mine and only mine

Failure is a concept we created within our own minds. The inevitable is that we can be however, whoever or whatever we so wish, if only we promise ourselves the commitments. You cannot be a failure. Failure is subjective and what you see as the be all and end all is another success, you are your greatest rival. Stop using failure as an excuse to quit. Start putting in the hours, trusting your instinct, and pushing yourself forward, and see how far you can go.
— 

failure by Amy Kennedy

28/02/17

Like this? Check out my book!

common ground

title: common ground
relationships: cassandra & percy, cassandra & vex, percy/vex
warnings: none
words: 1.5k
summary: percival is very adamant about cassandra bonding with vex'ahlia.   

Cassandra isn’t exactly sure how to start approaching the concept of Vex’ahlia. Her problem is only worsened by the fact that neither Vex or her brother seem particularly fond of the idea of bringing up their situation.

So the three of them are a bit stuck - and she knows that de Rolos are very, very good at dancing around conversations that need to happen - but even they have their limits, and patience can only go so far before one of them snaps.

The person who snaps, it turns out, is Percival.

[ao3]

Haaaave a minific!

———-

“Bree!” Beca exclaimed, throwing open the door to the Bella house. “You’re here.” She immediately swept her girlfriend into an embrace and kissed her hard.

“You knew when I was going to be here,” Aubrey said, though she wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be happy to see you,” Beca said. Aubrey dropped her small suitcase and pulled Beca toward her again, kissing her passionately. She wasn’t always able to get away for a weekend to see Beca and the other Bellas, but she did love it. It felt like coming home. Her arms slid around Beca’s shoulders and the kiss deepened.

“Bree’s here!” came an intruding voice. It was Stacie, and suddenly the two girls found themselves at the centre of a mass hug situation as all of the Bellas came out to greet their former leader.

“Okay,” Beca said, worming her way out of the tangle of arms. “Let’s break it up.” Everyone pulled apart, save for Chloe who wanted a chance to properly greet her best friend. She kissed Aubrey on the cheek.

“Food will be here in about half hour,” Ashley supplied.

“Okay,” Aubrey said. “I’ll go dump my stuff we’ll be down soon.” Beca took her by the hand and they headed upstairs. Amy had graciously offered to crash on the floor of Cynthia Rose and Flo’s room whenever Aubrey was in town to give them privacy, which was nice. They made their way up to the room so Aubrey could leave her case and then Beca took advantage of their momentary solitude to tug her on to the bed to greet her properly.

It wasn’t long before Chloe knocked on the door. This was part of the routine, she’d always come and take a minute to catch up with Aubrey without the raucous additions of the other girls. They chatted a little, Beca not really listening since she’d spent the entire week with Chloe and there was nothing new for her to learn. She ended up giving Aubrey a bit of a shoulder massage which, if the noise Aubrey let out was an indicator of, was pretty good.

It was at this point that Chloe quirked an eyebrow and said she’d leave them to it, sailing out as Beca moved so Aubrey was pinned underneath her on the bed. Their legs instinctively wound around each others.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Aubrey replied softly. Their lips met and Beca hummed appreciatively against her girlfriends mouth. Aubrey’s hand gripped her waist and just as Beca was reaching to grab Aubrey’s chest, they were rudely interrupted by Cynthia Rose.

“Yeah, get some!” she hollered as she passed. Beca rolled her eyes. Her door was useless unless you all but slammed it closed, and Chloe evidently hadn’t done it hard enough. She got up and tugged it shut.

“It’s almost fucking impossible to get any privacy around here,” Beca muttered. Aubrey had sat up by this point and pulled Beca into her lap.

“I know,” she said. “But at least they’re all supportive of us. And besides, when you come down to the lodge, we have all the privacy we want.” She kissed Beca again, and as she felt Beca shift against her there was a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” she called, leaning her forehead against Aubrey’s. Jessica stuck her head inside.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Dinner is here.”

“Thanks Jess,” Aubrey said. “We’ll be right down.” The other Bella disappeared and Beca sighed.

“I love you, Bree,” she said.

“I love you too,” she said. “Now, food.” They headed downstairs to where Stacie and Chloe were setting out Chinese containers on the kitchen counter. They grabbed their separate orders, eating half of their own meals before Beca traded her Kung pao chicken for Aubrey’s Peking duck.

It was Bella movie night, so while the others debated what movie to watch, Beca and Aubrey tidied the kitchen. They didn’t really care what movie was on - Beca was barely going to be paying attention and Aubrey was happy to do whatever. As they tidied they sang together, their voices blending perfectly as they always had. As they finished, Beca caught an unexpected presence in the doorway.

“Legacy are you - dude, are you recording us?” Beca asked.

“Yes?” she said. “Stacie made me.”

“Way to throw me to the wolves Legacy!” Stacie called. The couple made their way into the living room, Stacie not the least bit apologetic about recording them.

“I mean, you guys are like, goals,” Emily said. “It’s a compliment.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Legacy?” Beca asked.

“She’s right,” Cynthia Rose said. “I mean who doesn’t want someone who makes them happy even when they’re doing something as boring as cleaning the kitchen? I want that. Singing together, being cute as shit. You guys are totally goals.” Everyone seemed to agree.

“Okay,” Beca said. They settled into the couch, Aubrey’s arm around Beca’s shoulder as whatever chick flick selected for the night’s viewing began. Beca spent the movie eating the snacks as they passed, drawing patterns on the inside of Aubrey’s forearm with her fingertips and even closing her eyes and just snuggling into her girlfriend.

Once it was over, everyone branched off toward bed. Aubrey and Beca changed and washed up and slid into bed. Aubrey was loosely tying her hair up when she spoke.

“I never really considered how the girls see us before,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Beca asked.

“Well, I know they’re happy for us, but I never really considered that they considered us to be a kind of benchmark,” Aubrey said. Beca thought about that for a minute.

“Yeah, I guess,” Beca said. “I guess we are pretty lucky. Some people wait a long time to find what we have.” Aubrey leaned in and kissed her heatedly. Beca murmured and was about to succumb to Aubrey’s gentle pushing of her body down to the bed when she stopped and got up.

“What’s wrong?” Aubrey asked.

“I love those girls,” Beca said as she grabbed Amy’s desk chair. “But this right here is a moment that I’m pretty sure requires absolute privacy. So a little safety measure.” She wedged the chair under the door handle and returned to the bed and the waiting arms of her girlfriend.

“He began his orchestration of events within a week of his return to Tallahassee. Carole Boone had been writing and calling almost daily. Her letters were chatty, witty, newsy, but they also had a cautious tone. Carole had been badgered by the FBI while Ted was at large, and it appears she was bothered by the Chi Omega connection. She wrote Ted that the truth, no matter how awful, should be known. Bundy’s first written reply, dated February 28, 1978, ignored Carole’s final admonition and instead railed about the FBI, calling them “Fornicators, Bastards and Imposters,” a suggestive choice of epithets. He touched Carole with a description of his pitiable cell conditions and the cockroaches with which, he claimed, he shared his food, then quoted a soul-stirring bromide from Richard Bach about triumphing over adversity. The letter closed, “I love you Boone. I need you. More than ever.”

- Excerpt from Stephen Michaud’s “The Only Living Witness”