and how they ogled her like she was a piece of meat.

My hands clenched into fists and a low growl slipped out before I could stop it.

I had half a mind to jump in and rip them a new one before they had any chance of attacking her just for so much as thinking about her like that.

But Chichi looked focused and confident. It was her confidence and skill – and their sloppy postures – that held me back.

They had maybe three minutes. Tops.

I grinned. No one had noticed me so I ducked into the shadows.

And then – on some unspoken signal – they lunged for her and she bounded into the air, sailing over their heads, their outstretched hands grasping at empty air before they collided with heavy thuds as Chichi landed lightly a short distance away.

The thugs disentangled themselves and stared around, confused.

She kicked off her shoes with quick flicks of her ankles and crossed her arms. "Come on, boys. Get it together, now."

One pointed at her. "There she is!"

Chichi's taunting smirk as she slid into another stance several strides away from them had my heart racing.

They charged like so many angry bulls and Chichi just looked bored. She shook her head and darted forward, taking them all by surprise with her superior speed and agility, hair fluttering about wildly behind her as quick, powerful blows landed hard in their guts, using their own momentum against them. The one furthest back in the group saw her coming and cocked his fist. But Chichi's finely honed reflexes kicked in and she went down, shooting a leg out and tripping him up.

And once again, all five goons were a confused tangle of limbs on the sidewalk as she brushed loose strands of hair out of her face.

I wiped away the bits of sweat beading on my forehead with the back of my hand. Nights got cooler. Not hotter. I undid a button on my shirt as the biggest of them all recovered first and charged her, his eyes burning with murderous rage and hatred.

Chichi took several steps back and took a quick, calculating glance around, her eyes flashing when her fingers met the solid brick wall behind her.

Her hand went to her mouth in mock fear. "Oh, no! I'm trapped! What's a woman to do?"

I bit back my chuckle as the thug grinned wolfishly and kicked in a burst of speed, sure he had her cornered. But she was ready. With perfect timing, she sidestepped him, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and pivoted, driving him into and through the brick wall with every ounce of her weight adding to his momentum. Chunks of brick flew everywhere.

He was down for the count and I cut off my cheer by biting down on my fist.

Chichi smirked, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and motioned for the others. "Next!"

Only, their attention was no longer on her.

I followed their gazes, catching a glint of metal from a pitch-black alley. I locked onto Chichi's energy as the bang reverberated through the area and plucked the bullet out of the air. Chichi gasped after the fact as I let the bullet fall harmlessly to the ground and I jumped to the shooter's location, snatching the gun out of his hand.

Clenching my fist, I crushed it into an indistinguishable ball of metal – the only hint of what it was being the tang of gunpowder and the acrid bite of singed metal hanging in the air around it. I turned my attention to the gunman, whose blood drained out of his face, his eyes wide as I handed the hunk of metal back to him.

"Y-you-you're not human… are you…?" he stuttered.

I smirked and shook my head. "As a matter of fact, no, I'm not."

And then – holding back because I didn't want to kill the guy – I knocked him out and threw him at his friends. The group scattered, ditching their downed comrade as they took off in five different directions.

I raised an eyebrow and jumped to each one, knocking them unconscious one at a time, too. I gathered their limp bodies and threw them in an unceremonious dog pile next to their friend and placed myself right back at Chichi's side.

The thugs taken care of, I grinned at her.

She glared at me – her arms crossed and her left eyebrow twitching away, a vein pulsating in her forehead. "I know you've been watching me."

Busted.

I winced. "B-but… you had it under control. They weren't any match for you! And I even stopped that bullet!"

Her eyes narrowed further.

I swallowed, grasping around for something to say that wouldn't set her off. The fight replayed in my head – along with the way she expertly used the one huge goon's weight and momentum against him.

I grinned and winked at her. "You were incredible, babe!"

Her frowned softened just a little bit as she whipped out a handkerchief and pressed herself into me. "Ugh, Goku… you're drooling." She reached up to wipe it across my mouth at the same time I put an arm around her and slid it down to her backside.

She glared at me again, so I kissed her.

When I pulled back, her frown melted away into a little smirk, her cheeks slightly flushed.

I released her. "Let's go home."

I hollered for Nimbus, gathered our stuff, and took off.

Chichi moved out into our yard lit only by the dim light from the windows. She motioned for me to join her, and shifted into a stance.

I grinned, my heart galloping wildly in my chest and settled into a stance a few steps in front of her. "You may have brought down those thugs easily but you'll never touch me, babe."

She raised an eyebrow. "We'll see about that."

And then she surged forward, long hair flowing behind her, eyes focused and calculating, knife hands shooting for the crook of my neck. I hopped backwards, easily side-stepping her every hit, blocking others with my forearm and still she was relentless and never lost her cool.

Twisting to the side, I blocked her kick, her ankle locked in my grasp, ready to yank her off balance. Her eyes widened when she realized her error. But then the breeze shifted, her delicious scent distracting me – until the air whooshed out of my lungs from her well-placed kick to my gut, which she followed through with sweeping my legs out from under me.

I stared up at her from flat on my back in the dewy grass of our front yard. She grinned smugly down at me, her face flushed and breathing hard. I was, too, but for an entirely different reason.

"That was careless, Goku."

She looked very proud of herself, her arms crossed and her chin held high – as if using her scent against me was her plan all along.

I smirked and – moving far faster than she was capable of tracking – reached up to grab her wrist and pulled her on top of me. Her startled yelp echoed through the trees and we were nose to nose.

She glared at me. "Now, that wasn't fair!"

I grinned, an eyebrow raised. "And using your scent against me was?"

I had her there. She pursed her lips and I chuckled and leaned up to kiss my clever wife, getting another good strong whiff of her one-of-a-kind, irresistibly sweet scent, my hands moving to explore her strong body on their own.

She gasped when I pulled the dress up enough to expose her butt, yanked it right back down with a red face and hissed, "Goku! Gohan will be home very soon!"

I chuckled and murmured, "You started it. But okay, let's take this somewhere else."

We did, finding a secluded pond we had visited a few times before. It was definitely a night to remember.

[amandaleepanda]

Time to heal...

So for those keeping up with the “best friend” saga, it all came to a head last night, and I am done. I will put everything under a cut, because it’s a lot, and I’m still processing everything, so I’m probably going to ramble quite a bit. I’m also including the messages that were send back and forth, and they are a bit lengthy, so you’ve been warned.

So I’ve been kind of on the verge of trying to figure out how to handle this situation, and yesterday in therapy, my therapist and I came to the conclusion that I should tell my friend K how I feel. I wasn’t going to say anything, I was just going to hold things in, but I knew that it wasn’t fair to be upset if she didn’t know what was upsetting me (even if it is common sense). She has been acting like nothing is wrong, so I knew that I needed to be honest. I was hesitant because every time I try and talk to her about what’s bothering me, she turns it on me, gets super defensive, and then we come to an agreement that works for a while, but things go right back to normal. So I wasn’t exactly confident in talking again, but because I was still so hurt by things, I knew that for me to start to heal, I would need to be honest. 

I typed up a letter, showed my sister and cousin, and waited for a while to make sure I said what I wanted to and didn’t need to revise anything. I’m not going to post screenshots because I was having so much trouble with them, but I have them in case someone wants to call me a liar or something. 

This is what I sent to her: 

I’m not trying to start anything with you, and I know you’ve got a lot going on, but I also know that there’s never going to be a perfect time to bring this up and I don’t want it to just stew for months and months. There have been some things that have bothered me, but one really hurt me a lot, and I feel like I can’t really be upset with you if you don’t know what upset me. I know that you’ve had things going on in life, and I know that with anxiety, sometimes you isolate, I do the same thing. But even before your anxiety got bad again, I feel like you weren’t as good of a friend as you could have been. I had things going on, and it’s not like I was quiet about them, and you never reached out. I know that sometimes Facebook is hard because you don’t always go on, and sometimes statuses and things get buried, but honestly, if you reached out regularly or at least every so often, it wouldn’t matter if you didn’t see my post. I know that I haven’t reached out as much either, but that’s because of past issues. I went through a period where I realized that I needed to reach out more and put in some effort, but when I did, I felt like it wasn’t reciprocated. Like even in the group chat, I’d be engaged and trying to put in some input, but whenever I’d bring something up, it’s like you weren’t that interested. Maybe you didn’t realize you were doing it, but that’s how I felt. So, I sort of stopped reaching out because I didn’t see the point I guess? I’ve always sort of felt like you paid more attention and wanted more attention with your issues or stories than you paid to mine. It felt really unbalanced. One example is with the Allen thing when it first started. I tried to give input and I tried to engage, and even tried to offer advice. When I messaged you about Marcus, you seemed like you were trying to shut it down before it even started. You weren’t really happy for me, and just sort of blew it off and were kind of negative about it. So, I felt like things weren’t balanced. Also, when you tried talking to us about the birth control thing, when I was just trying to caution you, I felt like since I wasn’t telling you what you wanted to hear, that you were defensive about it. I know that happened a long while ago, but that’s just an example that comes to mind. So yes, I know I haven’t reached out as much recently, but that’s because I’ve kind of stopped wanting to try because it always ended up the same. Another thing that sort of bothered me, was that when I was having super bad anxiety issues and couldn’t bring myself to go to work, I feel like you were very dismissive of it, and just kept telling me to push through anyway. It’s like you weren’t being the support that I needed. But now that you’re having those anxiety issues, you want that support from me, and there is a part of me that feels like I should just tell you to push through it and dismiss it like you did to me, but I know that it doesn’t help. Which is probably why it hurt so much when you did it, only to have you expect a better reaction from me later on. But the thing that really hurt me and was kind of the back-breaking straw here, was that you didn’t say a word to me when I had to put Wubbs down. You asked what was happening when I first posted about him being sick, but after that, you didn’t really reach out. I kept updating everyone, and again, even if you didn’t see the updates, you could have messaged me to see how he was. Maybe you reacted to the post about me putting him down, I honestly can’t remember, but you didn’t message me or anything. You didn’t ask to see how I was, and I was in a bad place. That honestly hurt so badly, and I still have a lot of hurt about it, hence me writing this, because I need to try and heal. My first instinct was to give you a pass because I know you had lost your job, and I know you’re dealing with Mike, and your own anxieties and had Covid too. I get it. But you couldn’t send two words? Not “I’m sorry.” I would have taken that, but you didn’t say a word. When I was dealing with the grief of losing Grandma, I reached out to see how you were doing. I reached out about you losing your job, I reached out about Mike and checked in with you about him. But I didn’t get two words from my best friend. My aunt, who had just buried her father the week before, reached out. My two internet friends who I’ve never met before, checked in several times, and were right there for me when I had to put him down. Maybe you don’t think that it’s a big deal because he was just a pet, but to me, it was a lot, and it would have meant a lot to me to have you reach out. I understand anxiety is weird, and depression is weird, and sometimes when you have a lot going on, it’s hard to reach out, but honestly, it would have taken a few seconds to send even two words, and you didn’t. I thought that maybe you just weren’t on Facebook, but you were tagging people in things, commenting on things, and you reacted to my posts, so I know you saw them. That makes it even worse, I think. You had time to message about Greg’s lives and Aaron Carter, but you couldn’t reach out to me when I was going through something so big and so hurtful and scary. I know that I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve been a bad friend in the past, but I tried to do better, and when I was met with dismissal, or negativity, but expected to give the opposite, I got tired of it. It wasn’t fair, and honestly, it drained me. I know that I probably still could have reached out more, but after so much of the same thing, I gave up. I haven’t even really wanted to send this message because the last time I tried to tell you how I felt, I was guilted about causing you panic attacks, so I felt like I couldn’t say how I felt. Not saying that you guilted me, I honestly don’t remember if you told me that directly, or if mom told me, but I was told repeatedly. But I need to heal because it has been over a month and I still feel so hurt by it all, so I’m telling you how I feel. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, or be a jerk, but I’m so hurt, and I need you to know that so that I can start to heal.

I made sure to use “I” statements, like my therapist recommended so that I didn’t come off as completely accusatory. I tried to word it as me explaining how I feel, and wanted to open it up as a conversation. I was totally prepared for her to say, “Hey, you’ve been doing x, y, and z.” and I would apologize, like I sort of (but not really) expected she would do. I wanted to have a conversation so that we could attempt to fix this. Now I’ll be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to fix it, because it has happened so many times before, but I knew that I had to at least try. 

This was the message that I received back from her: 

I'm hurt by a lot of things that have been done (or not done) from your side as well. Honestly, I haven't been talking to anybody. I'm not in a good spot. Haven't been for a long time. And trust me, I have tried with you so much, but I always failed. No matter what I do, it's never the right thing. I've kept how I feel to myself because I know you're struggling. Honestly, right now, I don't even know what to say in response. I don't want it to turn into a big thing, but I always end up getting long messages from you about how shitty of a friend I am. Literally out of the blue. No matter what I do. And honestly...after I found out that Mike had cancer, I didn't even talk to him for probably at least a month. I have tried so hard with you, but it's never really been enough. I have YEARS of stuff that have hurt me regarding our friendship, but I really don't see the point in pouring it all on you. Especially because I know you're struggling with your own stuff. Not to mention, you don't really know how bad it got with me. I feel like it's mainly your Mom who reaches out. Occasionally, you. And with the Marcus thing, I was terrified to see you get hurt because I hate when you're hurting. I was trying to be supportive, and help you, but without pushing you, or getting your hopes up because honestly I was already pissed at him. He was using you, and trying to take advantage of you. And I hated that. But if I told you that, then you would shut me down in an instant. You have turned your back on me SO many times growing up. But I'm not going to get into all of that. Yeah I feel bad about not reaching out more, but that's literally with everybody. All of my closest friends and all of my family. But you also don't know how bad of a place I've been in. And I've always struggled with anxiety, and other problems, but I had to push through it because no one else was going to pay my bills for me. I had to support myself completely. Hell, when I lost my last job, I HAD to find another one right away. Even if I didn't like it. Even if I'm struggling with my anxiety, depression, bipolar, etc. Along with other health issues that have come up for myself as well. I'm not a perfect friend, but I am not a bad friend. And I won't let anyone tell me I am. If you don't realize all that I've tried to do for you over the years, and you just want to think I'm a bad friend, then so be it. I can't control your thoughts.  And I won't apologize for what I've been going through. I can't apologize for that. But I tried to be there for you at the same time. I just always get shut down.

I’ll be honest, this message made me stomach sick. She KNOWS that me not working has always been something I’m insecure about, she KNOWS that I am forever grateful and at times guilty about how I was raised. For her to use those things as ammo was low as shit. I would NEVER do that to someone, especially if they were telling me that something I did hurt them. She had no right to invalidate my feelings, she had no right to basically tell me she’s not going to apologize for hurting me. She also proved my point that she only partially hears or picks and chooses what she hears when it’s from someone else. If the tables were turned, she would demand that I heard every single thing she said and groveled at her feet. But since it was about my feelings, and since I pointed out something that she literally did wrong, I’m the asshole. 

So after sitting with that for a moment, I sent her this reply:

This is why I don't message you about how I feel, because you just go on the defensive, say hurtful things that you KNOW will hurt, and refuse to acknowledge or give validity to my feelings. I wasn't trying to start anything, I was telling you how I feel, and you can't even say sorry for not reaching out to me when I put Wubbs down? You couldn't even say sorry for that? I honestly don't even know what to say, because I'm a little shocked at your response, and your blatant disregard for my feelings, and that you want to use things that I've been insecure about as a defense. That's absolutely absurd to me. I admit that I've haven't always been a good friend, and I apologize for that, I have apologized for that in the past, yet you just do what you always do, turn everything on me, and try to hurt me worse. I don't know where to go from here. And I never wanted to play "who has it worse", I never want to play that game, I was saying how I felt and how you made me feel.

To which she replied with this: 

Literally anything I say, unless it's JUST an apology, you're going to say that I'm being defensive and trying to hurt you. So I don't really know where to go from here either. And if I say anything about how you've hurt me, then I'm just "trying to hurt you" or "bringing up old stuff that I shouldn't” So oh well

She didn’t even acknowledge that she hurt me, nor did she care. She just turned it on me, like she always does. 

I replied with:

Wow. That kinda tells me all I need to know.

And she “thumbs up” reacted to that. My “best friend” of over 20 years. I never said she was a bad friend, I would have been open to a discussion, and if she would have given me a list of things that I did wrong to her, I would have apologized if they hurt her, but she didn’t. This is always how it is with her, but her coldness and lack of empathy really threw me off guard. How can someone claim that they care and that they’re the better friend, and then act like that? 

I couldn’t comprehend how someone could act like that towards someone. I don’t care what’s going on in your life, I don’t care what kind of place you’re in, you don’t EVER treat someone like that. I was there for her when I was in a bad place, and I didn’t just use my bad place as an excuse to treat her like shit. All I wanted to do was open up a conversation so we could try and fix things, and she did that. She proved my point that she doesn’t care, and that she doesn’t want to fix anything, she doesn’t want to own up to anything, she just wants to act like everything is fine like she has been for the past couple weeks, and forever before that. 

If this can be fixed, it’s going to take a LOT of work. It’s also going to have to be initiated by her because I refuse to let her think that it’s okay to treat me like that, no matter what someone is going through. I’m done at this point, and I’m going to be starting to heal from it all. 

I just needed to get this all off of my chest because it’s a lot to process, and a lot to deal with. Yes, I’m going to be talking about it in therapy, and though it sucks, I sort of feel a weight lifted off of me. I did what I could do.

[tlcrescuepa]

New Post has been published on To Love a Canine Rescue

New Post has been published on https://tlcrescuepa.com/week-end-update-the-dogs-days-of-summer/

Week-End Update: The Dogs Days Of Summer

We’re well into the dog days of Summer now and the heat is sapping everyone’s energy, which means the pups are enjoying a lot of nap time dreaming of their happily ever afters. For those of you following the saga of Susie Q, she’s also doing a bit of napping while she recuperates from her emergency surgery but she’s happily being nursed back to health by her loving foster family and is recovering nicely.

Some of our pups were lucky enough to take the next step on their life’s journey and celebrate their very own “gotcha” days with their furever families.  Jo’s new family noticed the huge grin on her face and that she had the sweet & friendly temperament to match and knew she had to be part of their family. Also adopted this week were: Benny, Champ, Chloe, Cole, Jacob, Jana, Jianna (now Minnie), Opal, Pickles & Rosco!

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Benny

Champ

Chloe

Cole

Jacob

Jana

Jianna now Minnie

Opal

Pickles

Rosco

Jo

  We also received some nice updates to share with you:

Buddy FKA Tiko

Buddy FKA Tiko

“We can’t believe it’s been 2 years since we adopted Buddy (fka Tiko). We adore his goofy self!”

        River FKA Corrie & Luna FKA Maddie

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“It’s been almost 2 years since I adopted River (fka Corrie) & 1.5 years since I adopted Luna (fka Maddie) and both have since gained a (human) brother!  We welcomed Oliver in April, and despite my concerns with jealousy, especially with Luna since she’s a momma’s girl, they have adapted so well.  River especially is a big fan and has taken on the roll of protector. 

Thank you again for both of them, I couldn’t imagine my family without them. “

Hannah

Hannah

“Hanna is doing so well. Thank you for what you do. She saved me.”

          Daisy

“Daisy is settling in rather well. She loves her yard, and becoming very attached to everyone.  Slight problems with my cats, but I’m looking for a trainer to hopefully help. She went to the vet on Monday, everything looks good so far.”

Leonard aka Leo

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“Hi there!  

He is THE best dog ever. Doing SO well with potty training! Only 1 accident since we got him Saturday. He has met so many members of our family and is taking it like a champ!  

We did decide to keep Leonard as his “official” name but we are calling him Leo!  

We are working on training him and have a vet appointment for Monday! We also got pet insurance! Totally spoiled already!  

Here are a few pictures from his first weekend with us!!!!  

Thank so much for helping us get to our baby!”

  Tuck FKA Davidson

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“Tuck has been doing amazing.  He has gone from the 14lb pup that we adopted in January to a 61lb (as of Wednesday last week) pup who still considers himself small enough to sit on our laps.  😊  He will be taking his first long road trip with us to the Outter Banks in just 2 weeks for a family vacation!  I have attached some recent photos that you can share.  “ 

  Rachel

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“Rachel is doing wonderful and has quickly fit into our family.  We couldn’t have asked for a better companion.  Wanted to share that we had her DNA profile done and the biggest surprise she is almost 25% Russell terrier!  She also has hound,curly coated lab and chow.  Sharing some photos. Have a great day.”

  Ruger FKA Ruben

Ruger FKA Ruben

“Ruger is doing so great his first week with us. The vet said he is in perfect health and was very well behaved. He’s making lots of new doggie friends, and loves to sniff anyone new. He hangs out, cuddles, and sleeps through the night. We almost can’t believe how well behaved he is. Thank you to everyone that has loved him along the way, we are so grateful!”

      Ellie

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“Ellie is doing very well! (attached see photos)

My wife & I are very happy with Ellie! She doesn’t bark, jump on our furniture, grab food off the table nor does she ever mess in our home – she is well behaved!

When she came home to us she was only 36lbs, but with plenty of good high quality dog food, (4Health) & lots of love & care Ellie is now 46lbs plus.”

  Peaches FKA Jana

“Ms Peaches is a ball of fire in the back yard lol rests well and eats good too so far Abby has taught her how to climb stairs already just today and we are taking group leash walks Thank you for the reminders. All good things to get done quickly is my goal. All the best from us all”

  Marley FKA Jazz

“Jazz ( we changed her name to Marley) is doing great!!! She is a real sweet heart.  We are in love!

  Willow FKA Willa (aka Winnie)

Willow FKA Willa (aka Winnie)

“We have decided to call her Willow and she seems to respond well to it.  She is a dream!  So loving and such a good dog.  We have our first vet appointment on Thursday.   We are so lucky to have found each other.”

        Lexi FKA Gina

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“I am just sending an update on Lexi (formerly Gina).  She has settled into our lives perfectly.  She is a happy little girl with a calm, sweet disposition and also a very fast learner.  Our old girl Bella and her have become inseparable.  Lexi was crated at night for the first 4 weeks but she now sleeps on a dog bed next to Bella in our room.  She is completely trust worthy when left alone also. 

I hired a dog behaviorist (Cherisse from The Zen Dog Den in Lititz, PA) to help her overcome her fear of the car and I am happy to say we accomplished that in addition to perfecting her walking manners. She is a great student!  She loves fetching a ball and will drop it at your feet on command.  She is a perfect dog inside the home but she still has fears outside when she hears strange noises.  She gets scared and runs to our porch, which is her safe spot.  Although each day she gets more & more confident.  She loves dog toys and doesn’t chew them at all.  Her favorite pastime is chasing butterflies!

We also did a DNA test on her and the results are in – 50% Lab and the other 50% is equally Collie, Sheltie, Golden Retriever and Great Dane!  That is a crazy mix for a 48 lb. dog.  I would love to reach out to the family that adopted her sister, Tina, if they are willing, to see how she is doing.  You can give them my email if they are interested.  The Great Dane in her DNA might explain why her sister, Tina was so much taller, with long legs, than Lexi.  I think Lexi really missed Tina and quickly attached herself to Bella instead.

I have attached some pictures of her with Bella and also our “grand dog” Gunner, who comes to visit a lot.

We are so fortunate to have Lexi join our family!  Thank you to your organization for rescuing all the dogs that need help.”

  Bentley FKA Weston

Bentley FKA Weston

“Weston who we adopted last year is fabulous.  We have changed his name to Bentley Charles Weston.

He’s grown to be a big boy. 70 lbs and full on energy. “

        Oscar FKA Phil

Oscar FKA Phil

“Everything is going great with Oscar.  He thinks he’s a kid and has to be right in there with the kids when they are playing or swimming. He loves his brother Otis so much, they are the best of friends!”

        Bailey

“Bailey is doing great! She is such a fast learner! We are going to the vet this friday afternoon. She had a couple accidents her first day and we were getting to know each other but she is my buddy now. Only 1 accident since the first day and it happened while I was napping so no biggie. She is great on and off the leash and obeys “sit” and “come” very well. She helps me put on my socks and shoes in the morning and now rings the doggy bells on the door when she wants to go outside. She is EXTREMELY playful and fun with other dogs and people. She is awesome!”

  Abita FKA Tanya

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“Our past year with Abita has been full of so much joy. I’m sure every dog parent thinks their dog is ‘the best’, and we certainly do as well. She is as ‘conversational’ as ever, and she continuously surprises us with a new howl/bark/whine/yip sound for some particular experience. Did you know that a dog could have a sound specific to playing with waves at the beach? Neither did we 🙂

Abita has been through three rounds of training classes, and is now a certified ACA Good Citizen! We of course are very proud dog parents. She will also become a ‘big sister’ when she gets a human baby sister come November 1st-ish. She has done quite well with the young babies of a few of our friends, and we are planning out how to make the transition for her as positive as possible. (We will definitely be reaching our for advice if/when we run into any issues!)

Here are a few recent pictures of her – she has grown quite a bit since we got her! A lean 55 lb now – looking back she was much smaller when we got her back at 43lb!

Hope all is well at TLC, and thanks again for putting Abita into our lives!”