#me when the word pride is used in a true meaningful and vulnerable way

[yogurthoopsart]

the hbomberguy vid fucked me up a little

#hbomberguy #art #drawing #me when the word pride is used in a true meaningful and vulnerable way #yogart

[sneakerdoodle]

the THIIIING with the Titan being home to witches of the Boiling Isles and a provider of magic, a deity-like being in a very sort of.... fascinating micro-pantheistic way, both the world and the conscience behind it... like a sort of tutelary spirit mayhaps.... actually i'll direct you to @buttercup-bug 's AMAZING thoughts on the matter that they are typing up at this very moment (will link in replies once they post!!) anyway THE THING about this is! how specific and special and sad and beautiful it makes Eda's relationship with King and her motherly role... just something so special about something so, so big and powerful, the very thing that gave her home and the life that she knows and the freedom to interact with the world in beautiful magical ways, taking on such a vulnerable form that now she is the one protecting it, nurturing it back to strength, taking care of it like the Isles have taken care of her and everyone else like her

and with the titan genocide it's like... whether the Titan's relationship with the witches was ever meant to be protective and guiding on the Titan's part, they were, either way, a creative force of the world, giving birth to continents and magic in their wake, letting life thrive off the remains of them, having their life continue through the witch- and monster-kind. so this world-shaping life form being hunted to near extinction is a damage done to an entire way of life, a relationship between people and the land they occupy, a form of connection with the world

and it's just... so so heartachingly beautiful and heavy, how Eda and the entire Bad Girl Coven are fighting to keep this way of life alive. they are some of the few remaining wild witches; they are the inheritors of the glyph tradition, gifted by the Isles themselves. Eda now holds the palistrom seed, a key to reviving yet another way to engage with the world's magic, with another form of soul. and for years now, she's been raising King, who could possibly be the very last remaining titan

it's just so interesting, how, if something that was meant to guide and protect and inspire gets attacked so viciously it becomes wounded and vulnerable, the people it was meant to guide and protect and inspire step in as its caretakers instead... not to gain anything self-serving from it, but to keep it alive

as someone who comes from a country that does not at all honour the diversity of regional and indigenous cultures, and has instead built a cult around dubious achievements and a culture of distrust and hatred towards countries chosen as our "enemy", and basically only ever self-identifies through appealing to over-blown historical pride or the image of the "other" hostile to the "us", i never, ever at all felt like my culture was there to teach me or guide me or help me, or connect me to my ancestors. i do have Jewish heritage alongside that, and identifying with That part of my ancestry always felt much more meaningful, because there is simply... more to it than just dangerous boisterous patriotism? there is a need to honour something that some would like dead and gone, because it is vulnerable and deserves to exist and persevere

and it just seems so so different for people who are tasked with keeping their cultures alive, in the face of a history of attempted cultural genocide, under threat of current discrimination and neglect. it just... reconnects the word "culture" with its true meaning, when you consider what it was originally meant to be: a whole language of engaging with others and the world; and how awful it is to see it attacked. and i just... think there is something extremely beautiful about people taking on the task of protecting something that, initially, was there to guide and raise them; choosing to nurture it and keep it safe, for the sake of the culture itself and the meaningfulness of their relationship with it

#the owl house #toh #toh spoilers #genocide mention #cultural genocide #analysis tag #idk i am... getting a big feeling from this and i hope this communicates some of it! #i never really got to actively engage with my Jewish heritage #so if any of this sounds off or condescending or ingenuine or too casual with how i talk about cultural survival #i am 100% open to hearing that and editing anything/taking anything out!

[samstree]

For the reverse trope ask: the soft character comforting the tough character after a trauma

Piece Him Back Together

Part of the reverse trope series.

When Geralt gets kidnapped, it's up to Jaskier to rescue him. Some truths about a witcher's worst weakness come to light.

(geraskier, 2.1k, hurt/comfort, geralt whump, mutual pining, competent jaskier, love confession, mild blood)

read on AO3

"Shit, shit, shit..."

Jaskier lets out a string of curses all the while balancing the weight of two fully grown men with stumbling footwork. He desperately tries to keep Geralt up with a hand on the small of his back but fails to stop the injured witcher from drooping with each step, until, at last, both of them wind up in a heap of limbs by the road.

Geralt lets out a pained grunt and Jaskier scrambles with apologies.

“Fuck, sorry.” The bard shifts Geralt’s bulk with all he can muster and finally settles him on a patch of soft moss under the tree. The witcher hisses as his back hits the bark rather heavily. “Shit, I’m so sorr—”

“You already said,” Geralt interrupts him but there’s no anger in his tone.

“Still. I am.”

Jaskier retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and begins to dab at the mess of blood at Geralt’s temple, wincing when he finally sees how bad the blow is. Blood oozes from the gash, slower than a moment before. The fabric is soaked through and the skin there is still tender.

It’s all witchers’ weakness.

The temple. A blow to the head.

It messes up all their senses and coordination, leaving them in the most vulnerable state. If Jaskier had reached him any later, this might have done Geralt in.

Jaskier lets out a distressed sound at the thought.

“Stop fussing. We need to go.” The witcher, against all odds, remains level-headed.

“No, it’s all right. I knocked out all the guards and servants, along with the duke and his mage.” Jaskier tilts Geralt’s head for a better angle to press the handkerchief down on the wound. “I may have given the two of them a little more than the recommended dose. The lady at the apothecary warned me about the risk of choking with much sleeping potion, urgh, like I give an ounce of fuck if they die a gruesome death or not. It’d be a favor to the town.”

The venom surprises even Jaskier himself, and Geralt lets out a meaningful hum.

“Rest assured, my dear. No one will be looking for us today.”

Up close, Jaskier can feel Geralt scrutinize him intently as if to burn a hole into his face. He meets the amber gaze, the dark pupils still a little blown wide from the shock, but there’s also something akin to relief flowing in those beautiful eyes.

He revels in the silence, observing Geralt in return for further signs of hurt, but finds none.

The witcher relents first, the tiniest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So you drugged an entire castle?”

“Didn’t think I had it in me, huh?” Jaskier teases. “The White Wolf, saved by a humble bard and forever impressed by his wit.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, don’t beat yourself up, oh mighty witcher. I’m sure you only needed the rescue because those villains took advantage of your only weakness.” The bard adds his usual dramatic flair into the last two words.

Geralt blinks. Something shifts in his expression, his breathing picking up and his eyes darting everywhere. If the bard didn’t know better, he’d say the witcher is flustered, which makes it all the more confusing.

“Mocking me, are you?” Geralt drops his gaze and tries to shy away, but the bard holds him in place with the other hand. Under Jaskier’s palm, the frame of the witcher’s ear is heating up.

“How am I mocking you? Geralt, even you must admit witchers aren’t all-powerful beings.” Jaskier frowns. “They messed up your head. I know all your senses get muddled when you’re like this. Seriously, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What are you talking about?” the witcher snaps his gaze back to Jaskier, a puzzled crease deep between his brows, which only makes the bard scoff with amusement.

“The head wound, of course. How did they get you? An ambush and a blow to the head, I’m assuming.” Jaskier explains. “How else did you get yourself into a dungeon and dimeritium cuffs? What, are you telling me you walk into their trap voluntarily?”

He rolls his eyes at the offhanded joke but the silence from the witcher leaves the mood heavier. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like a denial of what he just said. Geralt is staring at him with an inexplicable look on his face, and these looks are hard to come by these days. Jaskier prides himself in being the best on the continent at reading his witcher, and he has no inclination to break the streak.

“What happened then? Talk to me, Geralt.”

Jaskier removes the handkerchief a little. The gash has stopped bleeding, so he ties it around Geralt’s head carefully to keep the wound shielded, at least until they can wash it properly. His hands stay with Geralt afterwards, waiting for him to open up.

“I—” Geralt purses his lips before continuing, golden eyes meeting the bard in earnest. “They didn’t ambush me, Jask. I walked into that castle unarmed by choice.”

“What?” Jaskier’s jaw drops.

“It’s because—” the witcher scowls. “Because I thought…that they had you.”

It’s like a lightning strike, where their skin connects tingling all the way from the tips of Jaskier’s fingers to a warm pool of fuzziness in his stomach. The air is suddenly too hot so Jaskier decides to put more space between them.

“Oh.”

Geralt chases him ever so slightly before settling back with resignation, his eyes still bare and vulnerable, as if he just revealed the darkest secret when it is only the sweetest thing in a horrible, horrible way.

“A whisper of you being held hostage and suddenly I couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember to check the truth. Couldn’t waste another second.” Geralt hovers a hand near the bard’s face before retreating to his side. “You were right that they got me because of my one weakness, Jaskier. Just not the one you assumed.”

The pounding in Jaskier’s chest is jumping out of his throat. He’s sure he will die within the next minute if he doesn’t speak to ease this ache in his heart.

“Oh.”

He ends up saying dumbly.

“It was too late when I noticed the absence of you. Your voice, your heartbeat, your scent. Nothing. You weren’t in that castle or the cells. All I could hear was silence and all I could smell was blood.” Geralt draws a shuddering breath. “I hoped, when they kept me in the dark, that they were lying about ever having you. That you were nowhere near that damn place instead of—”

The witcher swallows, unable to finish the sentence.

“Instead of,” Jaskier adds for him, “they’d already killed me.”

The tension hangs between them. The bard sits back on the heels of his feet and finds himself at a loss for words for the very first time in his life.

Geralt might be the only person who can force Jaskier through so many firsts in his life. His first time writing a hit song, first time smashing into someone’s face with a lute, first time saving a witcher’s life, and perhaps, first time murdering two evil overlords obsessed with collecting witchers for experiments.

Hmm, it’s not like Jaskier regrets any of these.

Geralt reaches out again, tentative and patient like he’s approaching a spooked horse. This time, Jaskier takes pity and meets him halfway, his thumb rubbing small circles at the sword callouses that he adores so much.

“Say something,” Geralt pleads.

Jaskier swallows a lump in his throat and sniffles to ease the congestion in his nose, his vision blurring in desperation.

“It’s the most words you’ve said in one sitting, Geralt. You’ll have to allow me a moment to figure out what you are saying and, most importantly, not saying.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s you, you know? There’s always something you are holding back and that is often the crux of it. I thought I got good at reading between the lines, but this is…overwhelming.”

With the enhanced healing kicking in, Geralt is looking much better by the minute. The blood dries and crusts over and his eyes almost shining in the daylight, or is it just the emotions within them? Jaskier can’t tell.

“Maybe I can help you. With the hidden words.” Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s fingers reassuringly. He tilts his head in the most endearing way. It happens to be that particular head tilt that Jaskier treasures with his life, the one that manages to always take his breath away.

“I love you, Jask.”

The warm pool of fuzziness in Jaskier’s stomach turns into a bottomless pit, and he’s falling.

And soaring.

“I love you.” Geralt smiles sadly. “In the dark of that cell, it became…ever so clear and so loud that I couldn’t deny it anymore. I love you, in spite of myself. Gods, I’ve loved you for so long.”

Geralt picks up Jaskier’s hand and places the barest touch of a kiss there, his lips chapped but oh so gentle. Jaskier lets out a soft gasp and the tears roll down uncontrollably. The next thing he knows, he’s buried deep in Geralt’s embrace. The sobs choke in his lungs like a dam has been broken.

“I—” Jaskier is amazed to find that their roles have reversed. The witcher has expressed everything but the bard becomes mute. So he takes up Geralt’s role gladly and replies with actions.

Jaskier’s lips are pressed everywhere he can reach: the soft, warm skin of Geralt’s neck, the sharp of his jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose. He disregards the grime and dirt and kisses Geralt’s uninjured temple, the single most fragile part of a witcher’s body—barring their heart, so it seems. He tucks away a strand of white hair and kisses Geralt’s temple one more time, tasting the salty tang of tears.

When he pulls back, Geralt’s smile is blinding.

He hears Jaskier, even though—

“I still don’t know what to say,” Jaskier croaks, sniffling hard.

The bard rests his hands at the nape of Geralt’s neck and loses himself in the sunlit golden honey, his favorite color in the world and the most beautiful dream that’s ever come true.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Geralt wipes away the wetness on Jaskier’s face with the pad of his thumb. “Master Jaskier, poet, minstrel, professor… Stumped for words and forever impressed by a witcher’s love confession.”

He mimics Jaskier’s phrasing and the bard can’t help but chuckle despite the tears and snout, his hand swatting at Geralt’s shoulder. Jaskier knows he must look so absurd, laughing and crying all at once, but it’s the last thing in the world that matters.

Geralt loves him, and—

“You got hurt because of me.”

The remorse licks up, along with the urge to protect and to care. The sight of Geralt limp and bloody, bound by the wrists in a dark cell is something Jaskier never wants to relive again.

“I don’t care, Jask.”

“I care.”

“Then make it better.”

So he does. Geralt never wavers as Jaskier captures his lips and pours everything he cannot voice into the kiss, drawing a contented moan out of the witcher.

“Does it still hurt?” the bard whispers between one breath and the next.

“A little.”

Jaskier resumes his work and cards deft fingers through silver hair, careful not to nudge the handkerchief. His nails ghost over Geralt’s scalp and scratches gently until a purring sound rumbles deep in the witcher’s chest. The bard giggles proudly.

“Now?”

“Keep going.”

Geralt traps Jaskier between his strong arms devours him with passion, the heat of his body solid and calming.

Jaskier has never thought of himself as a protector, except at this moment with his witcher arching into his every touch and producing those heavenly sounds. The world is too bent on hurting Geralt, too eager to take and take and take from him.

A bard is not a fighter. Jaskier cannot stop monsters from tearing through armors or crossbows fired with ill intent.

But a bard is a lover. What Jaskier can do is heal, is piece Geralt back together with gentle words in the dark and soft lips on the thin skin at his temple.

“How about now?”

They are panting in tandem, the gold of Geralt’s eyes dreamy and out of this world.

“Still dizzy.”

“That’s from all the kissing, you oaf.”

But Geralt begs wordlessly with those wide, puppy-like eyes so openly, and Jaskier’s already non-existent resolve breaks into a million pieces. He kisses Geralt until the witcher melts into a puddle of purring mess, sun-warmed and pliant.

And he kisses Geralt more.

Again and again.

---

Thanks for the prompt. I kind of just rolled with the concept. The twist looks a bit obvious from the beginning, but feel free to tell me what you think. <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @dapandapod @artisanbaguette @birdsflyhome

Please tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #reverse trope #trope subversion #soft geraskier #geralt x jaskier #cw: blood #soft jaskier #hurt geralt #geralt whump #mutual pining #love confession #first kiss #italicized oh #hurt/comfort

[mirrinbelde-shitposts]

Hello!!!! I'm here to participate on your game!!! And, I think you're an Aquarius Mercury just like me!! Thank you and take care 😘

My chart:

Hey!! I'm not an Aquarius Mercury :( but I do have lots of Aquarius in my chart ^^ Have a nice day!

Welcome to your reading. Please remember to send feedback.

First impressions when looking at your chart: it's almost a bowl shape, meaning that there's approximately 180ª with planets and the other 180º are devoid of planets

SUN IN AQUARIUS

As an Aquarius, you are quirky, aloof, dreamy and humanist. People may think you’re awkward and detached, which is probably true for you since your Sun is at 0º of Aquarius. Your originality and uniqueness are probably the things you love about yourself the most. Your mind is also quite agile, which allows you to fulfil your dreams. Nevertheless, we cannot ignore the fact that the Sun is in Detriment in the sign of Aquarius. This means that the Sun can struggle here, making you feel confused as to who you are and how you can express yourself. You very much value your independence and your rebelliousness. However, you can be stubborn to a fault when it comes to your thoughts and opinions.

SUN IN THE 8TH HOUSE

This is the house of Scorpio. With the Sun here, you may appear a bit Scorpionic, namely, you can embody that more powerful, secretive, intense vibes very associated with this sign. Whilst Leo is about yourself, Scorpio relates to your connection with others. By bonding with other people, and experiencing their emotions, you can further discover your own identity. Scorpio is known for its intensity, so you probably have a big need to know everything about those closest to you, but that’s not an issue, because people seem to want to disclose to you. Additionally, the 8th house rules other people’s money and inheritances, so you may be in charge of others’ monetary resources. You may even get a career in this area. Lastly, this house rules everything secret and occult, so there’s a big chance that you’ll learn more about yourself by delving into the mystic arts (such as astrology, for example).

PISCES MOON

With this placement, you acquire intuition, empathy and emotional intelligence. You are a caring person who seeks to help others comprehend and verbalize emotions, which contrasts heavily with Aquarius but flows well with the 8H influence. I'd say that you're the type of person that everyone goes to for advice. However, you should take care not to spend a lot of time being the “therapist friend”, for your high sensitivity can cause you to get overwhelmed by others’ negative energies. You probably need your alone time in order to recharge your batteries. You can be quite emotional and you're often with your head “in the clouds”. Ethereal is a good word to describe personal Pisces placements. On the other hand, if not developed, you can be manipulative, insecure and lie a lot, especially with the 8th house.

MOON IN THE 8TH HOUSE

This placement very much goes strengthens your interest in the occult and secret. It is a karmic position for the Moon; perhaps you have a very strong relationship with your mother. Additionally, it ties in well with Pisces' emotional abilities. You seek someone with whom you can form a deep emotional bond, someone with whom you can be vulnerable and share your secrets. It is also a good position for therapists because it allows you to connect well with people’s feelings and needs. Nevertheless, as I mentioned before, this can give you emotional control over people, which can lead to you manipulating them, even if you don't mean to do so. This can be especially true because your moon is not harmoniously aspected (conjunct Saturn, square Jupiter and Pluto). You can also benefit a lot from an inheritance, especially from your mother.

AQUARIUS MERCURY

This placement, even more so than your Aquarius Sun, brings you idealism and originality, as well as ideas that have the power to change society and the world. You are a free spirit and independence is definitely something very important to you. Your mind is all about being innovative and creative so you can make the world a better place. Your ideas may not always be viewed positively by others but you don't let that discourage you. People may also think you're a little off and detached but you just keep on doing your own thing, which is admirable. You may truly be ahead of your time, especially since your Mercury is in retrograde, which means that your ideas may be much more accepted after you communicate them. You have an agile mind and a good grasp of many different subjects, so people may enjoy speaking to you and learning your take on various fields of knowledge.

MERCURY IN THE 8TH HOUSE

The house of Scorpio. With Mercury here, your gain intuitiveness and inquisitiveness. To me, it is the Detective placement. It’s easy for you to understand what someone else is thinking because you have a knack for this kind of thing; telepathic, almost. You have a big interest in anything that has to do with the hidden and the human mind. Psychology would also be a good career. I’d say you think and listen much more than you think because, in your head, you’re connecting all the dots. There can be some fear in you, perhaps because of negative experiences in past lives. Due to this, you prefer to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself. Also, it is said that this placement can cause misunderstandings in contracts, especially regarding inheritances.

SAGITTARIUS VENUS

This Venus sign is independent and adventurous; it seeks someone with which to have fun and deep, philosophical conversations. You highly value morals and honesty, which is not strange, given that these things are ruled by Jupiter, hence associated with Sagittarius. Feelings are also very important to you. You may appear too detached and aloof, but that's not how you truly feel. Also, you can be viewed as flight and non-committal, but that is not true; you may simply take your time to actually understand whether or not to begin a relationship. Nevertheless, relationships may not be a concern of yours because of your need for independence. You very much enjoy travelling and acquiring knowledge to broaden your horizons. You may also date foreigners or have an interest in them.

VENUS IN THE 6TH HOUSE

Here, Venus gives great importance to things associated with Virgo: routine, health, job. It is important for you to have your routine and to plan things. Once you acquire a habit, it is difficult to let go of it (“Old habits die hard.”). Similarly, it is important that you incorporate activities with your partner in your daily schedule. Funnily enough, it is routine that makes you miss things you no longer have: for example, if you lose a friend, you may miss them more because you used to talk every day. You enjoy working on projects that make you feel like you’re doing something meaningful; your chosen profession must fulfil you. You want a harmonious workplace that makes you feel happy to work. Also, you have an eye for detail. There can be a need to obsess about your health, as well as your loved ones’.

MARS IN LEO

The red planet does well here. Leo wants to achieve great things in life and Mars gives it that determination and willpower needed to succeed. You probably do what you want and often act to stand out. This is a very bold, direct placement. What you want, you most likely get. You’re passionate about the things you love, which is admirable. You seek recognition and fame. You can be very proud and get angry easily, but it also goes away quickly. You are very brave, for sure, and fierce. Losing is not an option for you. You like to be in the spotlight and at the top. Admitting when you’re wrong can be quite difficult for you due to the aforementioned pride. Nevertheless, you’re warm, creative, romantic and probably good around children.

MARS IN THE 2ND HOUSE

Here, Mars is tied in with the themes of Taurus. Since Taurus is a fixed sign, I’d say that you are very good at getting what you want because you are quite determined and perseverant. You may have a strong will to acquire material things that bring you comfort and security. In that sense, you may wish to have a high-paying job that allows you to buy the things that allow you to have that comfortable lifestyle. However, you may spend your money too generously, so beware of that. You are brave and dynamic, qualities that help you to achieve what you want.

SAGITTARIUS JUPITER

Jupiter is in its rulership here. With this placement, your interest in the "accursed questions", that is, everything to do with our connection with the universe, is greatly expanded. Mundane life can seem quite trivial to you; your desire is to understand the bigger things. Like I mentioned in the Sagittarius Venus section, you have a deep desire to travel, to connect to other cultures, to experience different things than what you're used to, to expand your knowledge. In addition to this, you want to share what you know with others, sometimes without prompt, which may cause others to perceive you as a "know-it-all". Jupiter is also connected to intuition, so, if you learn to trust and rely on yours, you may achieve enlightenment.

JUPITER IN THE 6TH HOUSE

This placement may seem, at first, difficult, because this is the house of Virgo, in which sign Jupiter has its Detriment. Whilst Jupiter is all about the higher mysteries, philosophy and the bigger picture, Virgo prefers hard work, concrete aspects and attention to detail. You should seek to find meaning in life through your job, as well as acts of service. Also, this placement may manifest in more ways than one: you may be able to take on the Virgo traits by achieving focus in one thing, or, on the opposite, you can move from one thing to the next, in a bid to help everyone and achieve everything. Jupiter here needs to find a middle ground between the mundane and the mystical.

PISCES SATURN

This is, in my humble opinion, a contradictory placement. Pisces is known for being the sign of illusions, dreams, fantasies. Saturn, on the other hand, is the planet of blockages, traumas, karma. Pisces does not want to directly deal with the problems, whilst Saturn wants precisely the opposite. This can result in deep fears from you, perhaps regarding your individual conscience. You may be afraid to delve deep, to explore the limits of your mind and also to share these with others. Feelings are very important to you, but these have a tendency to be more negative and elusive. A coping mechanism may be to detach, to ignore, to evade. You deal with problems by not dealing with them. You will grow, but only when you accept your struggles and face them head-on.

SATURN IN THE 9TH HOUSE

You could have been brought up in a traditional, conservative religious community. This may manifest as you having clear opinions on what is right and what is wrong. Perhaps you have a lack of faith, or you’re merely sceptical of religion. This placement balances all the others in this house: with Saturn here, you might hold back all the desire to learn, to get out there and explore your beliefs. In a past life, you may have held all the answers, but in this life, you may not want anything to do with the higher mysteries. Nevertheless, I would say that this placement may not be that strong, given that all the other planets in your 9th house want you to learn and explore. ⬛️

#astrology #game ask #my stuff

[zocrzay]

I am coming clean and admitting I've had an unhealthy obsession these past few weeks analyzing the break up of Katie & Greg, my favorite ship from the entire Bachelor/ette franchise. I went down hard with this ship as it crashed and burned. From the beginning, I loved their chemistry and even if some say they were just trauma bonding over the passing of their fathers, I felt they had so much more going for them. I just figured out why I can't shake this pair out of my head.

Here it is: Katie & Greg remind me of Lizzie & Darcy from Pride & Prejudice, one of the greatest love stories ever told. The idea that a couple similar to a favorite fictional pairing could exist in real life had awakened the hopeless romantic in me.

Greg is totally Mr. Darcy. He is a family man, adorably awkward, reserved, internally tormented, but also deeply passionate. He's willing to dance to encourage affection.

Katie is like Lizzie. She is strong-willed, proud (maybe too proud), and has a sharp tongue. She gives no one permission to insult her. She loves her family even though they're embarrassing. Katie does not quite fit in with other women, but that is why she is so interesting.

The opposite personalities of Lizzie & Darcy made their playful banter and relationship dynamic so enjoyable. They challenged each others' ideas. They expanded each others' consciousness as they learned more about each other. This was synergy at its finest.

Katie is from hipster Seattle while Greg is from fuss-free Jersey - two very different worlds at opposite ends of America. They brought these worlds together in beautiful balance. When they split, the Bachelor Nation fandom was divided like a broken family. At least Greg owned up the error of his ways, but Katie seems dead set on hating him. Eventually, the false narratives she tells herself to keep her walls up will unravel . I hope she faces the facts and owns up to her part in the communication breakdown. When Greg was most vulnerable, Katie could not show a hint of honest affection. She accused him of giving up on the relationship moments after he confessed his love for her. Katie only spoke of herself as a prize to be won, but to Greg, she meant so much more than just that. I hope she realizes the profound truth in what Greg was trying to tell her the day he left her. True love is more than just keeping up appearances for a show and more than just physical attraction. It is more than just saying the words "I love you" or handing out roses. Katie and Greg were more than just two hot people who were mutually attracted to each other. They had divine harmony when they were together... until they were burned by the heat of their own fire.

It is nice to know Greg just wants Katie to be happy, but I do not believe Katie & Blake have the secret sauce. Good for them for having a lot of sex, but from what I know, that kind of connection is not long term sustainable. If banging each other is the main reason they're together, they'll eventually get bored. Blake fell in love so easily with two previous Bachelorettes and that cheapens his affection for Katie. I'm sure he can bounce back quickly if Katie left him. Sorry man. Blake seems like a great person, but his intellect does not seem to match hers ("You don't have to be great. You just have to be you." dafuq?). I thought she was smarter, but maybe her flippant use of the term 'gaslighting' proves otherwise. It is shamefully elitist to point that out, but honestly, their conversation was drab when they weren't talking about sex. There are a lot of hot horny ladies out there that Blake might have more chemistry with than her. He was not even sure he wanted to propose and it was mean to tease her in the proposal speech with "I don't think I can give you what you came here for". The Say Anything references were also cringeworthy. We did not see their love get tested. She was like a damsel in distress and Blake just swooped in to save her season of the show just because he happened to be there. It was quite dull. The 'conclusion' of their journey was really unsatisfying. Katie describing their love story as "perfect" just shows the lack of depth in their relationship.

Lizzie & Darcy were such beloved characters because they were both flawed. They both made mistakes, but because of their love, they were willing to overcome their pride and their prejudice. They corrected course and became the best versions of themselves at the end of the story before choosing to be together. "I was wrong" are three words that make the words "I love you" so much more meaningful. True love is transformational. Feelings of attachment are not true love unless there is consciousness. The best love stories are not about lovers conquering outside forces, but conquering their own inner demons. People truly in love consciously choose to grow together in spirit, not in spite of their imperfections, but because of them.

Greg was impatient and had unrealistic expectations. He should have given Katie more chances to figure out what he was saying. Maybe she found his desperation unattractive. Maybe if he helped her off the floor and said goodbye properly, she might have flown out to Jersey to go after him. Katie was shallow when she could only say "I just love looking at you" and spoke to Greg as if he were just a contestant on a game show. It seemed as if his pain was just an inconvenience to her. She seemed untrustworthy. If she had stronger feelings for Blake or was still undecided, openly expressing that to Greg would have been more respectable than stringing him along to dump him later. If Greg was the one she wanted the most, she looked incredibly fickle switching her affection to whoever was still available. Most people have not been in her situation, so it is tough to judge.

Lizzie Bennet said a lot of mean things, but she was a strong female character because she was able to learn from her mistakes and grow as a person without compromising her core values. She was in love with Darcy for his character and integrity. He was courageous, generous, and compassionate - his appearance, his wealth and his status were least important to her. He proved his love for Lizzie by his selfless acts of kindness to her family even after she accused him of being a pompous ass.

Greg staying out of the way to honor Katie's decision and let her be happy with Blake is an act of love. Him working on himself in therapy is another way to prove the love he had for her was real. Only Katie knows the inner conflict she's been facing. If she truly loved Blake, resolving her conflict with Greg will help her and Blake in the long run - otherwise their relationship will be haunted by the past. If life with Greg was always her true heart's desire, love will find a way even in the most impossible circumstances.

It really is not fair to compare real human beings to fictional characters - especially the exceptionally (maybe unrealistically) strong characters written by Jane Austen. I am just sharing my thoughts before I watch the 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie for the hundredth time. I just want the satisfying ending I could not get from watching reality TV before I move on to my next obsession.

#The Bachelorette Season 17 #The Bachelorette #The Bachelor #Greg Grippo #Katie Thurston #katie x greg #lizzie x darcy #Bachelor Nation #ships in the night #hyperfixation

[yzkhr]

There are times when he just wanted to stop.

Stop with the pretentions, the deceits, the lies, the trying, and just... give up.

Because frankly speaking, it was easier to just be a three foot tall little boy who solves crimes than a highschool student(who still solves crimes). It was nicer to just find people who had the same interests as him even if they were just a bunch of elementary students. It was more relaxing to just let his guard down once in a while. It was pleasant knowing he didn't have to show masculinity nor protect his pride from even the littlest of things.

Besides, it's not like Kudo Shinichi had something Edogawa Conan couldn't have as he grows older. He'll still have the same looks, the same intellect, the same experiences, and the same memories.

He can still go and defeat the Black Organization, even without his seventeen year old body. In fact, being a child was an enormous advantage. Not only for defeating the B.O, but just for being a detective in general.

As a child, suspects tend to let their guard down and show their true colors, but as a teenager, they have their guard up almost all the time. As a child, you can fit through small cracks and vents that a teenage body can never dream of. As a child, you'll be able to notice even the most unnecessary things that can be useful in a case that as a teenager would be too tedious to care.

Kudo Shinichi didn't have the worst childhood but Edogawa Conan sure is having a better one—with the exception of more dead bodies and constant chasing of the organization— than he could ever have had. As Edogawa Conan, he had more knowledge about necessary things. As Edogawa Conan, he didn't have to fail to learn, because he already did as Kudo Shinichi. As Edogawa Conan, he can gain more experiences than he ever did as Kudo Shinichi. As Edogawa Conan, he's just far better as a person compared to Kudo Shinichi.

Not only that, but he met people that became an integral part of his life. He met the detective boys, he was introduced with Miyano Shiho, he got a best friend in a form of an Osakan detective and bonus with his childhood bestfriend Tooyama Kazuha, he became associated with the police even more, specially the people from the first division, and he even got to interact with the FBI and go as far as to work with them.

If it was Kudo Shinichi they met, everything would be different. The detective boys wouldn't feel as close as they are to him as Conan, he would have never met Shiho, his friendship with Hattori wouldn't be this meaningful alongside his relationship with Kazuha, the first division would see him more as an obnoxious guy playing adult than a genius kid, and he would never even have talked with the FBI, much less cooperate with them.

Aside from that, there are also people that are already part of his life as Kudo Shinichi that have gotten a lot more closer as a false elementary student. He got to feel his parents care and love for him again, maybe even more compared back then. He got to be closer with professor Agasa, with his new inventions and test runs. Heck, he's even managed to make his relationship with Sonoko more tolerable(he hates to admit but he is fond of the Suzuki Heiress, just in a weird way).

Only one push of a button and he's done. Only one call to his parents and he can leave. Just one announcement of Kudo Shinichi's 'death', then Edogawa Conan will finally be free.

Free from the burden of lying. Free of pretention. Free to start anew. After all, he was given a second life—ironically ruining his first one—, so why not take the opportunity to start over? To make the wrong things right? To experience new and exciting stuff?

Everyday he thought of that. Everyday he'll have his phone in one hand pressed near his ear, preparing what he'd say. But at the end of each day, he wouldn't go through with it. He'll locked himself up inside the quarters of a small room and cursed audibly, frustated.

Because at the end of every day, he'll see her.

She'd always act cheerful around him, like there's nothing wrong at all. Her expression would be a mixture of bliss and light-heartedness. Her posture energetic, like she could run all day without even feeling tired once.

They'd talk about each other's day on the dinner table, discussing the most random things just to let time pass. For a moment, he'd forget about all the things he's done to her and her father. That he really was just a freeloader than a teenager capable of taking care of himself.

Ran was the last straw that made the idea of staying as Conan so desirable. If he was still Shinichi, he would never let himself be this close to her. Sitting on her lap, letting her freely touch him anywhere, holding his hand wherever they go, and even bathing together (the last part is not supposed to be a good thing but he's a seventeen year old man so deal with it).

Whether he denied it or not, this incident made them closer, both literally and figuratively. He got to see more sides he was limited to as Shinichi, even though they've practically been together more than half of their lives. He got to see things he never would have seen, understand stuff about her he would have never been able to, and fell even deeper in love, if that was even possible at his state.

More than that, Ran even told him things that Kudo Shinichi will never have access to, but Edogawa Conan can easily cross. Particularly, her feelings for him. Honestly, it caught him off guard. He was confident—no he wasn't—that Ran liked him, or was at least interested, but he never would have guessed she feels this much—almost as much as he feels for her.

Just like always, she'd become a huge point for thinking that living as Edogawa Conan wasn't so bad.

But, she was also the one reason Kudo Shinichi can't die.

As they tuck themselves to bed, there will be nights he'll check on her, needing to calm the unsettling feelings in the pit of his stomach. Luckily, when she's not asleep, she'd leave her door ajar, large enough to do what he came for.

There, his eyes would widen at the image of his childhood best friend, sitting at the edge of the bed, gazing at the only source of light inside the dimly lit room, the moon. Her side profile was the only part he could make out of, but it doesn't take a genius to know that the liquid gathered around her usual cheery eyes were tears. The upward curve of her lips during dinner was now turned upside down, quivering ever so slightly.

He always wanted to look away, knowing it was his fault she was like that. He knew that Ran misses him, but just doesn't show to them or anyone else. She's strong that way. Selflessly getting herself hurt without ever bothering someone else, what a very 'Ran' thing to do.

The longer he stared at her lonely figure, he realized more and more things. Edogawa Conan didn't—and could never— have everything that Kudo Shinichi had. As a seven year old, Ran was only an older sister figure—who he have a crush on—, but as the teenage detective, she was his childhood friend and the only girl he'd ever consider to be with.

As Conan, he can comfort her and be there for her, making her happy temporarily. As Conan, he can use physical contact as means of communication, without worrying about her noticing how bad he has it towards her. As Conan, he didn't have to hide anything from her, showing her just how much she meant and just how much he was willing to give. But, as Conan, nothing he can and would do will ever be enough.

Because Conan wasn't, isn't, and will never be Shinichi.

It was funny, that Edogawa Conan almost has it all, except the one thing that mattered the most.

Having enough of seeing her so miserable, he'd enter the room in a quiet fashion, that her mind that was so far away wouldn't notice him creeping up behind her.

To catch her attention, he would encircle his small arms around her nape, fingers interlocking in her neck, tiptoing slightly, smelling the sweet shampoo she put that night and let her flinch at his touch.

After recognition, she would wipe her tears away, setting a perfect facade she always have when conversing with others. Most nights, he'd let her, understanding the feeling of not wanting others to see your own weakness and vulnerability. But Ran wasn't him, so she didn't have to put on some silly mask to cover her true feelings because he'll accept them, no matter what.

"Conan-kun?"

Her voice were low and hoarse from not being used for the last few minutes. She tried to turn around but his grip around tightens, not so much so he wouldn't hurt her, but enough to for her to stay still.

"I'm sorry."

That was all he could say. All he could offer right now. It wasn't something that would make her feel better, but it was a start.

She would chuckle lightly, but the sadness still lingers.

"What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong, Conan-kun. Nothing wrong at all."

The way she spoke to him was gentle and coaxing, like he was the one being comforted. But instead of being consoled, he felt worse. Because he did do something wrong. Something so wrong that it may never be forgiven.

Lying to her about the organization, living at the same house as her and her father, deceiving her everytime she gets closer to the truth, and many more mistakes were done, that not even an infinite amount of apologies can fix it.

But that was love, wasn't it? Wanting that person to live, whether you can be a part of it or not.

Unable to stop himself, he went from the crook of her neck going north, and planted his lips on the crown of her head. He felt her froze at his uncharacteristic action but instead of backing out, he continued on.

"I'm sure that Shinichi-niichan will be back soon. So please," From his childlike grim voice, he dropped his voice as low as he could manage, just to utter his last words, closest to his real voice. The one she wanted—needed—to hear. "Wait for him."

'Let me replace him for a while.'

He wanted to add but went against it. Ran was already so caring and kind towards Conan—a complete stranger—, anything more would be asking for too much.

Her breath hitched, his words leaving her in a mess. He let her organized her own thoughts first, not wanting to cause her trouble when his purpose was to cajole her.

Seconds passed and he found her soft hand holding his intertwined fingers, still coiled around her. She sighed and leaned on him, but not so much so he can still support his own weight.

Even without seeing her completely, he managed to catch a glimpse of a small smile, gracing her beautiful face.

"I know he will, Conan-kun. So I'll wait, no matter how long it takes."

Everyone knew him as Edogawa Conan. Even he treats himself more as the bespectacled genius little boy than the famed highschool detective. But for Mouri Ran, his childhood friend, and always for her, he was, is, and always will be Kudo Shinichi.

#detective conan #shinran #coran #should I do Ran one?

[dicapriho]

Important quotes to take from this article, that sums up perfectly why Daenarys’ treatment in season 8 was so heartbreaking..(long post with bullet points for easy reading):

Game of Thrones is "a world where women are often treated as disposable objects, Daenerys outwitted and overpowered her male enemies. As the sole protagonist in her own storyline, far from the rest of the characters, she was set up to be one of the few unambiguously [female] heroic figures in the series."

"in just a few episodes, she quickly transformed from a woman who has prided herself on saving the downtrodden to one who burns the innocent."

"[Daenerys’] treatment this season from the makeup of the writers’ room: The writers and directors on the show have always been overwhelmingly male, and women were shut out of both writing and directing jobs for every episode in season 8."

"Throughout her life, Daenerys has shown a commitment to justice...She freed the slaves in Meereen... When Drogon burned one child, she chained up her other two dragons, leaving herself more vulnerable...She put her fight for the Iron Throne on pause to fight in Jon’s war against the White Walkers [in the North where she knew she would feel unwelcome]."

"She was called the “Breaker of Chains” for a reason. When she misstepped, we forgave her, as we forgave, say, Tyrion for strangling Shae." [And Jon for killing a child for betraying him!]

“Daenerys has certainly used “Dracarys” to punish plenty of people during her reign... she always gave some compelling reason for doing so.”

She first used her dragon’s fire to kill a warlock who tried to imprison her, and again against a slaver who tried to cheat her...she crucified all the masters in retaliation for them having killed slave children — but they had killed children...She burned all the Khals who were threatening to keep her as a slave or rape her, or both."

Dany’s advisors gave awful advice:

"Daenerys agreed to make Tyrion her hand because Tyrion said he “knew things”...specifically, he claimed to know how to make alliances in Westeros and exploit people’s hate of Cersei in order to put Daenerys on the throne. Except, Tyrion did…none of that."

"...when did Tyrion convince a single lord that if they joined their side, they could get a new title and nice castle and see the land’s most hated woman [Cersei] burned to a crisp? Never."

"...what Tyrion did do: Try to cut a deal with slavers that would have kept slavery legal for a longer period of time, until Daenerys decided to burn their ships instead; convince Dany not to fly to King’s Landing and burn the Red Keep, which would have resulted in far fewer Kings Landing deaths; come up with the horrible plan to capture a wight that almost got Jon killed and lost Daenerys a dragon and still didn’t earn Cersei’s allegiance; convince Daenerys to trust Cersei, who has never proven herself to be trustworthy; forget to remind Daenerys that Euron and the Iron Fleet would almost certainly be waiting near Dragonstone, thus losing Daenerys another dragon; free Jaime from captivity in an effort to help both his brother and Cersei escape death at Daenerys’ hands..."

"Don’t even get me started on Varys, who didn’t write a single letter to a single lord to gain intel against Cersei or an ally for Dany but did find time to spread the word about Jon’s true parentage...”

“Tyrion and Varys were supposed to be her helpers. They failed her. Instead of owning up to this and realizing the part they have both played, Tyrion and Varys begin to worry that Daenerys is a flawed ruler exactly because she’s losing faith in them over their terrible decisions."

On the Sansa v Dany struggle:

"...The writers of the show cited much more petty reasons for their [Sansa and Dany's] conflict: “[Daenerys is] also very pretty, and how much does that factor in? Sansa starts off this season very suspicious and not at all friendly with Dany.”"

Her Isolation:

"In the last few episodes, Daenerys finds herself envying the love that Jon’s people feel for him...it’s destabilizing for her to arrive in Westeros and find that people are not eager to see her. Why, exactly, the Northerners don’t appreciate her dragons — without which they could not have defeated the Army of the Dead...."

"Daenerys rightfully glowers at Jon as his countrymen celebrate the fact that he mounted a dragon a couple of times when Dany has been riding one for years [Not to mention she is the first Targaryen in hundreds of years to have successfully mothered & raised/trained dragons]...In a mission to make Dany feel as isolated as possible, the show killed off her closest advisors, Jorah and Missendei."

"Daario is controlling Slaver’s Bay in her absence. Yara Greyjoy is sworn to her. In theory, the new Prince of Dorne would be allied with her since Daenerys struck a pact with Ellaria Sand. Daenerys could have called on any of these allies when she faced Cersei’s army but didn’t — simply because the show needed her to be alone ."

On Missandei:

"Game of Thrones fridged Missandei. There’s no other way to put it. Her capture and death happens just so Daenerys would feel isolated. The fact that the writers turned the only major black female character on the show into a device to motivate Daenerys feels even more cringeworthy."

"The fairly quick transition from complicated hero to totally mad villain leaned heavily on an oft-repeated line: “every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin”. But should Daenerys’ Targaryen blood necessarily doom her? After all, Jon is half Targaryen, too. So why does he get to sit comfortably on the other side of the coin?...The show has long been obsessed with various characters’ struggles to shake their family’s legacies. Tyrion killed his own father and joined Team Daenerys, only to betray Daenerys in order to help his family again." 

"Daenerys has long tried to differentiate herself from her father, the Mad King, only to become her father’s daughter."

"...the show’s most recent plotting flaws was Varys’ rushed decision that Daenerys was a terrible enough queen that he would endeavor to poison her — quite a stretch for a man who served under King Joffrey...Remember that Varys once wanted to put Dany’s brother Viserys, a demonstrable megalomaniac, on the Iron Throne."

"...when Varys found out Jon was a Targaryen, he began openly conspiring to undermine and overthrow Daenerys...He accused her of being paranoid while simultaneously conspiring against her, which means she had every right to be suspicious...Again, it’s a failure of the show that the man who was once revered as Master of Whispers walked up to Jon in the middle of a crowded beach and suggested he usurp Daenerys."

"Other rulers we think of as heroes in this story have executed men for less than attempted murder: Robb Stark executed Rickard Karstark for killing the Lannister hostages, against Robb’s orders...Ned Stark executed someone for abandoning the Night’s Watch...Jon Snow executed the men who succeeded in murdering him (before he was resurrected) including Olly, a young boy."

"...Jon betrayed Daenerys’ trust by telling his family, and Tyrion betrayed her — twice. Davos also betrayed her too for totally inexplicable reasons by helping Tyrion smuggle Jaime to Cersei...Her advisor’s lie to her and gaslit her, plain and simple. And yet the way that Daenerys’ destruction of King’s Landing is shot, we are supposed to see her as the irrational one and Tyrion as one of the victims of her terror."

"...either due to time restrictions or lack of source material or just plain lack of creativity, the show took shortcuts this season...And those shortcuts tended to rely on the laziest of sexist stereotypes about crazed, power-hungry women."

"Maureen Ryan at the Hollywood Reporter put it best: “Inescapably, infuriatingly, what we’re left with is apparently the central message of Game of Thrones: Bitches are crazy.” "

"...Had [Dany's] paranoia been seeded many episodes ago and grown over the course of several seasons, it would be an epic Shakespearean tragedy. Instead we must infer this descent based on her frizzy hair."

"Worse, the moment when she seemingly decides to rule with fear, not love, comes after she’s romantically rejected by Jon...” [Suggestible that the lack of requited love is a strong enough reason for a level-minded strong woman to fall into a pit of craziness, despite all the good she has ever done and vows to continue doing..]

"Varys suggested that Jon would be a better ruler exactly because he did not want to rule. Figures in mythology and history ranging from Moses to George Washington to Harry Potter have been heralded as heroes because they came to power reluctantly. Those figures also tend to be male. How do our stories cast women eager for power? As evil queens. And now Daenerys is a cliché."

"There have been a lot of problematic characterizations of women this season, as revealed by the writers’ own commentary surrounding the episodes...Sansa essentially parroted what the writers have been saying for years about her rape by Ramsay Bolton — that it made her stronger...and the showrunners called Cersei, one of the smartest, most vicious characters on Thrones, “just a girl who needs the comfort of a man..”

"...in the end, Daenerys cycled through several tired stereotypes: Another evil, power-hungry queen literally shot with a dragon’s wings behind her; the crazy lady that a noble man has to heroically overcome..."

Like Cersei, Dany was a character introduced in the first episode, who ws incredible meaningful in the narrative of Game of Thrones. Instead of going out with a bang, Daenerys’ death wasn’t a bang like she truly deserved, but a whimper and forgotten to emphasise the man’s conquer and victory.

#game of thrones spoilers #anti got #daenerys targaryen #got spoilers #long post #sexism #anti d&d

[silverostro]

TASK ONE :  who do you love? // @embersrpg

{ a handwritten letter to their assistant, zero holloway, sealed in an unlabeled envelope, as of yet unsent, tucked between the last page and back cover of the notebook silver keeps locked in the middle drawer beside their bed }

Z.H.,

It’s not an easy thing to put sentimentality into words. Facts are easier to deal in, concrete calculations, problems that have real solutions to discover, questions that have answers, I have no trouble lecturing on those sorts of things for hours. This sort of thing is...different, though. But I’ve always found it more possible to offer vulnerability, honesty in written word rather than spoken. 

To start, I have to admit that I’ve done you a disservice by being more inclined to focus on my work, and by forcing you to do the same while you’ve worked for me, and I apologize for that. I think you’ll understand one day sooner rather than later why that’s been for the best, especially recently, although you’re intelligent enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if you had already reasoned why I’ve done so.

That wasn’t always the case, of course. It’s always been an intentional choice, yes, but it’s rarely been an unselfish one, more for my own benefit than for the benefit of any of those around me. In a way, it still is a selfish choice now, as I would rather you live freely, as you want to, with the potential to see a kinder future, or at least a more just one, than to end up in a position similar to my own. Or, more likely, a position much worse than my own, because of me. 

I’ve had dozens of interns turned assistants over the past two decades, all hand-chosen by my overseers, all intelligent in their own right, all helpful to varying degrees, and I’ve had several interns turned tributes, too––intentionally, I believe, but that’s a theory for another letter––but it would be a lie to say I’ve cared for any of them on a personal level. I say this with no amount of pride, but with a certain sense of guilt now. There’s a great deal more that I could have done, but it’s difficult to see the sense in attachment when there’s no future, and it’s safer to keep a distance for all involved. Or that’s what I’ve told myself, anyway. I don’t think that’s as true as I believed; it’s just an excuse I’ve used. It’s a punishment, after all, or perhaps more accurately a reminder of how easily things can be taken away, the power held over my head, no single moment of any of our lives truly safe, only it hasn’t had the effect they hoped for. 

(And I refuse to give them credit for any change in opinion I may be ruminating on as I write this.)

This is all to say that I’m grateful that they sent you to me, I’m grateful that none of the twenty slips of paper with your name on them were chosen, and you have the chance at a future I know I wouldn’t have been able to guarantee if it had. I’m grateful to call you an assistant, and I’m grateful that I’ve had the chance to be a mentor to you in a perhaps more meaningful sense than I might’ve been able had the circumstances been different. I only wish that I could reverse the hands of time and offer something better to the others that came before, in this arena and other Arenas.

I’d like to think I’m doing a better job of that now, though, and you’ve nearly forced me to do so, with your rather relentless stream of interest in the personal, and care it’s difficult not to offer back, but I’ll let you judge that, being more objective than self reflection. At the time of writing this, there’s still a long way to go, I think, but everyone has to start somewhere. I can only hope that I’m not starting too late. 

As sentimental as it sounds, it feels serendipitous that you came to me when you did. At the right time, in the right place, against unfathomable odds, here you are, to serve as proof and motivation at the same time. Proof of the things I’ve tried to ignore in the world, the cruelty I’ve been apart of and the pain I’ve helped cause, and motivation to take some semblance of control back so that I don’t let down another person whose well being has been put in my hands.

The thing I fear, though, is that my passivity and distance is the only thing that’s kept you safe, and I can’t comfortably give either of those things any longer... Which you’ve likely noticed, if this letter has found its way safely into your hands, or unsafely into another’s.

I think they sent you to me to try to show you it’s better to keep your head down, and do as you’re asked, and that’s likely what I would have taught before the sparks of something both new and old at the same time were lit around us. But now? Now I’m prepared to admit I hope you won’t do anything of the sort when the time comes, whether I’m with you or not.

Your mentor,

S.O.

#emberstask #emberstaskone #( cyber stockholm syndrome. ) #unexpected paternal instincts???? in MY silver ostro??? #it's more likely than u think

[manatehispants]

Entertain Me!

“Okay. You can stop now. Like right now.”

Harley kept her arms wrapped tightly around Floyd who despite his words was doing very little to actually make her stop. The wild card blonde acted like she didn’t hear a word the assassin said. She continued to rub her pale skinned face against his cheek like an affectionate cat who had just got done hitting the cat nip. Lawton rolled his eyes. He gave it two more minutes before he attempted another protest.

“I ain’t playing around, Harley. Let go or I’mma shot you right in the face. Last warning about this.”

This time he did try to push her away from him although there was no real force to it. He’d never say it out loud, but he liked the crazy jester. Somewhere along the line she had become meaningful to him. Harley knew it too. She knew Deadshot wasn’t going to ever say he liked her let alone cared for her, but his actions showed it in his own way. And this time it wasn’t all in her head either like it had been with Joker. Nope! This was real. Harley faked a pout, but finally she disentangle herself from the man. She leaned back on the hotel couch laying her head onto Deadshot’s shot and swinging her legs over the other side. Her platinum blonde pigtails dangled just off of Lawton’s lap. He let out a small grunt and wondered why she always did that with such force. He also wondered for the zillionth time why she stuck around him. Was she really so fucked up from her time with Joker that she thought Lawton was as good as it got? He glanced down at Harley, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His heart quickened when his eyes locked onto her’s. They were full of something he knew he didn’t deserve, love and adoration. Laughing Harley winked at him almost as if she knew what he was thinking. Maybe she did. Maybe she knew far more than Lawton credited her for.

“We should go see that Taylor Swift concert the one that is in town tomorrow! I have the perfect outfit! Oh! We could get matching outfits! It will be so fun! I’ll post all the pictures up on Instagram! Eat your heart out Bats and Robin, there’s a new dynamic duo in town!”

Where the Hell had this damn idea come from!? Lawton pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Nope! He didn’t even want to get into that aspect of it with her. It would only give him a headache.

“We ain’t doing that. I told you already I am in town for work. That’s it. And never ever compare us to Batman and his kid sidekick again. Better don’t pretend there is an us cause there ain’t.”

“But I am bored. Come on. Entertain me! Pretty, pretty, please? With a big fat cherry on top? Oh! And sprinkles. We can’t forget those. Great! Now I want ice cream.”

Pouting again Harley sat back up and leaned herself onto the assassin’s muscular body. She ran one hand down his chest her hand stopping to rest on his stomach. Floyd’s body reacted by tensing. It usually wasn’t good when someone touched him in such a vulnerable spot. As much as he wanted to trust Harley.....She was still crazy and crazy people do well, crazy things. He forced himself to relax by inhaling deeply onto his cigarette. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling as he let out a perfect ring of grey-blue smoke. He watched as it slowly rose up. One more was blown out before he bothered to answered her.

“Nobody asked you asked you to stalk me out and break into the hotel room. Which you still haven’t explained why you did.”

He should be pissed with her for that, but he wasn’t. He was actually sort of glad she was her or at least he was when she was making off the wall comments and crushing his balls with her head. Really who the Hell “rested” their head down with that much force? Harley’s darkly painted lips vibrated together as she waved off Lawton’s words.

“Stalking and breaking in are such strong words ta’ be throwin’ around! What I did is more like enthusiastic followin’ against ya wishes with a surprise stop by!”

Floyd gave Joker’s ex girlfriend a blank stare. Harley rolled her eyes and dramatically collapsed herself onto his shoulder. Locks of her shocking blond hair pouring onto him. Like he had done so many times today he again rolled his eyes at her giving off the impression of being put out by this. But both knew the truth, he loved it. He liked having someone in his life who was crazy enough to not only accept all parts of who he was, but to embrace them. Unlike others, Harley understood what the dangers of his work entailed. Sure she liked playing house, but she wasn’t going to force Deadshot to be someone he was not. Just as he would never change her into someone she wasn’t. He didn’t write her off as by product of Joker or see her as a tragic warning story about loving the wrong man. When he looked at Harley that’s what he was looking at.....Harley. There was so few in her life who did this. Sure, there was Ivy and Harley loved the woman to death. But with Ivy it wasn’t that simple. Ivy meant well, but she always wanted to fix Harley. She wanted to take Joker and all parts of him away from her. She didn’t understand that no matter the Clown Prince of Crime would forever be a part of Harley. To be with Ivy meant she would have to give up part of herself, and selfishly Harley wasn’t willing to do that. Maybe there would come a day when she could, but right now she couldn’t. She couldn’t be whatever it was others wanted her to be. She needed a chance to be her own person. Free of Joker, free of being named a sidekick. Ivy always said and did treat her as an equal. This was true, but with Ivy everyone still viewed Harley as a sidekick. They saw Ivy as her Joker replacement. The Harlequin of Love buried her face against Floyd’s shoulder. It was so very child like that for a moment Lawton thought of his daughter.

Outside Harley that was the only person who truly cared for him and who he too cared for. She was why he continued down this path. She was why he would never retire from this work. It was her face that haunted his mind any time he considered turning his gun his next target and onto himself. Lawton finished the last drag of his cancer causing stick and tossed the bud to the floor. Suddenly his heart ached for the one he could never be near and for the life he discovered he would never be able to have. Carefully as if she was made from glass Floyd touched the back Harley’s head. Smiling against his shoulder the wild card nuzzled his shoulder and then looked up at him. God damn her and the things she made him feel. He didn’t want to feel anything! Right now he only wanted the world to be shut out. Maybe he could get to help with that. He cupped Quinn’s face in the palm of one hand, and like clockwork she did as was expected. She understood what was happening. Floy was connecting with her the only way he knew how to be affectionate with another person through sex. She leaned her face into his hand nuzzling against. Her perfectly painted lips laid a soft kiss against his palm. Moving his hand so that part of his palm was now under the infamous bombshell’s chin, Lawton tilted her head up to him and leaned forward kissing her upon the lips. His free arm went around her slender frame pulling her near him. Instantly Harley had both her arms wrapped around him. She needed this as badly as he did. Her body melted against his and her lips felt perfectly at him on his. The taste of cheap beer and cigarettes danced onto her taste buds as she deepened their kiss, pushing him for more.

Almost roughly he tugged her closer now to him. His tongue dipping into her welcoming mouth. Exploring every inch of it as if it was there first time together. Her mouth was sweet. She tasted of cotton cotton candy and cherries.....A mask of innocence. It was as intoxicating as the liquor he had been drinking away all night. Her love is a crazy deadly one and in the end Lawton knows she’s going to fuck him over somehow. She always did, but she also always came back to him. Joker will come calling or someone more attractive will show themselves to her, but for moment in time she belongs to him. It’s thrilling and he’s always been a sucker for a head rush. The jester’s tongue dances into his mouth and soon their tongues entangled with another fighting for dominance. The soft moan that escaped her was quickly making Floyd realize his pants were far too tightly. He pulls his mouth away off her’s. Quinn is staring at him her sapphire eyes clouded with lust. Harley runs her black painted nails down his back and Lawton feels his desire for her.....For what comes next growing. A shiver of pain mixed with pleasure goes down his entire spine.

“Ya gunna be my Prince Charming, sweep me off my feet and take me ta’ bed now or not?”

He shouldn’t do it. Harley shouldn’t be encouraged. He’s going to get burned by her. It’s only a matter time. But fuck it, you’re only going to live once, right? Or that’s what he keeps hearing. He might as well get his rocks off while he still can. He swoops the ex gymnast expert up off the couch and into his arms. Instantly her arms around looped around his neck. Her lips are crashing into his in what will surely be a bruising kiss for the both of them. Not that either care. The small sting of it only adds to the pleasure they are both becoming overwhelmed with as Lawton carries Gotham’s infamous wild card to bed. Tomorrow he has a job that needs to be done. Tomorrow he will be back to being the professional he prides himself on when it comes to work. Tomorrow Harley will be off on yet another on of her crazy adventures proving herself to the word, but mostly proving to herself she can be a solo act. But that’s all stuff of the future. For now the two are more than a little content for what the presence holds for them between the sheets. They will make the most of the night and for awhile neither will worry about that aching loneliness that eats away at them.

#Harley Quinn x Deadshot #Harley x Deadshot #Harley Quinn x Floyd Lawton #Ao3 #Fanfic #DC Comics #Suicide Squad Comics #Harley Quinn #Deadshot #Hotel

[queerchoicesblog]

Ghost of You (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele)

So this is my very first SC Titanic fanfic: I am excited to post it and well I suppose I should warn you that probably Zetta x Adele fictions will be rather long as this love story features themes that are very dear and meaningful to me, such as 1. well, obviously the Titanic story, 2. references to beginning of the century cinema (love very old and b&w movies), 3. sapphism and 4. femminism/suffragette movement. It’s basically everything I could have ever asked for. The Gentleman Jack fans out there might find a reference here...

So here I tried to imagine what brought Zetta to write that little note to Adele after basically disappearing. Loved that scene and I had to try and portray her turmoil, her missing Adele but also, as any historical lesbian (maybe not only historical), fearing the strings of society and their effect on their love and her beloved suffragette. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I quoted some pieces of dialogue from the original book

Word Count: 2555

Zetta x Adele Tag: @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed @eleanorwaverrley @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @lvcley @nazario-sayeed

________________________

Two rapid knocks on the door then:

“Are you there, doll? Can I come in?”

Richard’s voice abruptly brought Zetta’s back to reality, involuntarily making her jump in her seat.  She blinked twice as if wakingg from a dream and took a quick look around. She couldn’t recall how long she had been sitting at her vanity lost in her thoughts with a brush in her hand. She just couldn’t focus that day as she was haunted by memories of the past. But Richard didn’t have to know, mustn’t have to know. She put down the brush and quickly fixed her hair before adjusting her robe to limit the skin exposure to the minimum: after all, they weren’t married yet…and her heart didn’t belong to Mr. King. Only after that, she answered loud enough to be heard on the other side of the ebony door:

“Sure, darling”

She resumed her interrupted makeup session, pretending to be fully taken by that routine that didn’t bring her the usual joy anymore. She looked at herself in the mirror and put on a practiced smile: it would have been enough to fool her fiancé.

Richard entered her boudoir and theatrically opened his arms as a seasoned professional: he mentioned that he started as an actor before becoming a stellar director.

“My love, every time I see you I’m completely blinded by your beauty. You’re the brightest star in the sky, even brighter than Venus itself” he said moving closer and kneeling beside her chair.

“…And you’re gonna be the most radiant woman at the party tonight. The belle of the ball, la plus belle” he added, courtly taking her free hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

He looked up at her with a dashing smile.

“Trés charmant, Richard…but are you done with poetry?” she smirked, retrieving her hand and resuming her previous core.

“Ah, la belle dame sans merci!” Richard exclaimed before falling back to the floor holding a hand on his chest.

“Silly” Zetta laughed and she was soon joined by Richard who stood again and leaned on her table.

“I can’t help it around you, doll, apologies” he shrugged, flashing her another smile.

Zetta had to summon all her acting expertise not to cringe at “doll”. She hated it when every fiber of her being when Richard -or any other men- called her “doll”. Even her first director called her so, even her husband…doll, as if that was all she was to them: a beautiful toy, maybe a collectible but not truly a woman. Not truly Zetta.

Instead, she mirrored his smile and threw him a quick look before methodically applying some rouge on her cheek.

“So, what are you dying to say that can’t wait?”

“Seeing you isn’t a reasonable excuse?”

Richard was a charming man, without doubt. He wasn’t a bad man or so it seemed to her but she had been deceived by men who swore to only want the best for her that it was hardly possible for Zetta to fully trust any of them. And a man could have never won her heart.

As she flashed him just one of her enigmatic smile, he spoke again:

“Fine, you got me: I just wanted to see you and to remind you that our producers are expecting us at Rao’s for dinner in an hour. We should leave soon” he gave an apologetic smile and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Will we be there in time?”

“We will, I promise you” Zetta confirmed then made a show of shooing him away. “Now shoo, call Sabine and let me get dressed or else we will be late”

Richard raised his arms in surrender, laughing. Then he pressed a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I’ll get off of your hair, doll”

Zetta resumed her makeup as Richard moved towards the door. He was halfway out when

“Oh I almost forgot! I spoke to Alan yesterday and he loved the movie: the story of the two sisters reunited in the midst of chaos on the sinking ship is just perfect, so heart-warming-“

“Yes, it truly is heart-warming” Zetta commented, losing focus again.

“The story is real, right? You met at least one of them on board, didn’t you?”

Zetta’s voice lowered as memories started surfacing back.

“Yes, we were…rather close”

“If they survived, we should track them down and invite them at the movie: it would be great if they could talk to the press. Journalists love stories like this: I can see the headlines alrea-“

“We’ll see, Richard. Now please go call Sabine”

She tried to keep her voice from betraying her feelings, but she could feel a rush of anger surging. She would have never handed the Carrem sisters and such a private and tragic moment of their lives to those shameless sharks who go under the name of journalists. The subtle hint of heartbreak and they prey the unfortunate victims like vultures over a corpse: they wouldn’t stop until they had dissected those aching hearts, leaving them to bleed out. No, she would have done everything in her power to prevent this.

The story she wrote down when asked to bring the grim fate of the Titanic on the big screen was fiction: inspired by true facts but fiction. Zetta was smart enough to know that life and fiction are two separate things and that an edulcorated tale of those most tragic hours was all the world could take: the people of New York, who weren’t there that night, would have been overwhelmed by the real story.

Still, when she sat at her desk and started writing a draft of the script her mind immediately turned to…Adele.

She didn’t even notice Richard leaving the room as the silhouette of Miss Carrem clouded her thoughts. Finally alone, her face fell and she shut her eyes as if to prevent the memory from fading away.

Adele, most gracious, fearless Adele…

Her lips curled into a sad smile as she reminisced their first meeting. She was sitting in her suite smoking and listening to James making some pointless speech when the door opened and Teo stepped in followed by Adele. She had the beauty of a Greek goddess and the look of someone who was going through a lot. She clearly felt out of place among finely dressed first-class passengers in the lavish room but she kept her head high. Zetta remembered feeling the urge to know what troubled her but she put on her mask, the sardonic film star ever out of reach. And then…was it a brave move or just an insane one? Adele told her of her arrest, of prison. Everyone else would have hidden from her, a new employer and Zetta Serda…not Adele. She handed her everything she needed to destroy her life as if it was no big deal. Zetta was taken aback and searched her green eyes for any sign of mockery but find none: the stranger girl truly trusted her with her life. That’s when she realized how unique Miss Carrem was.

Adele found a way to her heart effortlessly as if she had the map from the very start. When she placed her hand over hers in the projection room, she startled Zetta: whenever she had made the fatal mistake to show her vulnerable side to anyone, they would have used it against her to make her feel weak or small…clearly in need of someone who would tell her what to do, to guide her. They would have refilled her glass with wine again and again instead of going for the simplest gesture: taking her hand into theirs and comfort her. Making her believe with that touch that everything would have been fine, and she was stronger than whatever life threw her.

For a moment, as Adele held her hand, she felt safe, pacified, something she had never experienced with any of her supposed lovers. She couldn’t even be mad at her secretary when she revealed her James’ plan and the true reason behind his bailing her out of jail. She was shocked, obviously but she also couldn’t believe that Adele, brave foolish Adele, had put her life into her hands again. “I’m perfectly aware of the risk I’m taking by revealing this to you but you deserve to know. I cannot keep this from you” she said, looking her right in the eye.

Those eyes…they took Zetta’s breath away whenever they ignited with the fire sparking inside her. She could have lost herself in their green depths when they gleamed with pride and mischief as she proposed a toast to the vote to women or whenever their eyes met. She got lost in them when their lips touched, and they grew dark with desire. How daring and foolish they had been in the Turkish baths…but she couldn’t bring herself to regret that moment of ecstasy when she felt free and truly loved, for once. She could still shiver remembering Adele’s touch, the way her lips traced down her body with reverence and adoration, the soft moans the tender girl in her arms suffocated hiding her face in the crook of her neck as she melted under her caresses. In those stolen embraces she knew happiness.

How happy she felt whenever Adele was around: just exchanging a brief look across the room would make her heart flutter.

Then other memories surged and Zetta felt tears welling her closed eyes. Her birthday night, that cursed birthday night…Adele and her sneaking away from the party to find a private spot on the deck. The wine, the cold breeze of the ocean, Adele’s silvery laughter at her tipsy enthusiasm, how she craved those sweet lips all night.

“If I’m honest, I don’t even want to reach shore, I don’t want to go back to the party…I just want to stay out here with you. Forever.”

Adele’s tender smile in agreement.

“Let’s just make a tent of this blanket – we can live off seal meat and rainwater”

Her tipsy proposal made the two of them laugh again.

“What about your acting career?” Adele inquired, a smile lingering on her face.

“We’ll make our own plays. Whaddya say?”

God, how those words sounded different now…how she would have given everything to have Adele there to cup her face and give her a slow, deep kiss. But Adele wasn’t by her side anymore…she lost sight of her when her agent and Richard dragged her and James away from the crowd at the New York pier.

She hadn’t written her ever since that day and she felt so impossibly guilty because of that: Adele must have thought she had forgotten about her after all her words of love on the ship. Maybe she felt used, maybe she hated her by now and cursed the memory of her. She would have reasons to hold a grudge to her…the truth was that happiness and love are hard to accept if you have never truly had them before and if they came from a woman loving another woman.

Zetta had tried to write her a thousand time but every time she had made an effort to put her feelings into words, her lines rang hollow. Yet the words that got stuck in her throat when Adele pulled her into a corner and confessed that no matter what happened that night she needed to tell that she loved her were clear in her mind.

The months spent parted from you are the saddest time of my life. I’m haunted by you, the ghost of you. You’re everywhere: even if I’m silent, not an hour passed where I haven’t thought of you. I tried not to, but whenever I closed my eyes, there you were. I love you and I can’t live without you, without your smile, your wit, your touch. I just can’t but how can I ask you to be with me in the dark? I can’t step back from this wedding and I don’t want you to be a secret mistress: that would squalid and offensive when you are the one I want to give all of me. To marry, if that was even a possibility for us so that I could spend every single day of my life with you, waking up with you by my side, taking care of you…making you happy. Your absence makes even breathing hard, not to mention smiling to strangers, “capitalist pigs” as you would say…I even try and talk like you do, you see? But I find myself wondering: will I make you happy if I have to hide our love from the world? Kiss you only behind closed doors? Let you see me marry a man? You’re a free spirit, my love, I don’t want to put you in a cage because our love, our pure love would be a scandal and a scandal would ruin everything I worked for since I was even younger than you. I don’t want you to spend your life as a ghost yet I find myself craving to see your face one more time as living without you is barely surviving but all the light has gone as I lost you.

Suddenly she felt someone placing their hands on her shoulders.

“Let me help you here, Madame”

She opened her eyes and saw Sabine, smiling sympathetically down at her. She tried and failed to mirror her smile as her mascara was now running down her cheeks.

Sabine helped her to her feet and took care of everything. Zetta let her washed up her face and helped her into her shiny evening dress: she felt like a child in the hands of a loving mother. When she was putting on her earrings, the final touch, Sabine handed her a small stack of envelopes.

“The invitations to the movie screening and party” she explained. “It’s October first, I would suggest to send them first thing tomorrow to ensure that everyone get the invitation within reasonable notice. It wasn’t easy to find all the addresses, but I did my best”

“I’m sure you did, Sabine. Thank you for taking care of it.” Zetta said as she checked the succession of familiar names of former passengers and famous colleagues. “I will sign them personally when we come back from the party”.

“Excellent” Sabine nodded.

Then as Zetta placed the stack on her desk, she presented her a single envelope.

“I hope you don’t mind if I requested a faster delivery for this one” she added before bowing her head curtly and leaving the room. “Have a nice evening, Madame”

Zetta read the name handwritten on the last envelope where a different stamp had been appointed.

‘Mademoiselle Adele Carrem’

A lump formed in her throat but she forced herself not to cry and just smile, mentally thanking Sabine: she had found her. Following nothing else but her instinct, Zetta picked out the invitation and signed it with her fountain pen. Then, as Richard called her name, she grabbed a slip of paper and wrote a brief note:

“Please come, my love. I must see you again. Yours, Zetta”.

She folded everything back into the envelope and finally left her room as a newfound hope kindled inside her.

#storyscape #titanic sc #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele

[independentartistbuzz]

7 FROM THE WOMEN: RED FLOWER LAKE

Red Flower Lake is lush, heady electro-pop. Aloe vera for our dried-out hearts. Sweeping melodies and understated yet complex soundscapes. These songs are open doors to a relationship: two people who know each other about as well as two humans can, singing to the other, about each other, offering a brave and heartfelt depiction of the territories they have survived and navigated together. It’s all here: intimacy and distance, heartbreak and ecstasy. Vulnerability, insecurity and courage.

1. What have you been working to promote lately?

It feels like I have been working on promoting a lot lately (internally and externally). Things like honesty, clear communication, empathy, patience, naming emotions, opening my heart, peace in my family, etc, etc.

But that’s not quite what we are talking about. ;)

I have been working alongside my husband to promote our EP Three Truths as well as an exhibit of our multi-media work at the Torosiete museum of contemporary art - a virtual museum unlike any other. Our exhibit just opened at the end of October and will be open for all of time - as long as there is internet.

Our EP Three Truths consists of three songs, Heart is Breaking, Baby Don’t Go, and Brave. The first two were written when we had super young kids (about 8 years ago).

When we were first considering releasing some songs this past May, we weren’t sure which songs to begin with. We were pretty tired of Heart is Breaking and Baby Don’t Go but also felt like they were worth something, belonged together, and like they might be the beginning of a story. We figured we would see what mixing one of them would do and take it from there. We sent out Baby Don’t Go and after trying a couple different mixers, we landed on Mike Pepe through a family friend named Kelly Musgrave at Linear Management. He did his thing and we actually got inspired enough to completely redo the vocals which was pretty satisfying. I had started voice lessons several months earlier and felt like I had more to offer the song. Once the energy was back in Baby Don’t Go it was pretty exciting to see what some mixing would do to Heart is Breaking. Deciding to release those particular songs really felt like the end of a pretty challenging time. It has been nice to have them out in the world where people might be able to relate to them giving voice to an experience that is painful but also real. I don’t know how many emotions we get away with leaving unturned but I appreciate a song that can help me reflect on a feeling.

Heart is Breaking was the kind of song that was so of a moment, it didn’t feel worth it to try and enunciate the words better or change what I was unsatisfied with after hearing it mixed. I am curious whether that choice will actually impact my satisfaction long term but, so far, I have found it both surprising and amusing that putting something out into the world that is a little bit vocally unfinished doesn’t bother me at all.

As for Abel’s vocals though, they are straight from the heart. They are also his original vocals. I remember when I first heard them I felt a lot less significant as part of our musical duo. He just put it all out there and it sounds so good. Heart is Breaking speaks to the experience of wanting love even though it seems to always end in heart break. An experience that, as a young parent, felt very prevalent.

Brave to me is all in the title. My setup is such that if I want to play around on the keyboard with a feeling I’m having, I still need to pull up ProTools and title the session - even though I don’t know what I am going to play which is the case a lot. Often when I am sitting down to play music, it is to explore something in my mind and on my heart and in this case I wanted to be brave about that exploration so I titled the song Brave. Brave is about sticking around and being present to see what is true even if it is scary.

All of the songs I write are deeply personal. In the past, it has sometimes surprised me that Abel would even touch the material, considering how blatant it is but I’ve learned that I’m not the only one in the relationship that sometimes feels paradoxical and complex feelings.

Having made music together for such a long time now without releasing any of it, we are both really excited to share more of the story and more of our music. It feels like an epic tale that is still revealing itself in real time. Three Truths feels like the beginning of a bigger message - this first message being “Damn this is hard but relationship is sort of like that sometimes”.

2. Please tell us about your favorite song written, recorded or produced by another woman and why it’s meaningful to you.

Sade’s Smooth Operator. There are a lot of songs and a lot of reasons why to pick them but this one pulls me right back to a time in my life when not a lot of things were easy but at that moment, the house was warm, the whole family seemed happy and there was an abundance of food. I was maybe 5, my family was living with my great aunt and her daughters who were at least ten years older than us. We were all still getting used to living together and my family was still getting used to living in Va after moving from New Mexico. When Smooth Operator came into my awareness, it was the day after Thanksgiving and there was a bounty of leftover mashed potatoes, peas and onions in cream sauce, and stuffing that needed to be eaten. While we formed those leftovers into little balls and baked them, we were introduced to that song. I think we may have listened to the whole album a couple times through but we named our food creation after Smooth Operator and it is one of the special happy memories I have from an amazing but also pretty heavy childhood. Throughout my childhood from then on, Sade was a voice I leaned into. I remember one night my twin sister and I lay down in the dark of her empty room in middle school and listened in consecutive order through Diamond Life, Promise, Stronger Than Pride, and Love Deluxe on our tape player to the light of a big moon. One of my all time favorite nights.

Smooth Operator felt like a warning. Like watch out girls, they’re everywhere. The first song of their first album. Her voice was always my reference. I wanted my voice to sound like hers. I wanted to make songs like hers - with a point, with heart, and with a voice you want to listen to. Smooth Operator is our family anthem, made so by a moment we all recall fondly - an odd anthem perhaps but my family is as odd and as amazing as they get.

3. What does it mean to you to be a woman making music / in the music business today and do you feel a responsibility to other women to create messages and themes in your music?

Having an opportunity to use my voice as a woman at this time feels very special and important and I hope that I am doing my part in honoring the power of the feminine, and the important work of keeping it real in all my relationships at all levels.

I work to be authentic and express as clearly from my heart as I can. Making music - making art,  is a way for me to connect with my emotions, my inner wisdom, a way to express those feelings, ultimately it is a way to communicate something that means something to me. I recognize that this is a potentially self indulgent process and I pray that my purpose of honoring the human experience and reminding us of our power is conveying.

It is important for me to be super honest because there are so many feelings I have felt ashamed of and wouldn’t even admit to in the past that I am now realizing are actually just part of a human experience. Honoring and expressing my truth thus far has been a thousand times more empowering than the results have been of hiding from my truth as a result of believing I should be ashamed of my feelings and for believing in my worth - what I know is true in my heart. Denial of my truth has wreaked havoc in my life and it isn’t worth another moment of time to feed or encourage such disempowering paradigms.

I recognize that we all have a lot to heal from and a lot of healing work to do individually and collectively. I think a large part of that healing work is around being brave enough to honor our feelings, identifying their source, and getting empowered to speak/know/honor our truth - a truth that is both unique and valid.

Perhaps if we are able to honor ourselves in this way, we will be able to hear each others’ truths with compassion, recognizing ourselves in each other's struggles.

A big step for me in my healing journey has been accepting and being willing to hear and honor my own truth. No more wars - internal or external. When I am not fighting myself, I am one less person who is fighting themselves and that is extremely motivating. I think all of my fighting ultimately comes from internal conflicts so I might as well start with that and find some way to work that stuff out. I have been working on not making other people the bad guy but, if I see ‘bad guy’ out there in the world, to note that I see a reflection of parts of myself I still am in a healing process with.  

I am not sure what the depths of our world’s healing will entail but I know my responsibility is to my own healing and it is empowering to own that responsibility. I pray we all honor ourselves like the magnificent and unique creations we are and honor ourselves like we are somebody’s child who adores us. Even if we can argue that our parents did not or do not love us, there is still and always will be immense love for each of us in the vast universe and from our mama earth. We are worthy of our best life. In fact. I think it is the only sustainable future.

My responsibility is to honor and stay true to my truth.

4. What is the most personal thing you have shared in your music or in your artist brand as it relates to being female?

All of the songs I write are extremely personal and expose my deep internal struggles. But I am okay with being a voice and a sound. Being an image has not been easy. Learning to embrace my face, my body, my movement, my inner style, etc, feels much more exposing and personally challenging. The entire world of what is sexy, what is beautiful, what is inspiring, what is useful, etc. has been out of reach for me since forever. I find that the more I turn toward my spiritual truth, my spiritual purpose, toward awe and gratitude for the children in my life, the more permission I have and the more energy I have for exposing my physical person on a true and personal level. What feels beautiful, what feels empowering, what feels good and right?

I have in the past, been absolutely disempowered around beauty and sex that I feel like only now am I getting access to any answers internally about what is beautiful, empowering and what feels good for me. I am a mother and it is important to me that the children in my life have examples of real women and men in their lives who are empowered and strong and honest- not because of our physical form but because of our clarity in purpose and our open hearts.

I know the sexiest thing a person can do in my heart/ mind is their inner work, get straight with themselves about what they are doing here and live and breathe their purpose.

On the level of the eye, I think playing with what my spiritual guides have to say to me at any given moment feels the most appropriate and fun. I’d rather be in a conversation with them about physical expression than with old paradigms of sex appeal and survival on this physical plain.

5. What female artists have inspired you and influenced you?

Oh my goodness, So many. I really believe that the unapologetic art of all women throughout time has molded me as part of the collective creative conscience. Art begets art.

I come from a family of bohemian artists and I would be remiss in not honoring them particularly and their absolute influence in my life. Their authentic expressions have absolutely shaped and inspired me and I am so grateful to each of my family members for their conscious participation in living their best lives.

My highschool teacher and friend Zap McConnel reinforced and added to what my family already inspires in me. She was my first real mentor and example outside of my family in living a life of integrity and breaking the molds of our boxed beliefs.  

And Beatrice Ost. She has been part of my family for a long time but it really wasn’t until her grandchildren connected with our kids that we became better acquainted and, just as kids tend to do, through our children we have been led into a most beautiful and inspiring relationship of collaboration and inspiration. We wouldn’t be where we are now without her and really everyone in the world. The ripples are real.

6. Do you consider yourself a feminist? If so why and if not why?

I consider myself a feminist because I believe in the unique and essential wisdom of the feminine and its absolute importance in the balance of life. I could also consider myself a divine masculinist but that movement is really in conjunction with the healing of the divine feminine. It is for all of us to heal from this woundedness - not just women.

There is no denying that women have been oppressed for millenia - longer than any other human group except children - and it feels important to me to keep raising the collective awareness to the long lasting effects of oppression that continue to weigh on the lives of everyone. If mama is oppressed, everyone is oppressed because if mama is oppressed she does not have the power she needs to stand up for what she knows in the depths of her heart - to care for the hearts of her family and that kind of pain and injury is passed down a long way.

I have been considering the narrative of our media history around witches - how they have been conveyed so terribly in our social history. I am interested in those stories from the witches’ perspectives. I’d love to hear the backstory of Ursula the deep sea witch in The Little Mermaid. It seems to me that she may have wanted to say something to someone… An easily identifiable sentiment for most human beings at this point. There can be no more pretending how much we have all suffered because of fear and domination. I don’t think we need to gender specify suffering generally but just like with race, it is true that there are some significant stereo types that have been disempowering for a long time.

We are still living in the antiquated world of shame about menstrual cycles for God’s sake! It’s bonkers. I can attest that this particular gift has felt like a burden in this worn out world of 9-5 schedules and limited sick days and - if any - and our basic needs for survival are not cared for enough so that we don't even know this immense gift as an honor. But as we each recognize our person as an immense gift and when we honor ourselves and each  other as such, we change the world.

I am a feminist and a masculinist because I strongly believe that each of us as individuals needs to feel empowered as part of something larger than just our individual egos. Each of us is essential and honoring our unique gifts will and does heal our world in deep and profound ways. Each of us knows something, has a purpose here that needs to be respected by everyone. Men and women both would benefit from honoring the feminine in all that is and vice versa. It is a balance and as long as the balance is off there will be a need for feminism. And just as much there is a need for honoring the divine masculine. It truly is a matter of balance - one that needs support internally and externally as individuals and as a collective.

7. What was the most challenging thing you have had to face as a female Artist?

The most challenging thing I have had to face as a creative being is myself. My own pride and jealousy, self doubt, and a need for external approval have kept me from taking risks, whether it is going into action or taking a nap. Everything I did or didn’t do was based on what I thought somebody else might think which gave me very little room for actual self expression. Giving myself permission to exist independently of other people’s approval and trusting the creative flow has been a matter of challenging oppressive systems - both external and the ones and the ones in my head that I have defended as part of a fear based world. As I continue to grow wiser and my body becomes more of an ally for my heart rather than a sculpture project, I find myself in battle with old paradigms around self image.

It is an interesting time to be alive and I have lots of hope for us as a collective as I continue to break my own belief systems because if I can do it, it can be done. Breaking out of old and limiting beliefs, considering new paradigms, recognizing my inner/outer calling and prioritizing that calling beyond all else has been liberating and empowering. My dream is that all our dreams come true. I know my heart is based in love and that all the struggle has been for learning. This knowledge has helped me come to terms with trauma but I would say I think oppression is systemic and the more we can break free of our own excuses and reasoning to defend oppressive systems, the more swiftly and easily we will transition to a new world. I am more than happy to be inviting in a paradigm of inclusivity, kindness, inquiry, compassion, and honesty. An undeniable breath of fresh air from so many oppressive paradigms past and present.

Listen to “Three Truths”

Connect with Red Flower Lake online via:

https://www.redflowerlake.com/

https://www.instagram.com/redflowerlake/

https://www.facebook.com/redflowerlake

https://twitter.com/RedFlowerLake

[quillfulwriter]

FFXV Meta: Too Much is Never Enough

I’ve recently beaten Final Fantasy XV and have been sating my need for more content by consuming all the DLC, scripts, and anime (which I’m sure you understand if you’ve also played). The other way I’m coping with the fact that I’m done FFXV is by analyzing one of my favorite songs from the OST, Too Much is Never Enough by Florence + the Machine.

Mind you, these lyrics are subjective and you may find other metas that have a different take. Enjoy them all! The fun is in gathering all the different ideas to discuss. And since you’re here, this is my perspective on what the lyrics mean in Too Much is Never Enough.

BEWARE: FFXV Spoilers Abound

Proceed with Caution

About 1500 words | 5- to 10-minute read

A year like this passes so strangely

Somewhere between sorrow and bliss

He never really grieved his father fully, not on screen at least, and I think these lyrics really speak to that. He’s on the road with three people he loves like family*, but in the meantime, he’s lost his father without really getting to say goodbye. And they had such an emotionally charged but unexpressed (or under-expressed) father-son relationship that he’s never quite fully recovered from or processed his loss.

* not negating any ships here, just acknowledging his bond with all of the Chocobros

– – –

Oh, who decides from where up high?

I couldn’t say I need more time

Oh, grant that I can stay the night

Or one more day inside this life

I love this direct contradiction because that’s just so Noctis: to conceal what you really need emotionally even as you know that’s what you need.

To say you don’t need more time, but praying for the one night or maybe just one more day there, with his family—that’s all he needs before he lays down his life for them.

Because Noctis naturally doesn’t say what he feels, sometimes even saying the opposite, or says just the tip of the iceberg of his real feelings. That cloaked duality comes across here in a really meaningful, subtle (and yeah, hurtful) way.

But it also shows this desperate (not sure if this is the best word, but it’s that quality of needing someone), vulnerable side to Noctis that just wants a single night more even as he also says he couldn’t say he needs more (not that he’s singing, just going on the Noctis angle).

As much as Noctis is kind of spoiled and definitely takes his friends for granted, that doesn’t change the depth of his love for them.

And though this is the official lyrics line break, I do think it’s interesting that it can be heard either as shown above or:

Oh, who decides from where up high? I couldn’t say

I need more time

As an alternate interpretation of “who says it has to be this way, I don’t know” and then the plea for a little more time here with the ones he holds so dear to his heart. This ability to hear it differently really reinforces the duality/contradiction of these lines.

– – –

And the crown it weighs heavy

‘Till it’s banging on my eyelids

Retreating in covers and closing the curtains

I once told my friends that Noctis was like a cat that hides beneath the bed and the Chocobros all have different tactics for getting him out—this section of lyrics reminds me of that, but way prettier and more poetic.

Retreating in covers and closing the curtains, shutting out the world, because he’s avoiding feelings, the pressures of royalty, etc. The specific things being avoided in these lines are royal obligations and the cost of being the True King, of course.

And it does remind me of the pointedly kingly moments of Noctis—like when Jared was killed, he focused on Talcott, speaking to him like his king rather than as his friend. He showed empathy, understanding that this situation wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, but he promised to make it right.

That’s not something he’d say like that to his boys or Luna—similar, maybe, but not the same. If you know him as Prince Noctis, you aren’t getting past the curtains. He won’t let you in because you need him to be an icon, and he won’t disappoint you that way. But if you know Noct? You stand a better chance, at least.

Another moment is kiddo Noctis declaring to Gladio in Brotherhood that he won’t lose their sparring match—he has lost every one at that point, he has no reason to believe he’ll succeed. But that’s what is expected of him, that’s what he needs to do as prince.

And as much as that pressure is a lot—that crown weighs heavy—he embraces it, he wants to meet that expectation and make them proud. But the cost is both his closed nature and in a way, being blind to the costs of the crown. He knows there’s a cost, he’s said to Prompto that being a normal person is kind of nice. But he doesn’t acknowledge a limit to how much cost is too much (an interesting twist on the title, now that I think of it).

There’s a bit of idle dialogue in-game where Ignis comments on Noctis looking worn down, and Gladio says he needs to take better care of himself—and Noctis tells them that’s their job. I’m using this as an example of him not seeing self-care as worth it, seeing this cost as not being too much to pay, blind to its toll—and his friends have to take on that toll for him so he can keep on going.

But honestly, even the fact that Prompto says nothing is part of the cost. You know this boy probably wanted to speak up, but he 1) might’ve felt it wasn’t his place, thanks Noctis and 2) is the least pushy of his friends.

He lets Noctis come to him when he wants or needs something, so he puts his own feelings aside for Noctis’ benefit. Prompto is someone he can avoid the crown/feelings with who won’t bring it up before he’s ready, which is important, but it’s Prompto who shoulders that burden in the meantime.

Though I also want to say I think the really beautiful thing with Luna is that she gets the special privilege of seeing Noctis as himself and the True King simultaneously— they are one and the same to her, and I think that’s a big part of his feelings for her too.

Again, not negating any ships here! I’m a multishipper, so this game is a grand ol’ buffet of cute ships to me.

– – –

And who cares about the thing I did that night?

So what, maybe Luna had it right

And who cares if I’m coming back alive?

So what, least I have the strength to fight

Okay, so if you look at these four lines separately, you get more options, but I’m choosing to look at them all together because angst.

When Luna dies and sees Noctis one last time, she says they can’t see each other again “because my prayers have been answered, my calling fulfilled”.

That’s what I’m thinking of with “maybe Luna had it right”, but this introduces an interesting thought that Noctis thought she was wrong before. Suggesting that perhaps he was angry with her for praying to die for them even if that is the cost of the Oracle’s covenant. Basically his thought path would be along the lines of “wtf Luna, haven’t I lost enough?”

One of the five stages of grief is anger, so that’s especially intriguing to me because I have a feeling Noctis would also feel guilty about being angry, and of course he’s all caught up in his own feelings for the indefinite future as he works this whole mess out.

The first and third lines of this section apply well to the endgame. He’s referring to his own death for the safety of all without actually using the word itself. Avoidant even now, because sometimes it is just too much to take, whether you’ve made your peace or not (and of course he had, he says as much).

But it’s also an extension of not having any idea of what cost is too much—he’ll pay any cost for them and the world. Let’s be real, it’s mostly for the ones he loves, but he lives up to his duty with pride.

But he’s still being dismissive of their feelings. He doesn’t care if he comes back alive, but they do. One last cost he leaves them to pay, but that is part of their duty in this. They filled the time he had with love and a good deal of patience, so they must be among those not exactly celebrating at the return of natural order.

In a way, that last line is for all of them—having the strength to be there, to fight, to live up to the honorable, painful duty set before them—they can be proud of that despite the steep cost.

Thanks for reading!

If you’ve got thoughts to share, I’m happy to see them.

#Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy 15 #Final Fantasy XV #ff15 #ffxv #ffxv spoilers #ff15 spoilers #spoilers #meta #analysis #ost #ffxv ost #ff15 ost #ost meta #ost analysis #ffxv meta #ff15 meta #too much is never enough #florence + the machine ost #florence + the machine #chocobros #ffxv angst #angsty meta #angst meta #my meta

[butyouvealwaysbeenthecaretaker]

I used to be less gatekeepery about this, when I was young and full of hope. All these beautiful options, one big community. Now I'm an old, it's become really apparent to me like which of my community friends are doing well for themselves in life, and which ones are in serious trouble. And yeah, it really comes down on identity lines, as well as other intersections which like shield people from the worst. A lot of "theoretically bisexual but its private and I'd only ever date people of the opposite sex" and relationship anarchists and kinksters and non-gay asexuals getting on with their lives, in nice jobs in the city I left behind me, occasionally identifying themselves as queer when they want to win an argument about voting for milquetoast liberals.It's not like these people aren't facing challenges and marginalisation and psychodrama which is personally meaningful and important. But the other half of my Facebook is like, trans women sex workers posting repeated begging for money posts, and disabled non binary trauma survivors posting about how they are honouring their vulnerability today, and de/retransitioned people endlessly negotiating their gender feels between updates about their unstable housing situation & living on sofas, and so on.

& I preferred the earlier version of myself by far, because it was nice, the jewel-hoard beauty of a bucket of pride pins, each flag a dazzle of joy and recognition, and the promise of solidarity and sharing. And it was a lovely time. Queer, in the true sense of the word, transcending bodies and genders and experiences.

But it all goes with a growning awareness that we are not all in it together. And though it works on paper, there's these fault lines around urgency and access and experience. The split between people doing ok in nice jobs, and people who are too chewed up to succeed at it. The split between people voting for radical left wing, vs liberal moderate parties. The number of holiday photos. The amount of over sharing. How some people seem to just accumulate more and more marginalisation, now health, now housing, now work.

So it goes from a two way process, where I feel identified with you and you with me. To a one way process, where people are identifying with my queerness, but I cannot see anything about myself in them.

It's not exactly envy or resentment or a hatred or wish for people to suffer more or to cut them off from needed resources. They're just not relatable, and alienating, because it's a reminder of how far I've fallen and how impossible it is to get back. I look at my closeted exes, with their nice jobs and homes, and their moderate but manageable mental health, and their family photos at Christmas.

#The lgbt community politics tag

[thehappymessproject]

93-95/100 - A few steps toward better apologies

Apologies used to be a nightmare for me as a child or teen. And still very hard as a young adult.  Apologising would mean being the wrong one, the mean one, the bad one. And the one who lost any right to even express themselves for being all those things.

Even the idea of apologising would shower me with shame. I’m a recovering people-pleaser and helping people is a big part of my purpose. That means the effect I have on people is very important to me and that when things go badly, my first coping mechanism would be to find out what I did wrong. 

When I grew up, an adult never apologised to me, even having wronged me knowingly. Not one, ever. But I was coerced into apologising numerous times. I’ve noticed how common that is. I’ve also sensed how surprised my young (and even older) patients are when I apologise to them the exact same way I would to an adult.

If you’ve been in a similar environment or was raised in a similar way, you know exactly how apologies can become painful to express growing up. But even if you weren’t, very few people are really great at apologising. Mostly because they feel too shameful to practice and therefore don’t know what a good apology is. I didn’t either until fairly recently. 

Two authors were the most helpful when it comes to teaching me how to apologise : Brene Brown with her work on shame and vulnerability, and the woman she used to read as a teen, Harriet Lerner, relationships expert. 

Here’s what I learnt from them and would have loved to hear as a child, and be reminded over and over later on : 

Apologies need to be intentional 

You don’t have to apologise. Ever. It is a personal choice.  If someone want to force you to apologise, it is emotional manipulation and know that you don’t have to. You absolutely can have a “Die mad about it” approach to it if that’s what is more important to you. 

But you have to accept that if you do something wrong, or that hurts someone, and don’t recognise it, you will be damaging your relationship with them, and their trust toward you. It’s ok if you don’t care, just be honest with yourself about that if you want less drama. 

If you can’t bring yourself to sincerely apologise, work on acknowledging that your pride is more important than the damaged relationship. It’s human, and sometimes, we don’t even understand what we did and can’t find the strength to do so honestly. But trying to helps determine our real priorities.

You may have to accept some consequences too. No one can force you to own up to your actions, but they dont have either to put up with your lack of care for said relationship. You might benefit from wandering too what you want from relationships you don’t care enough about to want to repair too. 

What apologies are really about 

A lot of people think apologies are about power. That’s when things go sour. Apologies are about love, respect and kindness.  Being in relationships means we will mess up and sometimes, we will hurt people we love the most. 

Each time we hurt someone we are in a relationship with, we damage that relationship. So it happens, but should be as rare as possible, and need to be repaired for the relationship to be sustainable. Apologies are a very important part of those repairs. 

Equally importantly, apologising teaches us that we are allowed to mess up. How good it feels to own up our mistakes (cultivating integrity), and allow ourselves to be imperfect (cultivating acceptance). There is so much ordinary courage in that practice, and it is necessary for any relationships to work well that we learn how to give them. 

Apologies shouldn’t be about controlling the other or the situation

You absolutely can try to control others and situations, you’re just not likely to get the results you are expecting. So when we apologise just so the other calm down, shut up, or do what we want, it tends to backfire, sooner or later, one way or another. 

That means we can make amends to people we hurt, but have to accept they may not be ready or willing to forgive us. Maybe for them the relationship is damaged beyond repair, and we have to respect that. We all have different tolerance thresholds.

That means that apologies are not about our redemption and feeling better, neither are they about making the other shut up or the uncomfortable situation stop, even if it can feel indeed better to make amends when we acted badly. Sometimes we apologise and it changes nothing, or we can even feel worse in some cases. 

That also means that fake apologies mostly make things worse...

Apologies should be honest and kind

We need to be sincere and acknowledge the wrong we did in order to perform true apologies. 

It is about the hurt we provoked. That we need to acknowledge. And repair. 

You’ve been warned. Use apologies to restore your faith in being good and right or manipulate at your own risks. And be prepared for some backlash if you do and they know better. 

It takes a lot of courage to apologise sincerely with the main purpose of restoring a relationship we care about. 

And it doesn’t mean that we believe everything is our fault : relationships are like dances, each partner influences the other. No situation is ever 100% the responsibility of only one of them. What it means is that we are mature enough to recognise we didn’t do perfectly or plain messed up. 

If we can only acknowledge and own up to 2%, well, let’s own them, and focus our apology on them. It doesn’t matter to find a culprit to blame to resolve a situation. 

It matters that the relationship is precious enough for us to be brave and own up to our shitty behaviour, or just a behaviour we deemed as innocent but ended up hurting someone we care about. 

Apologies are not excuses, neither are they just words

If you want to give apologies and make your best so they can be received, stay away from excuses. I am sure you have very good explications for why it happened, just keep them for another conversation. 

A lot of hurt that happens in relationships are misunderstandings interpreted as meanness or a lack of care. The truth is, most of us are doing their very best, and hate to realise we hurt someone we care about. 

If that’s you, make sure that’s not the center of your conversation. That way, if you really care about them, you will make sure you do the least additional damages possible by respecting how they feel.

Finally : just know that it is never too late for apologies. Some of my most meaningful apologies (for both the giver and the receiver) happened years, even decades later. Giving them felt incredibly grounding and receiving them helped greatly with healing. 

Apologies aren’t just words, they are supposed to be an act of love. Act like they are. If you apologised sincerely, you also made a commitment to the other person to pay attention and not to reiterate your original fault. Apologising profusely and then doing it again is a big breach of trust, respect and love. Don’t throw around words you don’t mean. 

Speak soon,  Love,  L. 

#apology #apologies #communication tips #relationship problems #relationships #counselling #psychologist #therapist #the happy mess project #writer

[lordbeyron]

Cebina knew her way around the Everblaze Manor well. She’d lived there long enough, working as an informant for The Magister. Security had been tightened since her last stay; understandable, given recent events. Still, Cebina was skilled and proficient enough with her gifts from the Void to infiltrate without detection.

She hadn’t disturbed much. The point of her visit had been a simple in and out; gathering the final items she’d left behind when Bey’ron had so quickly shown her the door. She leaned back in the comfortable chaise, swirling the wine in her glass as the memory played out in her head. She couldn’t exactly blame him for his decision, given the events that unfolded with her kind. The priestess expected he wouldn’t be all too thrilled to see her again, but she couldn’t just come and go without saying hello. How rude would that be.

Once all her items had been securely moved through the rift, she sat down in the Magister’s favorite chairs in his foyer, legs crossed, robe lifted to rest over her thighs, and helping herself to some of his finest wines as she waited for him to come home.

She didn’t have to wait long. The Magister was exceptionally busy today, planning what was essentially a political rally. Meetings, scryings, getting proper documentation in order, all on top of his other duties and responsibilities. Bey’ron was being spread thin. He snapped his fingers, conjuring a portal back home for a moment’s respite from the demanding day. It deposited him not in his foyer, but rather up in his chambers - tucked away from anyone’s access... even former colleagues’.

His chambers were untouched… but he felt a presence in his manor. A dark presence, reminiscent of too many bad experiences he’d had already. Lordaeron. Murder Row. He’d become well acquainted with the magical signature of the ren’dorei. The stench of the Void was pungent to his arcane senses. One had entered his home, to pay him a visit. An assassin, no doubt; Lady Starfrost spoke of a recent attempt in her manor very recently. It didn’t concern Bey’ron too much. This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

He waved his hand once more in an incantation. The manor’s enchanted flames all suddenly began to glow an emerald green, growing in intensity threefold! It was bright, all around now, heralding his arrival. From nether-portals, two hulking felguards emerged ahead of their master, before Bey’ron himself stepped through - hands ablaze with felfire.

“You’ve come a long way to d--”

His emerald eyes settled on a familiar figure - even transformed by the Void, Bey’ron recognized Cebina instantly. It was more than just physical appearance. Her demeanor was unique - prideful and seductive. His hands extinguished, as they lowered to his sides. The felguards held position on either side of him, defensively… turning stoic as they awaited their master’s next command. The fires settled, returning to their normal intensity and color. Bey’ron grinned.

“--Well, well. This is unexpected.” he chuckled lightly. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Little Bird?”

“Hello, Sweetie,” Cebina’s melodious voice gave out her usual greeting, “I would have knocked first, but you know how well my kind is received as of late. You understand, I’m sure.”

She took her time, taking a sip of wine, before uncrossing her legs and getting up from the comfortable chaise, allowing her robes to fall back in place over her long legs. Her attire was just as expensive as before, minus the Sin’dorei ornamentation. Clearly, she was doing well for herself among the Alliance. She walked around the chair, running her fingers along the back of it in her usual seductive manner. It wasn’t specifically for him. She knew well enough that Bey’ron wasn’t interested in her body, especially now, but the mannerisms came to her so naturally.

“I was in town and figured I’d come by and collect the rest of my things. I was disappointed to see that you weren’t home, so I thought I’d wait for you to return. It would have been rude of me not to say ‘Hello’, hm?”

She gave him her signature smile, speaking to him as though the Fel Guards weren’t even present.

“How have you been, Bey-Bey?”

“Mm, of course. It’d be a shame for you to go unseen, wouldn’t it?” Bey’ron smirked, as he approached - still wary, but not showing it near as much. “Even as you are now… no less so.”

He regarded her a moment, ears flickering about. It seemed as if she’d come alone, which in itself allowed him to relax further. She looked lovely as ever; dressed in that classy, preened look she always had, flowing hair splayed just so, seductive grin, vibrant eyes - despite their eerie void-lit glow. She’d changed, for certain… and yet at the same time, she hadn’t changed a bit. Void aside, she brought a distinct energy with her wherever she went. Bey’ron was convinced it was her smile… or her voice. Either way, they were both classically hers. And he’d missed that energy, terribly.

He stepped past Cebina and the comfortable chair, instead approaching his wet bar - Cebina had already helped herself, it seemed. So he didn’t bother offering her a drink, only prepared one for himself.

“Frankly, my dear, I’ve been better.” he smirked, swirling his glass of Eversong Red. “You see, I was recently robbed; a disgruntled former colleague came and took my best furnishings.”

He winked at Cebina, before shaking his head. A generous swig of his wine, and he stepped towards her again.

“What is it you took, precisely? If I’m to get it all replaced, I suppose I ought to know what it is I’m replacing, hmm?”

“Oh Sweetie, there’s nothing for you to replace,” she smiled sweetly, leaning against the back of her chair, “I only took what was rightfully mine from the room I was in. The only other thing I helped myself to was the wine. But, being such a good host, you would have surely offered me some anyway.”

She took another sip of wine as she strode over to stand next to him at the bar. She placed a rolled up news parchment down on the counter next to him. Some headline about a new ‘Power Couple’ in Silvermoon.

“You’ve been busy though, haven’t you. You surprise me, Sweetie! I didn’t know you had it in you to get into bed with a Knight-Lord! Does she let you top? There’s no way you’re not a top!”

Bey’ron eyed the paper, then let out a sigh. He took another swig of wine, turning back to the wet bar. He topped his glass off - he’d need it, for this conversation. Cebina was, by her vary nature, a sexual creature. He’d used it to his advantage countless times, sending her to dig up dirt while people were at their most vulnerable, and distracted; she had a knack for getting people to lower their guard and talk. ‘Bareing’ themselves to her. It netted him all manner of useful information, but also made him wary. He’d always kept his Little Bird at arm’s length, not only due to a disinterest in the carnal pleasures she offered, but also to preserve his own secrets.

His relationship with Ina’thia wasn’t a secret, however. What gave him concern in her knowledge of it came from the implication that he did, in fact, have a lustful side. A side of him he’d denied her for years.

“Oh, that?” he shrugged, casually, turning to Cebina. “Yes, I suppose that’s something new, happening since you left. You know how meaningful powerful pairings can be, hmm?”

He approached, and topped of Cebina’s glass as well - sharing in his wine, as she expected he would. His emerald eyes flickered over her, discerningly. Was that the real reason she’d come here? To question him about his new romance? Or was it simply to retrieve the items in her old bedroom - which frankly, he’d forgotten about?

Or something else entirely?

“Mhm…” she smiled wide, eyes never leaving his as he topped up her glass, “Funny, you never went with the ‘powerful pairing’ option before. A new tactic. You’re either desperate or you have actual feelings for this woman, as rough around the edges as she looks.”

She took another sip of wine, swallowing it down as she made her way back towards the chaise, hips swaying.

“A shame, what happened to the Guard. So soon after you joined them…”

The Magister’s brow twitched as another sensitive subject came up. But he kept his calm, smirking behind his wine glass at his former colleague. He shrugged, taking another sip.

“Nothing lasts forever. Horde politics merely sped things along, I suppose.” he shook his head. “But I see no need to bore you with such things. Tell me, how’re you settling in with the Alliance?”

“Well, they aren’t attempting to kick me out of their borders or execute me, so I’d say things are better than they were here. They’re rather welcoming, actually.”

Cebina turned to face him, going back to leaning against the furniture. She wondered how much he knew of her captivity with the Guard. If his relationship with Dawnblade stretched out far back enough, had he encouraged her execution?

“I’d say business is good. I’m settling in just fine.” Of course, she never specified which business.

Bey’ron nodded, smirking as he usually did. But internally, he felt the sting of her words. He had expected Cebina to express some disgruntlement about the circumstances leading to her exile. It personally never sat right with him, either. Politics was a dual-edged blade, at times; it seemed to cut him just as often, even when he, himself, swung it. Of course… he couldn’t say such things aloud. That was part of the game, after all. Instead, he took another swig of wine, and nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it, my dear.” he replied, a sincere smile peeking through his smirk for the briefest of moments. “Of course, you’re a resilient thing, aren’t you? I never doubted you’d land on your feet.”

He exhaled a light sigh, as he looked Cebina over. He still wasn’t entirely sure why she’d returned. Retrieving personal effects felt like such a hollow excuse. A shell, a token, to mask some other true intention. Did she simply miss being here? He expected it was possible…

“It’s wonderful to see you. Naturally. But you know the danger it poses for you to be here. Both for you, and for me…” he frowned a bit, shaking his head. “Why is it you’ve returned? Truly? I can’t imagine you’d truly risk your precious life for a divan and a few throw pillows.”

Cebina grinned, pushing herself off the furniture, “You caught me there, Sweetie. I was in town for other business, but I mostly stopped here to return something to you.”

She began to walk towards him again as the shadows around them seemed to grow despite the flames he’d summoned earlier.

“You see, Bey-Bey. I may be exiled, but that doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention to the little details happening in this city. I don’t hold a grudge for you kicking me out. That’s all fine and good. Nothing personal. Just business.”

She waved a hand as if to dismiss it ever happened. The priestess eyed her glass of wine as she twirled the liquid once more, “However, I had a bit of an issue with your girlfriend’s Phoenix Guard. You understand, they were a real pain in the ass for my friends and I out in Silithus and the Ghostlands. That felt just a tad more personal, I’m afraid.”

She placed her glass of wine down before holding her hand out, palm up for Bey’ron to see. Void energy coalesced in her palm, taking on a shape. When the dark energy dissipated, what was left was a stack of parchments, still rolled up... with Magister Everblaze’s own personal seal binding them together.

“I had to leave rather quickly last time I was in town, so I never got a chance to return it to you. I believe it was something of personal importance?”

She placed the parchment down on the bar, before turning away a final time.

Bey’ron’s smirk vanished in an instant. He recognized the rolled parchments, knowing well what they were without even opening them. Though… he did anyway. He set his glass aside on the wet bar, and took up the documents.

“... Little Bird, I…” he muttered, though the sentence went nowhere - he was too distracted.

Too shocked.

The seal broke, as he unrolled the carefully constructed, mindfully worded, and passionately perfected plea he and Knight-Lord Dawnblade had written to the Council on the topic of keeping the Phoenix Guard intact and operational. His heart sank, throat drying out and lumping. His gloved hand shook, felfire eyes brimming as they were affixed to the undelivered pages. How she acquired them, he wasn’t sure. What the Council received in their place - if anything - he had no way of knowing. He had kicked himself for months now, taking the failure to keep the Phoenix Guard sustained rather personally. He couldn’t figure out why the decision fell so unfavorably.

But now, he knew the reason.

“I’ll see you again, Sweetie,” Cebina called as she made her exit through a conjured void rift, her voice growing cold, “That’s a promise.”

The rift closed, taking Cebina with it. Bey’ron was at a loss for words. He felt anger well up within him. Frustration! The rug had been pulled from beneath him, and he had no idea until now! His hands gnarled, crumpling the papers together in his closed fists. His eyes flared, the sconces and fireplace joining him in the swell of fire that the Magister exuded.

Then he laughed.

He laughed, utterly tickled by Cebina’s outmaneuvering! He wanted to be mad. He wanted to scream! To throw fireballs and burn the whole manor down in rage! But he simply couldn’t bring himself to be all that upset! It was a thing of beauty; Cebina had been patient, and picked the absolute perfect moment to deliver this - her final blow. Her coup de grâce, to put an end to the Phoenix Guard once and for all. He had severely underestimated his former colleague, only now seeing the extent of her conniving, the cunning of her dastardly mind.

He was impressed.

His laughter died down, as he glanced to the glass of wine she’d left behind - bearing her farewell seal in the form of her lipstick stain along the rim. He took up his own glass, and raised it to the space where she stood, before the void rift swallowed her away.

“Well played, Little Bird.” he smirked, before finishing off his glass. “Well played, indeed.”

~*~

((Co-written with @kidcatgemini, @cebinaruavin / @inathia for mention ))

#Character Story #Co-written #Bey'ron #Cebina #Bey-Bey and Little Bird

[westphotolukedas]

Nadav Kander - The Meeting

210220

Nadav Kander (Born 1961) is the first photographer that I cite in conversation about which practitioner has influenced me the most. He was born in Tel Aviv and based in London, although he does not regard himself to be British. His photographs are a part of the collections at the National Portrait Gallery and Victoria and Albert Museum.

Kander began taking pictures at 13 years old with a Pentax camera. In the South African Air Force, he processed film and printed aerial photographs. In 1986, he moved to London where he currently resides with his wife and three children. Portraiture and landscape photography are the main genres that he is best known. I have an appreciation for the consistency in his career, which has traversed 30 years across fine art and commercial platforms. He has photographed celebrities, models and a multitude of other sitters. In 2009, his 52 portraits published in The New York Times Magazine portrayed President Barack Obama and his closest associates. It is the largest portfolio of work that the publication has ever showcased. Later that year, Kander was awarded the prestigious Prix Pictet Earth for Yangtze - The Long River (2008). The shortlist of nominees included Ed Kashi, Andreas Gursky and Naoya Hatakeyama. The list of his other awards is extensive and includes a World Press Photo Award 2013 and 2014, Honorary Fellowship from The Royal Photographic Society 2015 and Outstanding Contribution to Photography from Sony World Photography 2019. (Lens Culture, 2020)

During the World Press Photo Exhibition 2014 at the Southbank Centre, London, I was particularly taken by Kander’s 3rd Prize entry of actor Chiwetel Ejiofor. The photograph first appeared in New York Magazine as a staged portrait to commemorate the British actor. Ejiofor, played a black man kidnapped in 19th Century America and sold into the slave trade in the film 12 Years a Slave (2013). He received an Oscar nomination for the role and won Best Actor at the BAFTA awards. Actors have a trained ability to respond to a camera. He appears poised yet relaxed. Kander’s characteristic turquoise key light is apparent with a red back light to highlight the outline of the sitter. The lack of a fill light leaves a proportionate amount of this face in an enigmatic shadow. This low-key lighting design gives the photograph a sombre tone. Emphasis is placed upon Ejiofor’s eyes, which reveals the complexity of his role in the film. As a viewer of the work in person, I felt a closer affinity to the subject when it was close to life sized. Its considered forms had a significant presence akin to a drawing, painting or sculpture. (World Press Photo, 2020)

The Meeting (2019) is a book that acts as a homage to Kander’s career, with photography from his early foray into the genre to illustrious works recognised within the fine art and academic communities. The annotations add insightful anecdotes about each piece and the man himself. The opening, entitled ‘The Triangle’ outlines a relationship of personal interest to me between sitter, photographer and viewer.

‘I don’t photograph to tell stories. I photograph to make stories. The viewer, if they hold their gaze long enough, becomes the author of the work’s meaning.

Consider there’s a metaphorical suitcase packed with white, grey and darker clothing that we carry around with us wherever we go. When we meet someone, we choose what items to show; maybe only clean white shirts, perhaps darker one. This unpacking is symbolic of a meeting. Much like when I work with a sitter. Our stories collide and change depending on the day, the weather, our emotional states.

If I manage to make a portrait that stirs a viewer then they complete what I call ‘The Triangle’ by bringing their own story or state of mind to the picture. This is fundamental to me, but often missed or misunderstood, because photography is still considered by many to be a record of an event. It is that; but it is not only that. How can it be?

Perhaps if we replace the word ‘photographer’ with ‘poet’ the point becomes clear. It is accepted wisdom when it comes to poetry that every individual reader finds his or her own meaning in the poem and this perspective is unique - no more less valid that yours or mine. The same, in my view, is true of photography.’

In email correspondence between 4th and 28th April 2019 with David Campany, Kander describes his photographic process. These extracts resonated with me as a practitioner of portraiture and landscape photography.

NK - I’ve walked down one road since I started photographing when I was 13. I feel I haven’t deviated at all. I still need my work to strike the same chords in me that I’ve always longed and striven for. My photographs (however varied a viewer might find them) come from the same inner place. I seem to revisit a slowed-down reality, which is very beautiful and important to me. Slow, quiet and slightly uneasy, alluding to more going on beneath what you first see. The subconscious need to express what feels meaningful and profound never goes away. I just try many ways to revisit it, to come at it from different directions.

DC - The portraits you’ve made seem to have quite a special place in your work. As if a face, or a person, is a way to get to the tension between surface and depth. I feel the human face is somehow already an image before it’s photographed. It’s already a kind of presentation, or representation of the self, although a very fragile and elusive one.

NK - That is beautifully put! Yes, my photographs of people are an essential part of my practice.

They follow on from my photographing landscape. When first dealing with landscape I realised it wasn’t the natural environment I was after, but the man-altered landscape. I focused on a darker nature, our destructive ambivalence to our surroundings, but I shrouded these scenes in beauty using compositions that, purely from their form, colour and weight, would have an effect on me apart from the information shown.

DC - Portraiture is often thought of as a two-way exchange, between photographer and sitter, but you’ve talked often of the viewer being crucial to meaning. That said, there’s a real intimacy to your portraits, as if these people have been given the freedom to forget their audience momentarily. We viewers can look, without feeling we’re being performed to. Is this how it is?

NK - I’ve had to think a long time about your question. Much of what I do is intuitive so finding the words is difficult. When I’m in front of a person (or a landscape for that matter), there’s nothing in my head that matters. I’m just looking with so much concentration that sometimes it feels as if I might explode. I do not want to be stirred so badly! All I want is for something to show itself, something that if I release the shutter will become an image that will stir me and unsettle me. To get close to this I must direct people very softly, subtly, and create the appropriate light so that they experience something of themselves. Any frivolous act for the viewer will never work; it would appear transparent. It has to be just for them and me. Only once this is successful does the viewer enter and make up the triangle. Artist, subject and viewer - each one a part of the whole.

From beneath the surface beauty, comes an existential call that touches on questions of destiny and the unknown. The works of Hans Bellmer, Man Ray, Raoul Hausmann, Dalí and Hans (Jean) Arp have also had a big influence on me. Although my work is not surreal, the feeling I get from the work of these artists is something I always search for. For example Jean Arp’s sculptures were very informative when I began photographing the nudes that became the series ‘Bodies - 6 Women, 1 Man’.

DC - It’s interesting that you put it that way. Very often I find myself wondering what landscapes your sitters were in just before they came to you, what it was - out there in the world - that is on their mind as you make the photograph.

NK - A portrait is one way of looking at some facets of our condition. There’s a precious and beautiful flicker of understanding, or the opposite, that shows itself for short periods and disappears. These periods, which I must see and try to photograph, are often responses to the light or the atmosphere that the light imbues. I must try to recognise them as an image that has what I love; depth of feeling, vulnerability and poise, pride and soul, a recognition of something more than just this moment now. Little of this clear to me, but this is the best I can do to explain it. (Kander, 2020)

Summary

It is an inevitability that a photographer emulates their heroes. Whenever I read that someone like Kander also had starting points for their practice, I am encouraged. I have covered in detail the practitioners that have inspired me for this project - Smith, Andrew, Refn, Sigel and Norwood. There are blog posts committed to each of them. However, I felt that Kander required more substantial meditation. There are parallels between his voice and my own - low key lighting and moody colour saturation delivered with a quiet temperament. He reveals that these attributes are the reflection of triangles that he forms between himself, his sitter and viewer. A sitter may choose to present themselves in any number of ways to his lens then this narrative is open for further interpretation by anyone that encounters his imagery. During his interview with Campany, he explains that he implements soft direction, free of frivolity to search for each photograph. He also explains a slow and quietened reality that he occupies beneath the surface appearance of what he sees.

The Ejiofor portrait inspired me during a formative stage of my photography. There is overlap with the other photographers and cinematographers that I have mentioned. Low key lighting is a continuous theme; however, Kander’s renderings have more depth. He is reluctant for media attention and I found The Meeting (2019) to be highly enlightening. His is the work of a ‘poet’ acting as a ‘photographer’, to use his own metaphor. As an analytical student, I have attempted to dissect what makes Kander, Kander. An awareness of his process is just the beginning. My lighting will resemble his, in addition my direction style is already collaborative instead of dictatorial. Any additional intricacies are unique to his voice. As I develop as a photographer myself, I am hopeful to have as reputable career and recognition. There are plenty more triangles that I am eager to construct.

Bibliography

Kander, N. (2019). The Meeting. London: Steidl

Lens Culture (2020). Biography. Lens Culture. Available from

www.lensculture.com/nadav-kander

[Accessed 10/04/2020]

World Press Photo (2020). 2014 Photo Contest. World Press Photo. Available from

www.worldpressphoto.org/collection/photo/2014/29789/1/2014-Nadav-Kander-PS3

[Accessed 10/04/2020]

Nadav Kander, Chiwetel Ejiofor, 2014

#theconstructedphotograph #westphoto #nadavkander