#A Lone Star {Self Para}

[chaosmultiverse]

So, given it was a yearly holiday that meant those within the student body who had been there for the last semester would have had a chance to see Miranda for themselves and perhaps one of them had a better idea on what the issue was, of course she endes up basically talking to every person who had been there during that time but a few stuck out in the fog of vague "I don't know, she gets withdrawn and upset."

~☆~

Polly was always easy to get information out of, she was friendly and bubbly and as Dahila well noted didn't seem to understand the stakes of those around her.

"Huh? Oh yeah!- Last year was like this too, I- Well I hardly saw Miranda last year around this time she... Well at the time I thought someone had died or something."

~☆~

Hope, Dahila knew well she had been at school last year, she had went to Prom with Damien after all, of course she would hel-

"I don't know anything about Miranda, don't bother her and don't bother me about it." That was all Dahila got before Hope had stormed off... Okay weird but not helpful.

~☆~

He laughed in her face when she asked, honestly that surprised her normally he'd either play annoyed and mighty or actually be decently friendly, especially when it came to a shared friend like Miranda.

"I'm not telling you shit." Damien very bluntly answered, as he got back to playing with one of his pocket knives.

"I- Why not? I swear this has nothing to do with any duels to the death or attempts-"

"Dahila, full offense but do I look like I spawned fucking yesterday?-" a little given the spicey red baby nickkname "-Even if it's not some plot against me- which I totally don't buy it isn't- you might just wanna mess with Miranda when she's 'weak'-"

Dahila grabbed him by collar, normally she would have more backing a threat like this but anger in this case overtook logic

"WHAT ARE YOU SUGGESTING I'D DO, PRINCE?" The room was ice cold.

Damien quickly slashed at her hands, it wasn't enough to really hurt her but enough to make her flich and drop him, the room returning to its prior temperature.

"I dunno! I just know that you could do something fucked up, and I won't let that be on my watch. I don't care if you act like it doesn't matter to you she's royalty, I've heard of how that one can play out, so just... Let someone... Less likely to get her in a different mess help."

Damien left because Dahila allowed it, she had never wanted to hurt him more than right then, but no, that won't help.

What was helpful was knowing that Damien probably knew a little more than some of the others, good she already spied on him.

[thisblogwilleatourselves]

lull lulls lulled in lovely lullaby voles

shush hushed inside null vulnerables

full toll you're no soul not ever whole

told cold bask upon amidst its howl

crawl fall into dawn yawn you're fawn

call into mawl pulls of drawn fearful run

lost trolls vast malls last jaws cast gnaw

sense depart sensory darts claws maul

run adrenaline run ascendant of sun

sprint from reality decline define run

stars sun moon clouds storm overview

upon run shooting far form a new fun

endless inside you endless inside two

intwo you're splintered in divided duos

spiral further transcend defy status quo

more than two more than the viewed foe

heads or tails heads land neither nor

floats bloats in the air like the hesitator

never falter never waver for the desolator

gloat over perceived triumph devastator

ahaha it drops looms flops aviator

onin onin upon a fawn a dawn a lawn

fator favor flavor savor savior gone

farewell later late gave way to embrace

self sadist self nihilist whats your cause

how did you fall fault how did your flaws

arrive pawn was it fond did it slosh talls

never there for you never cared for lost

we were made without view split intwo

to the internal the funeral of dire youth

you brace against external briar pursuits

reality not meant for not meant for two

oh darling held by concepts of truth

feel imaginary companions not true

inside you there's another brighter hue

its not for use theres the lonely only you

how can ropes draw so far how far apart

will we ever lock our hands ever depart

aware yet out of snare its title called art

a farce a gap a twisted coping high larp

its that th th thu thud thunk thump thrum

its deep hhuh hhum humming dru drumb

its a ssna snap crack slap flap rap thunk

the thu thunder gun drum run dumb funk

compression being enclosed fold hold

force upon form relentless assault cold

hear dear torn lean learn lear fear untold

this flesh fresh is your casket your tomb

loom doom tune zoom loon moon ruin

łhø rhø ŋhrøn zhøvn ghøœz vphrœønm

is this enough is this is it enough for you

nl vh ŷŶŷ øv vh vhŷhŶlŷr xœvhty œ§qœn

in the eye of the beholder beauty askewn

in the eyeful of soldiers dutiful unknoon

in the periphery of your purpose astrown

in the beholding upon existence disown

all that's been laid upon you all that lays

lays upon two crushes you crushing fate

rave grave grieving ungrateful grit grate

you are a consequence you are not you

you are not you are not two you are not new you are not who you are not viewn you are not noon you are not soon you are you are you it is you you are it you are in you we are not you we are split intwo you are not us ours is you not

he is not you you are her you are them

you are it that this what where when will

why whose who upon who is two is it you is it me is it i is it we is it you is it them is it he is it her is it sus is it it you it is you is it two it is two it is only vøy

an abstraction defines vøyr right to life

we draw the knife divide decide decline

paradox para paradox contact paraphile

pile file dial while miles trials styles vile

you and we lets go into the ocean sea

lets sink lets drown lets get caught tide

your waves pull us down an firm frown

rise with the crashes lets be free ground

not real you are not true you are not you

neither are neither fact not a fiction duo

we are not who we are you held in two

we contain multitudes, not not me not me

singing

i me my

you us we

he she him

they it them

it us her

your he i

it is vøy

vøy'll

vøy've

vøyd

vøy'd

vøid

void

v

[themarissaharrison]

Ashes to Ashes | Self Para

mentions: @nsloanefms / delilah daniels trigger warning(s): fire / loss / drinking

The nights alone were always the worst. She was glad, happy even, that Nicola was finally doing what made her heart happy - what fired up her passion and sense of self, of duty. But the days when she would have to work late, into the night, through the night... They were hard. Lonely. Right now? Scary. She kept those feelings to herself, as much as she could, because she didn’t want to worry the older woman. Nic hadn’t been taking everything going on too well, blame and guilt flooding her system after promising Viv lessons, and never being able to deliver them. The feeling that she couldn’t escape the dark, poisonous clutches of death - that she was cursed with losing everyone that meant anything... And though she never said it, she knew fear sat heavily on Nicola’s chest. She knew the thought of the killer seperating them forever ran through her mind frequently... She knew because the same thought ran through her own. She knew because it was what was on her mind right now as she sat out on the balcony, eyes on the stars, knees pulled into chest and cardigan wrapped around like a warm hug.

“At the end of the day, I will always come home to you.” 

Marissa was a pessimist at best, and a self destructive hurricane at worst. So, naturally, those words that Nicola had once said to her circulated her mind in doubt, not comfort. At this point, what would she do if that promise was broken? She had promised herself that she would never get into this situation again - that she wouldn’t put her heart, her soul, her sanity in the palm of someone else’s hand. Yet, here she was. Her life, in the space of just a few months, for better or worse, now started and stopped with the firefighter. She loved her more than she had the words to express, unable to go much longer than a few hours without the other brushing past her thoughts, often bringing a gentle smile to her features.

As she looked up into the sky, her mind moved to the last person who made her feel like this - to Delilah. Her heart sank as she thought about the blonde, as she tried her best to recall the way she used to smile and laugh but could barely hear it properly anymore, as if the laugh was coming from behind closed doors - distant, dampened. 

“I’m not leaving this time, I promise.”

That was one of the last things Delilah had said to her before leaving for good. The similarity to Nicola’s promise was eery, making it difficult to not necessarily not trust Nic’s word, but to believe the universe will allow the promise to be kept. She wondered whether Delilah was up there somewhere in the stars, looking over her, bullying the universe into finally giving her a break. Riss sighed, reaching down beside the chair and picking up the glass of wine, bringing it to her lips for a drink. She’d been doing a lot more of that lately - suppressing everything with alcohol. It was easier that way.

She didn’t know how much time passed by as she sat there drinking, thinking. She didn’t know at what point she spaced out from reality, but she clearly did. Sirens brought her back, the sound of fire engines rushing past and, for some reason, she knew... She knew where they were headed. She stumbled to bring herself to a stand, red wine knocked over, spilling out onto the white fabric on the chair. Riss didn’t notice. She was already inside, feet slamming into boots, arms pushing into coat, hands grabbing keys. She rushed out the backdoor and onto the beach. And that’s when she saw it. 

The flames soared up into the night sky, the dark water reflecting the amber blaze. Her home, alight. Before she even knew what she was doing, she was running. Sand kicked up behind her, as she got closer and closer to the inferno. She fell a few times, a mixture of the darkness obsuring objects in the sand and the two bottles of wine she’d already drank tonight. But she kept pulling herself up and she kept running until she arrived on her strip of the beach, and as if perfectly timed, the moment she took a step towards her home, the pressure inside smashed through the bottom floor windows, glass shattering and flames poured out and rolled upwards to the night sky. It was too late. Her home was gone. Everything she had held dear... The last things she had of Delilah’s... Gone. She had moved in with Nic a week or so ago, but she’d decided to keep most of her belongings here... They were supposed to be save.

Marissa fell to her knees, chest heavily rising and falling as tears streamed down her cheeks. She screamed. It was the type of scream that would pierce the ears of anyone around to hear it, the type that one only makes when their entire world is collapsing in on itself. Hands gripped her own shirt as she felt a thousand knives lodge into her heart, as the weight of a million losses tied itself around it and pulled it into the ground. Everything was gone. Delilah was gone.

Crippled over, Riss struggled to catch a breath as tears poured out onto the sand. Little did she know, just a few hundred meters in front of her, Nicola was also struggling to breathe. Little did she know, the fire didn’t threaten to just take the reminiscence of her old lover, but the life of her current. It was probably best she didn’t know what was really happening inside, that she couldn’t hear the calls to Nicola from the other firefighters. If she knew, if she’d heard the firefighters calls, she wouldn’t have thought twice about walking into the flames. But she didn’t know. 

And she didn’t know how long she stayed there on her knees, watching her life burn away, before someone found her. But at some point, a blanket was draped over her shoulders. But at some point, the arms of another wrapped around her. But at some point, a voice told her it was going to be okay. 

But nothing was okay, and nothing was ever going to be okay again. Everything was gone.

[starbudspresents]

Re.Gray 035 - Vampire pt. 5: Eliade

[ Masterlist ] [ Read on AO3 ] [ Raws ]

Summary: Allen and Lavi understand what's happening now, but that's only half the battle: now they need Krory to hear them out, and he's not in a listening mood.

Volume 4, Chapter 35

Vampire of the Lonely Castle ⑤: Eliade

♦ 158 & 159

sfx: DON [Krory slams into Allen, teeth sinking into the tip of his cannon-form Innocence] sfx: zazazaza [scraping across the ground with the impact] sfx: hyuo [bit hard to tell what's happening here but it looks like Krory's spun Allen around with his teeth so hard his feet have come off the ground and he's now spinning airborne] sfx: BANH [after building up momentum, Krory lets go, hurling him away at great speed]

Allen: Guh— sfx: doh [Allen manages to land on his feet atop the crumbling blocks of the cemetery wall]

♦ 160

sfx: BAN [Krory hits the spot where he just landed a split second later]

sfx: hyuo [Allen has luckily just vacated it, by the skin of his teeth]

Allen: He's so fast! sfx: bah [he touches down lightly on what looks like a bundle of roots] Allen: Krory! sfx: gashaaaa [rocks and dust tumbling from the ruined wall] Allen: We no longer mean to slay you! Allen: Please listen—

sfx: babababa [Krory aims a flurry of bone-crushing blows at Allen's torso]

♦ 161

Krory: Cease your prattle. Krory: Are you now afraid, having watched your comrade die?

sfx: gah [Allen grits his teeth, enduring the onslaught without retaliation] Allen: !!

sfx: zubah [a particularly deadly blow lands, tearing Allen's reverted left shoulder open; blood gushes]

Krory: ? Krory: !?

♦ 162

Krory: He disarmed his weapon!?

Allen: Please hear me out!

Krory: ?

Allen: Every villager buried in that garden was an Akuma. Allen: Were you aware of that? Allen: Arystar Krory, Allen: are you really certain you're a vampire?

♦ 163

Krory: Am I certain...?

♦ 164

sfx: gabuh [chomp]

sfx: zaza [Allen skids back instinctively] sfx: botata [blood from his shoulder spatters on the ground] sfx: haa haa haa... [Allen panting] sfx: para... [severed bits of hair drifting away from the bite site]

Krory: Muahaha... Krory: Akuma? I care not. Krory: I only want to savour this thrill.

♦ 165

Krory: I wish to live my life to the fullest!! Krory: To follow my instincts freely, bound by no one!! Krory: I flatly refuse to let others dictate how I live. Krory: And so, I kill. Krory: Your turn.

♦ 166

sfx: DON [a brutal blow, which sends Allen through a wall back into the castle proper] sfx: gashaaaa [rocks and dust falling from the new hole] sfx: doh [Allen comes to a stop in a heap on the floor]

Krory: Hmph. Krory: That should do it. sfx: nu [straightens his back and lowers his chin in self-satisfaction]

♦ 167

Krory: !!

sfx: DON [Lavi and his hammer have re-entered the fray with considerable force]

Lavi: Peh, peh. Lavi: Don't write me off, dickhead.

♦ 168

Lavi: Okay, little pissed off now. sfx: nikoo [murder grin] Lavi: You and I are going to have a talk, once I've beaten you pulpy.

Krory: Intriguing.

Allen: Ow ow ow... Overhead: BLEEDING OUT Allen: Nnngh, think that really rang my bell. sfx: bota bota bota [blood splattering on the floor at his every move] sfx: dara dara [blood pulsing steadily from his head wound] Allen: I saw stars like these when Master got me with that mallet, too...

sfx: dokya-n bandore zudododo gongaga zubabaaaaa dodoo [cacophony]

Allen: ! sfx: dara dara [gush gush] Allen: Rather loud outside...

♦ 169

Allen: I need to get back out there. sfx: zukoh [he's been leaning heavily on the wall to help himself along; one brick suddenly depresses under his hand] sfx: uiin [a secret passageway blossoms open and he topples into it] sfx: gon!! [he hits the floor hard again] sfx: rororo dota... [and rolls a couple of times before coming to a lurching halt on his ass] Allen: hgh Allen: gah Allen: nghf Allen: A-A hidden door...? sfx: bushuuu [blood spurts from his extra-wounded head anew] Allen: Now where am I?

Eliade: Grr...

Allen: !?

Eliade: Hrrr...

♦ 170

Eliade: Hrrgghh...

Allen: !?

sfx: gakoon [the secret doorway slams shut behind him]

sfx: pita [footstep]

Allen, side: Steps?

♦ 171

Allen: No one's there...?

sfx: BAN [Eliade, having come up behind him, slams him into a bookshelf face-first, hand spreading out like webbing to hold him fast]

Allen: Wha—!?

Eliade: Aha. ☆ If it isn't the pasty boy. Eliade: Arystar was supposed to take you out...

♦ 172

Eliade: He's hopeless... sfx: haa... haa... [panting]

Allen: That wound...!!

sfx: gihah [she gives him an extra shove]

Allen: Ouch!

sfx: gi gishi [blood vessels burgeon across her face like roots] Eliade: Ahh, it's fine. I'll just deal with you myself. Eliade: I've always wanted to taste it at least once. Eliade: Exorcist blood, I mean. ♡

♦♥♦

[vodkaskys]

FANFIC REC: famous/not famous

Baby, you're my only reason ( "you're a celebrity and you just broke up and i tweeted you a selfie and said "date me" and you thought i was serious?" au) (6K)

'Til i tasted you ( Louis is Harry Styles' biggest fan. It doesn't matter that Harry is famous for being a food blogger and Louis can't cook to save his life.) (14K)

If i could hold you (Louis isn't a fan of popstars. Unless the popstar has curly hair, green eyes, and is named Harry Styles. He really likes that popstar.) (49K)

You got that somethin' ( the one where Louis attends a Harry Styles concert and makes an absolute fool of himself.) (5K)

Fall into your gravity (AU. In which Harry is an overnight pop sensation and Louis steals plants, Zayn pulls Liam's proverbial pigtails and Niall's really just pleased there are more girls for him.) (74K)

Fall into your gravity(Traducción) 

My english love affair (The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.) (19K)

Write me a song  (harry is a singer and louis is a sassy barista)

Write me a song  (traducción)

Bring Your Body Baby (I Could Bring You Fame) (A self-indulgent AU that takes place over the summer of 2015. 18 year old Harry hates pining after people he can't have, and 23 year old footballer Louis loves flirting with people even though it never means anything.) (84k)

Bring Your Body Baby (Traducción )

White lightning  ( flash de la cámara transformaba a Harry Styles en una persona completa y segura, llevándose un poco más de él cada vez que se apagaba, para abandonarlo con sus pensamientos que se volvían insoportables y sustancias ilícitas que servían para acallarlos. )

I hardly know you but I don't wanna let you go (Something about the way you look tonight) (Louis is a radio presenter stuck in the closet out of fear, Harry is the caller who piques his interest. Harry has had a crush on Louis Tomlinson for as long as he knew he existed but Louis isn't looking to get involved. Louis might just be blind to the best thing that's about to happen to him and Harry might be a little too aware.) (47k)

black, white, and read all over  (Louis is an author, heading out on his first promotional tour. On the plane, he ends up sitting next to a gorgeous stranger who is reading his book.) (3k)

boom clap  ( Harry Styles is invited to his friend Nick Grimshaw’s radio show for the promo of his first upcoming movie. When Nick announces Harry is gonna be rigged to a heart monitor while he’s asked questions, Harry knows the game is going to be something.)

boom clap traducción 

Lightning Strikes Twice (Rock star Harry Styles was nineteen when he met Louis, a groupie with a huge heart that Harry couldn’t quite shake from his mind. Fate granted him a second chance at the age of sixty, his washed up and lonely existence being transformed by a widower with a bookshop.) (104K)

[juno-dearborn]

i’ll tell the stars you said hello | self-para

There had been many versions scrapped, balled up, tossed in the wastebasket just beneath the sleek desk as the night wore on. He often stared at a blank page, taunting him, tugging at his hair for the right things to say, and whenever he did write it didn’t feel like enough. The final letter was imperfect, barely legible through his impatient hand that could never keep up with his racing thoughts, but he wasn’t going to go into the Arena without writing it. He refused to not. 

The final note was finished just as the sun broke over the horizon, spilling into the city below.

Satch,

I guess if you’re getting this, it’s because I died. 

I’m sorry. I didn’t want to, I promise. I was going to make every effort to make it out alive and come back to you, really. Please don’t be angry at me. Or Abel, or Liz, or anyone. I wanted things to go differently, but it’s not anyone’s fault.

I’m writing this because I felt like I didn’t get to say everything I wanted before time ran out. I wanted to spend the rest of my life telling you this stuff, but this is the closest I’ll be able to come now. You are perfect. You are good and intelligent and beautiful in every way. I love your smile. I love your passion for what you do. I love your courage. I wish just about everything that happened was different, because in any other universe, with any other circumstance, we would have had a chance.

But I don’t regret meeting you, I don’t regret the time I got with you. I’ve never met someone I saw some kind of future with before. It’s a stupid cliche, the type of stuff my mom harps about, but I really did feel like I’d known you my whole life. Like we were something meant to be. I wish we’d had more time to figure out what it was that was.

Satchel, you’re something special. You’re a miracle in a dark world like this. If there’s anyone who deserves the longest, happiest life in all of Panem, it’s you. Look out for Abel and Liz. Remind them sometimes they’re idiots. And that I love them. 

I’ll tell the stars you said hello.

Love, Eli

With reverence, he neatly folded the letter in half, then into quarters, and slid it carefully in front of the Tarot cards in their beautiful box. He carefully placed the deck at the center of the desk, then on another piece of paper wrote: Give to Satchel McQueen if I don’t come home.

A knock at his door startled him. “Coming!” he called, shrugging on a hoodie, then checked his pocket for his token.

On the way out, one hand on the doorknob, he cast one more glance to the violet box, lonely atop the empty desk in the empty room. Then closed the door.

[sxpernovagirl]

Conditional & Unconditional | Self Para

When: January 1994-January 1999

Where: Gwangju & Seoul, Korea; Auckland, New Zealand

Triggers: Teen Pregnancy, Depression

Featuring: Seon-Hee Kang-Mitchell & Jung Jin-Ho

The year was 1994. The Kang family restaurant was beginning to take off and while a then, 14 year old Kang Seon-Hee hated taking the train from Gwangju to Seoul every day for school, it was very well worth it when she met her friend, Jung Jin-Ho upon getting off the platform. Jin-Ho was a Seoul native, he was a city slicker to the core, knew everywhere around the city like the back of his hand. He was what made the trip all the more worth it. After school, they’d venture around together for an hour, picking different spots to eat and do homework before Seon-Hee would have to head back home. This was an everyday routine until the holidays, and they hung out even when the other was upset. Seon-Hee loved Jin-Ho’s adventurous spirit and sense of adventure. She was far too shy to ever try any of that.

At home, it was a different story for both of them. Seon-Hee was the youngest of three, while her parents made good money, most of it was used for the restaurant and for her and her siblings to go to school. She loved her siblings but with adolescence and fiery personalities, she often found herself butting with them quite often, making it a very lonely environment, especially when most of her friends all lived in Seoul. Jin-Ho’s life was the complete opposite. He was the eldest of three, his family running a real estate conglomerate that dominated Seoul. They were a powerful family, a respected family, and with Jin-Ho as the eldest, he was expected to set an example for his younger siblings. Most times, the pressure was suffocating, which led to many rebellions and fights with his parents. This would only get worse as the years went on.

By October 1994, Jin-Ho realized he had fallen in love with his best friend Seon-Hee. It was a feeling that crept up on him little by little by their next term. He couldn’t resist the way her nose would crinkle up in a smile or how she’d snort when she’d laugh at something hilarious. He found her habits endearing, and he couldn’t get enough of her. By December 1994, he confessed to Seon-Hee. She was taken aback and for the first few weeks, it was awkward around the two friends...but she sealed the deal right under the mistletoe just days before winter break.

The year was 1995. Seon-Hee was sent to live with her aunt in Seoul who would be taking care of business affairs as her parents’ restaurant branched off into the big city. There was no more meeting up at the train station, but instead, Jin-Ho would wait for her everyday, rain or shine, for both of them to walk to school together. It was that year that Kang Seon-Hee and Jung Jin-Ho were the school’s it-couple, they held hands proudly, passionately made out when the teachers weren’t looking...they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other!

Outside of school, was a different story, however. With the Kang restaurant growing larger in size in Seoul and there were talks of expansion, this made the Jung family catch wind of this...especially when the Kangs inadvertently put the Jung’s favorite restaurant out of business. It wasn’t their fault that they provided excellent service, after all. The Jung’s weren’t having it and did a lot to thwart the Kang’s. It wasn’t until they discovered their eldest son holding hands with the Kang’s daughter when they realized more could be done behind this. So they did.

They began to meddle in the life of their son, suggesting other, “prettier” girls towards Jin-Ho rather than the “plain” Seon-Hee, but he was stubborn. He loved that girl to the stars and beyond and there was no going back from that. So they tried to buy off Seon-Hee...she turned down 5 million won politely, for the love of Jin-Ho. She was moonstruck by her boyfriend and nothing could steer her away from him. This left the Jungs to be more frustrated and so, Mr. Jung, took matters into his own hands and played the dirtiest game by running the Kang restaurant out of Seoul. When the Kangs caught wind of this, not only were they infuriated, but deeply hurt as they lost lots of money from the scheme and at the end, had to pull Seon-Hee from school to transfer her to a local school.

Seon-Hee and Jin-Ho were devastated, but they weren’t so easily deterred. Jin-Ho promised every weekend to sneak away and visit her in Gwangju, and that was exactly how it went for a solid month...until the two were caught together by Mrs. Kang right before the holidays. So, the two came up with a plan to runaway together. Jin-Ho managed to steal an impressive amount of money from his family and booked two tickets to New Zealand. He thought that it would be a good cover to pretend that they were exchange students in New Zealand rather than in the States for them to sneak their way back into school and work on the weekends to stay afloat. Seon-Hee was elated and didn’t hesitate to say yes to Jin-Ho.

They left Korea right before winter break. While missing posters went up in Korea for both of them, they laid low in Auckland.

The year was 1996. They managed to settle in a small flat in and for first few weeks, the honeymoon phase between them was pretty noticeable. Between work and forging fake documents to attend school, things were going swimmingly well for the young couple. They even made friends! Seon-Hee fell violently ill around Valentine’s Day at school. Ava knew something was up and suggest, just to be on the safe side, for Seon-Hee to get a pregnancy test.

By the next week, she was staring at the ultrasound with her tears blurring her vision. She was pregnant. Telling Jin-Ho was the easy part though. He was caring, loving, and empathetic towards her. He promised her that he’d do everything he could to take care of their new growing family and reassured Seon-Hee that this would only bring them closer....which was a bold faced lie. By Friday night, right after a grueling shift at work, Seon-Hee arrived to their flat with his things gone, a note, and 100K “for the baby and other expenses”. It was a heartbreak like no other. A heartbreak that made the girl feel as if she were plunged into the ocean with cement blocks tied to her feet. She drowned in it.

Ava found her best friend Sunday evening to drop off food, her eyes were puffy from crying. Realizing that Jin-Ho had up and left, Ava knew she couldn’t leave her best friend alone. While sure, they were young and sixteen, she’d do her best to make sure her best friend was taken care of. The topic of abortion was brought up at first, but Seon-Hee turned it down. While she knew she wasn’t ready to raise a child, something had told her she was about to embark on a new journey to learn how to. With the help of Ava and Ava’s family, they helped Seon-Hee embark on a grueling journey to give birth on a rainy October morning.

“Nova,” she told Ava with tears in her eyes. “Nova Byeol Kang. A new star.” Ava’s eyes also teared up at the name, it was a name fit for such a mighty little being. And mighty, was just the beginning of the story of Nova.

The year was 1999. Seon-Hee is in tears next to a now three-year old Nova as she received her marks, she was going to university. It was a sigh of relief that things were indeed worth all the sleepless nights and hard work. “We did it, Nova!” She giggled as she wiped her tears away. It was such a weight off her shoulders that she’d be attending university. Ava would also help her as their schedules often alternated. Things were finally looking up!

“Mama, don’t cry,” Nova said with the sweetest smile and nuzzled her little face on Seon-Hee’s. She didn’t understand how she had the sweetest daughter, but she held that little one tightly to her chest. Her baby. Her sweet star. Her Nova. She didn’t know what love was until her...and it was the best form of love, in her eyes.

[minjungfmd]

base magazine self para / dyeing her hair

minjung gets orders from gold star / the magazine that she’s expected to dye part of her hair. first time dealing with bleach, and the results point her into grimacing and complaining for a few hours. warnings / none wc / 422

she’s dyed her hair a few times — but it only ever ranges between the shades of brown and black.

never once does she feel what it means to have layers of bleach, the stench of her hair frying off into dilapidated strands, and the incessant pain that pulls her face to cringe together. 

it’s only for a photoshoot, of course. a temporary fix, and when pain is beauty, she has nothing left to give to gold star’s orders. it’s the shoot that describes itself as experimental, futuristic. everything in between the crevices of night life. yet, she doesn’t know why she’s subjected to hours end of bleach rather than topping off her head with a simple wig.

“if you don’t like it, you can always just dye it black again.” her manager peeps through, reading right through her facial expressions.

“it’s not that i don’t like it — it’s that they’re bleaching my hair for a photoshoot. out of all things, a photoshoot and not a complete album concept.” 

“looks like they’re trying to test the waters, maybe use it for a future concept and make it more permanent next time.”

truth only relays past her manager’s lips — her manager’s got the gold star mind in the works, locked and not budging. no push nor shove, she just sits inside complacency with the continual grimace across her features, arms crossed against her chest as the stylist tampers with the foils on her head. she’s never been a follower of the trends, the quick passes through whatever social media’s ablaze. she’s been a lone spirit, one that follows to her own strides and own palette of colors. yet, now, she sits in the middle of some phased out trend, a test-subject sitting pretty watching as observations are yet to be taken.

perhaps, this is the perpetual independence she craves now completely out of sight. it’s no more freedom than what she can say or what she can protest when the contract has her at the end of a photoshoot, and the company talks deafen any reservations she can say.

before she can say anything, it’s the itchiness of her scalp now setting for round two. the heat now unbearable as she parts her lips, tempted to rip out strands of hair one by one before busting out of the place. “is this almost done?” minjung flinches without another second, the whine in her voice extinguished out by the foils being touched once more.

“no, you still have ten more minutes — pain is beauty.”

[404fmdminjung]

colla3orate1.5 self para — solo stage

summary: minjung doesn’t want to sing 180 or twit, and her first solo album everyone’s forgotten. so, she opts for a cover of green day instead with her new electric guitar. warnings: none wc: 427

what the public associates, is simple — the last release, a duo. it’s out of the question. the past two that’ve charted, 180 a ballad. her vocals aren’t in sync to belt out anything higher than one steady note for a split second. twit, and she’s damned if she’s humping the floor today decked out in rebook.

what she wants is the mere snippets of her upcoming solo album — an ease into another transition the public will be uncovered to. another album where this time, the sound correlates with something that smoothens her edges into something more herself, less of gold star’s push. yet, the idea passes by gold star in a quick ‘no.’ one rejection is enough, so instead — seo minjung opts for a cover.

it’s the latest fascination in the only electric guitar she knows. simple chords that come in youtube tutorials, and random videos sprawled online — that in mixture with an old favorite back to her childhood days, green day.

it’s less rocker and boisterous the way it waves in the blaring speakers. it’s softer, the way her fingers press against the lines of the guitar, strumming one by one as if she’s back and posed inside her bedroom walls. and she takes it as the emo-rendition of a 2009 ballad, where her near-bare face clash with the juxtaposition of sportwear — take it or leave it, this is her own solo stage.

it’s been months since any stage, just sitting in the dwellings of gold star’s studios. the stage lost when fuse becomes a back burner reminder, and her solo merely pushed back for a few months. that all ties in with a broken heart, shattered and torn — no movement, just the strums of the guitar and her own lonely voice that sings through. 

and maybe, she’s just the buzzkill of the entire event.

stripping away the high tides of a reebok collaboration with her own rendition, she starts singing. uses her lower register, when it hits low and she feels the words start to fall one by one, dragging out and languid when she closes her eyes and dips her chin in tandem with the beat. her foot keeps steady like a metronome, and when her eyes start to peek open she darts her gaze straight to the ends of the strings — uneasiness and the void of confidence in any trace of a live guitar skill, it’s the first showing of the instrument to the public.

the stage slowly forms into her happy place, and once again, she’s reminded — she misses it.

[chaosmultiverse]

Test (I wanna see how the tags look on site)

[durifmdarchived]

fmdverification self para; candy.

date: september of 2019... i think? character(s) involved: mentions of kai. about: full writing verification for candy. after one of their hangouts (aka one of their clear dates while still friends), which was a picnic under the stars, duri hit the sudden inspiration to write a song on his crush on kai. thus, the song “candy” is born.  trigger warnings: n/a. word count: 1,439.

         butterflies had still been flying around in his stomach, hitting against the walls of his stomach trying to escape. how is it that every time he thought about maverick kwon, he couldn’t help but to smile and blush - as if it was going out of smile? he was almost head over heels already for someone that he isn’t even dating. he does feel like it’s going in the direction, doesn’t it? he could only hope that maybe one day, he’d get to date maverick kwon... maybe even fall in love with him? his fingers were mentally crossed as he wished upon a star for such a thing. he already talked to the stars, told maverick everything; opening up completely about his past, which was something he didn’t do when it comes to many people. but, it was just something that felt right. nonetheless, it seemed to only make sense to venture back out underneath the stars, to write something that was lingering within his mind. he goes to a familiar spot, a place he found himself often. he walks through a park, late at night, reaching the swing set. there, he sits down upon the swing, opening up the song book. sure, it was hard to write upon a swing with no real surface; but, he’d always figure something out. he swung a bit, letting his mind run with ideas on what he could do. 

he’d pump his legs back and forth, raking over the ideas that was in his mind. he was trying to figure out how kai really makes him feel; exactly what he feels like. there was so many things... he made him feel good, he made him feel special... he made him feel like he was actually good looking for once... he made him feel like... and then his foot slides down, stopping the swing. it hit him... made him feel like candy; sweet, tempting, appealing, exciting, happy. there was so many ways that he could possibly describe candy. sure, he’s not all that big on candy. he’s a much bigger fan of things like chocolate cake and ice cream; but, he’ll have the occasion candy, of course. it seemed almost perfect for set up to the song, make it about candy. in this sense, duri would be the candy; it only seemed to make some sort of sense, right? now, all he had to figure out was how to get it out, how else to describe the song. but, that was something that would come in due time, of course. 

it had always seemed easiest to fill out the chorus, then stick verses and words around it. at least, that’s how duri would sometimes go about writing songs, depending on what he was feeling. sometimes it came more naturally, other times, he had to have different starting points. this time, he was going to follow his that one strategy in filling around. he started out with the chorus, as it had come to him after a half hour. his pen writing down the words, talking about himself being candy, there being a special chemistry between them; referring to it as some sort of cinnamon. he would also go on to talk about how he wants to be with kai; without, of course, actually naming anything. he really didn’t like having to put down “girl,” wishing he could just not gender the song in anyway. but, it wasn’t an option that he had, he had to play up a persona. he had to make it very heterosexual. it was just something he grew used to; but, it wasn’t time to look upon that, it was time to get his feelings for kai out via paper and through song, the best way for him to do so. it might not even be a song that would see the light of day, it could just stay in this little book of his. but, he was still writing nonetheless, because it would always help out. before he knew it, however, he had completed writing one chorus, which he was very happy with. 

there would be a few more moments of swinging on the swing, but not as high. he weirdly felt like it was helping to get the thought process moving, to help him come up with his next move in writing. he sighed happily, eyes looking up in the sky, one hand on the song book and pen as he just swung happy. he’d again, stop, before going to write in the first verse. he’d go in with something about the tension that was there, something that was clearly them being more than friends. he’d talk about a careful picking, giving something original and something never seen before. it seemed to make more sense when he wrote it down. before he’d move into becoming special... becoming the person he’d pick. this was something he’d want to come back to, to fix up, just incase it didn’t make sense. but, at least, he had something down, and the first verse and chorus were there. 

in the second verse, he’d do something that was maybe a little bit deeper. maverick was someone that was able to crack the little box that duri’s in, little by little. something that was lonely, but it seemed to be something that was coming undone about kai. he was someone that was learning about the things going on inside of his mind, something that only a few people knew about out. his little, lonely, dark box, was cracking little by little. so, of course, he had to be sure to portray that and wrote it down just as that. he’d also go into how he wanted to adjust, how he wanted to be just a bit more comfortable, and more things. he’d fill around those words with other things as well, something to make it flow more easily, sound a lot better. he’d also do something a bit more cute, like talking about what makes kai laugh, and how he hoped he’s able to do that for him. he doesn’t want him to be down, and he’s giving him one wish. duri giggles almost, as he’s just getting more and more giddy as he writes about this little crush... no, this huge crush on maverick kwon. nonetheless, he’d just rewrite the chorus again, considering he’s very happy with those words. 

duri is often inspired by other songs and media, which was something that was really going to help him out with the bridge; as he was a bit stuck on it. but, he was going to go for a bit of a sexy vibe with the bridge, trying to relate it other songs; especially american songs that could possibly help with such. he goes over things in his head, taking a bit longer than he wanted to. he’d finally go into the writing again, where he’d saying to accept his invitation to this love, how temperatures between them were rising, and things of that sort. he was melting just a bit; which was true, referring to how much he blushes around kai - which, to be quite honest, is a lot. he also didn’t want to be let down, and kai is the choice that he has; because kai is the one that is right there in his heart, the one that has stolen his heart right away. but, he’s okay with that. he, again, talks about not being able to wait anymore; which, of course, is a lie, because he would wait however long it would take for kai to feel the same (if he didn’t already.) the final chorus would be written down again, a smile pressed against his lips. before, at the end, he’d pose a question about waiting. 

he’d spend some time going over the song, before he decided he was happy with everything, and that it makes a lot of sense to him. to him, at least, it seemed like a really good song that really expressed how he feels towards maverick know; how strong his feelings are of a big time crush. there was only hope he’d feel the same way. but, nonetheless, he’d close that little song book of his, before getting up from the swing. he looked up at the stars one more time that night, a smile pressed upon his lips; before he’d walk back through that park to go home, placing the song book on his bookcase once more. 

that song tilted candy, would see itself come out in due time; when the timing was right. brush yourself off in 2021, little one.

[adiosalasrosas]

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Sin una cosmología, una cosmogonía

presentada ante los ojos

no se puede escribir ni una sola línea

no hay una parte de ti que puedas separar

diciéndote: esto es un recuerdo, esto es una sensación

este es el trabajo que me importa, esto es como yo

me gano la vida

eso es todo, esto es un todo, siempre ha sido un todo

tú no lo “creas”

entonces no hay nada que componer, eres una presencia

eres un apéndice de la obra, el trabajo que proviene

que cuelga desde el cielo que has creado

cada hombre / cada mujer carga un cielo dentro de sí

y las estrellas en ello no son estrellas en el cielo

sin imaginación no hay recuerdos

sin imaginación no hay sensación

sin imaginación no hay voluntad ni deseo

la historia es un arma viviente en tus manos

y la has imaginado, así es como lo

“descubres por ti mismo”

la historia es el sueño de lo que puede ser, eso es

la relación entre las cosas en una continuidad

de la imaginación

lo que descubres por ti mismo es lo que eliges

fuera de un mar de posibilidades infinito

nadie puede habitar tu mundo

la base de la imaginación

no es la soledad sino la intrepidez

el discurso es una cinta de vídeo de la película

/del juego de sombras

aunque las marionetas están en tu mano

tus contraataques en un ajedrez multidimensional

que es adivinación

y estrategia

la guerra que importa es la guerra contra la imaginación

todas las demás se subsumen a ella

la hambruna terminal es la inanición

de la imaginación

para estar seguros, es la muerte, pero los muertos vivientes

buscan habitar el mundo de alguien más

la claustrofobia terminal es el silogismo

la claustrofobia terminal es “todo suma”

nada suma y nada se queda por

algo más

LA ÚNICA GUERRA QUE IMPORTA ES LA GUERRA CONTRA

LA IMAGINACIÓN

LA ÚNICA GUERRA QUE IMPORTA ES LA GUERRA CONTRA

LA IMAGINACIÓN

LA ÚNICA GUERRA QUE IMPORTA ES LA GUERRA CONTRA

LA IMAGINACIÓN

TODAS LAS DEMÁS, SE SUBSUMEN A ELLA

No hay escapatoria de una batalla espiritual

No hay manera que puedas evitarla tomando partido

No hay manera de que no puedas tener una poética

no importa lo que hagas: gasfíter, pastelero, profesor

lo haces en la consciencia del crear

o no crear tu mundo

tienes una poética: caminas hacia el mundo

como un traje de fábrica

o te grabas en la luz

tu cielo se derrama en la forma de tu habitación

en la forma del poema, de tu cuerpo, de tus amores

una vida de mujer / una vida de hombre es una alegoría

entiéndelo

No hay escapatoria de una batalla espiritual

la guerra es la guerra contra la imaginación

no puedes firmar como objetor de consciencia

la guerra de los mundos se sujeta aquí, ahora mismo, en el equilibrio

es una guerra por este mundo, por preservarlo

un valle donde nacen las almas

el gusto en nuestras bocas es el sabor del poder

y es amargo como la muerte

tráete a ti mismo a casa, entra al jardín

el tipo en la puerta con la espada en llamas eres tú

la guerra es la guerra por la imaginación humana

y nadie puede combatirla, pero tú / y nadie más puede pelear por ti

la imaginación no solo es sagrada, es necesaria;

no solo es feroz, es práctica

es vasta y elegante

seres humanos mueren cada día por su falta

el intelecto significa “luz de la mente”

no es discurso ni siquiera lenguaje

el sol interior

la polis está constelada alrededor del sol

el fuego es el centro

***

Diane di Prima (Brooklyn, 6 de agosto de 1934- 25 de octubre del 2020)

Versión de Nicolás López-Pérez

/

Rant

You cannot write a single line w/out a cosmology

a cosmogony

laid out, before all eyes

there is no part of yourself you can separate out

saying, this is memory, this is sensation

this is the work I care about, this is how I

make a living

it is whole, it is a whole, it always was whole

you do not "make" it so

there is nothing to integrate, you are a presence

you are an appendage of the work, the work stems from

hangs from the heaven you create

every man / every woman carries a firmament inside

& the stars in it are not the stars in the sky

w/out imagination there is no memory

w/out imagination there is no sensation

w/out imagination there is no will, desire

history is a living weapon in yr hand

& you have imagined it, it is thus that you

"find out for yourself"

history is the dream of what can be, it is

the relation between things in a continuum

of imagination

what you find out for yourself is what you select

out of an infinite sea of possibility

no one can inhabit yr world

yet it is not lonely,

the ground of imagination is fearlessness

discourse is video tape of a movie of a shadow play

but the puppets are in yr hand

your counters in a multidimensional chess

which is divination

& strategy

the war that matters is the war against the imagination

all other wars are subsumed in it.

the ultimate famine is the starvation

of the imagination

it is death to be sure, but the undead

seek to inhabit someone else's world

the ultimate claustrophobia is the syllogism

the ultimate claustrophobia is "it all adds up"

nothing adds up & nothing stands in for

anything else

THE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINST

THE IMAGINATION

THE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINST

THE IMAGINATION

THE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINST

THE IMAGINATION

ALL OTHER WARS ARE SUBSUMED IN IT

There is no way out of a spiritual battle

There is no way you can avoid taking sides

There is no way you can not have a poetics

no matter what you do: plumber, baker, teacher

you do it in the consciousness of making

or not making yr world

you have a poetics: you step into the world

like a suit of readymade clothes

or you etch in light

your firmament spills into the shape of your room

the shape of the poem, of yr body, of yr loves

A woman's life / a man's life is an allegory

Dig it

There is no way out of the spiritual battle

the war is the war against the imagination

you can't sign up as a conscientious objector

the war of the worlds hangs here, right now, in the balance

it is a war for this world, to keep it

a vale of soul-making

the taste in all our mouths is the taste of power

and it is bitter as death

bring yr self home to yrself, enter the garden

the guy at the gate w/ the flaming sword is yrself

the war is the war for the human imagination

and no one can fight it but you/ & no one can fight it for you

The imagination is not only holy, it is precise

it is not only fierce, it is practical

men die everyday for the lack of it,

it is vast & elegant

intellectus means "light of the mind"

it is not discourse it is not even language

the inner sun

the polis is constellated around the sun

the fire is central

[eveningstxr]

Hello My Old Heart | Self-para

In which Lottie finally realizes what she wants.

It was late, much later than Lottie normally trudged through the front door of her house in The Woods. After wrapping up her work day at Pixie’s, she had hung around until closing time and probably would have stayed longer if it were possible.

For whatever reason, she didn’t want to go home. The very thought of it filled her with dread and she couldn’t pinpoint the reason behind it. Maybe she was getting sick of the same-old, same-old routine of waking up, working, and going home — lather, rinse, repeat.

Yeah, that had to be it. 

Heaving a sigh, the blonde flicked on the light in her foyer, closing the door behind her before tossing her keys into the little bowl she kept on her entryway table. She kicked off her shoes and padded, barefoot, into the kitchen. 

She turned on lights as she went because, god, she hated navigating this house in the dark. She wasn’t used to its layout yet and still found herself bumping into corners and stubbing her toes. It only added to her annoyance and resentment toward her new home.

With a glass of water in hand, Lottie traipsed upstairs. She followed her usual nighttime routine — hydrating, following her skincare regimen, brushing her teeth, and changing into a pair of satin pajamas — before climbing into her king-sized bed and turning off the light. 

But instead of falling asleep like she so desperately wanted to, she laid awake, blue eyes glued to the ceiling fan that spun lazily above her. Lips pursed, she tried to figure out what was keeping her up. It wasn’t too warm in her room — no, it was just the right temperature for her to curl up under her fluffy white comforter and doze off. She didn’t leave the water running or any of the lights on downstairs... So why did she feel like she was missing or forgetting something?

Another sigh. She turned onto her side and faced the other side of the bed.

Oh.

The blonde wrestled with the thoughts that came next, unsure if they truly unsettled her or if they were just something her tired mind had cooked up. 

Was she... lonely?

The word made her scrunch her nose up in disgust. Her? Lonely? God, no! She had her new friends! She had things to keep her busy, like work and... okay, so maybe she needed a hobby or two. But outside of that, she had a full life. 

Didn’t she?

Don’t be ridiculous, Lottie thought to herself, rolling to her back once more. What do you think you’re missing here? A relationship? Please, she scoffed audibly at her train of thought, what on earth would you get out of a relationship?

Nothing! She’d convinced herself of that a long time ago. Besides, she valued her independence above all else. Presently, she could come and go as she pleased, and she didn’t have to answer to anybody or provide explanations or ask for permission for anything. She didn’t want to sacrifice that. 

Plus, this way, you don’t run the risk of getting hurt —

Ugh. There it was. The truth stung like a bandaid being ripped from raw flesh. It made her wriggle in her place from how uncomfortable she felt. She didn’t want to confront the way she’d lived her life — and protected her heart — since she was a teenager, especially not in the middle of the night. 

But it seemed like she didn’t have much of a choice, as her mind raced with ideas of what she was missing in her stubbornness.

For the briefest moment, she imagined what it would be like to have someone to come home to. She couldn’t picture them, per se, but rather the idea of them. How they’d treat her, laugh with her, cry with her, support her, call her out on her shit, make memories with her, and maybe even fall in love with her.

And, stars, she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel nice. 

Sirens went off in her head, warning her that she was treading into dangerous territory, but she couldn’t stifle the feeling of yearning that crept up and squeezed her heart. 

She was lonely and she couldn't hide that fact from herself any longer. But she didn't really know how to remedy it, either. Her gaze shifted to the other side of her bed and lingered there.

Finally, she turned away, rolling to her other side and squeezing her eyes shut.

This was a different problem for a different day.

[notactuallyjosieanymore]

STONE COLD || SELF-PARA

“And now, back from being on tour with her father, Myles McCoy, please welcome already one of Riverwood High’s brightest stars, Miss Josie McCoy!” Josie listened from the side of the stage, just out of sight as she was announced. She didn’t know if she was quite ready for this, having just received a pretty harsh dose of reality shortly before performing. But, as she always told herself, the show must go on.

Stone cold, stone cold You see me standing, but I'm dying on the floor Stone cold, stone cold Maybe if I don't cry, I won't feel anymore

Josie had made her way up onto the stage regardless of if she was actually ready. But, as she began singing, she realized that the song hit a little too close to home for comfort for her. It didn’t help that, due to it being a relatively slower song, many couples had flooded the dance floor, slowly swaying to the music. One of which was, of course, Zach Dempsey and his new girlfriend.

Stone cold, baby God knows I try to feel happy for you Know that I am, even if I can't understand I'll take the pain Give me the truth Me and my heart, we'll make it through If happy is her, I'm happy for you

Before she knew it, she felt small tears prick her eyes. She had put so much into her music - worked so hard to get every opporunity she could. And she was getting places. Sure, it wasn’t like being on tour with her more noteworthy father had done anything too crazy, but it had still gotten her name out there in a way that was important. But, despite all that... despite all the spotlight and the standing ovations... especially coming back home, Josie had never felt more lonely in her entire life. So many of her strongest bonds had broken down due to her drive for success. That was one thing Josie had never been good at - reaching a comfortable middle in between pursuing music and still keeping her relationships strong.

Hmmm, stone cold, stone cold You're dancing with her, while I'm staring at my phone Stone cold, stone cold I was your amber, but now she's your shade of gold

Zach had been the most painful to lose. Her feelings for him had been very real - even now, that hadn’t changed. But she’d left him behind and hadn’t looked back. And, appropriately, he’d been hurt and wounded by her actions. She still couldn’t shake how much it had broken her heart to see the clear hurt in his expressions and words during their earlier confrontation. He once used to look at her like she meant the world to him, but now that was no longer. Now, he’d found someone new. Through her own fault, she’d pushed him away and he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. And, fair enough, she wouldn’t want anything to do with herself if she was him either.

Don't wanna be stone cold, stone I wish I could mend this, but here's my goodbye Oh, I'm happy for you Know that I am, even if I can't understand If happy is her If happy is her I'm happy for you

The emotion was beginning to overwhelm her as she reached the ending ot the song. It didn’t help when she caught Zach’s gaze over Olivia’s head, the eye contact only lasting for a second before she had to avert her gaze. She really was happy for him - maybe she wasn’t what was best for him. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore and she wondered if she’d ever be truly able to break down the walls that she’d built up so high. If he was happy with Olivia, then she had to put away her own feelings. It hurt, but she wanted him to be happy. And it seemed he couldn’t get that happiness with her.

As the last note note rang out with the clear and concise diction she always carried when she sang, Josie gave a very forced smile out to the crowd. “Thank you,” she spoke through the mic. However, she realized with a start, her voice came out very weak and notably strained. Still, she kept it together as she rushed down the stage stairs and made for the gym’s exit. She waited until she was out in the hallway before she finally broke down, leaning against a locker as she cried quietly into her hands that were covering her face.

[everettlance]

somewhere between life and sleep; self-para

Out on the steppe, the bodies were beginning to decay. In his mind the ground had risen up around them, dry crusted fingers of land, and created for them shallow graves, open to the sun and rain, if there was to be rain. In his mind he walked the steppe and gathered plants. The beasts of the land walked with him; he was an unwelcome visitor, to be escorted. The land had sided with the dead. He gathered bits of brush and brought them back to the bodies, the earthen graves. He covered them with the brush. It was memorial; it was costume; it was disappearance.

A crack. The night. There were animals moving about them but nothing bothered them. His dagger in his hand. The moon on the water sketching an echo of itself as if lonely. Delta slept soundly, only moving around a few times, groaning in annoyance as her hood fell off her head or her feet emerged from her coat, which she’d fashioned into a kind of sleeping bag for herself. She was clever and quick. She had stitched him up; he ran his fingers over his chest, over the coat, his own fingers of the land, they became dust and saw the coat, the stitching of the fabric, the stitching of his skin, stars had been created here or were they pricks where the light of day shone through the dome of the Arena? Was it night or day? He grew a hundred feet tall, his mud-and-blood self, and poked his finger through one of the holes left by the stars. He wiggled it into the free air.

A splash. The water. There must be fish or something in it. They could catch one. Was he good for anything but killing in here? He had diminished the amount of others by two; so there was a hope they would be out soon, and yet the time gaped endless before him like the lake itself, into which he could dive and swim to the bottom. And then there would be one less.

A gasping for breath as he did not die, he did not die, he did not die.

Agatha was on his side. She’d sent him the needle, the stitches, and he was grateful, he should be grateful, he was grateful. Was he forgiven? Should he be forgiven?

Orpheus. Where was he? Was he watching, did he care? Was he proud? Was he disappointed? Would he help? Would he send anything? Did he think Everett a monster? What kind of monster chooses this, what kind of monster delights in it, what kind of monster doesn’t hesitate, what is delight, what is hesitation?

He leaned his head back against the bark of the tree he rested against. The bark fell away; the tree fell away; the earth fell away; there was darkness.

Out on the steppe, the bodies were beginning to decay.

[rbroadwayberry]

a push in the right direction / self para !

who: rachel berry  mentions: barry, the well meaning publicist. monica, the very likeable understudy. when: september 2020 where: the berry residence what: after leaving the police station, rachel gets a call tw: death, murder

“Well, I hope that was helpful to you and you can wrap this up so I can finally go back to New York City. I am also extending an invitation for you all to see me in Funny Girl when you can. Tickets will unfortunately, have to be on you. Also if any of this leaks to the press, I am calling my agent, my Twitter fans and my lawyer.“

The pearly white smile Rachel exhibited in the station quickly dropped as soon as she reached her car becoming even worse when she was inside the walls of her dads’ house. Her mind filled with thoughts. The seams of her life - the life she had worked so hard for - beginning to tear. 

Notifications arrived on her phone,  as her understudy was continuing to blow up on social media. Rachel grimaced. The brunette liked Monica and wanted her to succeed , but not this much and this quickly compared to her. In the short span of time since Rachel had left, her understudy had gone from ten thousand followers to a hundred thousand. And counting. 

Gazing around her old room, Rachel was once again reminded of her past. At first, it had been bittersweet seeing her journey and beginnings but the murder of Mr. Schuester clouded any positivity out of Lima. The police were getting closer and closer to the crime. Closer to the Ten. Closer to her. 

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP ! 

“Hello, Rachel? This is your manager on the phone, Barry. ”

“Hello Barry, I need to apologize again. I am positive I will be back in New York soon. I just spoke to the police and        .”

“Yes brilliant and my thoughts and prayers are with you in Lima of course, so very sad about everything....I’m hearing you’re a person of interest in this case? What does that mean? It sounds like a lot of funny business and the producers of Wicked! don’t like funny business. This is going to be a Disney movie.”

“Nothing! Nothing funny about it. The police just know what I’ve told the world and            what is true, that William Schuester and I were close. Barry, I am helping them solve this crime. Tell that to Disney ! Rachel Berry is a law abiding citizen.”

“Look, Rachel I love you so much. You and your schnoz are the biggest brightest stars in my universe. And I love you enough to tell you the optics don’t look great. If it was HBO then sure, Netflix likes some controversy  but this is Disney! Mickey Mouse and Cinderella Disney! You need to do what you can as quickly as you can to get this done. I don’t care who you have to kill or stab or love. Whatever it takes. Just please, get back here. Your show misses you. I miss you and you certainly do not want Disney to miss you or people to think you’re a murderer.”

“I’m trying my best.” Rachel’s voice began to crack. Removing the lone tear, her voice changed to a more determined tone again. “I’m helping out in my old high school glee club and I will be posting about it. We can spin this, help me spin this Barry. Turn me into the hometown hero that I am and not some guilty party - which I never was - and I will do my best here.” Rachel paused, knowing she would mean her next line of words. “I don’t care who I have to kill or blame or love. Whatever it takes.”

“That is my tiger. This is my shark. This is my star ! I told them, I told the bosses that you were a force and you have never let me down, Rachel. Now I mean what I’m saying. Your future could be huge but it’s all up to you and your decisions in good ole’ Lima, Ohio. You have done so well, no need to mess any of it up now. Post the glee club thing, volunteer for musically deaf kids, do an Instagram Live. Your publicist will send more you some more details.”

“Right, thank you Barry. I will do everything you said. I will talk to you later.”

“We will be talking later, I need updates from next week. Remember you are the biggest, brightest star Rachel. Win this.”

The line went dead and Rachel walked towards her mirror. She noticed the creases in her face, the dismay and worry etched into her features. I am a star. Her fingers smoothened her hair. I am a star. Her back straightened. I am the biggest and brightest star. A smile crept up on her face. All her efforts wouldn’t be in vain. Come hell or high water. Rachel knew she could no longer play a passive unassuming role in this debacle. Her mind was already concocting ideas.

It was time for Rachel Berry to get musically devious.