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forget-me-maybe · 4 months ago

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Snippet Sunday/WIP Monday/Am I late to the party?

since i missed that the lovely @kimberbohwrites tagged me yesterday we're doing this today!

i've seen that most of us have already done this so i'll just do an open tag for anyone who wants to share something!!!

anyway, the truth is that the last week(s) my writing has been... slow... nonexistent...

SO i looked through my wip-folder to see if i had anything to share and i found this wip that i wrote a while back but never finished (ehm).

it's a modern band au kind of. there's boobs but not anything more nsfw. cw lorroakan related abuse. also i write this as someone who doesn't know shit about music more than listening so warning for incorrect things. also warning for overuse of changing pov and strange pacing.

(and it's not completely done either but i need to throw something out here or i might just lose my mind. also here's to hoping it'll light some fire under my ASS)

here's chapter 1, maybe (it's long, like 4,5k words so buckle up):

~*~

Tav is late. It’s a normal occurrence, it just can’t be helped. She and time have never been in agreement with each other. But today she’s extra late. She’s already texted the band’s group chat to let them know she’ll be in the rehearsal space in fifteen minutes, but that was twenty minutes ago and she’s got at least another ten blocks until she’s there.

It’s early Eleint and the heat still hasn’t seized its grip on Baldur’s Gate. Sweat beads on Tav’s forehead as she all but jogs through the streets, the straps of her bass case rub uncomfortably against her bare shoulders.

At least she can find some comfort in the music blasting from her headphones. Polar Apes just released a new album and while it’s not their best (their first one is), it’s definitely not their worst (their fourth one is).

Perhaps she’s distracted by the music, or perhaps it’s the harsh light from the sun that blinds her enough to run headfirst into something. Or someone.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man snarls.

The man she got a faceful of chest from scowls deeply at her, his tail swooshes irritably behind him. He’s tall and dressed elegantly in a turtleneck and a blazer. His shoulder length hair is tied back in a half-updo, a pair of browline glasses sit upon his long nose. He’s rubbing his chin, probably where one of her horns hit him. She should perhaps feel sorry, but his snarl didn’t make for a good first impression.

“Well, fuck me I guess. I could say the same to you, fancy boy,” Tav bites back.

Though one might not think it possible, the man’s scowl deepens. Tav doesn’t stop to think about it anymore, she’s in a hurry and makes a point of bumping his shoulder with hers as she passes by to continue her journey.

“Wait!” the man calls out behind Tav, and against her better judgement, she actually stops. Not without releasing a deep sigh, though.

“What?” she snaps and turns around with her arms folded over her chest.

“I – zurgan – I’m looking for Ramazith’s College,” he says. Tav glares at him in return, of course he’s one of those arrogant snobs. The school is known all over Faerûn for its classical music programme. The headmaster, Lorroakan, has a reputation of being a piece of shit and nowhere near as talented as he makes himself out to be. But still, it produces some of the best musicians on this plane. “Could you, perhaps, point me in the right direction?”

“If you say please.”

“Excuse me?” he blurts out. Tav continues to glare at him, her tail taps impatiently at the cobblestone. The man looks like he’s going through all five stages of grief before he resigns and says the magic word. “Please.”

“Alright, fancy boy.” She feels the side of her mouth curl into a lopsided smile, the man’s shoulders drop ever so slightly. “I don’t know how you ended up in Brampton, but you’re on the wrong side of town, so to say.”

“Well, I’m fully aware a prestigious college like Ramazith’s wouldn’t be located in a wretched place like this.” He gestures around him, the rundown buildings of Bramton are decorated with colourful graffiti. The area has suffered some gentrification the last couple of years, but it still carries that rugged charm Tav loves with her home. “How do I get to the right side of town?”

“The nearest metro is down that street.” She points to the street in question. “Hop off at the Wide and the college will be just a street down. It’s a huge tower, you can’t miss it.”

“And… If I were to walk?”

“Then you have a forty-five minute stroll in that direction,” Tav says and points… in the same direction she’s going.

Zurgan, indeed.

She weighs her options, either she walks with the arrogant man for another ten blocks or she takes a detour and actually risks getting kicked out of the band once and for all. The rapid buzzing from her phone in her front pocket makes the decision for her.

“I’ll walk with you.”

“There’s really no need.”

“Not the whole way for gods’ sakes,” Tav explains. “I’m heading that way.”

“I guess that’s acceptable.”

Tav huffs, which is the only sound any of them make for their whole walk. Tav keeps a fast pace throughout the streets but the lanky tiefling has no problem with keeping up while she’s dripping with sweat in her shorts and tank top.

When they finally arrive at the entrance of her rehearsal space. She should probably not lead him directly to what could be considered her second home but she figures she could send Karlach on him if he were up to any funny business.

“This is me,” she says and points to the building. The man scowls as he takes in the scenery, clearly not impressed by the rundown property but at least he doesn’t say anything. Tav repeats her directions once more to make sure the man finds his way and with an awkward wave, he heads off.

Tav shakes her head as she unlocks the old door and heads down to the basement. In the small room they call their studio Tav finds her friends, Lae’zel is behind her drums as usual and Karlach and Shadowheart are crammed in the small sofa.

Tav puts on her most apologetic smile.

“You’re late,” the githyanki says. “If you are not on time, how am I to trust you to be on beat?”

“Have I ever disappointed you, Lae?” Tav smiles.

“Yes,” Lae’zel deadpans. “Many times.”

“Easy now, rockstars,” Karlach interjects, knowing full and well the smaller tiefling and the githyanki can get at each other’s throats if not interrupted.

~*~

When Rolan arrived at Baldur’s Gate’s main station he had expected smooth sailing to his goal at Ramazith’s College. Getting the acceptance letter was a dream come true and he felt like his luck had finally turned. He’s always loved music but there was never enough money in the household for tutoring, just the old piano in the living room. Many evenings had been spent trying to get the hang of the sounds and make them sound beautiful together. Even more evenings had been spent learning how to read notes.

He had not expected to get lost in a rugged part of the Lower City. He had not expected to run into that little tiefling carrying a guitar case. She had almost pierced his skin with her horn as she collided with him. In all honesty he hadn’t been paying attention at all, he was busy trying to read the street signs and figuring out where the hells he came from.

Now she’s disappeared into a rundown building that doesn’t look safe at all. But her pierced nose, stretched earlobes and tattooed arms give the impression of someone who can handle themselves so he shouldn’t worry at all.

Wrong. He shouldn’t worry because he doesn’t care.

No, he’s got a forty-five minute walk in scorching heat, wearing too many layers to look forward to. He was just trying to look professional and now he’s going to have to get changed before he meets with Lorroakan.

Damnation, he’s already late.

He’s practically dripping with sweat as he arrives in the Upper City, but his thoughts are consumed with the magnificent tower in front of him. Pride and confidence flows through him, he’s finally where he’s supposed to be.

~*~

It’s just fucking typical that her strings were to break three days before their gig. It’s also fucking typical she has no spare ones and hardly enough coin to get her through the month. But, at least they’ve been promised some drinks for the gig. It’s not a huge gig, just at their local in Brampton, but still they’d like to make a good impression. Who knows who might be listening?

For such a big city as Baldur’s Gate, it should be considered strange that there’s really only one place for musical equipment - Sounderous Sundries. Tav doesn’t mind though, the building is as old as the town itself and the glass dome creates a colourful light around all the instruments that are on display. Especially the Gondian bass she’s been eyeing since the moment she was old enough to reach over the counter.

This time her attention isn’t turned to the instruments, but to the man tending the front desk. It’s the same man that Tav helped find his way to Ramazith’s a month ago. He looks a bit worse for wear, a bruise marks his cheekbone, perhaps he just runs face first into people all the time. He notices her just moments after she notices him.

“It’s you!” he blurts out.

“It’s me,” Tav concurs. “What are you doing here?”

“Working, I have to earn my keep somehow.” He straightens his back and clears his throat. “Welcome to Sounderous Sundries, how may I assist you today?”

Tav can’t help but snort out a laugh at the pretend sincerity.

“I need strings,” Tav says and points to her case on the back. “Gave up on me yesterday and we have a gig in three days.”

“One should always have spare strings at hand,” he mock-scolds. Tav rolls her eyes.. “Please, follow me.”

Though Tav is fully aware where the strings are located and which ones she wants she decides to indulge him. He leads her to a shelf, one arm folded over his chest and his other hand under his chin. He’s kind of cute like that, she thinks.

“You should come,” Tav says and gets a questioning look from the man. “To the gig! Could be good for you to listen to some real music instead of that pompous stuff you do at your school.”

“Excuse me, classical music holds depth and intricacies no other can capture. You’re just uncultured.” He frowns. “But please, enlighten me, what sort of music do you play?”

“Well, it’s kind of indie rock but with a garage feel and Shadowheart’s voice gives it a bit of a shoegaze vibe,” Tav explains.

“You’re just making up words.”

“Ugh, come see for yourself.” Tav digs through her pocket for her phone and opens a blank text. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details. I might even draw you a map!”

“Alright,” he mumbles and types in his number on the phone.

“Cool.” Tav grabs her usual pack of strings and heads towards the counter.

~*~

After a long day at Sounderous Sundries, Rolan finally gets back to his small dorm room. It doesn’t hold more than a bed, a desk and a small drawer for his clothes but he doesn’t need more. Between school, work or getting “tutored�� by Lorroakan he doesn’t spend much time there anyway.

He pops down on his bed right away and looks through the messages he’s missed during the day. Twenty-five unread messages in the family chat, something about Danis’ birthday. He makes a mental note of sending him a happy birthday later.

There’s one message from an unknown number, contrary to his better judgement it makes his heart flutter a little bit.

”hey, it’s tav! the girl from the store n the street. we’re playing at the nightowl, moss promenade 42. on stage at 11pm (we hope). bring friends if u like. see u there! ✨ ”

Oh, she writes like a teenager. His pulse stabilises.

And bring friends? He hasn’t had time to make any friends. But it would seem strange to show up by himself, if Cal and Lia were here he’d ask them, of course. He could ask the chatty trombonist in his musical history class. He’s a bit annoying but at least he won’t be sitting in the pub alone like some creep.

“Hi Tav! Good to finally put a name to your face. I’m Rolan by the way. Though I should focus on my studies, perhaps experiencing this “real music” of yours will broaden my knowledge. I shall see you there.”

It doesn’t take long for his phone to buzz again. Is she one of those people who are always on their phone?

“nice to meet u, rolan! 🌸 grab a drink with me after the show? 🍻 ”

Cal has been on about that he shouldn’t answer people right away, but Rolan’s never really understood the meaning of that. Making someone wait just seems impolite.

“Nice to meet you too, Tav. I could be persuaded to have a drink or two.”

“betcha i can make it three 😏”

He grins to himself, and types before thinking:

“Now, now, don’t be greedy.”

Hells, did he just send that? Yes, message sent. No little red exclamation mark. No divine intervention to make his phone dysfunction at this very moment. He throws his phone to the end of his bed and groans into his hands.

The phone buzzes again and he considers throwing it out the window instead, maybe even throwing himself with it. Avoid whatever scolding she’s got coming for him, change jobs, move to another town.

But, his curiosity can’t be sated. With a flick of his tail he retrieves the phone.

“haha maybe i will be 😈 ”

Oh.

~*~

They’ve set up, sound-checked and warmed up. Everything is as it should be. Still, Tav is nervous. It’s stupid, they’ve played here a couple of times before and they always have a great time. Yet tonight she can’t help but glance out at the crowded bar.

She doesn’t want to admit she’s searching for a certain face. But she’s definitely searching for a certain face.

They’ve texted every evening since she got his number and she really thought he’d be here. He gives the impression of enjoying their chats at least. Perhaps she’s just naive.

“Stop your senseless pining,” Lae’zel scolds her.

For once in her life, Tav actually agrees with the drummer. She sits down on the sofa in the crowded backstage space that can’t be more than a repurposed cleaning closet. Shadowheart flicks away Tav’s tail that was tapping impatiently against her knee and Karlach shoots her a comforting smile. It’s just a couple of minutes until showtime and she has to get her nerves in order.

Finally, it’s go time and Tav all but bounces out on stage. In a corner she couldn’t see from the angle backstage, she spots Rolan and a brown haired human by a table. He raises his tankard to her and she shoots him a grin.

She’s ready.

Lae’zel counts them in and then they’re off. Tav’s fingers move across the strings at what feels like their own accord, it’s instinct to her and it seems the same magic is working at the rest of the band. Shadowheart’s voice has never been clearer, Karlach solos rip through the whole locale and Lae’zel doesn’t miss a single beat.

They’re fucking tight.

Time stops and moves too fast at the same time. Tav is so lost in the moment she doesn't notice their thirty minute gig has run its course until she hears Shadowheart’s voice.

“We’re Last Light, thank you all for coming!”

Tav pants and takes a bow toward the cheering crowd before she turns to her bandmates. Even Lae’zel has a hint of a smile on her face.

“Ladies, you fucking slayed out there!” Tav blurts out and pulls them all into a hug once they’re back in their little cupboard.

“Right back at ya, rockstar!”

“You did not disappoint me today.” Lae’zel deadpans.

“Next time we should play somewhere bigger,” Shadowheart adds. “And for money.”

They all agree and share one more hug before they make quick work at taking down their equipment. They receive compliments from some of the regulars at the bar and then finally, <i>finally</i>, Tav can get her promised drink for the show they put on. The bartender is even happy enough with their performance to promise them a second and third round.

Tav gulps down the beer while avoiding other patrons as she manoeuvres herself to the table in the back corner. The men at the table are busy with some discussion that Tav just can't figure out for the love of her life. They seem to be in disagreement though, deep frowns on both of their faces. Tav makes herself known with a small laugh and golden irises turn to her.

“That was noisy,” Rolan states as a matter of fact.

“Always a charmer,” Tav teases and sits down next to him.

“I enjoyed getting a new experience under my belt,” Rolan continues in the same tone.

“Oh, so close to a compliment.” Tav pats Rolan’s shoulder condescendingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it next time.”

“You’re talented.” A smile spreads on his lips and one of his canines gets stuck on his lower lip. Tav almost chokes on her ale from how utterly adorable it is.

“Thank you,” Tav mumbles, a blush creeping up on her face, probably turning her usual blue hue into an embarrassing shade of plum.

In order to regain some decorum she turns to introduce herself to the other man by the table. Within seconds chatter fills the air around. The three of them share stories and laughter. Tav talks about Baldur’s Gate, recommending places to visit and which tourist traps to stay away from. In return she gets to hear about Waterdeep and Elturel.

When the rest of the band joins the table (“Scoot, everything else is full.”) Rolan wraps an arm around Tav’s waist to pull her with him as he slides down the bench. She tries really hard not to think about how his hand stays on her hip as the night continues on.

When the last call rings she doesn’t want it to end.

~*~

“Wanna get a nightcap?” Tav asks. She and him have fallen behind the others on their hunt for a late night meal.

“I would like to,” Rolan says, furrowing his brows. “But everything is closed.”

“Oh, I meant at my place,” she says, her face getting that lovely plum hue he noticed earlier in the pub. “But I get it if it’s too forward.”

Too forward? He’s been too forward all night, holding onto her waist like he owns her. When he had noticed what he had done it was too late to apologise without it getting even more awkward.

“Okay,” he says, not fully pleased with how pleadingly it comes out. “I mean, yes, I’d like that.”

“Fantastic! Prepare for a bit of a hike.”

She grabs his hand and pulls him down a side street. Though it technically isn’t a hike to her flat, just a three minute walk, there are five flights of stairs to climb before reaching Tav’s home. Rolan is panting once he gets to her floor but she doesn’t seem fazed at all. Must be used to it by now.

Her studio flat is small but charming, cosy even. There’s just enough space for a sofa and a small dining area, and a bed with what seems like an excessive amount of pillows. Posters of different bands he doesn’t recognise decorate the walls. In one corner her bass and an amplifier stand in a messy nest of cables. A thick, maroon carpet fills the floor and she’s extremely stubborn to make him take his shoes off before venturing further into her home.

The nightcap in question is a choice between a bottom shelf whiskey and an equally low-shelved red wine. He lets her choose for them and releases a small sigh of relief when she grabs two wine glasses.

Once the glasses are filled, she leans against the kitchen counter. A comfortable silence falls between them as icy blue eyes stare into his golden ones.

“I think I should thank you,” he muses.

“Whatever for?”

“For inviting me tonight.” He takes a step closer to Tav.

“Hm.” She chews her lip.

“Hm?”

“I think you should kiss me.”

“Ah, with pleasure.”

With one hand placed just above her tail he pulls her flush to his chest. Their lips meet carefully at first, exploring and testing out each other. It doesn’t take long for mouths to open, she tastes of the cheap wine and something he can’t place, something that’s just her.

Careful steps lead him backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits down, bringing Tav with him, her legs ending up on each side of his thighs. He can’t help but grin against her lips. Eager hands pull at all layers of fabric separating them, Tav’s tank top disappears first, then the zipper of her high-waisted shorts.

He lies back to admire her plump breasts and soft belly that he wants to run his tongue all over. At the same time she works with the buttons of his shirt and all blood must’ve been redirected to his cock because he doesn’t remember what he looks like underneath the thin cloth before lustful eyes turn into pitying ones.

“Rolan,” Tav whispers. “What happened to you?”

His blood freezes.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he tries to brush it off but his voice catches ever so slightly.

“I am many things but I’m no fool.” She gets off of him and sits down to the side of the bed. “I know a beating when I see one.”

He doesn’t want her to look at him like that, with pity, like he’s some wounded animal she needs to take care of.

“I said it’s nothing for you to worry about,” he snaps, standing up and buttoning his shirt back up.

“Please, Rolan.” She grabs his hand. “Who did this to you?”

He yanks his hand back.

“I said leave it,” he hisses. “I don’t need your pity.”

And with that, he leaves Tav’s flat. Slamming the door behind him with a force that invites no argument.

The streets are empty and cold as he heads home, the metro stopped running an hour ago, but his fury keeps him warm. How could he let his guard down like that? Allow her to within days tear down walls he’s worked hard on to build up.

No, he’s going to have to rebuild those walls, higher than ever before. He needs to be strong. And he’s stronger alone.

~*~

She fucked up. Utterly and completely fucked up. Tears stream down her face and it’s so fucking stupid, she’s only known him for three days. And she shouldn’t be crying, he’s the one who’s getting hurt, clearly not ready to talk about it, and she kept prying and prying.

Fuck!

She buries her face in her pillow and screams for all she’s got. Somewhere along the night either the alcohol or exhaustion from sobbing claims its victory and she falls into sweet oblivion.

As she rolls out from her bundle of blankets to slam down on her alarm clock, it’s not only her head that hurts. Her chest aches from how things were left off last night. Without even rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sends the first text.

“rolan i'm sorry. i shouldn’t have pried like that”

She gets no answer. She doesn’t really expect one either but she’s still disappointed.

“i get it if u don’t wanna talk i just need to know if ur alright and got home safe”

Of course he won’t be alright.

“i’m sorry”

“please just let me know ur safe”

As safe as he can be.

Shaky hands prepare coffee as she steals glances to the phone on her bed, hoping for the screen to light up before she has to jump into the shower.

But it doesn’t. It doesn’t light up as she gulps down her coffee and chews down a dried up croissant. It doesn’t light up as she dresses herself for the day. It doesn’t light up as she makes her way to the bistro where she waits tables.

Tav doesn’t hate her job, she doesn’t like it, but it’s work and she needs the coin. Today’s different though, she can’t even blame it on the hangover she’s rocking, she usually finds work a good distraction to a pounding head. But still the hours drag themselves by and every time she glances at the clock, she finds that no more than a couple of minutes have passed.

At her lunch break, as she sits in the alley behind the bistro, she finally has time to see if Rolan has answered. Her heart stings to see the only message she’s received is from Karlach.

“HOW DID IT GO WITH FANCY BOY? 👀 ”

Tav sighs and types.

“not well, he walked out. my fault tho”

“I’M SORRY TAV. WANNA TALK ABOUT IT?”

“idk i have to get my thoughts in order”

“I GET IT BABES <3 LEMME KNOW IF U CHANGE UR MIND”

The hours crawl by for the whole day, once she gets home she tries to pluck some lines to a new song they’re working on but nothing sounds right. She tries to listen to the latest Rana De Frey to see if she can feel something else, but even her usually patient neighbours are tired of her bullshit and shut her down with a couple of loud bangs to the wall.

Just as she’s about to give up for the night, she gets the text she’s been waiting for.

”I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

~*~

Rolan isn’t sure what he did to set off Lorroakan this time and why extravagant boots keep hitting his abdomen. Every time he thinks he’s got the man figured out something the headmaster takes an unexpected turn and punishes him for something new.

Perhaps he will never figure him out.

Perhaps that’s the point.

Something clicks. He almost feels it physically in his mind.

He’s either going to die in the hands of Lorroakan or he has to get away.

He knows he’s gambling his future, but he at least he’s not stupid enough to gamble with his life.

The problem with being in a new city where he hasn’t had time to make any connections is that there’s no one to ask for help from. There was someone who wanted to help him once, but he ruined that chance a month ago.

Perhaps she’ll forgive him if he just talks to her. Hah, he doesn’t remember getting a blow to his head but he’s clearly not thinking straight.

But what other choice has he got? He just needs somewhere to go to recover a bit and then he’ll figure out the next steps.

Though every part of his body aches and pain surges through him with every raspy breath, he stumbles across town. People send him looks, ranging from pitying to pure disgust but no one lends a hand. Bloody Baldurians, he thinks.

It takes him three attempts to remember the code Tav pressed in. He ignores the iron taste in his mouth and is probably running purely on adrenaline as he makes it up the stairs to her flat. He bangs on the door.

No one answers.

And he’s so godsdamned tired. He could go look for her at her rehearsal studio, but his legs won’t carry him any further. He slides down with his back against the wall.

He’ll wait here for her. He just has to rest his eyes for a bit.

#forget writes #rolan x tav #wip whatever

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saltybenchday · 2 years ago

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TAG GAME: EIGHT TEN (cuz I can’t count) SHOWS TO GET TO KNOW ME

Thanks for the tag @lordjohnwgrey!

Not sure if I have 8 whole shows, but let's see!

(this got long sry)

Favorites I will rewatch for eternity:

Outlander - I hate it here but I can't leave. Have rewatched an embarrassing number of times. Lord John deserves the whole entire world and I WILL fight anyone about this... 0/10 someone help me

Black Sails - Honest to goodness one of the best shows ever made. The writing is incredible, the acting is flawless, the camera work and staging are beyond clever. This show will ruin you for other shows...10/10 WATCH BLACK SAILS (should be tattooed on my forehead)

Bridgerton - Listen. It's got to be one of the most aesthetically pleasing shows ever. It's so pretty. The music, costumes and people are all just✨ pretty ✨...7/10 for the show, 10/10 for Kate Sharma

Comedies I love:

The Good Place - Comfort show, funny and well done, always happy to rewatch

Letterkenny - If you watch it, you know why it's amazing. If you don't you should. This show is modern-day Shakespeare and I'm not joking

Community - Listen, did it age well? No. Is it good past the first couple of seasons? Ok also, kind of no. But Troy and Abed 🤍

Random shows that somehow altered my brain chemistry:

Interview With a Vampire- I mean it's just *good*, like all around so well done. Literally no notes.

Our Flag Means Death - Look, do I feel a bit bitter at it being 'the gay pirate show' when Black Sails exists? Sure. But it's funny and goofy and wacky, and sometimes that's what you need.

Killing Eve - No, I haven't watched the last season because I know how it ends and I refuse. But damn it is some of the best acting I've ever seen, Jodie Comer is a goddess.

The Last of Us- Ok, this one is a bit of a surprise because I don't usually do scary. But holy hell I've cried TWICE. I never cry at shows, literally ever. Its message is really about love, and it is some of the best direction I've seen in a TV show

Ooops I wrote an essay 😬 No tags but if you like it say I tagged you and I'll hype you up 😘

#tag game #get to know me or at least my questionable taste in TV shows #Yes I did rate Outlander 0 out of 10 even though I spend hours of my life writing fic about it. Don't @ me.#Thanks kayjay this was fun

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edwardastormwrites · 2 years ago

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Juice Wrld and Why do I always add #thelight to my posts

written by Edward Storm

My name is Eddie Storm and I'm a writer. I'm a poet. I've been writing since age 13 and this is about the age when I started to become totally obsessed with music. Over the years I found myself obsessed with the huge variety of genres of music and many different particular artists. My first musical hero was Jim Morrison. He died in his addiction many years before I was born. I was 14 years old when Kurt Cobain died. I was 15 when Jerry Garcia died. Over the years many many more unbelievably talented musicians have died young as the result of substance abuse. One of the shining stars of the hip hop industry to recently pass away was the one and only Juice Wrld.

He was an amazing talent. I loved how multifaceted he was as a singer and how brave of a musician he was regarding the different genres he would blend together. I have never seen anyone free style like him. He wasn't afraid to collaborate with a wide range of musicians in the studio and on stage. His music to most people would be considered rap or hip hop but it clearly transcended those two genres. His lyrics were direct and to the point. Burn, burn, burn. He was a modern day soul singer and did not mind airing his darkest secrets and failures through his lyrics. He was a poet. He was also a kind hearted tolerant human being. He was a force for good. I get emotional thinking that the world lost such a great soul so young.

Bob Dylan is another poet. It turns out that just like Mr. Higgins, Mr. Zimmerman is also a remarkable human being n a force for good. I was a kid who started to appreciate his music at a very young age of 17. I saw him live for the first time at the age of 17 in Tinley Park, Illinois . Between the age of 17 and 40 I saw him live in concert almost 100 times on his never ending tour. Mr. Dylan has challenged himself time and time again to incorporate different types of sound into his studio albums and into his live performances. When he was very young he was considered a folk musician then he moved on to loud electric rock then country rock then gospel then bluesy gritty rock and blues then swinging country music then serious minded Grammy winning albums like Time out of Mind that discussed very heavy things like the loss of health, love, dreams, and much more. Today at the age of 80 he recently released one of the best albums of his career and has been touring ever since playing some of the best shows of his career.

When I listen to the music of Jarad Anthony Higgins I can hear the same sense of joy and courage that to marked Dylan as a performer and songwriter. Sadly we will never know what else the young man could have done with his career because of his problems with addiction. There are millions of us in America and around the world who suffer from the disease of addiction. Many of us never even have the chance to get any help or treatment. I am one of those people who suffers from the disease of addiction. Some of the most inspirational people in my life have also been some of the people who have had the most self-destructive habits. One of these was my mother, a person that I have spent 28 years of my life missing dearly. She seemed to handle situations with ease in life that would leave other people completely stumped and at a standstill. She did it with grace. I found this hilarious! Losing her a month before my sixteenth birthday was tough, but luckily she haf already instilled a pretty realistic “theory of everything” in me. I understood that life was not fair and it never would be but that everything was still ok. Accept it and get ahead of it as fast as possible. Have as much fun as you can doing it, see, life is simple. . She was not an artist of any kind by this I mean she was not a painter nor a photographer nor a poet nor a professional comedian, I guess I would say that instead the world was canvas and she herself was the art. She was the type of person that rarely shows up in photos but when they do they seem to be popping out of the photograph. Do you know these type of people? The way she moved the way she talked the way she inspired it was masterful, one of God's many many masterpieces. You are not perfect, and by a long shot my friend but I promise you are a masterpiece. If you haven’t realized that you are a masterpiece well that is ok, you just have to hit the books a little harder You know what my mother’s job was? She taught kids with severe behavioral disorders. The type of kids who will knife a teacher in the back at age 14. No one knifed my mother. She was their defender, the told them they had the right to be themselves and that those who didn’t want our attention were not worth it anyway. This takes love. She showed love, they gave it right back even harder. Love wins. Love can live forever but we do not live forever.

I am so sick of losing not only family but close friends to the disease of addiction. In 2022 I lost two friends both under the age of 30 to senseless overdoses. I can no longer count the number of people I have known over the past 10 years who have suffered a death in some way related to addiction.

One of my favorite songs by juice wrld is THE LIGHT. About a month ago I opened an Instagram account for the first time to start to promote my poems and flash fiction . Every little thing I write is for all of you like Juice Wrld who struggle through each day with addiction. Each day your memory keeps me brave and keeps me writing on. The light is with me, the light is with you, the light is millions of souls bright and don't you ever forget that. Keep the good fight for freedom burning through your sharing my people. When it's dark outside you're always the light.

-Eddie Storm

#poetry #poem #edwardstorm #music #poetryisnotdead #eddie storm #read poetry #soundcloud #poetryisnotaluxury #poetrytribe #poetryforever #poemsofchange

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 7 years ago

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I've been to Wildwood. The Jersey Shore is crazy in general but wildwood is next level. The board walk has like 200 of the same t-shirt store, feels like you're walking through the fires of hell, and is jam packed with kids on camp trips. I've only ever done the board walk there but I've seen the walk you have to take to get out to the beach, it's insane. I can only imagine what it's like with family. How old are your cousins and what are they like?

My family has literally been coming to Wildwood every year since, like, at LEAST the 1930’s, I’m not sure on anyone earlier than that, and my family is insane, so let’s dive into this.

The Main Characters In My Life On Vacation Are:

-My Grandmother, who was a child dancer star (she tapped on the radio!) who’s been coming down here her whole life- her parents used to come down the same day there would be a talent show, enter her in it, and then use her first prize reward for the money they’d spend throughout the week. Has been in the old person stage of “I’m an elder, who cares what I say or do” for the past 15 years. Has eight living kids and Too Many Descendants. Loud and refuses to admit she can’t walk half the time.

- My Mother, who gets confused very easily, overshares and breaks off into meaningless tangents in the middle of stories, snores like a literal demon, always wants to be asleep, keeps pushing for family activities, doesn’t realize all the kids think she’s lame.

- Me, who is always Extra Depressed in the summer months, and is the Sole Person In This Family My Age- everyone just stopped having babies for a few years when my mother decided to have me (Everyone is either over 25 or under 16). Because of this I’m usually confined to my room, unable to really do anything on the boardwalk because going on rides alone is depressing and my mother has heart problems. Just wants to read and write, but the children keep Screaming.

- My Aunt and Her Husband- A Very Loud Couple, she likes to control everything and he’s the only one who ever bothers to yell back at her. They always fight exactly once, every year, and every year somehow I always end up being the only other person in the apartment while its happening, so I just have to sit in awkward silence until my aunt finally huffs out “I can’t believe you’re doing this in front of my goddaughter!” and storms out to go find her kids. They make a lot of jokes and think their children are very dramatic.

- Jenna, the 14 year old cousin. Very dramatic. Mastered the art of the eye roll at a young age. Has literally looked like a mini model since she was born. Can’t be bothered to deal with anyone. We usually have one (1) tiny girl-bonding moment each vacation and then she promptly acts like she doesn’t care even though it’s clear she does. Athletic and artistic and musically/theatrically gifted. Very sarcastic. Always doing cartwheels.

- Seanie, the 12 year old cousin. Middle child syndrome. Tries to hard to be funny for attention. VERY dramatic. Will cry at the drop of a dime (I’m typing this and I literally just heard him burst into tears in the other room??). Super adorable, you can tell he’s gonna be one of those high school boys that pulls Ridiculous Shit but after one charming smile the teachers can’t bring themselves to stay mad. Very loud. Currently addicted to video game youtubers.

-Zack, the 7 year old cousin. Adorable. Loud. Lowkey a prodigy child but they can’t afford to get him into Special Schools so he’s always bored in class. Baby Of The Family syndrome. Currently in an aggressive pokemon phase. Doesn’t understand he’s literally a child, he acts like an old man half the time.

We’re all shoved into a small apartment for a week, but there are Others:

- Kathy, Grandmom’s second oldest. Literally the most bland person I have ever encountered on this planet. Very, very into trying to plan ‘fun’ family events. Thinks any conversation is a riveting conversation.

- Kathy’s husband, who is just a plain old guy who’s lowkey a hoarder and jokes around a lot, but every time someone mentions his past or his family it gets more and more confusing??? He may have a brother who was in the CIA??? He may have been homeless or he may have lived with his sister???? He may have killed a man???? I literally know nothing concrete about this man other than he’s apparently been with my aunt since they were teens but I. D. K. Every new piece of information I receive just scatters the puzzle more.

- Their eldest daughter and her husband spend most of the summer down here but always make sure to match up the schedule for when we come down. Loud, energetic couple. I have no idea what either of them do for work? They might currently be unemployed? Really into alcohol. At some point in the week every year, everyone in my apartment bonds together to diss them after we get back from the beach. Like, they’ll do something or another EVERY YEAR that sets EVERYONE off.

- The 16 year old. Tries to show everyone memes on his phone. Never really talks to people. Does NOT get along with his parents because he’s kinda an outlier in the family. I feel like he might be a stoner, but if I find out he’s got a hidden gun collection, I wouldn’t be surprised? That probably sounds awful but he’s a good kid I promise.

- Danny, 12. Adorable. Quiet. Mini golden boy. Makes jokes when you aren’t expecting them. Very resigned to the fact he has to hug me and my mother when he sees us.

- Kathy and Mystery Man’s youngest daughter, a librarian, and her stand up comedian husband, and now their three month old who is ADORABLE and everyone was surprised to learn they hadn’t named her Hermione.

Other recurring family members are prone to popping up throughout the vacation- Aunt Margie, Grandmom’s sister-in-law, who, I love her, but remember that chocolate episode of spongebob with the old woman that was essentially a stick in a wheelchair and had a chain smoker voice??? Put that in the tiniest bikini you can imagine and add a wheezing laugh and you got her. Her daughter who I could not recognize on a street if I tried. Her son Michael, who is best friends with my mom and apparently Not Gay (no one’s really convinced). A step-cousin sometimes pops by, she’s very breezy and easy-going and you can’t distinguish her Actual Talking Voice with her Talking To Little Kids Voice.

Anyway, Wildwood itself is just. Goddamn ridiculous.

The aesthetic of this place is somewhere between the 1950’s, a trailer park, and the kind of developed land you get when a moustache-twirling man wants to convince all the old people he can to retire to his buildings. Some buildings are harsh metal, and others are bright pastels, but the only thing joining them together is the fact that it looks like no one has cleaned anything here in years. EVERYTHING, even the knew stuff, looks worn and faded. Even like…the AIR is faded. It’s not just the sun being too bright, everything you’re looking at looks like it’s an old photograph. If you stay too long, you might start to fade into the landscape yourself.

I have never once seen an animal that wasn’t a seagull here. Most towns, islands, places, whatever- you usually have at least squirrels running around, maybe some variations of birds, just. ANYTHING. But it’s all seagulls all the time. You cannot exist in a spot for longer than a few moments without one of them dive bombing you. They are not mere birds. They are feathered demons that Hath No Fear Of The Foolish Mortals Of Mankind.

The song “Wildwood Days” plays on the Boardwalk every half hour. It is the only way to appease the spirits. It’s the modern, New Jersey-ian version of painting lamb blood over your door frame. As much as I’ve grown to hate the song, to twitch and clench my fist at each note, I deeply fear for the day the song doesn’t play on time and the curse is unleashed. I have a deep, sinking feeling that this moment will come within my life time.

If You Don’t Stop To Watch The Fireworks, Your Bones Shall Never Be Found.

You hear the ongoing chant of “Watch the Tram Car, Please!”, and look around, but there isn’t a Tram Car coming. The order grows louder and louder. You realize you aren’t even on the Boardwalk any more. The sound is right behind you, but you can’t find the source. “Watch the Tram Car, Please!” you realize, to your horror, the sound is now coming from inside you. You never find your true voice again.

Despite The Fact That This Place Is A Mosh Pit Of Families From All Over The World, If You Can’t Immediately Place My Accent Or Figure Out What Language I’m Speaking, I Have Legal Grounds To Kill You.

The sand simply isn’t normal. It’s ADVANCED sand. It doesn’t make sense. It never truly washes off. The more you scrub, the more appears.

Ancient gods from multiple pantheons like to chill out on the beach, have a few beers. You never know for sure who is who, but you Know they aren’t the same as you, and you know they know more about you than you’re comfortable with. For your own sake, NEVER ask them to turn their music down.

There is always at least one plane flying over with a sign reading “Jen, will you marry Sean?”. It’s been decades. Will Jen ever say yes?

Elevators Are For The Weak And We Use Them To Judge Who To Do Away With First.

The ocean goes back and forth between green and grey, and you know the color makes a significant difference but you can never quite put your finger on what.

Fish Are Fake.

All the stores sell everything you want, but nothing you need.

King Kong Is Our Fierce Protector, Loving Hero, And Just Enforcer

All the police officers and firemen and general ‘in charge’ jobs seemed to be run completely by 18 years olds

No one truly knows who pulls the shots when it comes to deciding the Boardwalks style each year. Every store sells the same Designated Style, and each year they make less and less sense. You buy a specialized hoodie anyway, and you have no idea why.

I could keep going on with that list, but the point is, Wildwood is a Strange Place and I have a Ridiculous Family, so every year is always a bit of an experience.

Like, no one in my family really has anything in common other than everyone’s always loud and everyone’s always right and everyone is always ready to loudly fight over the fact that they’re definitely right, but like. Imagine crawling through some Hillbilly Murder Showers in the garage of a condo, using all of your force to pry open a suspiciously heavy and questionably mechanized door, walking under the boardwalk and trekking over sand dunes just to find a bunch of screaming yet physically relaxed people under the flag for Montserrat. Some guy’s cracking stand up jokes while no less than three children are fighting each other, your mother is promising for the 14th year in a row that you’re gonna go on a whale watching trip and everyone knows she’s lying, some woman’s trying to hold a conversation about buying applesauce in bulk while her husband and children get drunk, there’s a skinny pale guy with horrible sunburn blasting songs from N.W.A., a girl’s cartwheeling around the site to the point you think she doesn’t know how to move any other way, a boy’s quietly drinking pickle juice, there’s a 7 year old literally trapped in a giant hole that he dug, your mother is snoring loud enough to alarm the people around you, and just when you’re starting to get a little comfortable about the feathered demons and start to relax, a tide comes in so strongly your chair literally starts getting pulled out to sea with you in in. It’s average. It's fading into the landscape with the rest of the place.

#I was gonna make this Funnier and go into more specifics about my family but im literally about to pass out so night #wildwood #family #vacation #molly's memories #asks #molly mumbles

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