#vacancy in plan international

[jobpati]

Plan International vacancy for Finance System Analyst

Plan International vacancy for Finance System Analyst

Plan International vacancy for Finance System Analyst: The Functional Area Global Finance Reports to Head of Financial Systems Location Global Hub, Woking Travel required No Effective Date ASAP Grade ROLE PURPOSE Plan International is an independent children’s rights and humanitarian organization committed to children living a life free of poverty, violence, and injustice. We actively unite…

[cocoreallylovesraiden]

Hey i want to request a story with Kenpachi. Female (or gender neutral, doesnt matter) reader is his llieutenant and they've been best friends since like forever and in time he realizes that maybe he likes her more than just a friend.

an: There’s a bit less action/ romance in this than I originally planned, but I tried a different angle on Kenpachi’s thought process. I hope it’s okay, because it’s pre-established relationship and I imagine affection comes after lots of time with him :> POST TYBW!

zaraki kenpachi x reader; thoughts

After the Quincy invasion, Kenpachi has had more time to think. Not because he’s learnt the importance of retrospection; but because he has to spend most of his time facilitating all of his new officer’s training. The damage caused by the war had left more than enough vacancies and even more fresh patriotic souls ready to lay their lives down and join the Gotei. He had no interest in most of them; they were new, they were weak, and they needed to be trained by the senior officers before they could even dream of being mentored by him. That slouchy idiot Shunsui had persuaded him into being more involved with all his officers, which left him sitting at the veranda watching hordes of men blindly smacking each other with wooden kendo sticks. 

He sighed, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. It would be a long way until his company would reach its former glory, and he was impatient. Impatient to get back to blindly dragging out an officer and be promised a half-decent skirmish and not funeral preparation. So he thinks about what to have for lunch, eyes lazily dragging across the sunny field. He spots the bright glint of lieutenant's badges, accompanied by shrill voices screaming at each other. 

You were at the patch of dirt right before the veranda, face bright red from the heat as you shook your fellow lieutenant. Both kendo sticks were discarded to the side as Ikkaku tried to pull at your hair; what you two were on about, he had no interest in. For all he cared, it was great that you both were close enough to brawl like siblings. He didn’t have much interest in the internal affairs of his officers, so much that he just tossed both you and Ikkaku your own badges when Ikkaku had tried to pitch some competition. More people to do his work for him. 

After much struggle you manage to throw Ikkaku to the ground with a scream of victory, and immediately look up to Kenpachi for approval; bright eyes and mud-stained teeth showing through your grin. He stares on with the same unimpressed expression but can’t help but snort in amusement, nostrils flaring trying to conceal the grin. 

For all the years he’d known you, you’d always given him the same look whenever you did something you deemed worthy of his attention. When you won the argument against an officer from the sixth company, when you managed to get Yachiru down from a tall she was hiding in- even if he wasn’t the best at remembering important things, he could still recall that pinchable face you made. 

Yachiru had really liked you, maybe even a little more than she liked him. Maybe it was some subconscious piece of his mind; the smarter part that knew how he felt before he did. Kenpachi brushes the thought away, ignoring the afterimage of giggles in the back of his mind. 

Regarding how he felt for you, it was an enigma to even himself. All he knew was that he maybe wanted to throw you against a wall a little less than he did Ikkaku, but there were a thick cluster of knots where every other emotion was hidden from him, too lazy to untangle them himself. 

“Can you believe that asshole? I wish he had hair so I could show him how it felt!” 

Kenpachi raises his eyebrows, eyes flickering to your muddy form. You were stomping up from the field, substantially dirtier and bloodier than twenty seconds ago. Your hair had been pulled out of its ponytail, strands caked with dirt hanging over your face mixed with sweat. A steady trickle of blood dribbled out of your nose, not that you seemed to mind. 

You were always a piece of work. Nothing like Kenpachi himself, but you seemed to perfectly slot next to him at any given moment; just as sweaty and dirty as he was, but all the more personable. You had to be, in order to get as close to him as you managed to. He bites the inner flesh of his cheek, looking at blades of grass like it would give him an answer. He wished Yachiru was here; so she could say something accidentally perfect and he could partially ignore it. 

Kenpachi just barely hears you say something, and grabs a fistful of your shihakusho sleeve before you can walk away. He doesn’t quite register what he’s doing, but he’s dragged you down until you’re flat on your ass sitting next to him. 

“You good, captain?” He hears the smile in your voice; teasing and full like you always know what’s going on in his head. He tilts his chin, supported by the crook of his hand. Your hands propped behind you to hold yourself up- blood still weeping from your nose. 

What an idiot. 

“Yeah. Real good.” Kenpachi reaches over, using his thumb to roughly wipe the blood off your face. You hiss in pain, but it turns into a series of giggles when he flicks it at your feet. Your laughter is contagious, and he feels your grin mirrored onto his own face. “You win?” 

“Uh- of course I did? How could you not tell, you were literally watching me!” You exclaimed, poking Kenpachi’s shoulder. Out of courtesy, he sways slightly to the left; you couldn’t actually make him move an inch even if you’d pushed him with all your might. 

He doesn’t care quite enough to let you know that he wasn’t watching your squabble with Ikkaku as much as just looking at you. 

You were going on again about your co-lieutenant, crossed legs bouncing up and down in passion with each passing word. The veranda’s shade was barely enough to cover the mid-afternoon sun, its rays beating down on both of you. An unfortunate thought crosses his mind that even with your blood-stained tabi and sweat-stained shihakusho, he still thought you looked better than the women in Ikkaku's magazines. 

The bouncing of your feet against the wood finally got to his head, he thinks. 

He lifts his leg and haphazardly tosses it over your crossed ones, easily ceasing any of your previous moments. The sudden weight catapults a big heave from your chest, folding forwards and bracing against his outstretched thigh so you didn’t hit your face on the floor.

“What the hell was that for? Get your fatass leg off me!” You try fruitlessly to try and push it off your body, earning howls of laughter from him. Even when you try to whack him with the kendo stick right below the veranda, it just cracks in half after coming into contact with his shoulder. 

When you’re too busy wrangling with his singular leg, Kenpachi watches you like he always has. For a loud guy like himself, he always found himself reduced to quiet observation around you. Battle and fighting were still his number one priority, but you could do pretty much anything and he’d get almost the same kick from just watching it happen. If it was entertaining enough, maybe he’d even put it above drawing his sword. 

Once you somehow free yourself, you punch him in the knee. It barely tickles, and he musses up your hair even more by patting your head. You peer up at him through your eyelashes, the cheeky smile never leaving your face.

“I got you pretty good with that one, didn’t I?” 

“Oh yeah. Might not be able to walk for the next week.”

Playing along with you was easier than he’d like to admit. You cross your legs again and lean forward to stretch comfortably. “I’ll lug you around!” The air of confidence that came with your statement made Kenpachi want to laugh. Even after his lack of reply you don’t turn away just yet, peering up with those bright, beady eyes. 

Kenpachi grunts, and pushes your face away with one large hand.

It’s like he can hear Yachiru and her usual cackle, drawing heart shapes in the air with her grubby fingers.

[theamityelf]

(Kamukuras au)

Has Naegizuru ever said something that made his class hyper aware that despite everything-despite the similarities-Makoto is functionally dead? And what would you propose it would be?

Oh, absolutely let's do the angst.

So I'm thinking maybe it's not something he says. I think he's careful about his words.

At first, everyone, to some extent, quietly reached the conclusion that Makoto just went through some unexplained ordeal and lost his memories. It's still Makoto; he's just catatonic from whatever happened to him, and if they spend enough time with him, like he always used to spend time with them, they'd bring him back to himself.

And everything seems to reinforce this. He's learning from the things they say about him, and from candid pictures he's been shown of his old self. He wants to be what they want him to be, so he internalizes all this information and does his best to smile like Makoto, talk to certain people slightly more than others like Makoto, as if he had a preference, and ideally fill whatever vacancies Makoto has left.

(Some genuine character development comes from the fact that Kyoko knows when he's faking. She hates to see him fake a laugh or feign confusion; it's like some stranger is putting on her dear friend as a mask. And he wants to do a better job for her, so he does his best to mean them. And when he can't claw his way to feeling the "correct" things through sheer effort, he instead learns to lean into the inklings of feeling he does have, and nurture them. More on this later! If I go too deep, it will fully derail the actual answer to your question.)

When Junko gives him the hoodie and he starts regularly wearing it, it seems to them like Makoto is really on his way back. Maybe, in celebration, they arrange a surprise for him. His favorite food.

No one's in the room to give it to him. They just leave it on a desk for him to find, planning to come in later and collectively take credit for the surprise.

(Junko probably came up with that element of it, but Kyoko definitely agreed; she wants to see what happens, too. She hopes...)

Makoto enters the room they sent him to, and he sees the bento on the desk. He studies it for a while, thinking that this is some kind of test but unable to gather what his reaction is supposed to be from anyone else's behavior. He's alone. He's supposed to...eat it, right? That's all? Is there a particular way Makoto would eat this food? Is that why...?

Or is it a special occasion? Is it tied to a memory he doesn't have? Inconclusive. He doesn't have enough information. They haven't mentioned this food before. He doesn't want to upset them. If he does the wrong thing, they might be upset about losing Makoto, and he was supposed to fix that!

He hears them coming, but he feels paralyzed with indecision. He doesn't consider himself a perfectionist in the way that Izuru is, but now he is hyper-conscious of how badly it might be received if he reacts incorrectly to this clue.

His classmates enter the room, and instead of happily munching down on this food he loves, he's standing stiffly beside the desk, looking somewhat startled.

"I-I'm sorry," he says. He's learned to stumble over his words a little. Is that better? Will that make it better? Their faces are falling. Failure. He failed this one. "I got lost in thought." He sits down and starts eating, but he's clearly checking their reactions more than enjoying the food.

Yasuhiro lightens the mood with some comment about how Makoto's so weird, and they carry on like normal, chatting and bantering, but he and they can all feel a kind of dread underneath it all. Makoto isn't here. Makoto isn't here, and they know that, now. They all know it.

[meret118]

In the Los Angeles service worker strike — which includes sanitation workers, airport employees, traffic officers, and engineers — a core issue centers on hundreds of vacancies that have long gone unfilled. Union workers say they’ve had to shoulder added tasks due to those staffing shortages, and that has left people extremely overworked and forced to take on recurring overtime. These stressors have led Los Angeles city workers in the union to authorize the first strike they’ve staged in over 40 years.

The plan, according to the leadership of the SEIU Local 721 union, to which the city’s service workers belong, is to picket and rally in front of City Hall and at the Los Angeles International Airport for one day in a bid to “shut down” Los Angeles and compel the city to address their concerns. Service workers are integral to the city’s daily functions including everything from shuttle buses to trash pickup to airport operations, and disruptions are expected in all of these areas.

[romain8959-blog]

pipi au lit à l internat

J’ai toujours adoré faire pipi au lit ,  je sais pas pourquoi, je vais vous raconter surement la fois la plus osée…

Jusqu'à la classe de 3ème, mis a part quelques courts séjours en colonie de vacances, où j’avais été ravi de pouvoir constater que certains de mes petits copains se mouillaient encore allégrement la nuit, ce qui avait sûrement était déterminant dans le besoin moi aussi de le faire aussi, je n’avais jamais réellement quitté le cocon familiale, en tout cas durablement.

Puis vint la seconde. J’avais réussi un concours qui me permettait de rentrer dans une école assez loin de chez moi. Sur le coup je n’étais pas peu fier. Habitant à 400 km de là, naturellement je me suis retrouvé interne, je n’avais jamais connu ça.

Nous dormions dans d’immenses dortoirs qui étaient configuré en boxe individuel, matérialisé par des cloisons qui ne montaient pas jusqu’au plafond et dont la relative intimité était réalisée au moyen de rideaux accroché à une tringle et de 3 cloisons légères.

Cet agencement, une fois le rideau tiré, ménageait une petite zone de relative intimité, ou, même loin de nos parents, on se sentait un peu chez soi. La nuit, fort de cet abri de tranquillité plus imaginaire que réel, moi-même et mes copains du même âge, on pouvait se tripoter un peu la l’abri des regards, si ces petits moments de plaisir intimes n’avaient pas, parfois été trahis par un lit qui grince un peu mêlé au bruissement des draps et parfois un petit gémissement qui échappait à l’un de nos copains.

A cette époque, je ne pouvais plus me livrer à mes petits jeux de pipi au lit, la semaine, impossible, après c’était le week-end, et là, avec les parents sur le dos, très peu… Les premiers mois, la peur du nouveau, les interdits, la méconnaissance des lieux, je n’y pensais même plus, enfin je croyais.

Les couchages étaient fournis par le lycée, c’était à l’époque l’une des rares écoles proposant des bacs techniques hôteliers, et certain de mes copains ne rentraient chez eux que durant les vacances. L’école n’était d’ailleurs pas trop mal étudiée pour ça, il y avait même un lavomatique dans la rue. Et puis doucement, le fait de ne plus pouvoir me faire plaisir et pisser au lit de temps en temps a commencé à me manquer vraiment, surtout que les wc étaient  à l’autre bout du dortoir et qu’il y faisait souvent par très chaud. Mais comment faire. Je n’arrivais pas à trouver l’idée… au jour d’aujourd’hui, je pense que je me serais peut être acheté des couches et que je m’en serait peut être contenté, mais à l’époque, j'y pensais, pas, Le change des draps se faisait par roulement, cycliquement on déposait nos draps au bout de la périodicité prévue, et on en récupérait d’autres. Au début il y avait systématiquement un pion qui s’occupait de ça et très vite le local est resté ouvert, pas grand monde le savait, moi j’avais repéré, si bien qu’un jour je me suis introduit dans cette pièce dans laquelle était posé sur les étagères les couchages.

Et discrètement, j’en suis ressorti avec…2 draps et comble de bonheur, dans le fond d’un rangement il y avait des grands morceaux de caoutchouc et la c’était le bonheur, pourquoi, parce qu’il n’était pas question un seconde que j’abîme le matelas en dessinant un auréole dessus, donc un pipi au lit était impossible, comme ça.

Il y avait bien la possibilité de protéger le lit avec un sac poubelle, c’était la solution de la maison, ça marchait bien, mais gros inconvenant le bruit !

Un sac poubelle ça se froisse et j’aurais sûrement éveillé les soupçons sur moi… mais avec l’alèze que je venais de me dégotter, et puis, s’il y avait une alèze, c’est qu’un jour il y avait eu au moins un pisseur et ça, ça m’excitait  aussi.

Et dans ma tête un plan machiavélique se mettait en place. Je ne suis pas sorti tout de suite avec mes trouvailles, je ne les ai rapatrié que plus tard a un moment ou j’étais sur de ne croiser personne.

Dans l’autre sens je n’avais pas peur, il suffisait de ramener les draps pliés à la buanderie à l’étage en dessous le jour voulu, aucun risque, et au milieu de la pile, si un drap était mouillé, impossible de savoir précisément a qui il était….

Ça y était j’avais trouvé une possibilité.

J’allais pouvoir le faire enfin

quelques soirs plus tard, j’ai discrètement démonté mon lit, j’ai vite positionné l’alèse à la hauteur de mes fesses, je l’ai recouverte de 4 grandes serviettes, style très épaisses, qui absorbent bien, j’ai remis le drap du dessous et celui du dessus, la couverture, le tout bien bordé, et j’étais prêt.

Je ne l’ai pas fait la première nuit, ni même la seconde…

Je savais que le lit était prêt mais paradoxalement, je n’étais plus pressé, non pas que je ne le voulais plus, mais je savais qu’il n’y aurait pas beaucoup de fois, car malgré tous mes calculs je voulais être sur qu’il y avait pas trop de risque.

Je m’étais préparé a tout réfléchissant à ce que j’allais faire du pyjama mouillé, des serviettes de bain, le plus facile, c’était les draps, il suffisait de dire que je les changeais et je les descendais juste avant d’aller au petit déj.

Les affaires mouillées, j’avais décidé que j’irai au lavomatique de la rue de l’école après la classe…

Tout semblait possible, le risque 0 de se faire pincer n’existe pas, mais ça semblait pas irréalisable.

Et de soir en soir je sentais mon plaisir monter graduellement.

Souvent il m’arrivait de m’endormir en me masturbant en imaginant que j’étais en train de pisser dans mon lit au milieu de mes copains, dont j’entendais les respirations de la nuit, et ça m’excitait au plus au point.

Je me préparais à pisser une nuit au lit pour de vrai, comme les petits copains des colos, lorsque j’étais plus jeune, sauf que là, j'étais déjà grand pour faire pipi dans la culotte de pyjama., et chaque jour à ne pas le faire réclamer un peu plus d’énergie. je commençais à rêver que le matin je me réveillais dans mon lit mouillé, pas exprès, de la nuit. Je savais que là ça allait être très fort, d’abord parce que j’en avais monstrueusement envie, ensuite, une fois que je l’aurais fait, comme je ne pourrais rallumer la lumière pour changer mon lit, au risque de me faire voir, il allait falloir que j’attende je petit matin et les premiers rayons de soleil a travers les rideaux pour le faire, donc obligation de rester toute la nuit dans mon pipi. ( a la maison souvent après je mettais tout de suite après le drap à sécher sur le radiateur). Ce pipi au lit, il fallait que ce soit un vrai, je veux dire pas trop calculé, je savais que c’était impossible parce que j’étais propre depuis tout petit, mais il faillait que ça y ressemble en tout cas…

Le soir, j’omettais sciemment d’aller au wc avant de me coucher.

mis à part la première fois, je n'étais jamais resté une nuit dans mon lit mouillé, là, j'allais le faire....

Il m’est arrivé une fois ou 2 de me réveiller avec une super envie vers les 6 heures, mais c’était trop tard, plus le temps, je me disais peut-être demain…et je me retenais jusqu'à heure de se lever.

Une nuit pourtant, je m’étais couché particulièrement énervé par une interrogation sur la chimie particulièrement chiadée qui devait avoir lieu le lendemain, et durant mon premier sommeil j’avais ressassé en boucle des heures de révision qui m’avaient exténuées, et je m’était endormi comme une souche sans avoir eu même besoin de me tripoter avant.

Mais à une heure j’ai été réveillé par un copain qui rêvait dans un boxe plus loin, en plus j’avais envie de pisser…j’avais envie de pipi….et mon cerveau s’est remis en route, envie de pipi… lit protégé….besoin de me calmer pour l’intero de demain….j’ai vérifié avec le plat de mes mains si l’alèse et les serviettes étaient en place… tout était en place.

Et, tu me croiras, si je déplace une virgule, tout ça c’est plus vrai, abruti de sommeil, heureux de savoir que je ne risquais rien, sans aucune préméditation immédiate, j’étais alors sur le dos, les jambes légèrement écartées et… et je me suis laissé aller sans réfléchir. D’habitude je ne peux pas, et quand j’y ai trop pensé avant alors je bande comme un fou, là j’étais tout décontracté et ce qui devait arriver arriva…j’ai senti que je commençais à faire pipi dans ma culotte de pyjama promis, ça s'est passé comme ça !

Et ça y était c’était parti. Et d’un coup je me suis senti léger,  j’avais l’impression de flotter, je sentais le pipi couler dans ma culotte et entre mes fesses et j’étais bien, bien comme je ne l’avais jamais été auparavant, j’avais à l’instant même l’impression de réaliser totalement mon phantasme, je pissais dans mon lit au milieu de mes copains, ça y est je le faisais

, ça y est j'étais petit, c'était la nuit, dehors il y avait du vent, il faisait froid dans le dortoir, il n'y avait pas que moi, je me ferais pas disputé et tant pire moi aussi je pouvais bien faire pipi dans mon lit comme ceux à qui ça arrivait des fois....

, et je laissais aller mon pipi dans la culotte et dans le lit tout doucement......ça y est, je l’avais fait

J’avais les fesses toutes chaudes, le pyjama me collait à la peau, je me sentais trempé…

Avec la main j’ai évalué les dégâts

Oups, je l’avais fait pour de vrai,

De plus je me sentais soulageais, comme quand te viens de faire une énorme envie.

Et j’ai commencé à bander dan mon pyjama mouillé comme il y a fort longtemps que cela ne m’était plus arrivé

Je me suis retourné comme j’aime le faire

Et je j’ai frotté mon sexe sans même ôter le pyjama, contre le drap encore tout chaud de mon pipi et trempé et j’ai senti monter en moi la plus belle éjaculation de l’année, celle qui dure un temps monstrueux, ou tu sens des torrents de sperme traverser à la vitesse de la lumière ton sexe…

A six heures je ne me souvenais plus de cet épisode…

Ma première réaction à été…

-           merde j’ai pissé

Heureusement la suite s’est passé comme je l’avais prévu, et personne n’a vu le drap auréolé de mon pipi de la nuit lorsque je me suis levé et je te promets, il l'était. Je n’en menais pas large quand même.

quand je me suis levé, mon pyjama me collait encore au fesses, c'est pour te dire !

Les mois suivants, il y a eu une autre fois, mais bien moins forte, après ça a été fini les pipis au milieu des copains, j’habitais chez une vieille dame qui me logeait, interdit de jouer à ça, alors j’ai commencé à m’occuper de mes copains d’abord, et des copines aussi…. C’était peut-être mieux…. mais un jour, alors que je faisais un extra de quelques jours avec un copain d'une classe en dessous de la mienne avec qui je m'entendais bien, j'ai eu ma première relation sexuelle avec un garçon

[bumblebeeappletree]

Many offices are sitting empty following the rise of working from home, while cities around the world face housing crises. Building new housing is extremely carbon intensive. Could converting unused offices into housing help solve both problems?

#planeta #officeconversion #greenbuilding

We're destroying our environment at an alarming rate. But it doesn't need to be this way. Our new channel Planet A explores the shift towards an eco-friendly world — and challenges our ideas about what dealing with climate change means. We look at the big and the small: What we can do and how the system needs to change. Every Friday we'll take a truly global look at how to get us out of this mess.

Credits:

Reporter: Dave Braneck

Camera: Henning Goll

Video Editor: Frederik Willmann

Supervising Editor: Joanna Gottschalk

Factcheck: Jeannette Cwienk

Thumbnail: Em Chabridon

Interviewees:

Steven Paynter, Principal Architect, Gensler

Lily Langois, City Planner, San Francisco Planning Dept.

Pernilla Hagbert, KTH Royal Institute of Technology

Benjamin Albrecht, Director of Development, International Campus

Marcus Gwechenberger, Head of Planning, Frankfurt

Read more:

US federal government incentivizing office to housing conversions: https://www.whitehouse.gov/cea/writte...

Some of the physical challenges of converting offices into housing: https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2...

Chapters:

0:00 Intro

0:51 The Vacancy Problem

2:31 Housing’s environmental Impact

4:12 Adaptive Reuse

6:55 Improving City Planning

8:53 Cutting Red Tape

10:38 Potential

[hwselect]

Navigating the IT Jobs Market Within London

While new opportunities and prospects may seem exciting and enticing, charting a path for vacant IT jobs in London and the surrounding territory, while trying to find both work and living demands a strategic and planned approach and partnering with perhaps a specialist IT recruitment agency.

The city is amassed with major tech giants and conglomerates, including social media favourites like Google and Facebook, along with new budding, smart technology startups spanning sectors in finance, media, education, insurance healthcare, and governance bodies. Opting for available vacancies within London means finding, and embracing this vibrant city alive with diverse culture, leisure, and amenities. For many budding IT jobs in London seekers within the local surrounding areas, this work-life change can serve as the ideal career path and living opportunity, providing a wealth of available opportunities.

IT individuals seeking fresh horizons, and a more than lively social life, then the capital city stands as a brilliant and realistic, give-us-a-try vibe, to progress your chosen career path. Exploring and matching your preferred IT role and embarking on a successful job search for IT jobs in London, the hunt can sometimes entail the services of an IT recruitment agency and their team of consultants, by ideally aligning your professional interests, experience, and skills with available and suitable roles.

Try to diversify your search resources –using relevant social and digital platforms and contacting multiple IT recruiters can offer a big opportunity boost. Do not commit to the first interested agency you come across, engage proactively with several and gauge their responses both in time and clarity, along with your related search aspirations, and test their responsiveness to your skill sets and experience.

Not a British or dual nationality citizen!  You do and will need to acquire a UK Work Visa: If you are an international jobseeker, then possessing a valid UK work visa or permit is paramount. A significant portion of London businesses and companies, as well as other UK major cities, employ IT workers that hail from overseas.

Your recruitment agency should be able to discuss, advise, and offer guidance on work application requirements. Check, and bear in mind any potential fees and other various requirements that need to be attended to, such as tax and health insurance, etc., based on your country of work and also your home country's tax or, earnings-related implications.

Accommodation: While an IT recruitment agency might be able to offer assistance and advice, the onus of finding accommodation lies with you. Several search platforms and agents can assist in this quest. Additionally, weigh the different pros and cons of transportation, living costs, and entertainment. Driving in the city may prove difficult and very challenging both in cost and time, but in general public transportation offers a reliable and viable alternative, at a cost.

Selecting accommodation that fits your budget, might mean a certain amount of travel time is involved, so be aware and prudent in any financial decision you make. Working in London not only provides a chance to work with smart and new cutting-edge technology but also offers a cosmopolitan lifestyle, brimming with cultural, entertainment, and social experiences.

Identifying job roles: Begin by pinpointing an IT recruitment agency that is aware and aligns with your understanding of the type of work requirements you seek. Check their expertise, and what they can offer and bring to your professional career trajectory. Though social media platforms can be of assistance, when looking for IT jobs in London, it's prudent to diversify your search. Remember, every agency promises to provide a unique job search experience and proactive perspective; finding the one that ideally resonates with your requirements is important and paramount.

Read More:

How an IT Agency Sources and Shortlists Global Talent A Recruitment Agency Checks & Interviews Candidates Before Placement

[cyarskj1899]

Gov. Gretchen Whitmer makes historic pick for Michigan Supreme Court vacancy

Lansing — Gov. Gretchen Whitmer has chosen state Rep. Kyra Harris Bolden to fill a seat on the Michigan Supreme Court, making her the first Black woman to serve on the state's high court.

Whitmer, a Democrat, is announcing the selection on Tuesday. Bolden will succeed Justice Bridget Mary McCormack, who revealed in September her plans to leave the court to become CEO of the New York-based American Arbitration Association-International Centre for Dispute Resolution.

McCormack is a Democratic nominee, and Democrats maintained a 4-3 majority on the court in this month's election.

Whitmer described Bolden, a 34-year-old lawmaker from Southfield, as "passionate about the law." Bolden will be the youngest member of the Michigan Supreme Court and could hold a seat for more than three decades as justices can seek reelection until they reach the age of 70.

"She will bring a unique perspective to our high court as a Black woman — and as a new, working mom — that has too long been left out," Whitmer said. "Kyra is committed to fighting for justice for generations, and I know she will serve Michigan admirably, building a brighter future for her newborn daughter and all our kids."

Bolden was a Democratic nominee for two seats on the Michigan Supreme Court in the Nov. 8 election. But she finished narrowly behind Republican-nominated incumbent Justice Brian Zahra for the second position.

Bolden got 22% of the vote. Zahra won 24%. Democrat-nominated incumbent Justice Richard Bernstein finished in first place with 34%.

For much of the campaign, Bolden ran for office while pregnant, giving birth in August.

First elected to the state House in 2018, she is a member of the House judiciary and insurance committees. Prior to serving in the House, she was a lawyer with Lewis & Munday P.C. in Detroit and worked as a staff attorney for Judge John Murphy in Wayne County Circuit Court and as a court-appointed criminal defense attorney for district court in Southfield. Bolden studied law at the University of Detroit Mercy School of Law.

"I am incredibly honored to be chosen by Gov. Whitmer for this appointment to the Michigan Supreme Court,” Bolden said. “I will ensure equal access to justice, apply the law without fear or favor, and treat all who come before our state’s highest court with dignity and respect."

Bolden will serve a partial term expiring at noon on Jan. 1, 2025. If she wishes to complete the remainder of McCormack’s term, which expires on Jan. 1, 2029, Bolden will be required to run for the seat in the November 2024 general election.

More:Michigan Supreme Court elects Elizabeth Clement as chief justice

Whitmer’s appointment of Bolden to the Michigan Supreme Court marked a significant and consequential moment in the history of the state, said John Johnson Jr., executive director of the Michigan Department of Civil Rights.

"As the first Black woman to serve in that capacity, she will bring a long-missing perspective to the deliberations of the state’s highest court," Johnson said in a statement. "That alone makes this a monumental decision, but Ms. Bolden brings more to the table than her racial identity."

Bolden's experience as a criminal defense lawyer and her leadership on public policy will inform her decisions, Johnson said.

cmauger@detroitnews.com

Staff Writer Beth LeBlanc contributed.

Sent from my iPhone

[cinematicnomad]

hi! i hope this is okay to ask, but i was just wondering if you could tell me/us a bit more about how you landed your job (which seems SO cool)? like, is this something you were always interested in? did you have to go to school for it? i'd love to work on the comm/marketing team for a university in my country--because i really miss the feeling of being on a busy, bustling campus--but idk if there's a better way of going about it than just cold-calling or emailing the hr dept about vacancies...

(2/2 uni job anon) comm/marketing and recruitment (which is what you do, i think?) are quite different ofc--i just think that these particular universities could really use a hand with their various english-language dispatches and know i could really help them out if i found a way onto their staff roster...

hey anon! i'm definitely happy to answer any questions. i can't comment on how your countries university's handle hiring. in the states, universities tend to list all of their open administrator/staff positions online. you can literally google a university name + jobs and you'll find a link. once on it, you can usually narrow you're search—so in your case, you could potentially narrow it down to positions with the words 'marketing' 'communications' 'social media' etc etc. then find the position that fits your interest and fill out the application and submit it. then you just have to...wait. which for universities (at least in the states) can take some time.

i put my personal journey in my work below the cut if anyone's interested:

i didn't originally go to school with the intention of working in higher ed. i got my bachelors in english lit with a minor in history. i thought i might become a writer or go into publishing or something. i v much did not know what i wanted to do by the time i finished undergrad. i traveled some the summer after college and didn't really seriously thinking about my post-school plans until late july. i didn't have a drivers license (let alone a car or easy access to public transportation) and i was living in suburbia with my parents so my options were really limited—but i lucked out in that we lived about a 15 minute walk from a large public university so i just kind of...applied to everything? i didn't have much by the way of experience—at this point my resume amounted to 3 summers working as a clerk in a doctor's office, a summer as a day camp counselor, a summer working as a sales associate at homegoods, and an internship at a british private publishing company. basically i had customer service skills and i knew how to function in an office and i could string coherent sentences together. the one guiding point i had when applying to jobs was that...i'd grown up traveling around the world and so i was intrigued by the jobs i saw that had to do with international admissions/students/etc. i prioritized those applications, but honestly i would have taken anything.

i luckily got an interview and an eventual offer for a part-time assistant job in the office of international admissions. and my career kind of just...evolved from there? about 6 months later my supervisor moved into a new position and i was asked to apply for his job so i did. it wasn't exactly what i wanted to be doing—i spent my days sitting in an office reviewing international transcripts to determine a) if the school was recognized/accredited; b) the US degree equivalency; and c) the student's equivalent US gpa AND i was given the task of processing and issuing immigration documents for incoming int'l students. these are two incredibly niche, vital processes for international admissions and having that baseline expertise was good for me. i stayed at that university for a total of 4 years before accepting a position at a smaller private university in DC—by this point i had a license and a car and could afford to move closer to public transportation. career-wise it was lateral move—i didn't get a title bump, but i did get a decent salary increase AND the job was more generalized. which was good for me! all of my work up until that point had been SO specialized and isolated that i spent a lot of time on my own cooped up in an office doing work alone—and bc my job was so isolated and no one could cover for me, and it was so reliant on being in the office, i was never given the opportunity to travel. which sucked. my new job let me experience different facets of admissions with a team of people and also allowed me the chance to get some experience recruiting domestically.

after i'd been there for a while i took advantage of one of the common benefits of working in higher ed in the US—tuition benefits. i applied for and was admitted into a master's program int'l education and my job covered 90% of the tuition. whenever i had a performance review or check in with my supervisor i let her know i was interested in recruiting internationally for the office. halfway through the program my boss offered me the chance to apply for a new position in my office with the understanding that it would come with a pay increase, a title bump, and FINALLY: int'l recruiting. i applied, got the job, renewed my passport so i could be ready to travel...and then COVID hit.

that derailed plans a little but i stayed in my job and kept working. i finally got to start recruiting internationally for my job last fall and around november i had another conversation with my boss about a new position—this one would be focused on recruiting internationally and on developing partnerships with other universities and designing joint programs. so that's what i'm doing now! and that's how i got here.

not sure if anyone is actually here still reading this! but if you are, i am happy to answer any questions you might have about preparing for interviews, what to expect, other nitty-gritty details, etc.

[tomorrowusa]

A Tennessee legislature variant of musical chairs which Republicans won’t win.

The anti-freedom MAGA GOP in the Tennessee House of Representatives expelled black Democrats Justin Jones and Justin Pearson this week. But the two Justins may be back in the chamber soon.

Carolyn Fiddler at Daily Kos explains what happens now that there are two legislative vacancies.

Now that there are two vacancies in the House, special elections will be scheduled to fill them within 100-107 days; local county officials may appoint interim House members.

The expelled members are both expected to be reappointed and to re-run for their seats in the special elections.

Real talk: Both of these men are locks to win back their seats, given the heavy Dem lean of their districts.

One feature of gerrymandering is that you pack as many opposition voters into as few districts as possible. So GOP gerrymanderers created districts for Justin Jones and Justin Pearson which are heavily packed with Democrats. The chances of Jones and Pearson losing a special election are approximately zero.

But the duo could be back even before special elections take place. CNN describes how. 

In the time between when a seat becomes vacant and when a special election can be held, “the legislative body of the replaced legislator’s county of residence at the time of his or her election may elect an interim successor,” the state Constitution says.  

In Jones’ case, the local legislative body is the Metropolitan Council of Davidson County in Nashville. The council has scheduled a special meeting on Monday afternoon to address the vacancy of the District 52 seat and possibly vote on an interim successor.  

Nashville Mayor John Cooper has expressed his support for Jones and said on Twitter he believes the council will send him “right back to continue serving his constituents.”  

Jones told CNN’s Don Lemon on Friday that if he’s appointed by the council, he will serve. “I have no regrets. I will continue to stand up for my constituents,” he said.  

For Pearson’s District 86 seat, the local legislative body is the Shelby County Board of Commissioners in Memphis.  

Commission chairman Mickell Lowery plans to call a special meeting regarding Pearson’s expulsion, CNN affiliate WMC reported, but the timing of the meeting isn’t yet known.  

Pearson said he hopes to “get reappointed to serve in the state legislature,” and referring to the Shelby County commissioners, he said, “A lot of them, I know, are upset about the anti-democratic behavior of this White supremacist-led state legislature.” 

So all the Tennessee GOP managed to do was to get a lot of voters angry while putting on international display a lot of blatant racism. And in practical terms, Pearson and Jones will be back anyway. In the process, the Trumpist Tennessee House GOP elevated Pearson and Jones to the status of national figures.

In strictly political terms, the party whose leader once proclaimed himself to be a “stable genius” has created yet another pointless fiasco which costs them credibility and probably votes.

You can’t begin preparation for a political campaign too early. So I made these signs for the upcoming re-election campaigns for the two Justins.

BTW: Carolyn Fiddler’s “This Week in Statehouse Action” posts at Daily Kos are informative and idiosyncratic. They are not as weekly as they once were but are always worthwhile reads for those wanting to keep up with state legislatures. She also posts at Substack. 

[mpalkoblog]

Touring the American West

This post outlines our recent visit (May 2023) to the American West. There are dozens of ways to enjoy your time there. This is what we did, and it worked out GREAT. We started planning almost a year in advance. Vacancies at places to stay and tour slots fill up quickly, so consider that when planning.

TIME OF YEAR We visited May 6-13. There are pros and cons to going in early Spring.

Cons

Not all of the roads in both Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Park will be open. One main road in Yellowstone is maintained year-round. The others eventually become snow-covered and impassable. During our visit the Upper Loop and Lower Loop in that park weren't fully open, but we were able to see all of the main attractions. The National Park Service website has the schedule for road openings (and closures). Some of the roads were closed as snow removal was being finalized, others closed because of an increase in bear activity. As bears come out of hibernation and find the carcasses of bison and elk that didn't survive the winter, they become more aggressive and a bigger threat to visitors.

It's still somewhat cold and in some places the ground was still snow-covered. Lows were 30-35 degrees, highs 50-60. Dressing in layers is the way to go.

In some places, particularly in ID, many restaurants were seasonal and grocery stores closed at 5PM.

Pros

No crowds! At the height of Summer, it can take up to 90 minutes to get through Yellowstone's west entrance. Roads can become clogged, particularly when wildlife are on the roadway. We visited Yellowstone on three different days, and each day we rolled right up to the gate and moved about freely on all open roads. We were also able to easily pull into any of the cutouts, if we saw wildlife in the distance. I sincerely think the time in the park would have been less enjoyable if we had to deal with crowds.

Babies! Early Spring means new births. We saw young bison, elk and sheep.

TRAVEL & ACCOMODATIONS

We planned to visit the Grand Tetons National Park (Jackson, WY), Yellow Stone National Park (WY, MT & ID) and Bozeman, MT. There are two major airports that serve those areas: Bozeman Yellowstone International (Belgrade, MT) and Jackson Hole (Jackson, WY). There were more choices for flights into Bozeman, and the cost was less than Jackson Hole.

We flew into Bozeman and drove to Teton Village (~4.5 hours) on the date of our arrival. This was so we didn't have to drive 4.5 hours to the airport on the day of our departure. The first day was tiring, but that was a good decision.

We stayed at 3 different AirBnBs. One in Teton Village, WY (2 nights), one in Island Park, ID (3 nights), ~30 minutes from the West Entrance of Yellowstone and one in Belgrade, MT (2 nights). Since you'll need to book months in advance, pay attention to cancellation rules and related fees.

We rented a car and travelled almost 1,000 miles over the course of the week. If going with a group, pay attention to not only how many the vehicle seats, but also how the luggage room is reduced when seating the maximum. We, fortunately, were able to upgrade on the spot for $10/day. Upgrade fees are MUCH higher during the peak season and larger vehicles may not be available.

TOURS

While we explored much of the area on our own, we did take two formal tours. Like with the AirBnBs, pay attention to cancellation rules and fees.

While in Teton Village, we used Brush Buck Tours. We took a public tour and were fortunate enough to be the only ones in the van. They picked us up at our residence, and the guides were exceptional.

Also while there we took our own (free) tour of the National Elk Refuge in Jackson, WY, and got to see long horn sheep.

There was still a significant amount of snow on the ground in Island Park, ID, but roads were clear.

While there, we used Yellowstone Vacation Tours. This full-day tour was at capacity, so there were ~25 people on the bus. That number didn't decrease our enjoyment and, again, the guide was outstanding. For this tour, we had to meet them at their office.

We also visited the Grizzly & Wolf Discovery Center in West Yellowstone. You can get an up-close, but not too personal, experience with those creatures.

On the way out of Island Park, ID, we drove through Yellowstone National Park again and exited through the north entrance. While in Bozeman, MT, we did some hiking near Montana State University and visited the Museum of the Rockies.

MISCELLANEOUS

If you're going to visit either of the National Parks on your own (i.e. without a tour guide), it's most cost-effective to buy an annual pass. Here's why: If you enter a park in a non-commercial vehicle, that pass covers the driver and all passengers in your vehicle. If you enter in a commercial vehicle (i.e. part of a guided tour) that annual pass covers 4 members of your party. Additional members of your party would then have to purchase an individual pass, good for 1 week. The annual pass covers EVERY National park, but the individual pass covers only the park for which it was purchased.

Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. The altitude and dryness of the air can take a toll on your body and skin. Be sure to bring moisturizers and lip balm. Stock up on hydration powders (e.g. Propel, Liquid IV, etc.) to add to your water.

Bring snacks. While one of the tours provided drinks and snacks, the other didn't. If exploring on your own, consider buying a cheap Styrofoam cooler to keep in your vehicle and fill it with water, granola bars, protein bars, etc. Not all of the park amenities were open and food options were limited. One tour offered the option to purchase a box lunch, but we opted to get one at Ernie's Bakery & Deli in West Yellowstone ahead of the tour. Order early enough the day before, and they'll have them ready when they open at 7AM.

Bear spray. Since we did not do any hiking on trails because most were not yet open, if we had I would have carried bear spray. (It's basically pepper spray shot through a small fire extinguisher). You can purchase it there, but TSA prohibits it in both carry on and checked bags. You can rent bear spray by the day, too.

Invest in a quality set of binoculars. One of the tours provided each participant with a set to use during the tour, the other didn't. Having our own set was beneficial both on the tour and when we were exploring the area without a guide.

If a visit to that area is on your bucket list, go. If it's not, go. It was the most beautiful, breath-taking, awe-inspiring place I've ever been. It's also the most wild, harsh and unforgiving place, too. It's Nature doing its thing. When the mountain men who first went to that area returned to cities and towns with stories of the landscape and "upside down waterfalls" (geysers), locals did not believe them and thought they'd gone mad. It's a place you have to see for yourself.

[viviennevivisection]

Session 29 Notes - “A New Lectern Night” - 3/19/23

 -Four offices in the Library -- one for Oran and then one for each of us? 

-The cop’s name was Bob (the one who Cass impersonated) 

-AACAB - all arcane cops are bad 

-The rose from the chalice…something happened there. The blood wasn’t absorbed -- it somehow came from myself. Alright!

-Ellie leaving the bathroom and searching for Noami -- finds her in her childhood bedroom. It’s been semi redone by Joanna since Naomi left -- guest ready. Very plain 

-Teaching Ezra and Leah magic? Teaching everyone magic? Naomi would be a good teacher! 

-Naomi and Leah trying to mend bridges

-Naomi comforting Leah -- knowing she feels different since her shadow is back 

L: “I don’t know where to put all of it. I’m sorry you had to go through it alone. I could’ve been there.” 

N: “I figured it out. I thought it would scare you.” 

-Pushing back the wedding 

-Leah laughing hysterically at the insane day we’ve all had 

-Ellie asking Cass to teach her to shoot gun :) 

-Ellie transformed the ceremonial dagger into a gun! Pointed it at Cass immediately, who turned the safety on for her. Talking about going to a shooting range to practice/learn (C: “We’ll have to find somewhere safe…for me.”)

-Give Ellie a gun! 

-Back at the library, getting Lectern Night set up. It’s like a lecture hall, very dark academia, but less dusty 

-We are bringing Cyrus in fluffy, pink handcuffs 

-Oran pulled us aside, offering advice 

-Be careful on the approach, especially considering their new…connections 

-Everyone here knows the power and value of information, be careful on what we share and how we share it 

-Checking on the populace, generally, and specially looking for Miles 

-Game planning -- whole truth? Half truths? No one wants to lie but the truth is simply so fucking nuts 

-THIS is the bridge 

-Everyone’s shadows are back 

Cass’ Mission Statement: “I want to stop these people that are just…parasites on this world. Making people sick. Just. Taking. And taking.” 

-Concerns about a vacancy -- with the Cor gone TC could potentially swoop in and reprogram everyone. It seems unlikely though considering the Pritchards do not own a TV. Despite now knowing the full story, it doesn’t seem like the Corsicans have any love for TC 

-There is a bit of buzz among the populace, people seem concerned about the lost time. Parents with children especially know something is up 

-Bethany is champion (will potentially champion Naomi’s cause) 

-Adeline could be a problem. She was on “””the path””” 

-She’s pretending to project a calm aura, but does seem worried knowing something happened, and that the Coralogia members are absent 

-Naomi is trying to snatch Adeline’s shadow 

-Finding Miles, checking his internal ley system 

-No trace of almost anything. There is nothing but a shell here. It looks like it was some version of the “devour intellect” feature, but focused on wisdom. Almost irreversible, would take a LOT of time and resources to fix 

-Naomi channeling Rebecca to see if she can help 

N to R: “I want to fix him. For you. I thought you might know how to do that.” 

-A lot of emotions coming through from Rebecca to Naomi, but she doesn’t know how to help 

-Rebecca didn’t understand what happened to her 

-Naomi is presenting 

N: “I am sorry to bother everyone. To make you all come here.” 

-Naomi has their full attention -- people noticed the lack of Coralogia 

-Something has changed 

-Some people seem scared, others seem to be rationalizing the strangeness 

N: “I wanted everyone to hear from me because I didn’t want you to have to go it alone. To do that would go against everything this community stands for. (Pause). We have been kept in the dark about a lot of things. I..I knew something was wrong. I didn't want to talk about it because I thought it was something wrong with me, not that I was being lied to. I want to apologize for not being able to do it alone. Or sooner. There were people here with certain goals FOR us that they weren’t telling us. They wanted to center themselves in our worship. The Coralogia have centered themselves and used our divinity for their own means. They wanted to keep that from you to ascend and become something worth worshiping.”

-A pause -- maybe like a full minute 

-People processing -- we cannot go back to moments ago -- before we knew we what we do now 

-Adeline is asking for proof

N: “I don’t want anyone to be scared like I was. If you’re willing to see it, everyone in this room has their divinity back. I promise that I’m not the only one here that can do magic.” 

-A kid is doing magic -- HI-YA! Did a little punch and sparks came out 

N: “Nobody here could do that this morning.”  

Adeline: “How do we know these are not gifts from them?” 

N: “If that were true…where are they?” 

N: “I don’t want there to be things we don’t all know together. I knew that would be hard to hear -- I’m thankful everyone was alright hearing it from me.” 

-Bethany has stood up -- “But…where are they?” 

N: “When everyone lost time that was because they had attempted to take Corsica where it wasn’t supposed to be. They were trying to do something I don’t fully understand…something scary. I think Corsica came back and they didn’t because what they wanted was too big of an ask.” 

-World views are being changed. Coach Cobb is going nuts, yelling, cursing. An outburst like this is almost unheard of in this context (previously) 

N: “We have not been dealing with scary, big, and stressful [feelings] for a long time. Expect heightened reactions. I tried to fix things so we could have big reactions again.”

N: “They were doing something to make themselves more important than they could be on their own. I was trying to make sure everyone came home.” 

N: “No one..is alone.” 

-What do we do…now? 

-What if they focused on themselves TRULY? Do what they want, study what they want, share the knowledge they are genuinely passionate about

-Living authentically

-You do what you like and share it with everyone else! 

N: “I don’t think a lot necessarily has to change. I think it’s better to continue the pursuit [of knowledge] and bring what you actually like and enjoy.” 

-An iconic English teacher has risen: “What we were doing wasn’t harmful in and of itself, it was the way it was being utilized.”

-A pivot in the community has been successful for now 

-Naomi being scared that everyone’s shadows are going to, for example, wake them up in the middle of the night holding them down with their faces rotting off 

Ellie: “With so much love, I think that might just be a you thing.” 

-Oran praised Naomi’s handling of everything 

-Filling job openings -- most of the Coralogia hold the important civic titles in the town. Adrien and Leah helping out? 

-Trying to keep a low profile with outsiders -- the more eyes on the community, the more needs explained. It may also be hard to explain to outside connections why half of the most important Corsicans vanished overnight 

-Ellie took notes on the current state of Mile’s condition -- hopefully to be able to study later 

-Whitmer was responsible for whatever happened to him 

-Ellie stopped the child who did magic during Naomi’s address, told him to be responsible and try not to hurt anyone, but to have fun. She gave him candy 

-On the way back to the Pritchard home and mysterious, gigantic person is walking the wrong way? 

-I cannot overemphasize how unsubtly we ran up to them to question them

-Ellie especially 

-They are extremely suspicious, have a glint in their eye like Sterling when he detects magic. Unresponsive to question. Maintain a lie that they were just out for a jog

-They want to get drinks? 

-Cass tried to get drinks with them and they refused, turned, and said: “I’m sure Molly is free, though.” → a direct threat

-Cass is channeling Saetus (?) to see where this stranger’s allegiances lie 

-This could be Alestra -- Whitmer’s TC contact. Maybe TC got wind something was wrong or different and sent them to check it out 

-They have no pacts binding them, at least not with Kirruk. There is technology at work, reminiscent of Sterling, but more advanced. This is a living, breathing individual. Cass also saw a vision, time rewinding and seeing this figure standing outside the Pritchard home, and watching. 

-This person has to contracts or viruses 

-They have a very strong, healthy magical essence about them 

-What do we do with Cyrus lol 

-There is no jail here 

-Where does VE put the dagger and chalice when they sleep? I said they just keep in on their belt, and Sarah dropped it….hmm

-Naomi following up on a promise from a while ago -- letting Dark Naomi sleep 

-Dark Naomi is more often than not trying to protect Naomi 

-Naomi has exhausted the full capacity of her power, doing this (letting DN) is good for her mortal soul 

-We’re all sleeping under Eleanor’s blanket! 

-Ellie gave the Bubble to Ezra (since we have the necklaces now) 

-Ellie drew of sketch of this mysterious jogger -- Cyrus didn’t recognize them 

-Danny Wright did -- somewhere in security, but unsure 

-Ellie texted Dr. Cunt to ask her, she said it was a conversation to be had over drinks

E: She just threatened our lives <3 can’t wait for drinks though! 

CH: And here I thought it was a more exclusive club to have you all. 

-Oran explaining the pools -- they’re very old 

-The Pool in the Halls of Innovation (on campus) is the oldest 

-They’re all connected 

-Use of the Pools

Travel using a teleportation sigil (requires seven combined spell levels to cast)

The Reflection/Baptism (knowledge about this was extremely restricted)

Scrying (five total spell levels -- if the target is near a different pool, it lowers the DC)

-It takes five total spell levels to change the mode from one to another

[stilemawillow]

MTIJ | Ch.23 Inspection Often Ends In Affection

|mtij masterlist|

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

word count: 12.2k

summary: a girl with a variety of hidden complexes has to live with a french asshole for nine months. easy? on the surface. problematic? definitely. romantic? not too much, or at least they’d make it a point to say so everytime when asked. the end? please, their dynamic isn’t as simple as that.

a sky full of stars and he was staring at her

[atticus]

“I’m not hungry.”

Fifth time I’d said that. It was seven o’clock – time for the hotel to serve dinner. My father insisted we all dined downstairs at the appropriate hour to set and maintain a certain kind of reputation. I refused. To counter that, the calculating businessman sent his intern to plead the case with me instead, aware of the fact I wouldn’t lash out at a third party and equally unaware of the fact that third party was somebody I regarded with twice the bias. I refused again for two simple reasons: I had a plan that included the vacancy of the corridors dinner presupposed and I was highly against being proven right in my assumption that food would likely be served in tree-themed dishes.

“I won’t be bringing you any food up here.” Seeing as a simple straightforward invitation had failed, Levi resorted to threats. I didn’t expect him and would not ask of him to bring me food up here. I did not say it outright because maintaining a silent position would reap better results. I had my back turned to him in an attempt to seem petulant and obstinate. If I granted him no response he’d get fed up with my behaviour and leave. So I counted and when seven seconds ticked by in my head, I heard the raven click his tongue. His footsteps sounded, then the soft creak of the door and the definite click of it closing behind him. My eyes lifted from my phone’s black screen and I bit back a smirk while getting up from the bed.

The room was armed with two sockets, one bed, one wardrobe, two nightstands, one heater, one big window and one night lamp, propped proudly atop the nightstand on my side of the bed and rudely occupying half the provided sockets. Pretty simple and rather plain at a first look. Adhering to the name the receptionist had given us, every piece of furniture was made of – or tried to imitate through patterns or shape – mahogany. I’d stuffed my deodorant, perfume, hair brush and earphones in the first drawer of my nightstand and Levi had diligently arranged his clothes in the wardrobe next to the heater. This was a total Mahogany Heaven. I eyed the room with a pinch of sarcastic derision before walking up to the door and opening it ever so slightly with the intention to spy on the non-existent occupants of the narrow hallway outside. The only source of light were the lamps lined between each door and ours was the last in line.

Pretty. I mused internally, eyes landing on the small square window on the wall to my right which showed the peach-coloured sky outside. The sun will set soon. I concluded with a sigh, pinning the early sunset on the fact we were in the mountains. I was thankful for the fact I’d taken warm clothes along because the nights would probably be way colder here. Head turning to the left, I observed the deserted hallway, then my brows furrowed and I hummed whilst craning my neck to look up. Bingo. A grin almost split my face in two when I saw the square lid on the ceiling that led to the attic. The tips of my fingers tingled in anticipation at the notion of being bad and sneaking into the off-limits place. Later. I swore inwardly, making my way down the hallway slowly and stopping once in a while to check the ceiling. I suspected the lid above mine and Levi’s room had to be one of few entrances – rightfully so, as two more rested above the staircases and a third one was situated in the opposite end of the corridor.

Cool, I have options. I piped gleefully, clapping my hands like a little kid and walking back to the staircases before taking the one on the right in case anybody saw me. I didn’t want to create suspicion and it was only suitable I’d act like the lame protagonist of a bad mystery novel to entertain myself throughout the days to come. Playing a lousy detective and inspecting the whole place, mainly the part that was forbidden, was right up my dramatic alley and was proving quite amusing thus far. If so, I could rely on it a bit more, hence why I gave the receptionist a bright smile upon my arrival on the first floor, then proceeded to recall her explanation. Library and dining room to the left, kitchen and bathroom to the right. The latter didn’t sound interesting enough but giving myself a tour of the former meant tiptoeing past the dining room, where Levi and my father were eating. Well, no risk, no fun.

I quickly stormed past the open dining room door without doing as much as sparing a glance at its insides. My only hope was that the food was so good nobody would bother pausing to lift their eyes from it. The small oak plate hung on the door at the end of the hallway read Library in legible cursive, with the dot above the “i” carved in the form of a leaf. I gave a snort and pushed the handle, quickly sneaking inside and looking around for a nearby human presence. No such thing. There was a desk next to the door meant for people to sign books in and out and a trio of tables for people to read at across from it. The French windows put on display the dim forest outside and provided the room with a sense of space and openness. Still, between each pair of shelves stacked with dust-covered books, there was an inseparable duo of a brown velvet armchair and a lamp.

My eyes twinkled as I immediately formed an attachment with the first armchair in the corner by the wall. It barely fit there because the space hadn’t been calculated well enough. And so, the only thing I needed right now was to find a book and spend the evening here. I began browsing the shelves and had reached the fifth when I found a book by Edgar Allan Poe resting next to a Stephen King novel. I squinted at the pair, knowing I was a fan of the latter and deciding instead to educate myself better when it came to classics in preparation for my major. I took the thin book and plopped down on the armchair I’d claimed as mine before checking my phone for signal. If all my endeavours till now had been successful, this one crushed all my hopes of contacting my best friend into smithereens. With a doleful groan, I got to reading and it was sometime later, when sunlight was no longer part of the equation, that the door opened and concealed me from sight at the bottom of the narrow space between the wall and the first row of shelves.

My heartbeat quickened and my eyes jumped from the sinister scene they’d been scanning in mild fright. My arms were covered in goosebumps and the sudden intrusion wasn’t helping my hopeless case of suspense. I observed the intruder and the line of lamps between the shelves cast a shadow on the wall when he stepped into the room past the door’s breadth. And then, just by the stoically confident step, I knew it was Levi. He walked ahead and I waited with a bated breath as the racing of my heart gradually calmed to normalcy. He was obviously looking for something and I was obviously not going to call out to him. He began looking from the opposite end of the room and slowly got closer to where I was, hunched in the armchair on the other side of the wall of books he was currently perusing. He took one and my lips pursed painfully tight as he snorted. I listened to him sign it out and walk out, softly closing the door after himself.

I let out a loud breath of relief and my shoulders slouched my eyes returned to the lines in my hold. Reading Edgar Allan Poe wasn’t helping my overly dramatic mind. I’d gotten too wrapped up in the suspense not to feel a certain kind of atmosphere that was entirely unbefitting of the casual situation that had eventuated. I wondered briefly if Levi would go up to our room to read or return to the dining room. He’d most likely prefer the place inhabited by fewer people. If so, he’d be returning to the Mahogany Heaven, probably opening the door right now. Then he’d see I wasn’t there and…

Oh, shit. The poor guy had pretty much burdened himself with my well-being during my isolation. The following two weeks of everything falling back into place wouldn’t make his mother-like behaviour let up. He might panic. I reasoned in my head and asshole-me hummed. No, he won’t. It’s not like I’m five and incapable of surviving on my own. Still, I’d feel guilty if he found my absence disturbing. But he’s not my secretary so I don’t need to report every move of mine to him. My fingers dug into the pages as I gave a spiteful snort and, in the silence, heard hasty footsteps down the staircase. He’s searching for you. Asshole-me slyly noted, making me scoff. No, he’s probably rushing to the toilet because the food wasn’t all too good.

“(Y/N)!”

My eyes widened and there was something weird, it was so weird and it was the first time I’d heard him say my name and--- Your heart skipped a beat right about there. Asshole-me snickered lowly as I gritted my teeth and left my book on the armrest. I could hear his voice in the distance. He sounded quite unlike himself. Then the plain receptionist’s polite tone responded and, in a matter of seconds, hurried footsteps approached the library door. It was slammed open and his eyes were scanning the surroundings before falling on me. His hair was messy, he was clutching a book whose title I couldn’t read and his expression was twisted in concern. Another skip. And, lookie here, he seems worried. It was a sly whisper I could pay no attention to.

Before, I would’ve thought seeing the impenetrable fortress give way to a negative feeling of distress would give me a certain amount of satisfaction. Honestly, it was nowhere to be found right now. I couldn’t draw joy from his anxiety. I doubted I ever could. My brows were pinched together and I lifted a sheepish hand in the air in an awkward wave. A lame quip that was times more awkward forced its way past my lips but he didn’t laugh. His eyes were on me, his chest was heaving and then his expression returned to what it always was – an indifferent frown. His sigh was barely audible, then he beckoned me over with a wave of his hand. Having caused him enough worry for today, I obliged and took my book, silently following him to the kitchen and waiting when he asked for a single serving.

The staff was made of two elderly ladies and a middle-aged man – they scolded us for not attending dinner at the appropriate time but gave us the serving nonetheless. Levi handled the dish and utensils and I held out books. It was then I saw he’d taken the Stephen King novel I’d eyed. We climbed the staircase on the left this time around and wound up on the third floor, with the square leading to the attic right above our heads when he halted and sat down, patting the spot next to him. When I was stunned into silence, he mockingly asked if I was waiting for an official invitation, to which I snorted and seated myself next to him. We swapped the dish for the books and I pouted momentarily before digging in and noting the food wasn’t as bad as I’d initially assumed. He nodded along and agreed, then I ate in silence with him next to me, occasionally tossing remarks about the hotel.

“Let’s sneak into the attic. I found four entrances.” I had finished my food and was playing with the fork when the thought occurred to me. I didn’t know exactly why I suggested breaking the rules to the golden boy. He only shook his head with a huff and offered a flat “later” as a response. More than I’d expected either way. His fingers brushed against mine when he took the empty dish from my hand and told me to wait for him in our room while he went to drop it off at the kitchen. I frowned and withheld from disagreeing and we parted ways. Right before entering the Mahogany Heaven, I heard my father’s snoring past the door of his own room. I stubbed my toe in the bed, turned on the lamp and proceeded to shiver whilst fumbling with the antique heater I might as well claim was older than my great grandma.

Levi came back when my despair had reached its zenith and I was banished to sit on the bed while he dealt with it. Miraculously enough, he succeeded. I threw on a sweater nonetheless and he sat next to me on the bed, suggesting we indulged in reading till we got tired enough to fall asleep. I gave a nod and watched him take the Stephen King novel from the nightstand where I’d dropped it off. We settled next to each other on the bed, backs leaning against the headboard when he flicked my shoulder and made me shoot him a glare only to see he was handing me his book. My lips parted in confusion and the weak lighting made his eyes seem soft and warm but that was just my imagination. It was then I realised the book had never been for him – no, he’d meant to give it to me from the start. Maybe to coax me into having dinner. Or to give me entertainment in this plain place.

Somebody’s going into cardiac arrest. Asshole-me chided softly as I took the novel and, with a smile, handed him my own book. That’s a lot of missed beats this far. And, god, your heart feels like it’ll burst. Can you keep arguing he doesn’t care? His eyes were pinned to my lips and mine were glued to the blue specks swirling in his hues. My heart did feel like it might burst. Just because he gave you a book he knows you’ll like. The mean voice mocked, making my eyes avert. It marked the beginning of our reading. What marked the end, about two hours later, was Levi outright stating he was tired. Because you yawned three times to mask the fact you were staring at him, Your Highness. I snorted and, ever so lost in my mental debate with myself, stiffened like a statue when he reached over me to turn off the lamp. His forearm flexed, almost brushing against my chest, then it was lights off and he could no longer see my ears had reddened.

I sat in the darkness for a while, clutching my book before noting the page I was on and putting it on my nightstand. But I wasn’t actually tired, so I sat up and stared at the window on his side of the bed. The night was clear on the other side of it and the bed creaked when I got up and approached it. I stared up at the moon through the glass and my fingers pulled the latch. A chilly breeze blew past and I was staring at the murky sky and the silver forest beneath it. The frame was thick and wide enough – and I took a seat on it, throwing my legs over the edge and feeling them cover in goosebumps under the sweatpants I wore. The action startled Levi, who quickly appeared at my side and stared at me like a parent stared at a disobedient child. I gestured for him to join me with a snort and his eyes narrowed.

“Somebody’s afraid of heights?” The first words I’d spoken in a while. He glared at me and took a seat at my side, almost kicking me whilst draping his legs over the edge as well. He glanced down and scrunched his nose. I stifled a giggle and watched him frown; his pale skin almost appeared to glow in the bright moonlight. The cold was slowly seeping into my bones but I didn’t move away because it was a different kind of cold than the one the city could offer. It was like the crispy cold of late nights spent on the porch of my grandparents’ house, arguing with George about something useless or having uncle Jared tipsily explain to me how his latest lawsuit had gone. It felt, weirdly, like home, even though home was most often associated with warmth.

“Your father means well.” Levi’s cold voice startled me but I only glimpsed his profile and never faced him properly. If anybody happened to ask anybody about Rolland Raven, they’d say he meant well. He meant well no matter what he did – maybe it was his work ethic that burdened him more than anybody else that inspired in people endless awe that then led them to think he could never not mean well.

“I’m sure,” I drawled sarcastically, lips curled downwards. “He’s never done something like this before.” The calm addition made me picture Levi raising a brow in wonder, so I immediately proceeded with the defence. “We have a villa so, if it came to trips, they’d usually be there for a day or two. It got trashed by a storm some years ago and we use it too rarely to repair it. The point is when it comes to presents or celebrations, my parents never waste their time. Taking whole five days off is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.” He huffed and I was staring ahead, trying to find the end of the forest in vain. It stretched all the way to the horizon.

“Don’t you think this is his way of saying sorry for missing your graduation?” He questioned naively, making me glance at him, then back at the moon. There was some sort of semblance between them. Both were pretty and made me feel, sometimes, at ease. The wind was picking up and letting down and the scent of uncorrupted nature was entirely hypnotising.

“I don’t think so. Birthdays are not treasured in our workaholic family. This isn’t an apology because it’s an entirely different occasion.” My pointed objection didn’t prompt an argument from his lips. He kept silent and I could feel his eyes on my face. “My mother was supposed to be here, as far as I can guess. But she’s worked too hard for what she has. Sacrifices have to be made. And my father has always been obsessed with proving himself better than uncle Jared. It made them fight a lot when I was little. I mentioned I hoped my birthday would put an end to that. They tried to make up for it after and I made it a point to show them their over-the-top presents meant nothing. It didn’t take them long to give up on them altogether. Nowadays all I get is a happy birthday a few days after. I would think it’s from them I get my unhealthy habit of trying to buy people.” The raven snorted and I turned to him with an exasperated expression. “Don’t tell me this was a shocking revelation to you.”

“Simply strange that our situations would be so different is all.” My brows scrunched in confusion and he gave a sigh at my probing eyes. “I’ve never been rich. I don’t know my father and my mother is frail. Having little was having more than we’d expected. It was my mother’s goal to single-handedly provide for me. Somehow, every Christmas I’d get a present and get mad at her for wasting money. She’d only laugh and tell me it was fine. It wasn’t fine. She adopted Isabel when I got into high school and I didn’t think it was a good idea but she was sure she could handle it. She collapsed the same winter. My uncle’s shady money handled that, along with Isabel and me. I was the only one who could take care of them. So I got scholarships and sometimes part-time jobs. This internship is my mother’s gift for me but also an opportunity to succeed, get money for her treatment and spend Christmas with her.”

It made sense now why he talked to her all the time, to make sure she’d hold out. It also made sense why he performed as the golden boy and insisted on being perfect during his stay. Because a good reference here would secure him a red-carpet road to his goal. I’d thought before I’d never get to know anything about him – this here was more than I’d asked for. The little speech, I was sure, could’ve been full of bragging if he’d been another person. On the contrary, he was humble and kind, sincere and endlessly devoted to his goals. Logical and meticulous in their pursuit, too. My steady silence was marked, at the end, by a deep feeling of gratitude and joy – because his sombre words made me respect him but the fact he’d confided in me meant more.

“What exactly is the treatment?” I wouldn’t go out of my way to suggest we paid for it. If it hadn’t been too big – let’s say a kind of therapy or specific pills – his uncle would’ve been able to handle it. But it obviously wasn’t and, no matter Levi’s determination, if the price was too high I had doubts he’d be able to accumulate that kind of money fast. Of course, he might’ve known that already. Which was why I chose not to comment on it.

“A heart transplant. We were told it’s the only way.” His tone was unwavering and sharp, like he faced only those ten words and not at all the meaning behind them. My jaw went slack but the rest of my face didn’t twitch, safe for the uncertainty lacing my eyebrows. There was a wrinkle on my forehead. America and France were different, sure, because one at least had health insurance. But when it came to organs, hearts were known to be the one thing nobody could get their hands on.

“That’s expensive. And requires a volunteer. You’re not planning---“

“No.” He cut off, knowing perfectly well what I’d been about to suggest. “She’s forbid it.” It seemed to me there was a spiteful undertone in his voice. A very spiteful, very frustrated undertone. But it was only common sense that she’d forbid it. It was what any mother would do.

“Of course. You’re her child. Imagine how horrible she’d feel, knowing you’ve given her your life to keep hers going.” My lips formed a pout and my hands were playing with the hem of my sweater as I eyed the sky above, seeking in it comfort neither of us would find. I wouldn’t put it above Levi to have made peace with the situation he was in. Or maybe that was just the part of me that liked to think he was sometimes entirely incapable of emotion. His jaw clenched in my periphery, hands forming fists where they limply rested over his legs.

“And I wouldn’t feel horrible for letting her die?” The question was an icy hiss. He was bothered by this, alright. It was what he’d been working to solve for years. He exhaled tiredly and it came out like a wheeze before his fists eased back into pale palms resting against his knees. Then his voice was flat and cold, and so very very unfeeling it made my heart still in my chest. “Actually, I wouldn’t. I’m doing my best. If I keep doing my best and it doesn’t work out, I don’t have the right to feel horrible. Death is death. The end of the road for all of us. My mother just doesn’t deserve it.” The addition was like the redemption arc of a cruel villain. My brows twitched and I felt a pinch of outrage at his opinion.

“Death is death?” I echoed mockingly and he nodded. “So if she passes of natural causes you won’t feel remorse?” My eyebrows were raised but my countenance expressed no curiosity because I expected a frank “no”. Nobody could be this passive about death. In the least, about the death of a loved one. Even those who claim it weren’t. Even those who’d seen it enough times to become numb weren’t.

“Yes.” The three adamant letters crushed my expectations and with them, the tinge of pity I’d felt. Because he spoke of his mother’s demise so calmly, so frankly. He spoke without knowing what it would be like. “Death is natural and unavoidable.” I snorted doubtfully and looked down, away from the moon. His words were like a punch to the gut, despite being a universal truth. But a guy whose mother was tossing up between death and life every day shouldn’t have been able to speak them this calmly. I couldn’t believe my ears and I couldn’t believe his heartlessness. “I sense you think differently, princess.” His eyes fled to my face but I refused to meet his face. Distaste sat at the tip of my tongue as I glared at the ground below our feet.

“I think I don’t like it.” My body was shivering because of the cold but I refused to let it be heard in my voice. It was dripping with spite. “It’s inevitable alright. A bitch, too. Life just ends. So the dead depart and leave the living to deal with their shit.” I scoffed and Levi hummed, either pretending to understand or truly understanding. I couldn’t tell which. My teeth might start clattering soon, but before that, he inquired flatly whether my opinion was formed due to personal experience. “More or less. When grandpa died, my mother was burdened with a fifty-thousand-dollar debt and, when my grandma died, my father turned twice as rich. If that’s not ironic, I don’t know what is. Only the living face the consequences.” I turned to look at Levi and his face struck me, despite the tasteless topic, as entirely handsome and somewhat pensive. It didn’t suit him.

He might’ve been imagining something. I’d never know. I only knew it took me a lot to not dive into the memories of the first funeral I’d attended, where my mother was getting violently shaken by her own mother in front of everybody dressed in black. My grandma was a nice person, but something in her had snapped the moment she’d learned about the debt. She’d gone as far as to kick at the newly placed tombstone after everybody had left. My mother had been crying and, even with the tears, incapable of being the strong one. It rained that day and my parents screamed at each other the whole ride back home. Later, I opted out of going to grandma Rebecca’s funeral. My father later used his inheritance from her to pay off my mother’s debt. They fought over that, too, seeing as she’d been corrupted by the proud parasite of the Raven family throughout the years. It was maybe after that second funeral I saw death as irreversible change that led to nothing good and instantly hated it.

“Let’s go to sleep.” Levi’s words made my thoughts sizzle down to nothingness. He’d chosen not to address the story or prolong the conversation and it didn’t take me long to realise why. Because in my blind spite, I’d missed the part where the cold had made my whole body shake with tremors. My lips pursed and I nodded, thoughtful and pensive, and he closed the window once we were inside without pulling the curtains. We silently lay on the bed and he made sure I was securely wrapped in the blanket. “Good night, princess.” I returned it in a quiet voice, muffled by the thick comforter, and turned away from him. The shuffling behind my back made me conclude he’d also turned his back to me.

The conversation we led was not what I wanted to keep thinking of. It was then it occurred to me I was sharing a bed with the same guy I’d drunkenly made out with nearly two months ago. Not only that, with the guy who, for unknown to me reasons, went out of his way to humour my whims and treat me like a frail porcelain figurine. I figured I wished to be comforted and coddled and he was the only person I might ever let my guard down enough for to ask. I could turn around and wrap my arms around him and he’d lie still and take it. Or I could tap his shoulder and make a nonsensical gesture in the dark and he’d instantly understand what I wanted and hug me instead. But would he really? Did he have to? Why would he? Ah, yeah, that would be pity. The only logical reason.

Some part of me was pathetic enough to wish for it – and the other was too proud to go through with it. A third part sided with the latter because I'd decided, right after Annie and he had forced me out of my room, that I’d move on from Eren. Except, I’d never move on if it meant using Levi as a rebound. It was exactly what he’d be and I couldn’t let that happen, no matter the lack of circumstances posing as direct threats and deterrents. I had no boyfriend now and I could act on that attraction I’d ruled out as bad a month ago. I didn’t want to act on it out of despair because a Raven might use everything to their benefit but I wouldn’t use somebody who would, certainly, humour even that pathetically manipulative part of me. It was exactly because he’d let me use him that I’d prohibited myself from ever doing it.  So I didn’t move a muscle and I clutched the blanket closer to my body, silent and terribly awake, and horribly guilty of my clashing wishes.

Somewhere between dreamland and reality, there was a little grey island that allowed a state of semi-consciousness. During his stay on the little grey island, one could hear sounds and catch smells from reality while still being capable of returning to his surreal rainbow-filled glittery world of dreams. On the little grey island, one had the choice of waking or staying oblivious to his actuality for a little more, but an extended stay was never recommended. I might’ve been on the island for a minute or two after swimming away from the gloom of deep slumber, listening to Levi’s footsteps, the shuffle of him undressing and the soft click of the door as he closed it on his way out.

I fell asleep again then, lulled by the silence and the lack of responsibility that could make my lids flutter open. I had no idea whether a minute or an hour had passed afterwards, as most people did upon waking up subsequently to plunging into dreamland after being on the grey island, but I did know it was morning. The pesky sunlight was prodding at my lids and Levi wasn’t in the room. Also, there was this other thing – namely, the scent of fresh coffee. My eyes snapped open with astounding speed at picking up the aroma of my favourite beverage. I woke up in the same position I’d assumed before falling asleep and my neck was stiff. A black steaming cup was sitting on the nightstand next to me. I stretched my limbs and sat up, not letting the cup out of my sight all the while. Just yesterday Levi had said he wouldn’t be a servant to me because my father had told the receptionist we were a couple and here he was now, contradicting himself.

A smile crawled over my lips as I huffed and made my way across the room to my suitcase. I was too lazy to put my clothes in the wardrobe so I only took what I’d be wearing for the day – namely, a pair of black leggings and a hoodie appropriate for the morning temperatures. Slipping into my sneakers, I armed myself with the coffee and took one last look at the room before leaving. My father was in the dining room, seated next to one of the French windows, reading a newspaper and sipping on coffee. His eyes widened at the genuine smile on my lips as I plopped down across from him.

“Isn’t Levi with you?” My father’s question made my brows twitch as I’d just been about to ask him the same. “I thought we were going to eat together,” he said, to which I nodded my head and revived my smile despite the absence of the intern whose whereabouts neither of us was aware of.

“He’s still in our room,” I announced, thinking it would be a good excuse unless he decided to pop up from underneath the very table we were sitting at. I wasn’t quite sure why I covered for him. “I’ll get my breakfast later, but he’ll probably be down in a few minutes.” Slight doubt had started creeping into my mind but I kept it away from my expression at all cost. It was useless worry and my lie seemed to bring relief to my father along with my benevolent mood. He was so relieved, in fact, that he didn’t bother with interrogating me when I excused myself a minute later and headed out of the room. I checked the library, the bathroom, the kitchen and headed up the stairs in case we’d accidentally walked past each other and he’d truly returned to the Mahogany Heaven.

Not there either. I took my book and was on my way back when I heard his voice coming from above. My eyes widened and I froze in my tracks, neck slowly craning so I could face the ceiling. One of the entrances to the attic was there and I was staring at it suspiciously. I’d initially thought the attic would be off-limits because it would have signal. My theory was correct, unless Levi had gone crazy and climbed up there to talk to himself. I felt just a bit of indignation at having him betray me like this without taking me along. In my motionless, I caught his voice raising in volume.

“I know she hasn’t been getting better.” He snarled, making my eyes widen at the harshness of his tone. “Money doesn’t grow on trees. The fact Mike’s rich enough to afford your stupid trip doesn’t mean I’m the same.” My brows were furrowed in confusion but I knew he never used English with his mother and that tone with his sister. “Yes, Hanji, I know you’ll be at his cousin’s. I don’t care about that.” Levi snorted, cold and rude and I blinked cluelessly at the use of the name he’d never mentioned. “Stop asking me stupid questions. No, I’m on a vacation, I can’t come and see you.” I gulped and listened, feet rooted to the floor. “With my boss and his daughter. Her birthday’s in a few days and her mother couldn’t come so Rolland took me. I don’t know if he’s doing it just so I can babysit or because he believes I can actually be useful but I’ll notify you when I learn.”

I was running. I would’ve been laughing, too. I was gnawing on the inside of my cheek when I walked into the dining room and smiled at my father, saying I’d be in the library. I settled into my armchair and leafed through the pages, and then I got so angry I slammed the book shut. Of course, he’d be lying when he said he cared. Of course. No other way for it to go. This was first-class proof. And to think he could be this two-faced – it was the one quality I hadn’t ever thought he could possess. But his priority – as I’d told him before – was his internship and he shouldn’t dare to tell me otherwise. It really was. There were no charts here, no paperwork and certainly no experience to be obtained. Just a spoiled daughter whose mother had been unable to tag along. I sighed, biting down on my fingernail and deciding a lying asshole should not be ruining my mood.

And then, almost like all the thinking I’d done had summoned him, he walked into the library and saw me curled up in the armchair. I glared at him and he might’ve pinned it to a mood swing because he approached and suggested a competition – probably to better my mood. Yeah, sure, a victory might better my mood for a little while. So he beckoned me to my feet and I glared at the ground all the way to our room, where we settled on the bed and opened our books. Discomfort was lining my shoulders and I dared not look at him for fear he’d figure out something had happened.

“What do I get when I win?” My voice was flat and my eyes were fixed on the top of the page. It was weird he’d propose a competition and though we often raced, we never included prizes in the ordeal. This once, I thought I deserved one. And since he was being such a diligent babysitter, he wouldn’t object to it.

“If. And whatever you want.” I hummed in thought at his bored answer, then raised a hand in the air and, using my fingers, counted down from five to zero. Get ready, set, go. A green light shone in my brain and my gaze started following the lines on the page. This was perfect because it was a distraction. A good distraction, too. I immersed myself in the story and didn’t even skip the trivial descriptions as a way to cheat. This was my world now and I didn’t exist in that world – I was just observing other people’s woes and struggles. And it felt good, up until the part where I realised, about three hours later, that I’d arrived at the last page. My eyes aimlessly hovered beneath the last line, then I closed my book with a yawn. “Tired, princess?” The intern’s mocking question made me stifle a laugh. He truly thought I was taking a break.

“You do realise I just won, right?” I raised my brows and he glanced at my haughty expression, scowling. “You had about,” the springs squeaked as I leaned in and peeked at his book, “thirty pages left?” He corrected it was twenty-three and I snorted with condescension before he asked what I wanted my prize to be.

Let’s see… what can he actually give me? And here came the inner conflict. To use or not to use him as punishment? I’d promised myself I wouldn’t. And yet, he’d gone out of his way to show my valiant efforts of being good were wasted. Well, if he can’t give half a fuck about me, it’ll be more annoying. Perfect then. There was something weird – my heart felt heavy. And what if my heart felt heavy? Dinner was probably too greasy yesterday. Or you don’t like forcing yourself into thinking about him this indifferently. Asshole-me piped as I reached over and left my book on my nightstand. Shut up. You’re the one who preached he cared and you were proven wrong. I never cared about that. And so the inner conflict ended.

“I want you to finish reading at a normal pace and not move a muscle. Afterwards, you’ll fetch me my coffee from the dining room.” He was staring at me doubtfully and I was smirking. “Simple enough?” My ring felt uncomfortably hot, he clicked his tongue and his eyes narrowed at me inching closer to him. When his gaze settled back on the book, I lied at his side and put my head on his chest. He tensed instantly, then proceeded, slowly, to relax. Maybe I was being sadistic. I closed my eyes and imagined, for a brief second, that this was Eren. But Eren was warmer and Eren didn’t smell like lavender shampoo. Unsuccessful attempt at usage. Whatever. It would last twenty more minutes at most. When they became thirty, my brows twitched in uncertainty and I glanced up – his book was on his nightstand and he was staring at the ceiling. “You should’ve told me you were done reading,” I stated boredly, pulling him from his daze.

“Stay still.” His voice was flat and indifferent and his hand was on my waist, tugging down when I propped myself on my elbow with the intention to get off him. My eyes widened in alarm and my nose was buried in his shirt. I was silent and my hand was on his chest. His heart was going fast. And here the tables had turned. I knew my ulterior motive for doing this – I didn’t know his for prolonging it. I hated him in moments like these. He couldn’t care less and yet… His words contradicted his actions, always. I didn't like it. I didn’t know which to read into. When he said he wouldn’t be my servant and brought me coffee? Or when he said he cared and called himself my babysitter?

We kept still for a time I couldn’t measure properly. No matter my emotions on the matter, I couldn’t help relaxing in his embrace. I’d wanted us to be friends. Friends did this, right? Yeah, they did. Sure. They cuddled for nearly an hour without speaking a single word. I was only thankful my father didn’t walk in on us during that time because I was quite sure brushing this off as a friendship cuddle session wouldn’t have worked on him. The silence unnerved me towards the end because my thoughts were weighing me down. So I’d blurt out something stupid and the intern would pay it no mind, almost like he knew the point for it was to make me at ease, not to create an actual conversation. His lack of reason kept bugging me up until the point he decided enough had been enough and made his way out of the room, only to return less than two minutes later to drop off my coffee. We went down for a late lunch at one point, then we drank coffee and tea together. We also dropped our books off at the library and spent at least an hour discussing them afterwards. Despite the fact I was mad at him, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to talk to him because I knew I enjoyed it. He was walking around outside when I was taking an afternoon nap, only to be visited by an unpleasantly pleasant dream about going to Starbucks and taking lame selfies with Eren. And before I’d sensed the arrows of the clock moving, it was time for dinner again. I told my father I’d be down in a minute and kept my promise, entering the dining room and looking at all the wooden furniture before pinpointing the corner where they’d seated themselves at. They looked like a pair of high school wallflowers.

Levi, as the one facing me, saw me first, eyes averting to his food instantly after, which made me frown briefly. Then my father turned around and gestured for me to take a seat. In my mind, sitting next to him was the perfect opportunity to avoid close contact with Levi since we needn’t play a couple. Then I felt a pair of eyes dig into the back of my head and slid the tray they’d saved for me over to the intern’s side of the table. I sat next to him and gave my father a nod. Levi seemed just a bit surprised by my choice, as shown by the diminutive crease between his thin brows. But sitting next to him let me observe the rest of the dining room and find the eyes that had followed me around, and eating gave me a pretext to be silent and thoughtful so I needed no invitation to dig in. My father and Levi also did, right after exchanging questioning glances with each other when they figured I wasn’t watching. The first bite of the food made me realise this was a meal traditionally including peppers. My brows twitched and I glanced at their dishes – the cook hadn’t messed up and forgotten to put them because their plates were full of the vegetable I often found distasteful. My father, I knew for a fact, always forgot that. So when our identical gazes clashed and I asked whether he’d ordered the food, he was quick to ask if there was something wrong with it. I shook my head and went back to eating. Levi had been the one to do it. And he was being especially quiet, but I had no time to focus on that as the unfamiliar prodding feeling of the eyes returned, this time glued to my face. It was funny how I often chose not to believe people had an ingrained radar when it came to somebody staring at them and now I was taking full advantage of it.

Ugh. Creep at ten o’clock. Seriously. My asshole side grunted with disgust as I casually directed my gaze to the direction she’d given. The “creep” seemed to be quite harmless and, under normal circumstances, inconspicuous. A plain middle-aged man with short brown hair and thick glasses. I certainly didn’t know him, but… By the look he’s giving you, he wants to get to know you. Outright disgusting. Asshole-me finished the thought, making my lips purse as I went back to my food. His gaze didn’t leave me and, after a few minutes, grew to be uncomfortably persistent. It was then Levi nudged my side with his elbow.

“Some ass-hat’s staring at you.” He informed, barely above a whisper so my father wouldn’t notice. I was looking at the raven but his gaze was fixed ahead on the unfamiliar man. Unfortunately, even his intimidating glare didn’t strip the persistent hues off my face. I stuffed my mouth with food with an evident drop in motivation. The unnerving stare was proving to be detrimental to my appetite – something Levi came to notice first, with my father coming in close second. To dissipate his suspicion, I picked up the topic of my mother’s business trip by asking if it had been an emergency.

“She claimed so last time we spoke. Her boss called and labelled it urgent.” My father explained, taking a sip from his drink as I did from mine. “I should call her.” He mused thoughtfully, making my brows raise as Levi’s furrowed. Last time we checked, this place was meant to have no signal. I pictured my father sneaking up into the attic and ringing up my mother, curled into a ball next to the lid resting at his feet as his eyes flitted left and right at the sound of every creak. My father didn’t like cramped spaces – that much everybody would learn if they walked into our house – and he certainly hated spaces he could fall throught. At our confused silence, Rolland Raven conceded a secret he’d kept from us. “There’s a special phone at the reception desk.” I watched the small silver hairs at his temples glisten under the light of the lamps and imagined him dying them in a few years because of how sensitive he was to the knowledge he was ageing.

“Doesn’t that mean letting Miss Fake-Smile eavesdrop?” I inquired with a roll of my eyes, making him glare at my impudence as Levi fakely cleared his throat to chase the chuckle bubbling in his throat. Then my father argued she was a receptionist and that was the only phone available. Levi and I shared a knowing look before I faced my father with a pointed frown. “She’s already charmed by you, it’s for the best you’re calling your wife. Make sure to call her a sweet nickname.” Exasperation was quick to slip over his youthful features at my order. I could picture my mother reassuring him he was ageing like fine wine as he whined how he was in fact ageing like a moulding piece of cheese. If the receptionist saw that side of him, the spell he’d cast on her might be undone. Or it would grow even stronger as there was always the type of woman who found insecure men adorable.

“Maybe pumpkin.” Levi kindly supplied as I nodded my head in agreement, feeling the desperate need to hide the ring on my finger from sight. I chirped in with a “sugar cube”, watching the life get drained from my father’s face. In my defence, this was for his sake. Because he was loyal but the same didn’t necessarily apply to the receptionist. It was an Eren-Hitch kind of predicament. “A simple ‘love’ will do the trick.” Levi offered, making me nod once more. It was good to know he was on my side despite the triviality of the so-called argument.

“Or anything of such variety. Mom will love it and Miss Receptionist will stop making doe eyes at you unless she’s one of those who thirst after married men. It’s a win-win situation.” I cracked a smirk, pointing a pair of finger guns at my exasperated father, who only rose from his seat and condemned the remainder of his good to eternal slumber in the trash can.

“I’m flattered by your concern, but I think I can handle a stranger’s doe eyes without two teenagers giving me advice on how to do it.” He enunciated the “teenager” part, assuming it would hurt my ego and show me back to my place of inferiority in the face of my father’s experience. “If you should know,” he cleared his throat with an air of confidence, “a lot of women like me, but I am yet to give in to lechery.” He took off afterwards, making me snort as I pictured the many women who liked him. Sure, there were probably some out there, whenever he engaged with the world outside his job. If he’d attended some of my PTA meetings, they might’ve doubled.

“We’re not teenagers.” I retorted with a pout, staring at my food and thinking that saying it after he’d left gave me the last word and made me the winner. Levi shook his head and scolded that was exactly what a teenager would say, and I turned to face him with the same proud pout, reinforced by a glare. “And?” I provoked defiantly in a perfectly childish manner. Maybe it was exactly moments like these that made him feel more like a babysitter than a hardworking intern striving for experience and success.

“And you’re actually the only teenager here.” He defended expressionlessly, making me huff as I landed myself a low blow with the babysitter-intern comparison. I muttered a petulant “whatever” and proceeded to think how my behaviour wasn’t at all helping my position in his eyes. It stuck to me throughout the rest of dinner. I occasionally spared the persistent creep a glance before stealing a glimpse of Levi’s profile – each such glimpse vouchsafed me the sight of the raven’s incinerating glare, aimed at the staring stranger. And each glimpse made my lips purse as asshole-me chirped that my babysitter was looking after me. My confidence crawled back whence it had come, teetering helplessly in shame. The protectiveness, aided kindly by my asshole side, was a dreaded but much-needed reminder that maybe this was exactly how Levi had seen us from the beginning. Not even as the princess and the asshole, no, not at all, rather as the babysitter and the toddler instead.

When we were done eating, we exchanged a look and got up simultaneously from the table. The ring on my finger felt uncomfortable, then Levi placed his hand on my waist, just barely ghosting over my clothes, and glared at the prying stranger all the way to the door. It was an unneeded performance but also a deliberate decision on his side. Not true protectiveness, just… precaution. I was gnawing on the inside of my cheek and we visited the library and chose ourselves new books. I snatched the first romantic comedy I saw, feeling the desperate need for once since I was oddly, unnervingly single and my father’s stupid intern had appointed himself the role of being my babysitter whilst also not caring about me at all. Naïve of me to think otherwise on the matter.

What matter exactly, sweetheart? Asshole-me prompted pointedly, knowing I couldn’t form the nagging notion into a coherent sentence out of pride. Come on, you can tell me. He won’t hear if it’s just in your head. No. Why not? I refused and shook my head. Oh, yeah. Pride above all else, was it? Are you embarrassed you assumed something? I clenched the book I was holding with a spiteful snort and rounded the shelf to plop into my spot, finding Levi there, waiting for me. The issue at hand occurred to me less than a second later.

“I’m not letting you take the armchair.”

“And I’m not sitting on the floor.”

The quota of our retorts was exhausted and we were glaring at each other in a stalemate. I knew if I claimed the armchair as mine he’d ask where I’d branded my name into the fabric. Seeing as neither of us would buckle, I went ahead and sat in such a way that there was enough room for him to squish himself in. He did so with a deadpan and I’d originally doubted it would work but here we were, glued to each other, leafing through our books.

Less than thirty minutes into it, he made an attempt at small-talk (“What’s happening?” The upturn of his nose was cute. “The pretty girl dumped her cheating boyfriend and met a punk who’s much better for her. Yours?” “The main heroine got arrested for murder. Her lawyer’s hot so she’ll fall for him in less than ten chapters.” “Obvious enough.” I shrugged and our shoulders brushed. “Like your punk-pretty girl happy ending isn’t.” “I picked it exactly because of that.”) that ended in yet another unanimous stalemate. We spent the next three hours there. Around the first-hour mark, I got numb in the position of us looking like we had broomsticks up our asses, so I leaned back and gestured for Levi to move his book out of the way so I could prop my feet against the armrest on his side. The second-hour mark was when he used my shins as a table for his book. I flinched but he pretended not to notice it. Maybe the last hour was the one we most often glanced at each other from time to time. His eyes would stray to my thighs or yawning countenance occasionally and I’d sometimes pause in the middle of a scene to compare the punk in the story to the intern next to me. They had things in common, which just made reading a bit more tension-filled than it should’ve been. And every time I tried to enjoy the touch of our shoulders, the warmth coming off his body, the scent of his lavender shampoo or the fact he was spending time with me, asshole-me would intervene.

Babysitter, that’s what he feels like. She’d chime and I’d swallow a painful bunch of humiliation before returning to the romantic story I was holding. The third-hour mark was when the raven went out of his way to do my yawning a favour and suggested that we went to bed. I agreed reluctantly and we left our books whence we’d taken them, remembering the exact locations and mentally marking the pages we’d reached. My father was already snoring when we passed his door on our way into the Mahogany Heaven. We buried ourselves in opposite corners of the room to change into our pyjamas and then, somehow, we found ourselves sitting at the window, staring up at the sky.

“You got yourself an admirer today, princess.” Levi’s flat announcement made me shudder at the thought as I stared at the stars. Would it be strange if I compared them to his eyes? Surely. So I avoided doing it. Still, I could easily get used to this – the cold, the dark and the weak sheen of the celestial bodies above.

“Don’t remind me.” I huffed with a scoff. “Did you once see him blink? I know I didn’t.” Maybe the raven would’ve chuckled if it hadn’t been for the indifferent exterior he’d established for himself. Not to mention he was visibly brooding.

“I have a question.” He blurted out calmly and I stifled a very violent snort of surprise. He saw my silence as a green light to proceed. “Do you feel better?” I turned to face him and he saw through my confused expression with astounding insight. “You still haven’t told your parents about Jaeger. The least I can do if they ask is tell them you’re alright.” He explained with a mild frown, making my brows raise in outrage. He was truly making it sound like he was my babysitter and it was his duty to report to my guardians what my emotional state was. It was like a jab to the side. I turned away so he wouldn’t see the pinch of spite in my face, then proceeded ever so proudly to say that I was fine. “I’d prefer the truth.”

“I am fine. It’s been a month.” I snapped defiantly, making his eyes narrow. But it was fine – I was fine; because if I wasn’t fine what was left? Not being fine would be a waste of time because there was nothing here for me to fix. Separation had come due to circumstances. Because Eren had decided it would be for the best. And I couldn’t do anything about it besides… be fine. “I.., I need time. But everything’s fine.” My bottom lip was quivering and my teeth bit down on it to stop it. I was glaring at the ground and then Levi’s hand was on my back, drawing a single awkward warm circle before stopping. “I’ve never dated anybody else.” It slipped out in a wheeze. “Eren was with me from the start. I always assumed he’d be there forever.” The stars glowed empathetically from above and Levi’s hand didn’t move.

“What was the beginning like?” It wasn’t like him to ask such questions, but I knew what the look on his face was without even glancing at it – the tranquil surface of an untouched lake. Uncomfortably, frighteningly deep. It had been my point to hate him and toss pebbles in the lake to see the water create waves and let me glimpse the bottom. It was probably full of duty – I had no place at the bottom. It was reserved for treasures. I snorted to chase the thought.

“Annoying.” I glanced at him, only to find his attention was on me instead of the nocturnal scenery – it was odd, because I considered the latter way more beautiful and so – times more worthy of observation. “I was a typical rich kid, spoiled and thinking everything can be bought. I had Annie as my best friend and Hitch as my nemesis. Imagine my surprise when a new kid comes and refuses to be anybody’s friend.” I remembered his stubborn chubby cheeks so well it hurt. “Hitch got to him first and showered him with presents every day. He refused each one.” I smiled in remembrance (“What would I do with a watch?” It was pure fucking silver, though. That would be Eren Jaeger to all who didn’t quite know him.) before giving a huff. “Of course, I should note I was disliked because I enjoyed flaunting my money, so I got bullied when Annie wasn’t around. Once, Eren intervened before things got ugly. He’s always been stupid like that.” My smile was soft as I looked at Levi and his eyes narrowed in something akin to pity. “His determination made his eyes look gold, not teal. In the end,” I sighed, “both of us got a beating. And when I asked why he’d stepped in, he told me I’d been in obvious need of a friend. I echoed the word ‘friend’ like a retard and he beamed at me. It hit me then that friends were made, not bought. He walked me home after and I, in my righest of mind you see, picked up a fucking rock from the ground and gave it to him. He did the same and we exchanged them. And when he grinned and proclaimed the official status of our friendship, I remember the exact second I fell for him.”

“I’d expect nothing less of Jaeger.” Levi huffed at the conclusion of the story and I nodded, memories flooding back and making my smile drip with bitterness at the corners. Even the moon was helpless when it came to fixing that. But the stars were bright and distracting – they didn’t remind of Eren but I thought they could if I tried hard enough to romanticise it. Maybe think that he was looking at them right now, too.

“I admired his determination for years. It was… disappointing to see it played no part in our break-up. Actually, it did but… you know. To aid, not prevent it.” I huffed and my lips pursed regretfully. It was fine. It was circumstances. He thought it was for the best. I was fine. And I was shivering again. I couldn’t tell how long we’d been here for when Levi’s flat timbre uttered that Eren had realised he wouldn’t be able to make me happy. My brows knitted together at the firmness of his voice. Who was he – even with good intentions – to assume what Eren had or had not realised? “We should go to bed.” I dodged curtly, avoiding his stare and bending my leg so I could step inside the room. The raven’s fingers gripped my upper arm and halted the movement, eyes burning with a certain type of resolve I couldn’t quite figure out.

“He wants you to be happy.” The vast contrast between his eyes and voice would always astound me – because one was far too expressive for its own good and the other was always the same, always flat and monotonous and, frankly, quite cold. No matter the benevolent quality of his intentions, such a cold voice would never make me warm. The wind made my legs cover in goosebumps and my hands twitched over the window sill in mild outrage. Who exactly was Levi to say what my boyfriend wanted? At that, asshole-me felt it was the best time for her to chirp in (Babysitter, darling. Also, ex-boyfriend.) with a correction that made my teeth grit in spite. My heart was racing and maybe I was a bit less fine and a bit more angry than I’d thought.

“And what exactly would that entail? I’m happy as it is.” I pointed out coldly, making his head dip to level with my face. He didn’t need to speak to call me out on my bullshit, but he did nonetheless, claiming happiness entailed smiling and that was the first step. “It shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t be.” I shook my head and it occurred to me then that I didn’t want him to be my fucking babysitter. I didn’t want his pity and I didn’t want his fake consideration – because they’d made me smile and he thought them pesky little duties he had to check off during his stay. Frankly, that was infuriating and humiliating. And when he asked, almost angrily so, why I shouldn’t have been happy as if it actually concerned him, I had to bite down on my tongue not to say the truth. “Because you’re---“

“Because I’m what?” He was adamant. His grip stung.

Because you’re my only reason to smile besides my best friend and that’s wrong. That’s fucking wrong because I’m just a spoiled little princess to you. It’s not fair. It rang loud and clear inside my head – this here was a thought that didn’t need asshole-me’s intervention or influence. Not a bit. Because I was well-aware of it and it was the truth… wasn’t it? There was no other way for things to be. They had to be fine and unfair. Anything else would be too good. Because I don’t deserve good things and I shouldn’t care if he cares. And I don’t want him to hate me but – for fuck’s sake – let him do that instead of this. This is just unfair.

“Nothing.” I barked defensively, unintentionally letting him know it wasn’t nothing. He frowned, equanimity gone from his features. There was a crease between his thin eyebrows and his lips formed a pout. His grip on my upper arm tightened and I hated him for insisting instead of brushing it off, I hated him for forcing a cold voice, I hated him utterly, wholly in that moment. Because he looked like he cared. “Telling you won’t change anything.” I tried keeping my voice calm even though my expression might’ve slipped and told him to fuck off instead.

“I don’t want us to argue.” He warned, as though truly wishing to make peace. I gave a spiteful snort. He didn’t want us to argue when arguing was all we did anyway. What a shocking turn of events. This here was an argument in itself. Except neither could renounce it to the pettiness of simple bickering. It could escalate – it would escalate if I kept going – and I didn’t want that. So I bit back the sarcasm and took him for his word.

“Same here. So let me go and let’s sleep.” I suggested pointedly, making an annoyed growl sound at the back of his throat. It was obvious I wasn’t going to finish my sentence – not now, preferably not ever. Fine then – his hold on me loosened with reluctance but did not quite disappear. His fingers lingered and the furrow of his brows faded into pallid smoothness. His mouth, previously curled downwards, rested in a straight line. Handsome. Why did he have to be so handsome at all times? Suddenly, looking at the gradual change, I remembered my favourite snack. Popcorn sounded nice. And the moment it ran across my mind, his gaze dipped to my lips. This was karma.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was cursing because I was looking at his, too. Better stop this now. I wasn’t quite sure whether it was asshole-me or me. I seemed to ignore it. Stop what? I wasn’t doing anything; besides thinking of popcorn and that was far from something in need of stopping. I’m not doing anything bad. Not doing anything at all. His hand slid up my upper arm, glided gently over my shoulder and ghosted over the side of my neck. I felt he might sense the racing of my pulse. Just thinking of popcorn. He might be thinking of it, too. Is he picturing it? Should we get some? I swallowed thickly and my lips parted but no sound came out. Ghastly as it might sound, I wanted popcorn. Bad. I observed his features in the moonlight and he appeared so very handsome, not at all different than usual. Never different. His hues were a stormy grey mashed with melted silver and filled with specks of blue I’d once tried to count.

Like a lightning flashing against a pitch black welkin, his eyes darted upwards to meet my gaze. They stuck me. They’d always strike me. I was nothing but collateral damage and he was nothing but my babysitter. I wondered if he wanted popcorn, too. I wanted him to want it. My hand reached for his shirt, helplessly clinging to it as I tried to force my eyes off him in vain. I leaned into his touch the moment his fingers came to rest on my face. This was torture. But it was not forbidden. A mistake. But not cheating. I might’ve been leaning forward. He might’ve been leaning, too. The wind brushed against my legs warningly. Every movement was crucial. My lids fluttered closed, my hand was on his shoulder, feeling the muscle under his shirt tense. I could feel the proximity of his face. I could hear him breathe, too.

Kissing him was better than all the popcorn in the world. Our closed mouths were touching, awkwardly pressed together in the cold before parting. We stared at each other wondrously and I didn’t have the time to focus on the blue specks before his fingers tugged me in for more. Everything was happening in slow motion. There were no butterflies in my stomach but my heart was swelled to the point of bursting. Confidence was hard to obtain – so he took the lead and I followed. This was unlike that first time. Unlike that second time, too. It was somewhat right. I held him tighter, pulling at his shirt so hard I might’ve ripped it and my ring was burning against my finger; then I could taste him – black tea in the middle of summer and the mint from his toothpaste – and I would’ve chortled into his mouth if I wasn’t aware that would cut the moment short.

My phone did that in my stead. My reaction was immediate. Like a reminder from reality to the abstract bed of clouds I was soaring on, the beeping made me pull back in startlement. I even had the audacity to push against him. The shock on his face matched the one snapping my composure in two, then my feet thumped against the floor of the room and I rushed to grab my phone. Low battery – that was all the screen said. My breath came out in a silent ragged laugh. Of course. It was natural that I’d need more than a light brush of wind to remind me what my priorities were supposed to look like and what order they assumed. Levi was leaning against the window frame when I glanced at him. His face had returned to being an impenetrable fortress. I could read nothing now. My heart clenched.

Insecurities – first.

Popcorn – second.

I did not make a single sound while walking to the bed and plugging my phone into my charger. I slowly crawled under the blanket and hoped they would present me with a time machine, then the mattress sunk under his weight and I squeezed my eyes shut in shame. I could feel his body heat and my heart had dropped to my stomach. Blood was rushing around in my head deafeningly. I might’ve been able to fry an egg on my forehead and I prayed he couldn’t hear my racing heartbeat. I wished the last five minutes hadn’t happened. I wished I hadn’t let them happen. I wished he didn’t think of me as the spoiled princess he had to babysit. I wished I’d never heard his conversation in the attic. I wished I could stop thinking about him. Just for a while.

We don’t always get what we want. Asshole-me reminded wisely. I warned you. So it had been her after all. Yes, of course. I was too selfish to try to will myself out of the path of acquiring whatever it was I wanted. And I’d wanted this for a while, hadn’t I? I’d wanted this back in June. I’d wanted it once, twice, three, four, five, countless more times. It had been a niggling little wish at the back of my mind here and there, when I cooked and when he talked on the phone, and when he glared, when he frowned, when he clicked his tongue, when I woke up to the sound of his knuckles rapping against my door. Never quite formed and there but ever so persistent. It made my eyes linger and my mouth dry – and then I’d wonder exactly what it was and asshole-me would chuckle. Good luck sleeping tonight. I didn’t want to sleep because sleeping meant waking up and having to face my consequences. The ring on my finger was still burning and – what was worse – popcorn stayed my favourite snack.

tag list: @unloved-cadillac ; @donaldthrts

[royalld]

This is an excerpt from a draft of one of my memoirs.

———

In the early 1970’s, I had dreams of getting out of New York City and moving to Atlanta.

I heard so much about ATL. It was a growing Mecca, favorable to Black enterprise. All of the magazine articles pinpointed Atlanta as the place to be for young folks. It was particularly attractive to young Black college graduates.

I was newly out in the world completely on my own, just back from four years in the Air Force. Putting all of life’s pieces together in NYC was a struggle for me. Rent was high. Car insurance, groceries, and even cleaning my clothes were big ticket budget items. I was keeping up with the struggle, but had to have a room-mate. I certainly couldn’t afford a place of my own.

I loved working Kennedy Tower. Controlling fast paced and high volume domestic and International flights was a point of pride. I loved mastering the complexity of Kennedy Airport’s runways and taxiways. The accents on the radios of pilots from literally all over the world had become familiar. The rhythm of rotating hours of shift work was starting to gel. Other than the senior controllers repeatedly screwing up my days off, I found a good fit.

But I kept hearing about Atlanta, and I liked what I was hearing. I had scattered dreams of quitting my ATC job and moving to Atlanta as a flight instructor.

My sister was a recent graduate of Fisk University, in Tennessee. She decided to stay in the south. She and her college roommate chose Atlanta.

My first visit there opened my eyes to an entirely different galaxy of life. The most visible parts of the city were vibrant. New modern construction was all over the city. Entertainment was everywhere. Black folks were thriving, or appearing to thrive like I had seen no where else in my life. Rent was half what I paid in New York, and the apartments were much better appointed.

As soon as I could build enough flight time to become a flight instructor I would move to Atlanta. I found where I wanted to be.

While there I visited the control tower at Atlanta’s Hartsfield Airport. The first person I saw when I got off of the elevator happened to be the tower chief, as they called air traffic managers back then. The chief was amused by my interest in the what they did in the control tower and radar room there.

He took me on a tour and introduced me to a few controllers. He was surprised by some of the questions I asked the controllers.

“You have been reading quite a bit about ATC, it seems.”

“Yes sir, I had to study a lot, to get certified at Kennedy Tower.”

“YOU are a controller? At JFK in New York?”

“Yes. I have four years of Air Force air traffic experience, and just last week I completed my training as a full performance level controller at JFK.”

“Really?!!”

He told me Atlanta airport had plans to grow tenfold. I assumed tenfold was an exaggeration. As it turned out over the years, it was no exaggeration at all.

That was when the chief of possibly the most sort after ATC facility in the nation, looked me in the eye and said, “We’ve never had a Black air traffic controller here.”

I think we both knew then that that was about to change. If it wasn’t me, some other controller of color would soon be selected to work in his growing facility.

The chief’s name was Lester Shipp. After he grilled me about my experience and knowledge for over an hour, Mr. Shipp told me who to send my paperwork to. He told me of four people I needed to stay in contact with, and how often to contact them about the progress of my transfer request.

I appreciated him being cordial to a starry-eyed kid, but I knew it was a useless exercise. No one transferred out of the Eastern Region in those days. And no one leaves JFK tower, other than to fill a vacancy in Hangar 11 which was the NY Terminal Radar Control room, aka the Common-I; colloquially known as "the room". Hundreds of controllers around the country wanted to transfer to the Southern Region. And Atlanta Tower took only the most experienced controllers from other facilities. It was well known that the Southern Region was in the build from within mode. So anyone transferring into ATL traditionally came from other Southern Region facilities. That was just how things were done. I was an outsider in more ways than one. My best avenue to Atlanta was to take a pay cut and become a flight instructor at one of the small airports in the area.

I put my papers in anyway. I called the people Mr. Shipp said to call, and asked them to please look out for my transfer request. Then I forgot about it. Living in Atlanta, having my own place, socializing in a hip progressive environment was the plot of a fairytale, but in real life it was only a dream. But I did follow Mr. Ship’s suggestion, and checked-in with the four people on his list from time to time. I looked at it like going to the bookie to play a long shot on the numbers; the precursor to the legal lottery.

Slowly flight time toward my commercial pilots license grew. I periodically flew friends to Atlantic City, upstate New York, Connecticut, and Boston to increase my time in the air.

I continued to build a life in the giant city that never sleeps. I made new friends, one of whom became my best friend for the next 45 years. I started hanging around the radio station where my new friends worked. They were informally training me to become a disc jockey. I thought that was a good way to meet women. I was part of the radio station’s entourage when the DJ’s and lead engineer hit the night clubs.

Even when I worked until 11 o’clock at night, the “in-crowd” was just getting out to the clubs. Every night was a social event.

I was getting into the rhythm of the city when one day at work I was called to the chief’s office, on tenth floor. No controller liked be summoned to the tenth floor. The chief and a couple of staff members were in his office. None of them looked happy. I couldn’t imagine what I had done. I could remember no unusual incident with any flights. I had no disagreements with fellow controllers, so the long faces of this group were puzzling.

At the time, Kennedy Tower’s chief’s name was Art. He was normally a jovial guy. That day was different.

“Dave, I believe you know we are short-staffed, on nearly every shift.”

“Yes, believe me, I feel that”, I said. I couldn’t remember making any requests for time off. Although, a week prior I did take a sick day. With my lousy seniority sick leave was the only way I could get a needed day off. I doubted these guys could prove I wasn’t sick; unless they saw me going into the radio station; which was in Harlem. In those days I was certain these guys weren’t up in Harlem.

“Dave, I would like you to withdraw your request for transfer.”

“Withdraw it? Why?”, I said. I was certain that no one was taking this rookie’s Atlanta dream seriously.

“If you transfer out of the facility at your low seniority level it would cause all manner of turmoil amongst those senior to you who have been trying to get out of here for years.”

“Well, it’s not likely I would get selected for a job before any of the big guns do.”

Art, got even more stern. His eyes narrowed. He lifted a stack of papers off of his desk. “The problem is, you have already been selected by Atlanta Tower and TRACON. We can’t afford to lose you for a number of reasons. Staffing and the breach of seniority protocol are chief among them.”

New York was a big union friendly area. Seniority was a union hot-button. I was chummy enough with the local union rep to know he had a mean streak and would probably turn red in the face for hours when he got the news.

“They want me in Atlanta?”

“Yeah! And I don’t have the power to block it. You must have been talking to people in high places.”

I thought back to the four names Lester Shipp gave me to call. I had no idea who they were. I assumed they were administrative staffers working in the two regional offices. My chats with them were casual but they were in depth enough to show I knew my stuff.

Art repeated himself, “I need you to withdraw your request.”

My head was spinning. Many controllers around the country wanted to get into the laid-back Southern Region, and Atlanta was the crown jewell in the region. It was one of the most coveted air traffic positions in the country.

Art said it again, “I need you to withdraw your transfer request.”

All of this was too much. My adult life was getting into full swing in the big city I grew up in … but the dream of Atlanta once fuzzy was now coming into focus.

I looked Art straight in the eyes, ignoring the others in the room.

“Would you?”, I asked.

“Would I what?”, he wanted to know.

“If you were selected to go to Atlanta would you withdraw your request?”

He slumped back in his chair. The staffers in the room slinked against the corner bookshelf. “You know you would be leaving us with a helluva mess, don’t you?”

“Art, I didn’t create this staffing mess. It was like this when I got here. I can’t fix that.”

“And what about the seniority protocol?”

“Three times in the last two months I got my days off unfairly changed because of seniority. Sorry, the seniority policy around here is not my friend.”

Art sat up and straightened the stack of papers he had been fidgeting with.

He said, “No.”

I was confused, “What do you mean no?”

“No. If I were selected to go to Atlanta I would not withdraw my request.”

He handed me the stack of documents. The top page read, Permanent Change of Station.

_________

P.S. In my entire FAA career, Mr. Shipp is the only colleague I never called by his first name. He passed recently. He will always be Mr. Shipp to me.

[stratusisms]

Dr. Evà Esperanza

Evà Esperanza, daughter of a nurse and a surgeon. The girl who found herself born in Madrid, but soon as a student in Los Angeles whom was sinking in college loan, homeless and studying under a light at the PD station. Her story begins in a small suburb in Madrid, Spain. The year was 2007. That year was the year that shaped her forever. A devastating car crash left her without her immediate family. Consumed in grief, her head was firmly down and education was her main focus. Soon, she then was offered a scholarship in LA, from the University of Berkeley, to study Psychology. Thinking that a rising opportunity she accepted it. After the first year, she started spending what she had initially planned to last for 6 years. Well here is the problem. She was not even close to what she originally thought living in LA would cost her. At the end of the 2nd year of BA, she was completely dry and forced to take student loans. Yet she thought it’s fine. “I can work a job or two, and survive” she told herself. Well no! It was more like three or four jobs. Nobody would give a student full payment. 

Evà was close to finish her studies for Phd in Psyhcology, and all needed was on last push. Lucky for her, the restaurant owner she worked at, knew a person who would hire Evà. That person is doctor Debra Harrington, owner of Optimum Health Clinic. Evà worked there as an intern until she finished studies, and after that she had begun to work full time. Having all her sacrifices pay out, Evà finally had a stable job as a psychologist at the clinic. Didn't take long before she become one of the most valuable and productive members of the team. She devoted her life to helping people who struggled with mental health issues. After being witness to so many people in need for mental health counseling she thought of having more assistance and work on a big project. One month later she applied for a vacancy in the upcoming wrestling promotion AEW as psychologist.

She was the lucky one out of many people who applied for the job position and get accepted. When everyone else failed the application she successfully nailed it. To this day she is yet the only Psychologist who was successful in the application, probably due to her outstanding performance or setting the bar too high for anyone else who wishes to join. Anyway, after successfully joining the company she immediately jumped into action. She began developing a campaign to raise awarness for mental health. With the assistance of Optimum Health Clinic, and also with the help of the promotion she launched her campaign.

[yasmin-writes]

There’s a ringing coming from outside, a shrill security alarm that ceaselessly cries out to its owner to make it stop. It’s 2:47am and that alarm is more awake than I am, but I’m kept up by this vacancy that has settled into me like houseguest that just won’t leave. That woman in the painting will be me tomorrow morning -- if the last few days are anything to go by -- after I've woken up, covered in a thin sheen of sweat (from the heatwave or my nerves, I do not know), and staring out onto any blank space to give my mind something clean, empty, and formless to cling onto whilst it readies itself for another onerous day. At least I have not had any nightmares since the last time I had to record one in my journal, but a dreamless sleep from which I always wake a little too early in the morning feels similarly perturbing. My body is faring no better. I’ve developed this redundant cough which seemingly does not do anything to or for me. It only appears of its own volition when I am quietly taken over by this feeling that there is something lodged inside of me that I need to get out. It makes a dull sound -- there is no effort, no force to it -- but it’s becoming a nervous tic, like I am being abruptly reminded that I am still awake and alive and there is something I am procrastinating which I probably should be getting on with.

It could just be because it gets hot at night, but there is something so sad and lonely about the lack of bedsheets or a lamp or a little table for her bedside necessities or some wall art or something to cover her bare body in that room that looks out to the morning sun. There is nothing to mark the space as her own, no traces of her having slept on that bed (has she?), nothing to cover her from the sun’s unflinching glare. They can see each other, her and the sun, but it doesn't seem a friendly gaze. She looks out at it, heaving a sigh at the way it exposes the absences in her life to the world. This is why I keep my curtains closed, especially during the day. I cannot take the brightness of the August sunlight that tries to force me out of bed too early and shows me the disordered state my room is in. Her room is empty, but mine is not. It’s not full, necessarily -- I have just recently thrown out a load of things I decided was not worth hoarding anymore -- it’s just that everything is out of place.

I am packing for my month-long trip away. As in, it is a continuous act which I have not yet finished. The trip has already been rescheduled once, abruptly, and so my first attempt at packing — as methodical as it was — seems useless. I unpack only the things I’ll need during this (3-week long) interval, between coming home and leaving again, but never placing anything too far from the suitcase in case I have the urge to repack it. I have summer clothes, odd bits of new makeup, travel-sized bottles of toiletries all in little groups (like they have been conscripted together) dotted around a space I have internally designated as a ‘packing area’. The suitcase is splayed open — like a violated corpse barely hidden in the woods — in the middle of my bedroom floor, the skeleton of that very specific packing structure I adopted still peeking through, which I am scared to disturb. If I close the suitcase, or unpack it to emptiness, it feels like I will never leave here. Like the trip, my plans for the summer, my expectations for what will happen when I am away and when I return home will never come to be. During this same, achingly long, moment of midsummer I am slowly packing for moving house almost immediately after I return home am back from my travels. But to decide what to take on a long trip, what to pack up for a new home, and what has exceeded its duration of usefulness and so needs to be mercilessly thrown out is an unsettling task. I don’t mean unsettling in a macabre, low-budget horror film sense; I mean it in a more literal feeling of un-settlement. Like an uprooting that hasn’t quite taken form, so it just sits within you, making every day in your own space feel uncanny and unfamiliar. Or like you are the one unfamiliar, the one that no longer fits in to the homeliness of this place. 

Summer and I are like old friends who know they secretly despise each other but regularly meet anyway — to try and breathe life into this deadened connection, or perhaps only to show off to their instagram friends that their ‘childhood friendship’ is more valuable your adult ones. I remember loving summer; my gingham frocks, the water slide at Archway Pool, the time spent with my parents (but only one of them at a time) that made me forget how emotionally violent our home was. But each year that summer returned, it saw me retreat further away from it. Not only did it grow more and more physcially unbearable — the summer grew hotter, and I grew older and more confined to a modesty that dictated I wore long sleeves and high necks all year round — but it almost always signalled a period in which I was forced to return to myself. No school, no fixed schedule, no need to do anything but to enjoy the time off until September reappeared. I could be at home with my parents and siblings where the air was thick with everyone’s suppressed complaints and highly-strung emotions threatening to lurch into the fore. I could see my friends who liked me most when I was just as quiet and agreeable as I eventually became in front of my family. It was needed; their personalities were so large and loud that one more would disrupt the balance. I was drawn to people like that, people whose social extraversion surrogated my own because someone (probably me) decided it would be easier to get through my teen years — those years of the greatest, inner and outer changes — if I had just kept quiet. For the most part, this worked. It was only when I found myself alone that I’d feel like all this quiet was just hushing some rumblings that were desperate to speak out.