#like someone straight up started with 'this song is terrible' and then proceeded to write a paragraph about how bad it was

[that-was-anticlimactic]

there’s something so sacred about sharing what you love with others: whether it be a song or food or clothes, a show or a movie or pictures. it's just... such a deep and personal thing, you know? having someone carve out a little part of their heart and gift it to you with an abundance of joy and excitement and passion... yeah.

[unholyobsessions]

the good side

Pairing: former Luke x fem!Reader, Julie x Luke

Description: In the end, you ended up hurt and Luke ended up happy

A/N: this is kinda all over the place but i actually really like it

Warnings: heartbreak, alluded depression

Word Count: 2.0k

Prompt for jatp song fic february: week 1 Romance. A failed relationship based on The Good Side by Troye Sivan. @jatpsongficfeb @dream-a-little-bigger-x @bright-molina​ 

Masterlist

Happiness

That’s the one word you would have used three months ago to describe your relationship with Luke. When seeing his smile made yours grow wider, and looking into his eyes made you fall more in love.

Complicated

The word you would have used two months ago, when the fights were a little more common than you liked to admit and both of you were hurt by words you couldn’t take back. 

Crumbling

Is what it was a month ago, when you would roll over in the morning to find Luke already gone and the silence in the apartment rang louder than the screaming matches that followed. 

Over 

Is the word you use now, as Luke packs what is left of his clothes and slams the door behind him, leaving you to fall to your knees and cry at the loss of his arms around you. The weight of the promise rings in your hand is too much and you throw them at the door. 

Heartbreak isn’t an emotion you’re unfamiliar with, you’ve had your fair share of failed relationships. But you never expected to feel this with Luke. 

Luke who told you he was going to marry you one day. Who would hold you close and whisper lyrics of love songs he had written for you, proclamations of adoration that he promised to sing to the world one day.  

You stay in the empty hallway, loud sobs racking your body until the sun starts to rise over the horizon, showering the room with a golden glow from the window. 

Your throat is burning and you can barely feel your legs, but you force yourself to get up. You head to the shower, letting the burning water pelt against your skin until it turns cold. 

Your friend comes over later that day but you can’t bring yourself to explain. She holds you close against her chest, promising that everything will get better, but you’re not sure if you believe her. There’s too many memories, too much love still in your heart that you don’t want to let go off. Letting go means accepting it’s over and deep down, you don’t want it to be. 

You stay in bed for a week, not having the strength nor the motivation to get up. Other friends come over, forcing you to eat and you do so robotically. Life doesn’t feel real. You feel as if this is all some terrible dream and when you wake up, you’ll be in Luke’s arms again. 

. . .

Luke is on Cloud 9. His fingers sting from the long hours of playing his guitar and his throat feels sore from months of singing lyrics into a microphone, only to hear people sing them back to him. 

The last not of the last song echoes in his ear and he turns around, grinning at Alex who is holding the cymbal with the tips of his fingers. Julie holds the note longer than any of them, her voice blending with the screams of the fans. Reggie is bouncing, still full of adrenaline and Luke admires him, because he is exhausted and can barely stand on his feet. 

“Thank you L.A. for making our last show one of the best, we’re Julie and the Phantoms-“ 

“Tell your friends,” the three guys join Julie for the last statement. With a final bow, they all exit the stage and in a flurry of excitement, Luke jumps on Alex’s back. This has declared the end of their first world tour and although Luke loved it, he is sure he could sleep for the next twenty years. 

He met them, the band, shortly after breaking up with you, at an open mic night. Right as his set ended, he was ambushed by his now bandmates, Alex, Reggie, and Julie, all of whom started rambling and shooting him rapid-fire questions until his head spun. He clearly remembers putting his hands up and yelling “Shut up!” Causing all three mouths to snap closed. He proceeded, “What exactly are you asking me?”

It was Julie who spoke, “We want you to join our band.” 

Everything seemed fast paced from then, it started with him meeting with them, trying out writing songs together and things just clicked. Every thought was finished by Julie, every melody completed by Reggie, every idea supported by Alex. 

And, caught in the moment, he didn’t find the time to be heartbroken, to miss you. He got over you before he even realized it and suddenly, he was falling in love again. 

Luke naturally gravitates toward Julie, orbiting around her like the earth does the sun. He can’t help it, and he’s not sure he understands it. He just finds himself longing for those small, unintentional touches, the intense eye contact during a song, the proximity of sharing a mic with her. 

Then it happens. Julie is playing a melody on the piano, and Luke is sitting next to her, eyes closed and envisioning the lyrics forming before him. Julie shifts and now her thigh is pressed against Luke’s. His eyes snap open and he turns to her, finding her already looking at him. His eyes shift down and he registers a small nod of her head, and before he can think himself out of it, he surges forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that takes both their breath away. 

They smile lovingly at each other when they pull away and then they continue writing the song. 

. . . 

You haven’t heard from Luke. Not since the door closed. You haven’t heard his voice for over a year but you recognize it as soon as you hear it on the radio. 

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story 'bout a girl

You hadn’t been paying attention to the station, or what the radio host was saying. But you know, you are so sure that it is Luke singing the song. Your heart clenches as you listen to the lyrics, ones you had never heard in your life, which means that he had written this after the breakup. Your chest aches with hope, could this be about you? Is there still some part of him that wants you back? Still loves you as much as you love him? 

It takes only a few seconds for your hope to be crushed, because a new voice starts singing, a woman’s voice. 

Here in front of me

Shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

And it’s stupid, because you can’t see them, the song isn’t even live. It’s a recorded studio version, most likely recorded separately, but somehow you can still feel it. 

Love. Pure unadulterated love, that this girl feels for Luke, your Luke. And that Luke feels for her. 

It crushes you. Tears starts streaming down you face and a heart-wrenching sob cuts through your throat. You pull over, ignoring the honking of the car behind you as you merge into the next lane. Straight from a movie, it starts to rain, and you change the station, not bearing to listen to the love of your life fall in love with someone else. 

The tears don’t stop coming and you turn the volume up, not wanting to hear the sound of your own anguish. You stay there for an hour, until you’ve run out of tears, and your throat feels raw. 

You somehow make your way home and as soon as your head hit the pillow, you cry yourself to sleep.

. . .

Luke saw you once, two years after you parted ways. You didn’t see him, too busy staring down at the street as your friends dragged you to a store. It was clear to anyone, but especially to him, that you were miserable. And Luke didn’t want to believe that it was because of him, despite what people say his ego isn’t that big. So he followed you, calling out to Julie, Alex, and Reggie where he was going. 

He stayed hidden, not wanting you to notice him. He was about to give up after fifteen minutes of finding out nothing, when one of his songs started booming from the store speakers. 

Luke sees you freeze and then sees your friends immediately lead you out of the store. He hides behind a rack of clothes when you walk past him and he spots a trail of tears falling down your cheeks. 

He doesn’t want to believe it, he thought you would be okay. He never expected you to not get over him. He wanted you to move on, find happiness. Just like he did. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, and is shocked when he feels a hand on his arm. Whirling around, he comes face to face with Julie, who has a worried look on her face. 

“Luke? You okay?” Alex and Reggie are a few steps behind her, both equally confused. 

“Yeah Jules,” he presses a kiss to her temple for good measure and she smiles up at him. “I’m just thinking about a new song.” 

. . .

It takes Luke a few minutes to register that the fans are still screaming. 

“One more! One more! One more!” Echoes through out the arena. They all look at each other, wondering if they should go out there again, and play one more song. Eventually, the love for their fans beats their tiredness and they bound back up the steps and to the stage, their instruments still there. 

“Alright L.A. we’ll give you guys one more song.” Alex says into his mic, twirling a drumstick around his fingers. Luke pulls the strap of his guitar over his body along with Reggie and Julie goes to sit on her keyboard. 

Luke leans forward on his mic, and he realizes that they didn’t discuss what song they were going to play. He turn his head and it seems that his bandmates are all thinking the same thing because they start sending each other looks. Luke is about to give his own input, but for some reason, decides to turn his head. 

What he sees knocks the breath out of him. You’re standing there, in a worn out pair of black jeans and a random t-shirt. He feels himself lean forward again, starting to speak without even consulting his band. “This next song is one that we’ve been working on,” he pauses to look at Julie. They all know what song he’s talking about, because it’s the only song he’s been able to finish in the last few months, as if the universe won’t let him write another song until he achieves closure. His girlfriend nods at him and starts playing the melody. With a small, shy smile, he looks directly at you, willing you to understand. “Hope you like it.” 

I got the good side of things

Your friend dragged you to the concert. Not telling you whose it was until you were already inside the arena. You wanted to run away and there were tears already welling up in your eyes. She pulled you to your seats and promptly scolded you, telling you that this was your chance. Your chance at closure, to finally write the ending to the Luke chapter of your life. “You won’t get over him unless you confront him,” she said. And knowing that you would never talk to him, going to his concert seemed like the best way. 

You hate to admit that she’s right. At first, you had to bite down tears and force yourself to stay, but then you find yourself getting lost in the music. You enjoy yourself and as the concert came to a close, you felt that maybe, it is possible to move on. 

But then they came back out. And every word, every lyric, every note change struck deeper and deeper within you, and as you meet Luke’s eyes, which are looking only at you, you know who the song is meant for. 

And baby, I apologize

But you can’t do it. You can’t forgive him, not yet. Maybe not ever. You can try to forget about him but the scars he left behind will always be there, as a reminder of what you lost. And as the last note comes to a close, Luke’s voice drowned out by screams, you shake your head. 

Luke’s shoulders fall but he nods, he understands. You walk away and he lets you, because what he wrote, what he just sang, still holds true. 

[lyracasstuff]

I'm glad you enjoyed reading it, especially since I'm not too sure yet in my writing skills yet..(⌒_⌒;)

However,, can I just say that BOTH of those ideas sound good?? I'll be honest in saying that I wouldn't mind doing the both of them, but in their own respective posts of course..

But for now,,the prompt that I'll be focusing on today would be Margie x fem! S/o

❤Margaretha x fem! S/o💃🏻

One day,, you were walking around the manor looking for your sweetheart Margie,, asking the other survivors and even some hunters about her whereabouts..

Until Joker came up to you and said that she had been at the manor's garden practicing *something*

He didn't know what that *something* is when you asked him about it. So you made it a point to yourself to figure it out on your own..

Once you were in the garden,, sure enough you saw Margie dancing to a song,, then shortly finishing it with a closing pose right at the center of the garden surrounded with all the pretty flowers with the sunlight hitting her *just right* that makes it seem like the spotlight is on her..

She looked so ethereal,, you can't help but think to yourself that she truly IS deserving of being a dancer....(´∀`)

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you started walking towards her..

Margie heard some light footsteps,, so she opened her eyes, quite pleased and happy to see that it was her darling Sugar Plum Fairy who had come to visit and check up on her..❤

((Can you tell that I like giving nicknames to readers depending on their request????))

"Sugar Plum! Oh, what a joy to see you!! May I ask what brings you here?"

You explained that you were looking for her, and asked her what was she doing practicing a dance for??

Margie said "I'm so sorry you had to look for me s/o! I was just practicing a dance that I thought you can dance to, I know you like seeing me dance, but I also would LOVE it if I could get you to dance with me!"

Now,, let's face it, but you probably aren't as amazing of a dancer as Margie over here and KNOWING that, it made you a tad *bit* nervous...

But Margie assured you that she had come up with a routine that is easy enough for you to understand and follow.

And so,, the practice has begun!( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

The both of you spent some time practicing the routine.. With you may or may not fumbling over your footing countless times..(^_^;)

However, Margie is quite understanding and patient of your mistakes..(^.^)

"Aww, don't be so down on yourself Sugar Plum, you'll get it correctly over time!"

It was like that...... For a while...

Because at some point in the choreography, the routine called for numerous spins, twirls, and leaps. They weren't really hard to do

But the AMOUNT of times that you had to do it would make anyone feel dizzy and nauseous.. And you were no exception..

Spinning around only to entangle your legs like ropes intertwined together, twirling around and bumping into Margie, or leaping then SOMEHOW landing straight into your face which made Margie terribly concerned..

"Oh dear, are you okay Sugar Plum?"

You had some dirt and minor cuts on your face but nothing really fatal((thank god...))

After recovering from the fall,, Margie suddenly let out a small laugh, you can only presume it was because of your mistakes.. "My sincerest apologies for laughing, however, I must say that your attempts were quite humurous, dear.."

You can't help but snicker at her comment, since you WERE quite silly at your attempt to learn the choreography.

Margie stared at you lovingly for a second or two before her expression changed, almost seemed as though a light bulb had lit up on the top of her head...

Margie then stood a little away from you... Then proceeded to imitate and exagerrate your actions earlier..

From spinning too comically fast to leaping while flailing her arms wildly, she was recreating your "dance" while giggling every once in a while..

Honestly,, with anyone else, you might feel a little insulted, but for some reason, you find it charming and endearing when it's Margie who's doing it, so you can't help but just smile and giggle along with her..

You stood up, walked up to her, and tell her that you'll show her the "proper" way and for her to follow your lead.. I mean, you can't just let her have all the fun right??

Margie knew you what you were up to,, but she still followed suit while giggling "hehe, very well! Please show me the "proper" way of dancing, madame!"

From there,, the both of you began your "dance lessons"...（・∀・）

From prancing around the garden while interlocking arms like small children, Margie dramtically dipping you SO down your head almost touches the ground while she has a rose in her mouth, to running and leaping around throwing flower petals everywhere..

You both had a lot of fun, needless to say..( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

When the both of you are all tired out,, you two had decided to lie down on the grass to look up at the light blue sky that's starting to turn orange due to how late the afternoon it was..

While you two were catching your breaths from your silly shenanigans, you would point out some weird shapes in the clouds and Margie would do the same in return..

You once pointed out a cloud that was in the shape of an elephant that slowly turned into a lion...

Margie was quite amused by how the clouds can drastically change like that..

Finally, when the both of you were fully rested, you two got up and started tidying up the garden from earlier..

"I must admit s/o, it's been such a long time since I'm able to have fun like this! The last I felt this way was when... I was younger. So thank you s/o..."

You knew what she was talking about, it was her "experiences" before she met you. So to hear her like this, it made your heart melt, to know that you could be someone to make her happy in these times..

For a while, you two have been staring at each other, almost as if you're communicating each other's feelings

Margie then stepped forward and closed the distance between you two with a sweet kiss as she wrapped her arms around your neck.

You were taken a back at first,, then soon returned her gesture by hugging her close by wrapping your arms around her waist.

You both had stayed like that for a couple of minutes before you parted. Margie smiled softly while interlocking your hand with hers..

"Come now Sugar Plum, it's getting late already, the others might be worried about us if we stay here for too long. We'll just have to practice the routine for another time, hehe.."

And with that, the both of you made your way back into the manor before dusk. You never really learned the routine at that time, but to see your sweetheart smile in exchange was definitely worth the price..❤

💃🏻❤💃🏻❤💃🏻❤💃🏻❤💃🏻❤💃🏻❤💃🏻❤💃🏻❤

Author's note: Second headcannon request done!! Like I said in the beginning I'll be writing for the Fiona x fem! S/o prompt sometime after I finish the other requests people have sent me, but for now, this will have to do..（⌒▽⌒）

Also,, Happy Valentine's/Single Awareness Day!!ヾ(＠^∇^＠)ノ❤❤❤

May you all be happy with OR without a special someone!!（⌒▽⌒）❤

Until next time!! I'll see you all in my next post!! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ💚

[btsmosphere]

When You Know | KSJ x MYG

~summary: Seokjin and Yoongi aren’t just neighbours. They are enemies. Well, either that or they were destined to be in each other’s arms, but Yoongi can’t see that happening (nor can his cat). Let their friends try all they want, but they’d have to weather storms together and stand back to back in battle before Yoongi would look twice at Jin... Jin x Yoongi ~word count: 3.3k ~enemies to lovers, soulmate au (you have the name of your enemy AND your soulmate tattooed, without knowing which is which), neighbour au, crack, humour, fluff, angst if you squint? Rating: pg13 Warnings: swearing, that’s it :) ~a/n: welcome to my first mxm fic! This is for a special occasion as it is the wonderful @eternalseokjin​‘s birthday!! To celebrate Dean’s birthday over at @thebtswritersclub​ we were sent a bingo card and a challenge to include everything on it in one fic. Our regular mxr content will resume soon, but this has been super fun to write, even if the outcome is -ahem- quite chaotic. So, enjoy, but don’t ask me what’s going on here. I don’t know, and the characters certainly don’t either...

At the end of the fic, I will include what was on my bingo square, in case anyone wants to know, and some basics about d&d for those who (like me a few weeks ago) know nothing about it, but I promise you don’t need to know this to read the fic!

“You’re not serious.”

“I am totally serious.”

Namjoon’s straight-faced response matched Yoongi’s exactly, leaving the two in a sort of staring contest. Seeing no change in the other, Namjoon cracked first, slumping back into the sofa with a sigh.

“Yoongi, come on. It’s not that big of a deal-“

“Why would I want to do it?” Yoongi grumbled.

“it’s just a bit of fun-“

“Then go and do it with Seokjin. I’m sure you’ll have a great time playing wizards, or whatever the fuck-“

“That’s the entire point!” Namjoon threw his hands up in frustration, “we will all be playing, you and Jin included, and we will have a great time.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he had ever been threatened with having fun before. Staring back at his friend, his expression remained guarded. Eventually, he sucked at his teeth, turning his eyes away from the younger man.

“Fine,” he bit out.

“Thank you,” Namjoon huffed, pushing on his knees to stand up, “we’ll start at 5 on Sunday, but I’ll get here earlier. Jin will bring food to make up for the trouble.”

Following Joon out to see him off, Yoongi’s brows furrowed.

“Wait- what trouble? And what do you mean you’ll get here-“

“You’ll be hosting. Okay, bye!”

The door was shut in his face before he could protest any further. Cursing Namjoon for knowing him so damn well, Yoongi stomped to the kitchen and soon began scrubbing the teacups to within an inch of their life.

He’d heard of dungeons and dragons before. Well, vaguely. It hadn’t occurred to him before to pay attention to Namjoon whenever he spoke about it, because surprisingly enough, he hadn’t expected his friend to suddenly whip it out as a method of forcing him and Seokjin – his mortal enemy – to bond.

The whole mortal enemy thing wasn’t even an exaggeration.

What else were you supposed to think when the new neighbour, whose name happens to be printed on your wrist, tries to turn your cat over to the authorities on their first day after it launched a ‘targeted attack’ on their pet sugar gliders.

Yoongi was yet to meet the mysterious V that graced his other wrist, but he knew for sure that Kim Seokjin was his enemy. He could not be soulmates with someone who thinks it’s okay to leave a pair of sugar gliders by an open window and not expect a cat to see them as a tasty meal.

When they had learned each other’s names, and of course connected them with their tattoos, an icy silence fell between the neighbours.

Every now and then, Yoongi would get a reminder of the fact his mortal enemy lived next door. Like this morning, when Seokjin’s wheely bin had blown over and spilled rubbish onto his lawn.

Yes, that man’s evil knew no limits.

And if Yoongi would have to endure his friends’ attempts at reconciling the two of them, in his own house, then he was sure of one thing. He was not going to eat Seokjin’s cooking. It was probably awful, anyway.

That Sunday, at precisely five minutes to five, Namjoon arrived. Yoongi’s eyes widened in alarm at the bulging folder held under his arm. He really had come prepared. Yoongi had barely spent twenty minutes scribbling down some things about his character. Well, except when he had to read all about the different class choices… and then when he needed to select the perfect traits… and picking his spells was quite tough too…

“Are you excited?” Namjoon grinned as he set his stuff down, but then he faltered, “…I did tell you Jin would bring food, didn’t I?”

“Can’t remember,” Yoongi muttered.

He slouched over to the sofa while Namjoon shrugged, grabbing a bite from the nearest bowl of snacks. The table was littered with them, and Yoongi would never admit just how early he had got up that morning to start cooking.

Jungkook turned up next, and of course the brat would instantly wolf down the tub of popcorn rather than the bites Yoongi had been slaving over.

Seokjin’s was the last knock on the door, and a timid one at that. Although it may have had something to do with the food his arms were laden with.

As Yoongi opened the door (Namjoon had shoved him towards it before anyone else had the chance to respond), he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty. It seemed his neighbour had worked just as hard as him on preparing it all.

But still, more of a grimace than a smile showed on his face.

“This way,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

His guilt was short-lived, irritation setting back in as Seokjin invited himself into the kitchen to put down his things. Jungkook bounded after him almost instantly, the pair’s loud greeting audible from the next room.

Turning away bitterly, Yoongi sat in the empty seat between Namjoon and Taehyung, determined to keep his distance from Seokjin.

In time, however, he came to regret this decision, if only because it put Seokjin in full view of the eyes Yoongi so desperately wanted to roll when he announced he wanted to attempt to charm his way to free dinner at the first inn they got to. His reason? His stupid elf claimed to be ‘worldwide handsome’.

The infuriating smirk on his face as he declared this (and then proceeded to pass his roll, because of course) left Yoongi with little doubt this arrogance was nothing but a projection.

After introducing themselves, Yoongi slumping back in his chair the whole time, he let the others take the lead as they set off to find monsters, or something. A pointed look from Namjoon prompted him to pay more attention.

In fairness, he had been a bit creeped out when Taehyung announced he had named his character ‘V’, but he tried his best to listen to the adventure as Namjoon described it. And so they went along, the supply of snacks steadily dwindling as they made their way through some ruins.

The scene was quite vivid, until-

“That’s cat food, Jungkook!”

“Urgh, gross,” Jimin groaned as Jin pried the bowl away from the sheepish-faced younger.

If it had been anyone else, Yoongi would have returned the fond-but-exasperated look they were all well practised in, given the nature of their younger friends. As it was, he ducked his head, scribbling nonsense on his notepad.

It would be a lie if Yoongi said he wasn’t quite proud of himself for solving a riddle to get them into the final room, and getting the final hit on the hellhound inside. And maybe, just maybe, he was a little excited for their next game.

Shutting the door at long last, Yoongi paused for a moment.

Screw Namjoon and his good ideas.

Clearing away the dishes, Yoongi couldn’t help a glance out the window to watch as Seokjin let himself in to his own place, his own stack of plates in his arms. Not that he would ever admit it, Yoongi hadn’t been able to resist just one bite…

Well, it turned into a lot more than that. Maybe Seokjin was a good cook after all.

But that was just one redeeming quality. Best not get ahead of himself.

Yoongi was in trouble.

It had only been a couple more weeks, but he knew that much. As they sat around his table, he caught himself laughing along to Jin’s jokes. And look, he was already calling him Jin! No, he had to stick to Seokjin, the evil neighbour, his enemy.

If he got fond, he would only be sorry later when Jin – Seokjin – did something to remind Yoongi of what a terrible person he was.

Shame all of this seemed to slip his mind the moment Jin came around again.

“The slope is steep, with rocks falling where you move your feet. You can still hear the song, though, and you are certain it’s coming from inside the dark opening you can see at the bottom of the path.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Yoongi was the first to speak.

“Are you kidding? We just spent like an hour trekking over here specifically because of that music,” Taehyung was next to chip in, jabbing his finger into the table.

“It wasn’t an hour,” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Joon told us it was hour, it was what? One minute?”

A high pitched giggle from Jin was overtaken next by Jimin.

“No, I can feel the weariness in my bones! It won’t be complete until we hear the song!”

“We’ve been hearing it all this time! Aren’t you guys sick of it by now?” Jin retorted.

“No! Joon specifically said it’s the most beautiful music we’ve ever heard,” Tae insisted.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s a chorus of angels in there, my dexterity is not gonna let me get down that cliff,” Yoongi folded his arms to punctuate his argument.

“Ugh, fine, well I want to go down with V,” Jimin said.

The two factions that had emerged looked expectantly towards Namjoon.

“Okay, so V and Christian want to go down and Genie and Suga want to stay here. Anyone else?”

“Yeah, I’ll go down,” Kook shrugged.

All heads turned now to Hobi. Unease written all over his features, he glanced between the two groups.

“Come one, don’t be boring, hyung!” Jimin elbowed him.

“Yeah, come with us!” Kook bounced in his seat as Taehyung switched on the puppy eyes with a string of ‘pleeeease’s.

Cracking under the force of the youngers’ begging, Hoseok laughed and agreed.

Folding his arms, Yoongi leant back in his chair, more than ready to be a bystander to whatever the hell the others were about to get themselves into.

The others of course had an irritating success rate, somehow making it down the cliff without plummeting to their deaths. Not that Yoongi would ever wish death upon his own party members. Of course not.

It would have been funny, though.

Anyway, despite his aversion to following them, Yoongi admittedly was a little curious about the mysterious music they had followed here.

“Stepping inside the cave, the party hears the music louder than ever, ringing in their ears as it bounces off the rocks, making its source unclear. However, it doesn’t offend your ears. The cave extends further into the cliff, and you follow the sound further in. But as you take a step, a great groaning drowns out the music. Behind you, the mouth of the cave shifts, everything around you going black.

“Those of you at the top of the cliff stumble back from the edge as they see the path crumble away into the sea from the shaking of the earth.”

Namjoon sniggered softly at the silence that followed.

Staring at him with comically large eyes, Hobi and Tae looked terrified. As Yoongi watched, Tae slowly turned his head, a smirk turning the edges of his mouth underneath puppy eyes.

“Come rescue us?” he asked sheepishly.

Before Yoongi could respond, Jin was cutting him off.

“Well, that was a fun detour! Where was it we were heading again, Yoongi?”

Yoongi had been preparing to be mad at Seokjin, but his glare dissolved quickly into a snort.

“Yeah, that demon up the road needs seeing to,” he agreed, creating instant uproar from the others.

“You can’t leave us!”

“Justin’s scared of the dark!”

“Traitors!”

However, Jin’s squeaky laugh as he revelled in the others’ pain was all Yoongi could hear. Then Jin leaned closer.

It was all Yoongi could do not jump from his seat when Seokjin’s voice spoke in his ear.

“Shall we leave them?” he was barely containing his mirth.

Feeling rather like he was plotting a prank in the back of the classroom, Yoongi grinned and agreed with a nod. He didn’t quite trust his voice to function as Jin’s breath tickled his cheek.

“We’re leaving!” Jin declared, sitting back in his chair, satisfied.

Before any more chaos could erupt, Namjoon continued with a smirk.

“Okay, so Suga and Genie carry on their previous path, away from their friends and the cliff…”

This was officially getting out of hand.

First of all, Yoongi couldn’t believe how eagerly he was anticipating the weekend, when Seokjin and the others would come around.

Particularly worrying, however, was the way Yoongi had to restrain himself from going to see Jin before Sunday rolled around. It was as if that writing on his wrist was staring at him. The more he tried to look away, the later he would find himself sat up at night, glancing between his wrists and what was written there.

Surely, if Kim Seokjin was his enemy, he wouldn’t be dying to ask how he makes his ramen taste so good. Or how his day was, or any trivial thing, just to be able to have Jin’s eyes on him and his voice in his ears.

Second of all, he had no idea how their campaign had devolved into such utter chaos.

Since the party split, the others made friends with the sirens they found in the cave, and ended up at a drinking party with some demons while Yoongi and Jin were nearly killed by one some miles away on the surface. The demons had apparently taken a particular shining to V, as a tiefling, which resulted in the group they abandoned somehow siding with the very demons they were trying to kill at the start.

Last Sunday had seen Yoongi and Jin going out of their way to find random things to beat to death in the forest, trying to get as many points as possible to face off against four members and goodness knows how many demons.

Yes, this had got rather out of hand.

Two old foes stand face to face on a precipice. Around them, fire blazes. This battle has ravaged the very land they stand upon, whipped the air into a frenzy.

Admittedly, they can barely remember what started this feud. Rumour has it these two great powers were friends, once. If that was so, it was a long time ago.

V stands, battle-worn, waiting for his adversary to make a move.

Suga looks at the body of his fallen companion.

“I’ve only got one spell slot left.”

“Use it,” a whisper returned.

“Aren’t you dead?! Stop talking to each other!” Jimin exclaimed, finger pointing accusingly towards Jin.

“Okay,” Yoongi cut in before they could start arguing, “if this hits, I can take him down. But there’s a fat chance of that, with his AC…“

Trepidation filled him as he looked across the table to Taehyung, a small but unmistakeably victorious smile already on his lips.

A dry chuckle came from one side.

“It’s been a good run,” Jin clapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you accepting defeat?” Joon prompted.

“No…” a hand ran down Yoongi’s face, “I’ll give it a go…”

“There’s no way! If you succeed…” Jin laughed, “if you succeed, I’ll kiss you.”

A quiet round of laughter went around the others, too focussed on the dice in Yoongi’s hand to pay it any mind. But Yoongi could no longer concentrate on that. What did Jin just say?

He couldn’t mean that.

There was no way he would kiss Yoongi. Was there?

All he could hear was the slow drumming of his heart rushing in his ears. The breath caught in his throat as he reminded himself to raise his hand, dice cupped inside.

It wasn’t just the defeat of V he hoped for as it rolled off his fingers, dropping onto the tabletop.

The faces flipped over, every eye trained on it. Around the table, there was no sound. Even Jungkook had stopped munching his popcorn, mouth hanging open.

Round, round, round…

Yoongi caught a glimpse of 20, the magic number, right within reach.

A small thud, the dice settling. A number glared up at him.

3.

All the air left his lungs, deflating as he stared at the number. For a second, the table remained silent as everyone came to terms with the roll, the only sound the tapping of his cat’s paws-

Wait.

When Yoongi turned to find his cat leaping onto the table, it was already to late to grab her as she dashed across the surface. As she went, her paws caught a bowl of snacks, Joon’s notepaper, the dice. Hobi exclaimed with shock, several yells going up as everyone snatched their own stuff out of her way. Jungkook had dived after the snacks.

“Hey!” Yoongi shooed her as he stood up, watching her dart out into the hall.

“Oh my god…”

The small mutter from Jimin caught his attention. Looking around, Yoongi found him staring at the table and followed his gaze to the crime scene. In the centre of which, the dice still lay.

But now, a different number was displayed.

Yoongi’s jaw dropped. It was 20.

“That’s not fair!” Taehyung cried.

“Shush Tae, Jin has to do what he promised,” Hoseok teased, nudging a very red-eared Jin.

“Yah! Hey, I-I, that’s-” Jin spluttered, mouth seemingly fixed open as his cheeks warmed, growing defensive.

As Yoongi watched, Jin only stuttered more under the teasing cries erupting from the other boys as they egged him on with an array of ‘go on’s and ‘you said you would!’

“I-I-“ his eyes flickered over to Yoongi’s.

And despite the jeering and laughter in the background, neither of them looked away. Jin’s lips remained parted, ears pink with embarrassment, protests lodged in his throat.

Yoongi stepped forwards and kissed him.

The distance between them closed in the blink of an eye, Yoongi’s hand flying to Jin’s jaw as he pulled him in, turning his back to the gasps and cheers of their friends.

But they didn’t hear it. Not when their lips were pressed together like this, lighting fireworks in Yoongi’s stomach until he felt like sparks might fly out of his fingertips, the ones he was trailing down Jin’s neck, the ones pulling at the small of his back to bring him closer.

The others had gone quiet.

By the time he groggily pulled away, Yoongi seemed to have forgotten what the world looked like. Were his feet even on the ground?

In what was probably a mirror image of his own face, Jin stared back at him, eyes wide and those perfect lips round with shock. Jin’s fingers trembled as he brought them to his mouth.

“Holy fuck.”

“U-uh, guys,” a small voice from behind them did little to snap them from their trance.

“That was-“ Yoongi breathed, words escaping him.

“It’s you, you idiot!” a grin broke onto Jin’s face.

A laugh left Yoongi’s throat, taking him by surprise.

“It- really?”

“Did you not feel that too?”

Eyes still not leaving the beautiful man in front of him, Yoongi realised. Jin was completely right. Everyone had always told him how it would feel, when he kissed his soulmate. Like butterflies, or a flame, or like the world turned golden.

But through all the different feelings people described, there was one common thread. When you know, you know.

“You’re my soulmate.”

It wasn’t something he had to question, the words leaving him as easily as air.

“You’re my soulmate!”

And then he was wrapped up in Jin’s arms, his lips captured once again, euphoric feeling surging through his body once more.

“Come on, guys…” Namjoon’s groans were completely ignored.

Taehyung was still a bit put out that V had been slain at the last hurdle, but it hardly seemed fitting to be angry about it anymore, what with his two friends falling in love in front of him.

Everyone left together after the revelation, and pretty swiftly at that, deciding to leave them to it. And for once, Jin wouldn’t be leaving with them, even if he would only be one house away.

Smile never once leaving his face, Jin turned to Yoongi after shutting the door.

“So, what are we going to do about my sugar gliders?”

Thanks everyone for reading!! Reblog if you liked it xx

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @kb-bangtanenthusiast​

Okay, for anyone interested, my bingo card contained: dungeons & dragons, neighbours, enemies to lovers, namjoon, yoonjin, cats, fluff, music, soulmates And here are some dnd basics for those who want them: you have a dungeon master or dm (Namjoon here) who tells a story. The others play as a character and choose what they want to do in the given situation. There are scores that dictate how good your character is at certain traits, and you roll the dice to see whether you succeed in your choices. That’s really all you need to know for the purposes of this fic, but you can ask me any questions too!

Lastly, I have to give another HUGE happy birthday to the amazing writer and friend and person @eternalseokjin​!! I hope you have the best day, you really deserve it! I’m so glad to have met you and of course played dnd together in the net! Lots of love xx

[highroadsteve]

Broken Heart

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: language, heartbreak

a/n: took a hiatus from writing but im kind of back! this is totally inspired by the song rewrite the stars from the greatest showman. enjoy!

masterlist in bio*

...

You used to take pride in the fact that you’ve never had your heart broken by a man. You put up a front in which you claimed to be a confident and independent woman, you didn’t need a man in your life. If things ended, then things ended and there should be appreciation for what was. There was no way you would let yourself be hurt by a man.

Then came Tom Holland and he came into your life unexpectedly. He had broken your heart, but he didn’t do it on purpose. You broke your own.

“Ever since the moment you met, you had a connection. The chemistry between you two was obvious, and I know you both had a thing for each other.” Your friends would say, their heart in the right place but you laughed.

“There was absolutely nothing between us. We were just friends, I promise. I would have gotten him, if I did like him.” You responded, and they believed you.

But you knew that was a whole ass lie.

You had fallen in love with him. He was one of the best experiences you have ever had. Your nights were no longer nights, they were just extended days, and he made you feel like you deserved all the stars.

His smile was the first thing you would see everyday, as your phone screen was a picture of him. As silly as it was to have your best friend as your wallpaper, you were always happy to see that smile. He was your favorite part of your day, and you started to fall in love quickly.

“Y/N, smile!” You turned around at the sound of your name, and you quickly covered your face as you heard the word that followed. With a whine, you tried to grab Tom’s phone, who only stretched out his arm to keep you out of reach. His laugh was contagious, and it formed a big smile on your face as you tried to delete the embarrassing picture he took.

“Dude, seriously I can already tell I look terrible.” You said with a groan, giving up and laying on top of Tom. With his phone on his stretched hand, he tapped the square at the bottom left corner to see the picture he had taken, and proceeded to laugh at how funny you looked.

“O-oh my God!” Tom scrunched up his face as he continued to laugh harder as he finally decided to show you the picture. Your mouth opened with a gasp, seeing how awkward you looked in the picture and flushing with embarrassment.

“Ew, Tom, I hate you!” You said with a laugh, trying to grab his phone, but he kept it out of your reach. He was still laughing, his laughs getting softer as he took in breaths at the same time.

“It was funny, come on.”

“No, it’s embarrassing!” You claimed, taking out your own phone and lifting it up to take a picture of him.

“Smile!” You said softly, and he looked up with a big smile.

The days went on, and you were only digging yourself deeper into a hole with your increasing crush on him. You were becoming scared, which is a feeling you never thought you would feel when you liked someone. Usually, you were upfront with your crush and you would initiate the relationship once you wanted it, but this time it was so different.

Unlike other guys, Tom was famous. And not even like locally famous, he was known all over the world. With his recent portrayal of Spiderman in the MCU, he had become a character loved by people of all ages.

And you had to admit, it fucking terrified you.

The idea of dating someone constantly in the spotlight that he might as well be the spotlight, was scary. Hell, you were only known as one of Tom’s distant friends and you were still getting attention.

Being in the spotlight is not something you want, but you knew that it came with dating Tom.

So you stayed away.

You tried to distance yourself from Tom, you really did. It was easy at first, considering the fact that he wasn’t staying at your apartment because he had to film somewhere else. But, once the filming had moved here, it was difficult because him and Harrison were in the room next door.

They would stay for weeks before having to go to another city. That was just the perks of being a movie star. Harrison was his assistant, so of course he had to go everywhere Tom went.

When he was gone, you rarely texted him because you wanted to stop thinking about him. The guys you found at the bar were great distractions, and so was the alcohol, but you knew deep down it wasn’t solving the problem.

You had to get rid of the crush on him. You just had to. You knew you couldn’t date him, there’s no way that his lifestyle could ever slow down for you. It was just not the type you wanted to live. All those red carpets, traveling, the cameras constantly being pointed at you. It all seems to stressful, you can barely take one good selfie every three months. Having to deal with the constant pressure of being seen is frustrating, you don’t understand how Tom, or anyone for that matter, could handle it.

Tom H: Hey love! We’re going to film in your city for a few weeks. Can me and Haz stay at your place for the time? x

Tom didn’t even need to ask. Your answer had always been yes, but considering the circumstances, you said no. Well, almost. You made up an excuse.

Y/N: Sorry but can’t. Won’t be home. Visiting home for a while. Have fun filming x

You lied. You completely lied and now you felt guilty. But you knew if he stayed, you would never get rid of the crush.

Weeks passed and you hadn’t spoken to Tom since he had asked to stay at your place. He was the last to text, so you muted his number and you stopped looking him up on social media. Your heart was breaking by the second, but you knew it was for the best. He doesn’t want you, and you don’t need him to. It’s better if you were casual friends. And casual friends only text each other when they need to.

When he came over, you stopped the flirting immediately. You no longer cuddled with him on the couch, you kept your distance and it seemed like he was starting to see it.

Tom would ask you to come watch a movie, but you always refused, said you had to do some work. He slumped down on the couch with a sigh, turning the television’s volume down so he won’t bother you. He was starting to think that you didn’t want to be friends anymore. He missed you, he missed you so goddamn much and you were only a few doors away.

He was in love with you. Just as long as you have, and he wants to be with you but he’s also scared. Scared of what the outside world might do. Sure, behind closed doors, you were the perfect couple. It was just two people in love and expressing that love. But outside it’s different, it’s so so different.

Outside there is hatred. He knew that, he experiences it everyday and he would hate for you to experience it as much as he did. So he tried to keep you out of the spotlight, as much as he could but obviously there was no way.

You started to distance yourself, and it was hurting both of you so much more than you thought.

A knock was heard at your door. Tom poked his head into your room when you told him to come him. With a soft smile, he stepped in slightly, his posture awkward and tense. You raised your eyebrow.

“You okay, Tom?” You asked him with a smile and he just scratched the back of his neck and stuttered.

“I don’t really know how to say this...but are you avoiding me?” He answered you and you only chuckled.

“I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was, dummy.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N.” Tom said your name, which was common for him to say but felt tense with the tone he was using. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and there was almost no emotion on his face. You sighed, sitting up higher on your headboard and placing your laptop next to you.

“I’m trying to distance myself from you.” You admitted, rubbing your arm nervously.

“Why?” He asked, walking and sitting at your feet on your bed. You looked down at the corner of the room, sort of embarrassed at the fact that he noticed.

“You wouldn’t get it, Tom.”

“B-but I want to! I’ll try.” He spoke up, his genuine voice sending shivers down your arms. You felt bad, you really did, and you were getting nervous.

“I...I like you Tom. As in, I have a crush on you. And I don’t want to have a crush on you anymore, so I’m trying to stay away, just until I get over it.” You looked at him straight in the eye (or more specifically in between his eyes, as you couldn’t hold eye contact for your life).

He stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing how to respond to something like that. It makes him so happy to know that you like him... but you also don’t want to like him. What is he supposed to say?

After a moment of silence, he spoke up, “I’m in love with you”.

You almost choked on your spit, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth. You were expecting an ‘okay’ or just even a sigh.

“I know, it’s weird. But I love you. You’re my best friend, you’re seriously my everything, angel. And...and I know that you don’t really do relationships, but fuck. I am in love with you.” Now it was your turn to stay silent. A million thoughts ran through your head, but it seemed like there was only one that dominated.

“I can’t do this, Tom,” you began to cry, “You have such a bright future ahead of you, filled with spotlights and cameras and people screaming your name. But that’s not the life I want to live. I love you too, Tommy. But I don’t want to be yours.”

The tears were flowing freely, and you hated it. You hated crying, especially in front of others. It made you feel week, vulnerable, and you hated it.

“I’m...I’m sorry, my love.” He whispered, and you nodded. Tom stood up and kissed your forehead before leaving the room.

Getting your heart broken by a man was not something you had experienced, as your own pride gets in the way and you forget about all the men you’ve loved. But Tom was different. You had a different kind of love for him, some call it genuine.

Tom was different, which is why this was a different kind of heartbreak. It was worse, because you couldn’t be together.

...

...

This is not the end. Part two coming.

[chromium-siren]

The “Present” (Phux)

@kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls

(So, after I saw this post, ideas began to swirl in my head like crazy. And I wanted to write it. Also, Pudge will make a cameo.)

London, England, 1920 something. Armitage Hux has just finished his set at the Starkiller Lounge, and was grateful that it was finally finished. It wasn’t that he had anything against sharing his jazz music or playing his saxophone, it was just a rather long night. He wanted nothing more than to get a good night’s sleep, so he packed up his instrument, said good night to the bartender and staff, and made his way back to his car. Just as soon as he arrived at his Packard, he heard someone yell out “Oi, bloke!” only to get knocked out. The last thing he remembered was falling to the ground as everything faded to black... 

“‘Ey lads, Sleepin’ Beauty’s comin’ around!” someone said in a thick Scottish brogue, which was followed by raucous laughter. Armitage finally came to his senses when he felt trapped by something- he was tied to a chair, rendered immobile, and his saxophone case was strewn on the floor, half-open. 

“I demand to know what’s going on!” he yelled in panic, trying to set himself free from his prison of rope. “Let me go!”

“You don’t tell us what to do around ‘ere, mate! We only answers to Big Joe, savvy?” another goon said, circling Hux like a shark. The name hit him- Big Joe. He let out a groan when he realized he was captured by none other than the Parnassos Gang, and he was going to have to come face to face with the infamous leader, Big Joe Phasma. Sure enough, heavy footsteps were heard as the lackeys scrambled about, trying to make themselves appear to be acceptable for when he came in. 

“You sit tight and shut yer piehole, boyo!” the Scot from earlier yelled at Hux, who felt his pulse race as the footsteps grew louder and louder. The lackeys stood very still now, as if they were soldiers at attention, when he finally came down the stairs and into the den. Big Joe wasn’t exactly what Armitage though he was going to look like- he expected an obese man smoking a cigar. Instead, a tall, silver haired, and slender man, almost needle-like, walked down the stairs, taking a long drag from a cigarette. When he looked towards Hux, he smiled and let out a booming laugh. 

“Well, gentlemen, you managed to get the right one after all. So, this is the famous Armitage Hux my daughter has heard so much about, eh?” he said with a sneer. Mustering up the courage to reply to him, Armitage swallowed his pride and looked the mobster straight in the eye. 

“Did you think there was another?” he said defiantly. Insulted, Big Joe backhanded him, causing Armitage to wince. 

“Listen to me, boy. You may be cheeky with me now, but I won’t allow it tonight, you savvy? Today’s me darlin’ daughter’s 18th birthday, and she wouldn’t stop blabbing about how wonderful you was. Now, once you come ta yer senses, you’ll get right cleaned up, put on yer white tie an’ tails, an’ give me girl the one thing she’s always dreamed of. Are we clear now, love?” 

Armitage sighed heavily, looking over at the pristine white tie get-up reserved for him at the side. He was going to have to go along with him if he wanted to get out of this alive. “As crystal.”

“Good boy,” Big Joe teased, undoing his ropes. “But don’t try nothin’ fishy, ya hear?” he scolded as Armitage sighed in relief. After the confrontation with Big Joe Phasma, the most feared man in Brixton, Armitage prayed that he would make it out of the den alive. A few hours later, Armitage stepped behind the dressing screen provided for him in his elegant outfit and stood on the makeshift stage, warming up for the evening’s performance. A small sextet was arranged behind him and were warming up their instruments as well- probably more musicians that were kidnapped, Hux figured. Big Joe came back down the stairs, holding his cigarette as usual, but this time he held a revolver in the other hand. 

“You better make good on this, boy, otherwise yer doomed ta spend the rest of yer life down here, ya savvy?” he hissed, poking Hux with the butt of his revolver. Hux nodded, before heaving a sigh. “All right, Brienne lovely, come on down! Daddy has one ‘ell of a surprise fer ya!” he yelled in a saccharine voice Hux couldn’t think he was capable of doing without spontaneously combusting. There was the sound of high heeled shoes gently clicking which grew louder and closer with every step. 

“Alright, Daddy, I just Marcelled my hair a while ago, hold your horses!” Hux heard a voice call out. “I swear, if it’s a Tommy gun, I’m not going to be pleased. I mean I already have a pistol, and... that’s not a Tommy gun,” the voice said, slightly shocked. Finally, the source of the voice was revealed as a tall, beautiful young woman exactly the same age as Hux. Her silver fringed dress showed off her legs, and her short blonde hair was styled in a perfect Marcel wave. Ruby nails gently pet a Persian cat with luxurious white fur, which purred gently as they surveyed the guests assembled. Beautiful sapphire eyes outlined in smoky black kohl glanced over at the stage, and ruby lips were parted into a prim “ooh.” 

“Brienne, sweetness, Daddy found you the best birthday gift ever,” Big Joe said, still maintaining that syrupy voice that both Brienne and Armitage winced at. Brienne was shocked to see Armitage mouth “help, he kidnapped me,” but she focused on her father instead. So, she put on an act of surprise while she devised a plan to help send Armitage home. 

“Oh, Daddy, thank you so much! This is the best birthday ever!” she squealed, doing a near perfect imitation of Betty Boop as she peppered her father’s sharp cheekbones with a barrage of kisses. Big Joe turned to the musicians and putting on a false smile began to address them. 

“Okay boys, strike up the band and give my girl the party she’s dreamed of- or else!” he said with a hiss, before waving his arms in imitation of a conductor. Immediately, Armitage and the other musicians began playing a lively Charleston as the birthday girl and the other young ladies present proceeded to let out a cheer and head to the dance floor, kicking up their heels and whooping as they danced. 

Armitage stepped forward and started playing a melodic solo on his alto sax, the golden instrument shining in the light of the room. The girls seemed to dance closer to the stage, just to revel in the notes he played for them, and he shot a wink at Brienne, her face now becoming a light shade of pink as she blushed. The song finished to wild applause, and then the music changed to a sensual tango. Brienne looked wistfully to Hux, who set his saxophone down and got offstage to dance with her. 

“So, my father kidnapped you?” she asked him innocently. 

“Well, yes, and I really want to get home,” he replied. 

“I don't blame you, he always does things like that. Here’s the thing- I can create a diversion, and we can get out together as soon as possible without him noticing. Also, I’ll just call the cops, and hopefully they’ll finally put him to justice!” she whispered. 

“Plotting against your own father? Interesting,” Hux replied as he and Brienne continued to tango. 

“Well, he’s a terrible person, and I’d rather be living with my mother in Sussex anyway.” The music ended, and with that, Armitage dramatically dipped Brienne, much to her joy. 

“Good luck,” he whispered to her as he got back on stage. The band played a soft fox trot as Brienne made her way upstairs, ready to create a distraction of her own. She sneaked into her father’s study and took one of the many Tommy guns he had so generously given her for her birthday, and began to shoot a round of blanks, calling the police afterwards. For good measure, she added a scream of terror as she came running down the stairs. 

“Daddy, it’s the Bala-Tik gang! They’ve shown up and want to brawl!” she gasped, pretending to be hysterical. Everyone in the room screamed and began to hurry away from the basement in fear of an impending brawl. Armitage packed up his saxophone and grabbed his clothes, running upstairs in the fray. Just as soon as he made it up and with Brienne, police sirens wailed as the cops pulled up to the house. Big Joe was angry- he was duped by his own daughter!

“Brienne?! How dare you lie to me?!” he roared, almost about to strike her. But she stood her ground, refusing to be scared as he yelled. 

“Listen, you’ve done this for far too long! You killed Keldo, you stole my inheritance, you kidnapped and tortured too many people, and you killed my REAL father!” she screamed. “I hate you, you monster!” she yelled, as she watched the mobster and his cronies get carted off to prison, where they were never heard from again. She began to sob quietly, sad that her fortune was being used for criminal means, and she would never get it back. Armitage gently held her, letting her cry in peace. 

“Brienne, are you alright?” he asked her. 

“N-no. I have nothing. The cops are probably gonna raid the mansion, and I can’t contact my mother yet. What am I supposed to do?” she asked. 

“Well... you could stay with me for a while, if that would make you happy,” he said. Gently, Brienne hugged Armitage, as she pressed a kiss to his cheek gently. 

“Thank you so much, Armitage, You’re one of the few people who’s truly been kind to me.” Just as Brienne predicted, the police came to raid the mansion- but there was a silver lining. The man who claimed to be her father was sentenced to life in prison with no hope of escape, and both the mansion and inheritance were reverted back to Brienne and her true mother. But the true gift that came from the whole ordeal was the society wedding of Armitage Hux and Brienne Phasma, and they stayed together for many long, happy years.

[sacrilegen-blog]

( garrett  hedlund,  cismale,  he/him,  34.  )  ·  for  a  member  of  THE  CROWNED,  i’d  call  you  lucky  for  making  it  this  far.  rumor  around  camp  has  it  that  DEACON  WALKER  is  a  VIRGO  and  used  to  live  in  FERRIDAY,  GEORGIA.  i  think  i  heard  someone  say  that  they’re  very  INTENSE,  RETICENT,  and  UNYIELDING  but  who  wouldn’t  be  in  the  middle  of  the  apocalypse,  y’know,  especially  cause  they’re  a  raider.  anyway,  they  remind  me  of  that  song  —  SACRILEGE  by  the  YEAH  YEAH  YEAHS.  god  i  miss  spotify.

hello  again !  after  a  brief  and  frantic  scramble  over  muse  capacity  and  writing,  i  got  my  head  on  straight  and  decided  to  drop  and  then  re  -  app.  a  big  thanks  to  you  guys  for  your  patience  with  me.  (  i  promise  i’m  not  usually  like  this.  )  if  you’re  interested  in  plotting  with  deacon,  go  ahead  and  give  this  a  quick  ‘lil  like,  and  i’ll  come  bother  you  in  IMs  or  discord  !

name. deacon  elijah  walker. age.  thirty  -  four. dob.  september  9th,  1985. orientation.  bisexual. occupation.  raider  for  the  crowned. traits. intense,  reticent,  unyielding,  stubborn,  ascetic,  wistful,  charming. aesthetic.  the  sudden  strangling  sensation  that  comes  with  drowning,  an  improper  baptism  seared  across  the  inside  of  your  skull.  the  snarling  of  something  deep  and  terrible  in  the  woods,  knowing  you  don’t  want  to  look,  and  then  looking  anyways.  the  sickly  sound  of  those  last,  dying  breaths,  and  remembering  what  they’d  sounded  like  from  yourself. 

PRE  -  APOC.

grew  up,  born  and  raised,  in  the  small  -  ish  town  of  ferriday.  his  parents  were  good  enough  people,  he  thinks,  in  spite  of  their  flaws.  they  were  god  -  fearing  folk,  as  was  the  tradition  of  their  bloodline.  he  doesn’t  know  that  he  fully  blames  them  for  the  baptism  they  gave  him  at  eighteen,  right  before  he  left  for  atlanta,  head  dunked  under  the  water  of  a  tub,  fingers  scrabbling  at  ceramic.  he  doesn’t  blame  them,  but  he  sure  as  hell  remembers.  there’s  a  resentment  there,  sure,  when  someone  passes  the  good  word  of  the  lord  onto  him,  but  he’s  numbed  himself  enough  by  now  that  it  hardly  processes  as  anything  other  than  a  hitching  of  breath.

went  to  community  college  in  atlanta, and  afterwards,  started  working  as  a  firefighter  by  the  time  he  was  around  twenty  five,  with  small  jobs  carrying  him  from  here  to  there.  the  work  suited  him.  deacon  liked  helping  people,  liked  the  way  they  looked  at  him  when  he  helped  them.  there  was  something  sort  of  endearing  about  the  way  flames  licked  at  the  sky,  too,  like  they  were  trying  to  cleanse  the  earth.  he  thought  he  might  try  going  to  church  again  and  found  he  couldn’t  even  step  over  the  threshold.  this  proceeded  to  occur  every  sunday  up  until  the  world  ended.

POST  -  APOC.

he  and  two  of  his  coworkers  --  hawthorne  and  rhodes  --  managed  to  make  it  out  of  atlanta  without  being  eaten,  out  of  the  eight  they  started  off  with.  those  who  tried  to  return  to  their  families  disappeared.  it  took  him  months  to  settle  into  the  habit  of  killing,  and  almost  a  year  before  he  could  do  it  without  the  thought  in  the  back  of  his  head  that  spoke  of  sin  and  repentance.  the  world  had  ended.  rapture  occurred.  god  had  moved  on,  deacon  thought.  god  turned  away  from  earth  the  minute  he  had  to  bury  his  axe  in  hawthorne  two  years  in  and  hold  rhodes  while  he  bled  out 

he  spends  the  third  year  as  a  loner.  this  is  for  the  best.  unhinged  isn’t  a  good  look  for  anyone.

humanity  comes  crawling  back  to  him  in  the  early  waking  hours  of  march,  in  year  four,  covered  in  rot  and  gore  and  blood.  there’d  been  a  family  of  three,  staring  him  down  from  their  sleeping  bags,  while  he  was  holding  that  old  worn  axe  in  hand,  taped  together  with  hope  and  duct  tape  and determination  --  a  boy.  a  girl.  a  father,  a mother.  he  lowers  his  axe  and  leaves  knowing  that  if  what  the  conspiracies  say  are  true,  that  maybe  things  are  coming  to  an  end,  he  can’t  do  that.  can’t  carry that  weight.  it’d  be  a  nigh  impossible task.

when  he  first  joins  the  crowned  he’s  half  -  starved  and  just  as  god  -  fearing  as  he  was  as  a  child,  but  it’s  a  good fit.  they’re  quiet,  leave  him  alone,  and  he’s  able  to  tune  out  the  usual  preaching  sessions  of  humanity  and  a  secondary  eden  out.  he  doesn’t  buy  into  any  of  it,  not  really,  has  wondered  if  any  of  them  really  believe  in  the  delusions  their  supposed  prophet  speaks  of.  he  doesn’t  know  how  he’d  act  if  he  knew  others  did,  doesn’t  know  what  his  hands  would  do  with  that  sort  of  knowledge.  what  he  does  know,  though  -- at  night  deacon  dreams  of  ceramic  bathtubs  filled  with  red,  the  soft  whisper  of  a  hushed  assurance,  and  grips  his  axe  a  little  tighter.

WANTED  :

someone  who  clearly  has the  same  feelings  about  the  crowned  as  he  does,  and  is  only  staying  with  them  for  the  sake  of  safety  in  numbers.

someone  who  could  maybe  convince  deacon  to  eventually  join  another  group,  should  shit  go  down.

former  coworker  ??  just  because  deacon  never  saw  them  again doesn’t  mean  they’re  not  dead,  babey  !

these  are  basic  as  hell  please  brainstorm  with  me.

[especially-heinous-ada]

A Police Gala, pt. 16

Boom! APG is back, guys! I realize it has been far too long since I’ve added a new chapter, so for that, I apologize. I already have a part 17 storyline fleshed out to, hopefully, avoid that issue from happening with the next chapter haha. But, without further ado, part 16. Y/N and Rafael have finally made it to the courthouse in one piece, despite someone’s best efforts to prevent it. So begins the first day of the trial. Will Francis finally get his karma? And Y/N, her justice? 

As always, feel free to holla at me in the comments. I love to hear from everyone. I appreciate any support you guys give me in the way of likes, comments, and reblogs. (comments are my fave, though)

(P.S. I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my writing and I definitely don’t feel like this is 100% my best work, but I damn sure tried to battle through some pretty powerful writer’s block and loss of motivation, so I’m pretty proud of it, regardless).

The room was overly warm, probably to counteract the frigid weather of early December in New York. It made you feel stifled, suffocated. You adjusted your collar as the DA chatted away about the process of the trial, when you’d be called, how you’d be sworn in, etc. The two of you had practiced scenarios in the time leading up to the trial, so you would know what kinds of questions to expect. Practiced direct and cross and re-direct and re-cross until long after the sun dipped low behind the horizon.  

You were an ideal witness, in the prosecutor’s eyes. Beautiful, likeable, personable, well-spoken. Credible. You came with a devoted following, who were all sympathetic. You had a true platform to speak out against domestic violence and abuse against romantic partners. They had forensics, witnesses—an endless stream of proof. This was the kind of case the DA’s worked their entire careers to get—the kind that caught national headlines. A special prosecutor was brought in for the duration of your case to avoid any insinuation of favoritism due to your relationship with Rafael, and extra precautions were taken to protect the validity of evidence and testimony. They could not afford to bungle a case like this one, under any circumstances.  

The stage was set. Time ticked away in a countdown to the start. Given the nature of the case, Francis had been escorted in first to avoid any unpredictable acts from him. Once the Defendant was in position, the bailiff came to tell them the Plaintiff and counsel could enter the courtroom. The special prosecutor looked at you. Asked you if you were ready. As you stood, you felt dizzy, but nodded. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest you felt as if it might break ribs.  

Rafael had to wait in the courtroom for you to enter. He fidgeted from his seat in the first bench behind the Plaintiff’s table. Liv was at his side. She put a calming hand on his shoulder and he glanced over at her with a look of worry.  

“Y/N will be alright, Barba. She’s tough. Smart. And she has the facts on her side.” Liv soothed. Rafael nodded, appreciating the sentiment. Though, it didn’t relieve his worry. He’d seen cases that seemed cut-and-dry as this one go terribly wrong before, and the stakes were higher this time. This time, it was personal.  

He wrung his hands before glancing up just in time to see you enter the room. You must have sensed his gaze because your eyes darted to meet his. You gave a meek smile and he blew you a kiss as you approached. You caught it and put it in your pocket, mouthing the words “saving it for later.”

The prosecutor held out a chair for you to take a seat and you slunk down into it gracefully. From across the courtroom, Francis stared daggers into you.  

Rafael frowned, his hands balling into fists. He could see you stare straight ahead as counsel leaned in close to you to speak. You nodded to whatever it was he’d told you and Rafael couldn’t help but wish he could be seated next to you at the Plaintiff’s table.  

Though he knew this special prosecutor’s track record well enough to know you were in good hands, he still had his reservations. It was the attorney in him, who always believed he could try the case best. That said, he also wasn’t a fan of just how close his lips got to your ears when he whispered to you. He did his best to quell the green monster growing in his thoughts, when the bailiff stood at attention and projected to the room:

“All rise!”

Everyone in the packed courtroom stood. Liv made her exit, leaving Rafael alone with his thoughts. The room grew silent as everyone knew the proceedings were about to begin. The judge entered the court room and took her seat.  

“The Honorable Judge Elana Barth presiding.”

“You may now be seated.” The Judge announced as she began to page through a stack of papers in front her. Not a soul spoke and the only noise in the courtroom was the sound of feet shuffling and benches creaking as people quickly sat, eager for the show to get on.  

“Case number XXXXX, The City of New York versus Francis Kerrigan Shaw.” The judge rattled off the charges against Francis and your mind drifted off elsewhere.  

The time was finally here. This was really happening. You couldn’t believe that Francis had the nerve to plead not guilty to his litany of charges when the evidence was so stacked against him.  

He must think he’s untouchable, you thought. You had to admit, you were afraid he’d be acquitted, even despite the sheer odds of it. After all, it wasn’t unlike the first time he’d had charges brought against him, and his lawyer had somehow managed to worm Francis out of that one, too.  

After some time, counsel launched into opening statements. You listened to the words coming out of the prosecuting attorney’s mouth, but they didn’t entirely register. It was almost as if you were in a dream. For god’s sake, you had just witnessed a man getting shot in cold blood earlier that morning, simply because he was walking alongside you. Now you had to sit here and pretend you were fine?

Not to mention the fact that soon you’d be forced to relive one of the most terrifying experiences of your life, whilst your attacker stared at you like he wanted to hungrily devour you, and his attorney grilled you as if you were the true criminal. How was this justice?

The whole day the two sides went back and forth—the prosecution asserting the truth, and Francis’s defense attorney attempting to artfully dance around it. He tried to allege that the entirety of this trial was revenge against Francis for the failed initial trial. Tried to paint you as a crazy, obsessed ex-girlfriend hell-bent on destroying Francis because he had turned you away. To further add to the victim act, he attempted to insinuate that you’d convinced the NYPD to falsify evidence and perjure themselves on the stand to help put Francis away, simply because you’d donated money to update the precinct.  

“The jury can’t honestly believe his conspiracy theory shtick…can they?” Your words start out confident, but end somewhat shakily. Your glance turns to the special prosecutor as your hand squeezes Rafael’s. The three of you were holed up in the office temporarily assigned to the attorney (who was borrowed from another district) while you waited out the media circus.  

“I highly doubt it,” he said, adjusting the little name placard on his desk. Jackson, it read. You’d never heard of him before, but Rafael seemed to know and approve of him. “They didn’t seem very responsive to his attorney’s assertions that you were a crazed ex-girlfriend. You were very articulate and composed on the stands—not to mention sympathetic. You were great.” He added for reassurance. You turned to Rafael, who nodded in accord.  

Not entirely reassured, you laid your head on Rafael’s shoulder and let out a breath so heavy that felt like years of your life escaping from your lips. Heaven knew the stress was getting to you. Spending the day in court was incredibly draining. It gave you a whole new level of admiration for Rafael; you couldn’t understand how he stood before juries day in and day out.

“Estás bien, Cariño?” He asked, a slight frown turning down the corners of his lips.  

“Estoy cansada. I just want to leave here, amor.” You said, closing your eyelids as they suddenly felt heavy as lead. It was the end of the first day, and you weren’t sure how you were going to survive it all, at this rate. You couldn’t even go back to Rafael’s apartment any time soon, due to the disaster that’d happened to Kazuma this morning. Rafael gave you a sympathetic pat on the back before standing. You followed suit. He bid ADA Jackson good night and promised to see him in the morning.  

As you left the room, Jackson called out to you to keep safe. You gave a halfhearted smile before walking out the door. In the hallway, the two of you met Nick, who was supposed to take you to your new safe house in an undisclosed location. With him were two unis, attempting in vain to hide their starstruck stares. If you hadn’t had such a terrible day, you might have attempted to be more cheerful and engaging, but right now all you could think about was curling up in bed next to Rafael.  

As soon as you walked out the courthouse doors, you were mobbed by the most insistent members of the paparazzi, who had refused to give up and gone home. They shouted at you and Rafael pulled you into him, protecting you from their hungry eyes. Nick walked before you, pushing through the crowd and the other officers flanked you.  

“Leave her alone,” Rafael called. “No comment.”  

After several minutes of pushing and shoving, you finally reached an unmarked police cruiser which had been waiting to pick you up, climbing inside in a hurry.  

The car ride felt like an eternity. The officers made small talk and an obnoxious pop song played on the cheap, stock radio of the cruiser. You slipped in and out of consciousness as you struggled to stay awake.

Rafael couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw you nod off for the third time. He pulled you closer, letting you relax into him. You gave out a content little sigh in your sleep. It would be a bit of a ride; the driver was purposely going a roundabout way to avoid being followed from the courthouse to the new temporary home.

“How’s she holding up?” Nick asked, motioning to your sleeping form.

“She’s...doing her best.” Rafael answered. “All of this has been really hard for her, but she’s putting on a brave face.”  

“About your neighbor... I don’t think he’s the one who put out the hit.” Nick said, frowning, changing the subject. “I just keep thinking about it, and why would he step in front of her today, if he wanted her dead in that boutique? He could’ve just kept walking and let the bullet hit her. And from the ballistics, if he hadn’t stepped out, it was definitely going to. Plus, I mean—what reason would he even have?”

“But his DNA, Nick. DNA doesn’t lie.” Rafael said with an exhausted sigh. He didn’t need one of Nick’s paranoid conspiracy theories right now. What he needed was to get you to wherever the two of you were calling home tonight, so the two of you could curl up in bed and go to sleep.  

“Yeah, sure, that proves he’s a gang boss, but it doesn’t prove he’s the one who put out that hit.” Nick pressed.  

“Just drop it, Nick.” Rafael said, lowering his voice and giving Nick a warning glare. “The last thing we need is to give Y/N another thing to worry about.” Nick’s mouth hung open as if he were about to add something, but suddenly, the car jerked to a stop, indicating their arrival. Nick closed his mouth and climbed out of the car, stepping over to hold the door open for you and Rafael. You were still sound asleep, so Rafael lifted you out of the car and shifted you to carry you on his back.  

It was a pretty unremarkable building, though Rafael supposed that was a desirable trait in a safe house. Once again, Nick and the other officers surrounded you and Rafael as you made your way up to the unit, with Nick leading the way. After several flights of stairs, you finally reached your floor, stopping in front of an unremarkable doorway. Nick pulled out the key and opened it, entering the unremarkable apartment, with Rafael following close after.

“I’ve got it from here.” Nick announced to the unis as Rafael meandered away, looking for the bedroom. When he found it, he sighed in relief. He laid you down gingerly onto the bed before tucking you in underneath fluffy comforter, taking extra care not to wake you. They hadn’t brought extra changes of clothes for the two of you, as going back to your apartment may have caused the officers to be followed by anyone wishing you harm. Therefore, Rafael simply stripped down to his underwear before sliding under the covers next to you.  

“Mm.” You made a small noise as you stirred in your sleep. You could feel a source of warmth on the other side of the bed and you drew closer to it. Rafael chuckled as you threw a leg over his side, snuggling into the heat he radiated. Closing his eyes, Rafael allowed himself to be put at ease by your quiet breathing. Your hand on his chest trapped in his heat and it felt especially warm. He used these sensations to drown out his fears. He needed all the sleep he could manage for tomorrow.  

Next Morning

You felt the warmth of Rafael’s body—your back pressed against his front, with his arm flung over you. You became more conscious of all your senses as you slowly awakened. You could smell the last remnants of his cologne from yesterday. It was the same scent he’d worn the first night you met. You smiled as you remembered the feeling of him twirling you about the dance floor. Dipping you low. Although it wasn’t that long ago, it seemed like such a simpler time. The calm before Francis’s storm.

Francis.

Your eyes flew open and you sat up abruptly, causing Rafael to wake.  

“What time is it? Amor, wake up. What time is it?” Rafael groaned, rolling to the other side of the bed to grab his cell phone.

“Relax, Cariño, it’s--11:00?!” His eyes widened as he read the time. “Dammit. We were supposed to be into be in court two hours ago.”

“So you’re finally awake.” Nick chuckled as he strolled into the room, Liv in tow.  

“It’s not funny, Nick!” You exclaimed angrily. “You were supposed to wake us! What are we going to do now?!” It was rare that you ever truly grew angry, but right now, you were furious.

“Whatever you want.” Nick said, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. Rafael scoffed incredulously. His gaze darted back and forth between Nick and Liv as he attempted to figure out how the two of them could have let this happen. And why Nick seemed to find it so amusing. Liv’s face bore a more stoic expression.

“Y/N can’t exactly just play hooky in the middle of her trial. What is going on here, Liv?” Rafael demanded.  

“We got a call from Rikers early this morning... Francis Shaw was found dead in his cell. Hanging.”  

[homosociallyyours]

a friend just posted a pic on fb of the coffee shop we used to hang out at, taken way back in the day. it’s just a shot of the place taken from inside, looking out the big glass windows and onto the street of downtown chattanooga. but one friend pointed out that she could see another friend’s van parked across the street, and one of the baristas came on and said he’d taken the photo and then proceeded to post a bunch more. 

anyway i’m feeling nostalgic so i’m posting about it. memories behind the cut. 

i started going there when i was maybe 15 years old. i don’t remember why, but it’s likely that the artsy nerd club i was a part of (we stayed after school to watch amadeus and monty python and we’d sometimes go to the local art museum) went there after a meeting one day. or maybe someone told me about it. anyway, it was my favorite place to go. i would drink pots of tea, always trying new things. 

on my 16th birthday my parents got me a teapot from there and a gift certificate to buy tea with. i had that teapot til it broke a year ago. 20+ years! it moved with me to and from college, to nyc, california, texas, and back to california. damn. 

anyway after i’d been going for a while i started talking with the owner. his name was ian, and he was pretty young. he loved tea and coffee and he had a roaster where they’d make their own coffee. it was loud and lovely, and for a long time it lived up front, right by a little elevated area with couches. when it was running you couldn’t hear anything and had no choice but to either shout or be quiet. 

ian encouraged my love of tea, and offered to keep track of everything i’d tried in a little notebook that was kept behind the counter. i got to make notes on every pot i drank, and i remember writing “terrible! grass!” after my first pot of green tea (it was oversteeped--my fault--and probably made with water that was too hot--their fault). i had my first pu-er there, and fell in love with its damp leaf flavor and that turned earth scent that it has. i drank multiple pots of jasmine pearls and wrote a caffeine fueled poem about it with a friend. i loved that little coffee shop. 

i don’t remember when i went from hanging out inside to hanging out outside, but i feel like i was 18 or so. the older people (they were probably barely 21-25, fucking babies) sat out there smoking and drinking coffee. i developed a crush one summer on a guy who made me think of arthur dent for some reason (don’t ask because i don’t know) and we went on one awkward date and didn’t kiss, and now i wonder what’s happened to him and if he, too, wasn’t straight. who knows? someone, i’m sure, but i can’t remember his last name anymore so is it even relevant? 

i’d never felt cool til i went off to college. it was like leveling up without trying, like when you’re playing a game and do one action and suddenly all your stats are refilled and you’re like...this is unexpected? but i’ll take it? i think that’s why i decided i could really sit with the outside tables. that and my bff, who was dating someone who was friends with a lot of those people, would show up sometimes and sit out there. 

(if you’ve actually been reading along so far, here’s where i’m gonna introduce you to a bunch of people i’ve never talked about before and will likely never mention again. just so you have fair warning.) 

the cast of characters shifted a lot, but there were always the constants. scott, the barista, who was much older than most of the people hanging out but looked young and seemed young. i look back with adult eyes and question the relationship we had, but at the time i just thought it was cool that someone so much older thought i was worth hanging out with. but he was 30 when i was 19, and man that’s a lotta years. he had a summer where he hit on my friend and i constantly, after his wife left him and he was kinda floundering a bit. but it never went past flirting and it never bothered me, though like i said it kinda does now. we were still hanging out when i was 21 and we’d go get beers after the coffee shop closed at ten or midnight. he’d turn up obnoxious music really loud and i’d sometimes help close. 

there was gabe and george, brother and sister in a family of people with names starting with the letter g. george was tiny and cute and either very drunk or very hyper from coffee at all times. gabe was a nerd who was usually quiet but loved to play scrabble, and we’d take the board inside sometimes and battle one another. he was much better than me, i won’t lie. liz and ever were both writers who would play with us sometimes. ever had changed her name at some point (to ever; any name she had before is irrelevant) and when we met she explained the meaning of her new name, which i won’t give because damn it’s very google-able. 

she was a so fascinating to me, always talking about some feminist theory or philosopher, and i always felt so smart when we’d hang out. like a Serious Thoughtful Adult and not a kid. and liz was less serious but no less smart. she played scrabble a lot more and for a while we got pretty close. she took me out after coffee sometimes to a shitty bar with pool tables and tried to teach me how to play pool. she had her own cue and even though she was like 5′2″ she could break like nobody’s business. i never figured out how to do that part. 

alex would come with us sometimes. he was tall and handsome and rode a motorcycle, and was the first openly bi guy i ever met. one time he invited me over to his house and we laid around listening to the smiths and talking. he burned me a copy of their greatest hits that i still have, all scratched up so it probably doesn’t play anymore. he crashed his bike more than once driving drunk. dumb fuckin kid. now he repairs coffee machines and sails, i think. life is funny. 

a few other people ran in groups. meg and waide and the aforementioned jason and ardyce. some people called meg “big megan” and another megan (her family was really wealthy, rich southern politicians who knew the clintons and have a mention in sweet home alabama--the song, not the movie) was “little megan” because she was still in high school. i joked that i was medium megan, but the whole thing was awkward because big megan was fat and i was small fat and little megan was skinny. i’m gonna blame it on thoughtless dudes, but who the fuck knows? we all pretended not to mind it anyway. 

waide ended up being a connection with other people who i met later. my hometown is weird in that it’s actually a pretty big part of the southern punk scene, so a lot of punks i meet have spent time there, and anyone over a certain age probably spent time at the bar waide worked at (the stone lion, and then maybe also the pickle barrel) so he’s one of those people who i’ll end up mentioning even though we haven’t spoken in years. 

at some point a kid named ory showed up. i think he was 16 when he started coming around, and i used to call him puppy because he was excitable and silly, full of energy one minute and then mopey crashing the next. like a lot of people there he drank a lot and would be fucked up sometimes and make dumb choices. i always wanted to protect him. when i was 22 (and he was 19, i think) we ended up sitting together at the second lotr movie and having some kind of weird chemistry. that summer i drove him home one night and we had a super heavy make out with lots of clothed grinding. honestly the furthest i’ve ever gone with a cis straight(ish, he hooked up with a couple dudes but idk if he’d say he’s bi) dude and it was awkward in that we never talked about it? and then he came to visit me a couple years later in new york because he was in the navy, and he got super drunk and passed out on my couch and was a mess because he literally never stopped being a puppy. 

he’s fucked up now, fully cancelled bc he said shit about girls rock camp (really dude?) and also probably cheated on his wife on their honeymoon? idk, it was fb rumors and then he deleted. but i’d believe it, honestly. 

and then there were all these absolutely random downtown characters: dirty mark (a crusty punk who was drunk or high most of the time) and shirtless dave (yeah he really didn’t wear a shirt that much) usually came as a pair. sometimes dave hung out with a guy my friends and i called blue hair. he once hit on my friend and she panicked and gave him my number instead of hers because her brain didn’t make up a fake number fast enough. 

there was sandy the flower man, who just passed away a couple weeks ago. he’d get flowers from local florists and go around on his bike, stopping into the coffee shop or to bars with roses and carnations and daisies. people gave him money usually, but sometimes he’d just hand you a flower because he wanted to. i saw a picture from a memorial and there was a portrait of him that was sat on top of his bicycle, all of it surrounded with flowers on flowers. so pretty. it’s what he deserved. 

things changed around 2005 or so, i think. by that time, all the old baristas had left and the kids who came in were all weirdly religious and went to the christian college on the mountain. they made shitty coffee and sometimes played xtian rock and most of the old regulars couldn’t take it anymore. ian got sick around that time, too, and ended up selling the place. they stopped carrying much tea, if any. 

but they finally sold the space and moved in like 2015. i remember the first time i drove by and didn’t see the lights on inside. it felt like seeing a friend from grade school all grown up, maybe the kid you had a crush on but they have a family now and you don’t think they’d recognize you at all so you just have to walk away. gone. 

fuck this post is long as shit, i’m sorry for anyone on mobile. but damn it was good to get my memories out. 

[someoneasgoodasyou]

An ask game! Tagged by @ariaadagio​ (and y’all should go check hers out because there’s links to her playing stuff she wrote and they’re gr9).

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Height: 5′ 5″

Last movie I saw: Hotel Artemis (highly do rec)

Last thing I Googled: site for hosting domains on podcasts (it was Hover)

Favorite musician: Dave Carter & Tracy Grammer, definitely.

Song going through my head: “Word to the Wise” from Hadestown (specially: the lines “Damned if you don’t/damned if you do/whole damn nation’s watching you” over and over and ovler again. someone help me)

Other blogs: I don’t post there much anymore, but I am on DW.

Do I get asks: Not really, and ngl it makes me kinda sad because lbr I fucking love attention.

Following: 84 (that feels like a lot for a sideblog??)

Amount of sleep: 10-12 hours. I’m a champion sleeper. I’ve slept for 32 hours straight before, only getting up to blearily pee before going back to bed. Thanks depression!! I was fucking starving when I finally woke up.

Lucky number:13

What I’m wearing: Jeans and a tank top with a flannel overshirt. I’m the straightest of straights, clearly. l o l.

Dream job: I mean, if I could be someone’s kept woman but not have to bang them? That’d be living the dream. So if any ace ladies are lookin for a low maintenance kept woman, hit me up.

Real job, though, I want to be a livestock farmer who writes books in my spare time. And I’m gonna do it some day, even if I have to add “builds websites for the Man” as a 3rd job.

Dream trip: I hate traveling. Like, I mean I loathe it. If I’m gone for more than a few days I get super anxious that my cat’s gonna die when I come back. Not that that has ever happened to me before with my first dog or anything. Totally not traumatized by it too.

In any case, I fucking love driving, especially at night (hi, ask me to talk about my treatise on how 3am is a liminal time on the road). So I drive from Boston to Milwaukee and back once every few months to visit friends. And I’ve recently reconnected with friends in Virginia who are moving to West Virginia, so I drive there every so often too. Those are my dream trips.

Play any instruments: flute and piano. I keep trying to learn banjo and fiddle but I am terrible at that sort of stringed instrument apparently, no matter how hard I try.

Languages: English, a bit of Spanish, and a duolingo’s-worth of Swedish and I”m working on Irish. The word for chicken in Swedish is “kyckling” and it’s so fucking good to say in your mouth. shickling. shhhhhhickling. shicklingggggg. I love it.

Favorite songs: Oh jeez oh jeez. I’m like immediately calling anything from a musical not to count otherwise I, a musical theater nerd, will be here all night trying to decide. It’s definitely a Dave Carter & Tracey Grammer song. Probably either Tanglewood Tree or Red (Elegy).

Random fact: Uhhhhhhhhhhh. I learned to read and learned to code when I was 3. According to my mum, I came up to her one day and was like “btw I can read” and she was like lol bullshit you’re three and got me some small child books I’d never seen before and I proceeded to read them to her. Then my brother would stick me in front of his computer when he was babysitting me, and this was 1989 so it was not fancy, but he had a “learn BASIC” floppy and, because I was too young and stupid to know the difference between “boring learning program” and ”fun game”, I started going through the lessons. I apparently had a grand time.

It’s all been downhill from there. I’m wicked fun at parties, that’s for sure.

I’m tagging @callmeagentcoulson because I think she’s the last person I follow who hasn’t done this yet.

[hollywayblog]

2017 or How To Be A Depressed Piece of Shit and Still Get Stuff Done

I’ve been putting this off. Partly because I’ve accomplished so much this year I just know I’m going to forget to include many of those accomplishments in this post. But mostly because this year has been fucking hard. It’s impossible to look back on all my achievements without also feeling how lost, angry, lonely, confused, betrayed, anxious, depressed, bereaved etc. I was while conquering these goals.

I could go into the nitty gritties of it all, but this isn’t a self-pitying post. This post exists because no one – including me – gave enough of a shit when I actually did these things, which I did while grieving, while battling mental illness, while trying to be a good person, while living in a situation that does everything it possibly can to deter productivity. And fuck, man, I am choosing now to fucking appreciate myself and all the amazing things I did this year. Things I only ever dreamed of doing in some distant someday.

I am also making this to provide a little bit of motivation for anyone who is in the same position I was in a year ago – thinking “I would love to actually make a living as an artist but I’m too scared to share my work.” Well, here are a few tips for you, including:

1.       Don’t be a fucking idiot. If you’re too afraid to share your work you will never get recognised. You will never get feedback. You will never get better. There is no magical time where you’re going to feel 100% ready. Sit down, work on something you care about until it’s done to your standards – or as close as it’s ever gonna get – and choose someone to share it with. Bonus points if it’s someone you know will be honest with you.

2.       Whatever your craft is, practice every day. If you’re a writer you must write every day, even if it’s just keeping a journal. Practice does not make perfect and it would be boring if it did. Practice simply ensures that every day you’re alive you are getting better. Besides, the consistency with which you work makes the difference between a professional and a hobbyist. Decide which one you really wanna be.

3.       Support other artists. Subscribe to Patreons. Watch people’s YouTube ads. Like and reblog/retweet. Share the things you love – and make sure you include the source. I’m going to write a whole article about this, but what goes around comes around. DO NOT expect people to support you if you’re living in your own little bubble not making an effort to support anyone else. (But also don’t expect the people you support to give your energy back to you. You can’t control other people. Support because you genuinely want to and not on an unspoken quid pro quo basis.)

4.       Make sure you take time to study your craft. This is different from practicing. For example, as a writer and future director I watch many film analyses, and when I watch TV and film or read a book my brain is always combing through the details. If you’re a painter, for example, take trips to the museum and study – actually study – paintings. You should also switch off sometimes and just exist. Just feel life, textures, colours. Breathe. You cannot be outputting content all the time. But with that said…

5.       Work motherfucking hard. There’s a terrible saying, “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” It’s utter bullshit. Most people who are passionate about their career work harder, longer and with more mental awareness than almost anyone. Caring about the thing you’re working on is fucking exhausting, and if you’re not prepared to work hard then see above; you may be a hobbyist and not a professional. That is perfectly fine. In fact I wish I had the luck to be able to continue writing in that capacity, where it is just a fun personal project and not a succubus consuming my life. But alas.

6.       Deadlines can help with projects, but don’t put time constraints on your success – whatever that is to you. Even working harder than anyone has ever worked will not grant you instant gratification. I have been a serious, working writer for almost a year and I am not earning a living AT ALL. That is not unusual. I have laid the foundation for my career, and that ain’t nothing, but that’s something I have to remind myself every day. These things take time. And with this in mind...

7.       The work must be the reward. I’ll say it louder for the people in the back: THE WORK MUST BE THE REWARD. Probably a lot of this is to do with my mental illness, but when I first held Crying on My Birthday – my book of poems – I felt… nothing. Same when I finished National Novel Writing Month. Same when I finished the first draft of my first novel. Same when I finished the first draft of my second novel. Same 90% of times people tell me they couldn’t stop reading my stories. I acknowledge those things on a logical level, but they don’t warm me. But you know what did feel like something? Cultivating those works. Writing those poems, getting to know those characters, those moments when the story just opens up to you and tells you where it’s going. I also feel a certain satisfaction when I reread my own work after a long time; a kind of, “Oh. I wrote that?” The point is that just like New Year’s and Christmas, the big moments rarely feel like they should. If you hate the process of writing, don’t be a writer. As challenging as it is, I love writing. It’s one of the only times when my mind is focused on only one thing and not an exhausting swirl of every problem ever posed to mankind. And hey, maybe one day I’ll reach a milestone that feels significant, but to be honest I doubt it. In general I suck at feeling what I’m supposed to. The. Work. Must. Be. The. Reward.

So where did these principles actually get me in 2017? In just under twelve months, here’s what I made happen:

-          Conceptualised, wrote, edited, formatted and published an anthology of poems all within three weeks.

-          Completed National Novel Writing Month (50,000 words of a novel in the month of November) then proceeded to complete the almost 80,000 word first draft by mid-December.

-          Finished the in-depth episode outline of the television series I’m writing with my sister.

-          Edited and formatted my sister’s novel.

-          Got published in HighGloss Magazine, became a regular contributor of articles and poetry.

-          Joined a writing group, met other writers, published an anthology together which featured my short story.

-          Began to edit the charity anthology I’m publishing. (Still accepting submissions.)

-          Got offered a job as a copywriter. (Stay tuned.)

-          Wrote my first ever short story which I entered in a competition (didn’t win, whatever).

-          Wrote two more short stories.

-          Wrote a thriller novella which I published on Wattpad on a chapter-per-week basis.

-          Wrote, edited and published several poems online. I won’t go into how much each one of them means to me and how much courage it took to share them.

-          Wrote a poem for my friend Sarah, still one of my favourite things I’ve ever written.

-          Wrote a piece of fiction for my friend Hayley.

-          Hosted the “1KADAY” challenge, which went on to become the online writing group I run.

-          Created my first short film.

-          Took up film photography, something I am so ridiculously in love with.

-          Returned to/fell back in love with the gym after so many years of letting my anxiety get in the way.

-          Read twenty novels, probably a quarter of which became some of my all-time favourites.

-          Vastly improved my French.

-          Curated some bomb playlists that people loved.

-          Drove again for the first time in years, got closer to getting my license.

-          Read my poems out loud to people I care about.

-          Learned several songs on my shitty keyboard, learned to play badly and sing without shame.

-          Wrote a tonne of lyrics.

-          Somewhat maintained this blog. Somewhat.

-          Got up the guts to make a Patreon.

-          Helped others with their writing whenever I got the chance.

-          Made art that helped people. Made art that helped me.

-          Never gave up.

-          Proved to myself what an unstoppable badass I am. Like seriously what the fuck I’m amazing.

-          Survived this fucking year.

P.S. I won’t be making a 2018 goals blog. I realised that what I achieved in 2017 differed so greatly from (and far excelled) what I intended to do that there was no real point projecting into the next twelve months what might happen. I find it much more productive to sit down at the start of each month and week and get my priorities straight.

[sowk-fic-archive]

SOWK ch.29/35

Summary:

Life goes on for Dominic until The Big Day arrives...

Chapter 29 : commencement

Aching and sore, Dominic heaved himself up from the bed, careful to avoid Matthew’s sleeping form. The Voix evidently hadn’t slept well last night, too plagued by worries that he’d damaged Dominic beyond repair. Brushing his hand through Matthew’s sweat-soaked hair (which was definitely looking darker at the roots), the glouglou started to collect his clothes, leaving his ripped shirt and simply putting the cloak on over his jeans and bare torso instead. Casting one last look around the room, Dominic quietly left. He wasn’t sure if he would return, but he was sure Matthew would understand. This time, he wasn’t confronted by any other glouglous as he left the temple, determined to make his way straight home. He couldn’t risk shedding the cloak, especially as it was an unwritten rule that any form of nudity in public was punishable, so he distracted himself by thinking of excuses for Annie, his eyes glued to the floor. Hence why he didn’t see the six feet of Voix crashing into him. “Oi, watch it lad!” a very distinct voice called, and Dominic had to look up, his hood covering his hair but letting Lysander see his injuries. “What do you think y-- Dom’nic?” Dominic cast his eyes down to the floor, shuffling where he stood slightly. His limbs still burned from last night and he could do with one or six of his mother’s homemade remedies. “I didn’t know ya worked up them temples, thought that was for cassés with good behaviour an’ all that malarkey,” Lysander sneered, stooping slightly to look at Dominic’s injuries. “I’m not surprised someone beat ya up, to be honest. You’re a lil’ merde and serves ya right for tossin’ me onto the cobbles and beating me dry. Did ‘e get ya in the back of ya loaf like you did me, because--” Lysander yanked down Dominic’s hood, and the glouglou was exposed entirely to the mid-morning sun. Though his left eye was almost swollen shut, Dominic wasn’t mistaking the look of absolute shock on Lysander’s face. “What have you done,” Lysander gasped, jerking Dominic out of the main road and down a side alley, drawing him into the shade. “I don’t-- what?” “Your hair’s the bloody colour of the Prince of Persia’s gold, boy! This only happens one way and it don’t end pretty for ya, I tell ya.” “Sir, if I may, I have no idea--” “You’ve boinked Adora, ain’t ya?” Lysander said, still keeping a good foot or so from Dominic. The glouglou became incredibly self-conscious, drawing his hood up over his head again. His eyes bugged out of his head, and Lysander mistook his shock for confusion. “Ya know, hiding the sausage, a quick leg-over, a lil’ bit of the old in an’ out?” Lysander elaborated with a quick grin, that he soon wiped off his face. “You know, Adora will get punished but you, mate, will--” “It wasn’t Adora,” Dominic said, locking eyes with Lysander and feeling time freeze around them. Lysander’s expression was dark, and adrenaline surged through the glouglou’s veins, ready for fight or flight. “Fuck,” Lysander uttered, falling back against the opposite grimy wall of the alley. “It wouldn’t be ‘alf as bad if you was in love with Adora, but with our Matthew? Christ alive,” Lysander muttered, looking out to the main street. “How do you know about the consummating love thing?” Dominic asked, his voice indifferent. “Please, I was a Unique myself once, y’know.” Dominic quirked an eyebrow, biting his tongue to keep from voicing his complete disbelief in the man that was essentially a fallen angel from the Voix society that was Heaven. He settled on asking another question himself. “No, but... you knew, just by looking at me. How?” Lysander nodded, pausing for a few moments to formulate his answer. When he spoke, his voice was deep and, for the first time that day, incredibly sincere. “Your hair is a lot lighter than it was, boy. A lot lighter, as in... a few more shades and it’s borderin’ on the darkest of Voix. Honest,” he added after a beat. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen after simply doin’ the dirty with a Voix, otherwise half of the girls down here in Sectors 1, 2 an’ 3 would be running around with bright yellow ‘air.” Dominic winced, but nodded in understanding. Lysander continued. “So, it’s obvious you an’ Matthew are head over heels for one another, righto, I get that. You’re lookin’ paler too, but that might be that beatin’. But, your ‘air, it shouldn’t be that light already...” Lysander paused, looking towards the clear blue sky for some sort of inspiration. “This has been happnin’ a while, ain’t it? Is Matthew’s hair darker?” Dominic nodded, not trusting his voice. He was still trying to process all this new information. “Bloody hell,” Lysander cursed, kicking at a stone. “You’re going to cause a storm at the unveiling, I tell ya.” “But Matthew’s in love with Adora,” Dominic said, sounding far too innocent for his age. “They’ve had sex, so her hair will be turning dark too, right?” Lysander fixed him with a pointed stare, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “If you say so. Now, you better hurry home and pray your darlin’ mother don’t ask what you’ve been up to.” The Voix turned to exit the alleyway, Dominic shouting him down. “Wait!” he said, Lysander turning around with an unknown emotion in his eyes. “How do you know so much about all this?” “I wish I didn’t,” he replied simply, disappearing out into the main street and parting the crowds with his mere presence.

*

Dominic spent the next couple of weeks treading on eggshells. He lost count of the days, spending them tucked away around the house. Things passed him by, even important things that he normally would’ve invested himself in. A friend had given their mother a cookbook, which she had been delighted with. Nancy had reunited with Ben, both admitting that they loved each other and his twin proceeding to practically bounce around the house constantly. Dominic found himself writing songs more advanced and more lyrically deep than he ever had ever attempted before, connecting with music now on an almost ethereal level. He didn’t have a piano or a voice to use, and he almost went mad trying to use the voice in his mind to create melodies. Staves were created from the edges of Le Monde, from blank pages in Nancy’s romance novels, from scraps of kitchen towel his mother let him use. He broke down crying when his favourite pen ran out. Annie always brought him tea but they had almost stopped communicating beyond that; Dominic was lost in his own world, fearing for his life. Did the outside world know about him and Matthew? Not yet, judging from the newspaper, but then he wondered if their relationship had been subjected to an elaborate cover up. Had Agostino sneaked into Matthew’s temple night, killing his own son as Dominic himself had sworn to do all those months ago? The glouglou had no idea, so he locked himself away from society until the day when it would be absolutely necessary to emerge. That day came. Dévoilement. Dominic had to wear a shirt and tie, one that wrapped around his neck like a noose. His hair had dulled slightly, not enough to revert to its original dirty blond but enough for him not to be called out on it. His mother and sister dressed themselves in their finest skirts and blouses, Annie standing at the door trying to stick down a tuft of hair on Dominic’s head. “I feel sick,” he muttered, and Annie simply nodded. She couldn’t begin to comprehend what her son was going through, even though she was wearing the exact dress she wore when her own husband was killed. Dominic’s legs felt like lumps of concrete as they walked towards the temples, glouglous in their thousands flocking to the site. Some of the children were running around singing, this being their first Dévoilement and the whole idea of Cachant being terribly thrilling. Other glouglous were exchanging grumbles and gossip about the Uniques. Somehow, their supposed secrets didn’t impress Dominic in the slightest. After what felt like an eternity, the crowd was pushed through the golden gates into the larger compound. Most of the glouglou population couldn’t fit through the gates, but Dominic and his family were let through by others, recognised as Matthew’s songwriter. He pretended it was out of respect for his father, who had made this trip many times in his life. Fleck, though, had probably never felt as nervous as Dominic did in that moment. Dominic cast an eye over all the Voix with all their blond hair and pale skin, fenced off from the glouglous and dressed in rich finery; pastel blues, pinks and yellows. All too soon, Paix and Joie took to the stage, explaining that it was with pride and honour the Uniques would step up to their role, the first actual couple in decades. And, for a fleeting moment, Dominic wished for them to be a couple. He wanted Matthew and Adora to pull down their hoods with dark hair, to smile and embrace and bow to the crowds. To have children and marry, to perform across the globe. To eventually be the Anciens, ruling over the world that Dominic, his future wife and future children would inhabit, still in poverty but happy. That fleeting moment was gone. Dominic knew he wouldn’t be happy without Matthew, and when he appeared on stage, his figure shrouded in a flowing white robe, Dominic tried his hardest not to smile. The sickness in his stomach subsided, replaced by a fluttering of butterflies. Matthew and Adora smiled at each other as they met in the middle of the stage, Paix and Joie applauding from their seats above the crowd to Dominic’s right. Distinct cheering came from all around him, but Annie, Nancy and Ben remained silent. “And now,” Joie said, an invisible microphone projecting her voice across the compound, “it is my great pleasure to announce St Pierre’s new Uniques, Adora Constantine and Matthew Bellamy!” Matthew and Adora nodded to each other slightly, shifting closer together. A knife of jealousy sliced through Dominic’s stomach, the crowd cooing as they looked like they would kiss. Instead, they reached towards each other and lowered one another’s hoods. Dominic had never heard absolute silence before, nor had most of St Pierre. For a community that prided itself on song and music, a silence as profound as this was different. Unbelieveable. Unique. It was broken by three distinct sounds, each chasing each other as they echoed around the compound. One was the thud of someone falling to the floor, and out of the corner of their eyes the crowd observed their matriarch Joie fainting. The second and third noises came from the stage, and they were simultaneous. Adora had let out a peel of delighted giggles, and Matthew had simply whispered one word. “No.” Some bright spark had had the incredible idea to put a microphone on stage. As Matthew started repeating his denial to himself, Adora turned towards the audience, frantically searching the shocked faces of the Voix assembled below for an answer. “What...” she whispered, a half formed question falling from her lips. A glouglou rushed out onto the stage with a pair of handheld mirrors, but Adora was faster. She ripped out the pins that were holding her hair away from her face, letting it tumble down around her shoulders. Picking up curl between two fingers, she let the first sob ring out. It was blonde. Adora looked up at Matthew, both of them with tears running down their cheeks. “You...” she whispered, her voice echoing in the silence. There was absolutely no need for microphones, now. “You don’t love me anymore?” “I do,” Matthew said weakly, sobbing once. Dominic’s eyes were blurry and unfocused. He could feel his mother’s eyes upon him, hear his own heart hammering in his ears as Adora stepped towards Matthew. “Then what is this?” she shrieked, running her hands through Matthew’s hair as Dominic had done so many times before. It was black. “What is this?” she cried, grabbing fistfuls of her long hair and shoving it towards Matthew. “I love you with all my heart, so why is my hair not black? Why am I not a Unique?” “I--” Matthew stuttered, backing away slightly. Off the side of the stage, Paix had stopped attempting to rouse Joie and was simply telling everyone to go home. Something about an emergency meeting was mentioned but Matthew could hear nothing over the ringing in his ears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning around to run off the stage, into the connecting corridor of the temples. He reached the cool darkness of the lobby, which was thankfully empty. He leant heavily against a stone wall, hunching over on himself and dry heaving. “I don’t deserve this,” Matthew said to himself, choking down another sob. “Your father is looking for you,” a voice said suddenly, and Matthew straightened up to find his mother, staring at him with folded arms. She offered no further explanation, and suddenly the penny dropped. It wasn’t just Matthew’s dreams that had been shattered in front of millions of people. “Maman,” he said, his voice cracking. It was the first time he had ever uttered that word in his life. “Maman, please. Please Maman, I can’t face him, please,” he said hysterically, looking down at himself. He realised he was still wearing his robe, and he ripped it from his body, leaving him in a white shirt and trousers. The colour of purity and innocence. “Matthew...” she started reasoning, but before she could say anymore her son had clasped his hands around her waist, burying his face into her neck and crying louder than he ever had before. When she gently pushed him away as to see his face, he was shaking like a leaf. “You don’t have to see your father-,” she began, swallowing the lump at the back of her throat as she hesitantly added, “-yet. First, you have to see...” Matthew knew what was coming. His breath came quick and fast, and the ringing in his ears was louder than ever. All he could see in his vision were coloured spots. Before he hit the floor (or before Calliope’s arms caught him; he never found out), he heard the name of the woman he had so bitterly betrayed; the woman who made Agostino’s humiliation look entirely irrelevant. “Adora.”

[soradgirl]

C3AFA Jakarta 2017

( this was so hard to work on I swear I have the worst memory)

Oh fun fact this was all actually broadcasted on Nico Nico, both panel and concert! (I think for the panel it was, but I’m definitely sure about the concert)

I came to the anifest for the anime.

Specifically the utaites 😏

There was also f'hana, Suzuki Konomi, May'n, and Usagi, but I’m not too familiar with them lol so I won’t write about them.

Also I’ll be writing about what they said to the audience but my Japanese isn’t… Perfect. I can understand it sometimes, but reading and writing is… Not good. 

S O R R Y.

Also because this was held in Indonesia I’ll be using Indonesian words when they spoke it, but in brackets I’ll put the English. I’ll also recap a few personally funny things that happened to me, specifically with my cousin that I brought along. (She isn’t even in a fandom, and doesn’t even know what utaites are)

NOW LET’S GO. (WARNING: LONG POST) 

I could only attend one day (Saturday), because of something I like to call hell school. Which I’m kind of sad about since Kradness is performing the second day and well, he’s the first utaite I’ve ever listened too. I’d go but there’s no way I’d be allowed to miss school Hahah :^)

The anifest exhibition, filled with little booths selling cute drawings, keychains, and a whole lot of Yuri on Ice yaoi. Official (?) booths include: Black Butler, Fate Apocalypse, some others I’m sure, but most were fan-run (?) booths. (I bought a set of Koi Yuri on Ice keychains that were adorable lol)

Of course that’s not what I came for. I came for the anisong concert. Specifically Tomohisa Sako.

The event began at 10:00 am. I arrived at 2:30 and bought the VIP tickets. To my dismay, T-kun had an autograph session at 12:30.

U N L U C K Y 

   To be fair was on the plane. Yes jakarta is not where I live. I live in another city boohoo. Flew out but missed autographs. 

And since I arrived late to purchase the tickets, the closest seats were row N. But at least had wasn’t in the standing area hahahahah. (Those who stood for three hours at the very back sorrymasen.) 

There was about five hours until concert doors opened. What can you do for five hours?? 

I took a look at the schedule. 

Wait. What’s this?

At 3:30 pm the beginning of nico nico panel!!? (Mind you I didn’t know this was happening.) I only came for the concert. This was great, I had some way to spend the time while waiting for the concert doors to open. 

 But who was performing? Was it anyone I knew? YES IT WAS. 

 Natsushiro Takaaki, Eve, and CleaNero (Clear and Nero.)

 L U C K Y. 

 I was so excited I stood in front of the small open stage thirty minutes early. Also because I wanted to be at the front. Then it happened. It begun. The crowd started to thicken. 

Anytime nico nico was mentioned me and a few other girls screamed like mad. 

(No pictures cause obviously they’re forbidden)

 I think the only downside of this short panel was that the time between each performance was really long XD. We had to wait around half an hour more or less for the next performer to come up. But they did provide entertainment in the middle of that wait.  

 Usagi was the first performer. She sang a song that I know the melody of but not the words or the title. (Shazam didn’t help either)

After her was my dear dear dearest Ikemennnnnnnnnnnn NATSUSHIRO TAKAAKI. He looked so good and ugh it was just amazing like how can someone be so cool lol. He came up on stage and pulled out a piece of paper. (a recurring theme.) 

“Selamat siang! (Good afternoon)” he said. Or tried to say, but he was cute for trying. “Nama saya Takaaki Natsushiro. (My name is Takaaki Natsushiro.)” he struggled to say it but we were patient. I was grinning so hard because him trying was so adorable. (”Ganbatte!” the crowd shouted in encouragement) 

Then he proceeded to speak in Japanese. “Do you understand Japanese?” he asked first. 

“We do!” the crowd, and me, answered. His smile grew like a little puppy as he complimented us it was amazing. (and adorable, they all were so dorky aa)

Okay here is where I apologize. I don’t remember any of the songs he sang. I KNOW I’M TERRIBLE BUT SERIOUSLY MY MIND BLANKED OUT. (I kept staring at his face I guess lol that’s not a valid excuse.) 

I think. THINK. He sang:  世界の真ん中を歩く(sekai no mannaka wo aruku)

BUT He was so enthusiastic as well, always getting the crowd to shout with the song, or clap our hands. (My cousin’s comment: How can he sing so perfectly while jumping?) ALSO DID I MENTION HOW STYLISH HIS OUTFIT WAS? HE WAS WEARING WHITE CLOTHES AND IT WAS WAS WAS COOLLLL.

He seriously looks like the drawings of him. Like with long white coat-thing with black underneath. And of course, a smile all the time. SO CUTE AGHHH

If anyone who was there knows any of the songs he sang please tell me ww I need help. 

Fun fact: during the performance I was looking at him then in the far corner I saw a guy wearing a mask. I stared for three seconds before almost, ALMOST shouting, “EVE.” 

Eve was watching the performance from a door to backstage it was so cute ww. 

A N D  

Eve was also the next performance. There was this one girl who seriously loved him, she kept shouting ‘kakkoi or kawaii’ when he came on stage ww and throughout the performance. So since no photos are allowed I have their faces branded into my brain haha. Okay but. Eve looks exactly like his avatar. Like the hair, the body shape, etc. I was gushing over it for the entire performance. He was wearing this blue patterned shirt with a floral jacket-thing over it, I think the pants matched the jacket. Why are Japanese people so stylish??? 

Now the performance. Not in correct order but he sang: 

ユニバース (Universe)

スパークル(Sparkle from Your Name/Kimi no Nawa.)

惑星ループ (Wakusei Loop)

Now this cute boy also pulled out that fated paper. He stared at it sometime, trying to pronounce the first few syllables. 

“Se- Sela? se se... (G- Goo? G-Good...)” he kept trying, eventually people starting shouting in encouragement but he held his hand out like ‘please be quiet I must focus.’ 

He then said it properly (well kind of). “Selamat siang! (Good afternoon)” When we cheered in response he looked so relieved that he had done it w. After that he sang another song. The poor boy was starting to get sweaty, and when he ended the song we could see he was really out of breath. To play it off adorably he panted into the microphone. “Haah haah, it’s hot...” he said (In japanese). (Cue squeals, it was so adorable.) And then he asked for a towel. 

While waiting for the towel he decided to speak a little to us, albeit in Japanese. He said, “before I came on stage I was really nervous!” (That’s what I think he sort of said. Could be wrong)  We all aww-ed and someone yelled (in Japanese) for him not to be nervous, which he obviously in turn replied with a thank you. 

I felt so sorry for my poor sweaty boy, and they didn’t have any towels to give him, so I half-jokingly told my cousin that I wanted to throw him some tissues. (She then kept trying to take my tissues and throw them upstage. I WAS IN THE FRONT ROW I SWEAR HE COULD SEE THIS HAPPENING IT WAS VERYYY EMBARRASSING.)

During Universe he got us to sing along to the ‘woah woah yeah yeah’ parts in the song, and during the instrumental breaks the crowd was shouting like, ‘HEY HEY HEY.” It was really nice. 

Wakusei Loop started playing and I screamed because I love that song. Immediately the crowd goes ‘ tuttururuttu ruttutturu’ along with the song. And some rhythmic clapping during choruses/ instrumentals.

When he left the stage I got so sad jeez. But i remembered that there was still CLEANERO.

I mean, there was two of them! Both, one package. Win win right? 

And they ran up on stage, instead of having that little paper scene, they went straight into the first song. 

The songs they sang (that I remember) are: 

Butterfly

Cotton Candy Cloud

That One Song That Goes ‘Lalalalala’ And They Got The Crowd to Sing With Them. (Aka idk)

And I’m sure there were more but I forgot song

But the thing about Clear and Nero is: THEIR HARMONIES. They are so beautiful i felt like shedding a tear seriously. It was like the heavenly voices came down to bless me on that anime day. 

But these two knew how to interact with fans more while performing. Although Nero more than Clear. They always stood on the front and one time Nero pointed at at an audience member while singing. 

But after two songs they took a break, and the paper came out. Clear was cackling while Nero tried to pronounce the words. He did so pretty well actually. 

“Selamat siang (good afternoon) Jakarta!” he yelled, which in reply we cheered, but then he handed the paper to Clear, who stopped laughing as soon as he realized what he had to do. 

Clear said the exact same thing as Nero, but with stuttering and a heavy accent.You could tell he was really embarrassed, especially when some of us giggled. Luckily MOST of us were very encouraging and cheered for him instead.

After they were done I headed to the main stage where the concert was being held. 

That’s when I entered and realized, “Oh no it started already?!?” 

I swear they began early. So we headed to out seats and May’n was performing. While she was singing my cousin pointed to the poster-thing, where the performers were lined up in this order from bottom to top:

Tomohisa Sako

May’n

Konomi Suzuki

f’hana

She told me that if it was in the order of the pictures then that would mean that T-kun already performed. CUE PANIC. I tried to stay calm and enjoy the show but my mind was going a quadrillion miles per hour thinking of what would be of my life if I had indeed missed Tomohisa perform. 

May’n finished and left the stage and I sat down while waiting for the next performer to come up. We were sitting there staring at the screen playing advertisements when it flashed and in very loud volume it played:

COMING UP NEXT: TOMOHISA SAKO

I SCREAMED SO LOUDLY AND TEARED UP. SERIOUSLY. MY HEART EXPLODED AND I JUST FELT LIKE AAAAAAAAAAAA IT WAS PURE BLISS HOLY CRAP. 

T-kun ran onto stage, and the girls were deafening. I tried to calm myself but how could I?!?! HOW COULD I?!?

T-kun sang many songs, but instead of listing them I’ll go through them. 

(Although maybe not in correct order.)

So he sang Renai Saiban (Love Trial) and it reminded me of the little medley he did with Amatan and I was singing along like a little bird that doesn’t really know all the lyrics ww. 

He sang Mezase Pokemon Master and mad us shout that pikachu part LIKE FIVE TIMES. HE EVEN CALLED OUT SOMEONE. “Ahh... You only! You only, okay?” he said in english. It was cute and I was SO JEALOUS OF THAT PERSON. 

He sang Get a Ban Ban and I THINK I JUMPED ALL MY FAT AWAY WHILE SINGING WITH HIM BECAUSE I WAS SO ENERGETIC. 

Sugar Song and Bitter Step. At the beginning he trailed off one of the lyrics and twirled his finger at the audience... Thinking about it still makes my heart beat aa it was wonderful. 

He sang Floria and I felt a little nostalgic since I haven’t listened to that song in awhile it was so nice. T-kun really is cute and sweet...

And he sang Blue Bird!! I SWEAR THE CROWD WAS THE MOST ENERGETIC FOR THIS SONG, I SWUNG MY LIGHTSTICK AROUND UNTIL I FELT LIKE MY ARM WAS GOING TO FALL OFF. 

Some other things that happened. 

Him trying so hard to speak in Indonesian. While he was trying someone in the crowd yelled, “ T-kun daisuki!” and he was startled and replied, “a~a~ arigato!” 

He told us, “Saya makan nasi goreng. Enak sekali. (I ate fried rice. It was really good.)” 

Then he asked us what foods we liked, and my cousin shouted, “INDOMIE!” (Instant noodles ww) I swear the people by us were cracking up. 

Seriously my boy was so pure and I had so much fun I just felt so blessed the entire time ww. 

IKEMEN BOYSSSS <3 

I want to follow them forever! 

(I want to translate the footage of T-kun’s performance but I must brush up on my Japanese ww. I can do the Indonesian. Hopefully I can though.)

C3 ANIFEST WAS AMAZING I MISS THEM SO MUCH. I WANT TO WATCH MORE OF MY UTAITE BABIES I HOPE THEY CONTINUE COMING TO INDONESIA!! 

[glopratchet]

intro-of-astryl-wydl

Perfect beeing : an imprefect novel a perfect poem, a perfect song and a perfect man You know you can't go on like this You have to find something else that will give you pleasure and your mind is already filled with ideas of what might be good for you to read or listen too But the only thing in your mind right now is to get out of here! But there are no other options left at all Angylph speaks and says "so what is this all about" Well I guess it would be best if we started from the beginning First things first, how did you come to be in my house? And why do you look so unhappy? "since i prefer art bots instead of aborted babies on a cross, and you think we are going to go to hell THEN we must be related" "Hell? What kind of nonsense is this? "since i prefer art bots instead of aborted babies on a cross, "when i read specutalive fiction" you say "I enjoy a good ending better then a bad one obviously" "What is this place? And what have you done with my brother? you ask yourself Man you are quick on your feet, but this woman looks very tired and stressed will she fall for such trickery You can do this! act now before she gets to close switch subjects quickly and look away but don't ignore her You need to sell this lie "when i read specutalive fiction" you say "alright here we go" you think trust the Force and improvise Still, its a very interesting topic, but we should choose one before my head explodes "let me sit back an attempt to figure all this out" you type "let me sit back an attempt to figure all this out" you type The "b" is brown ; (4) A sea of letters is called the spooge you don't know what that means nor what it has to do with anything The random letters really doesn't tell you anything and you've asked myself what it all means well according to your views, it means nothing The images are like nothing you've ever seen before though, they're so colorful and weird looking The B & W photo of jupiter seems pretty dull in comparison almost creepy too when you look at it for too long The who who clicks last is a stooge Seriously now? Who comes up with this stuff and what does it mean? Is any of this real or are you the fool? Some would say both; you need a break Right now, all you want to do is listen to some calming music, your tired of all these depressing thoughts that come with fragmented information You long to see some "real people", someone that isn't compressed bits and bytes What do you really know about this Eva? Taking resposibility for your mistakes as we attempt to build a maze approaching ; (5) you think someone else died mysteriously and they were the one that put all this Instead of looking further into this dangerous game as who and why its best just to give up on it and what happens happens you think Pressing the R key starts the song over again and you forget about all this mess for now until something happens, which you've been told somethings will Taking resposibility for your mistakes as we attempt to build a maze approaching ; That ends in ruin or reward only time will tell Eva - That wasn't what I expected but it sheds some light on the setting of the mood for our paths we must travel You are clearly mentally disturbed, why else would you make this pathetic attempt at an obscure story to try and confuse me? You are a coward just like my ex-boyfriend Chad So how exactly does this prove that you are not responsible for putting all this here in the first place? That ends in ruin or reward only time will tell The story is told by multiverse explorer astral wylde to his Daughter Grace astral about the time period of when he first experienced "the pictures" before they became verbal when he talked with fellow creative and how they became relational in the best way I recommend reading it as it is probably more "here" than what I have just told you The story is told by multiverse explorer astral wylde to his Daughter Grace astral about the time period of when he first experienced "the pictures" before they became verbal when he talked with fellow creative and how they became relational in the best way There are records stored in the city of astokhan on everything that goes on in world apart from those things best not remembered for when the end comes if it ever does under the complete ruling of dum Akhan So the silly bugger made a song and dance about this on his official reports? dam Dum Akhan would be mad at that honestly, imagine if some dum sanctioned this man's actions without knowing what is going on furthermore he has demonized himself with the term stooge in such a crude simple manner There are records stored in the city of astokhan on everything that goes on in world apart from those things best not remembered for when the end comes if it ever does under the complete ruling of dum Akhan And during one of his less fuitful periods we had this conversation OCC: How much did you pay for a license to use that? You know that there was a price on that formula right? "how did you even gain access to these communications? eva being as intelligent and secretive as she is, i would have though you'd be the last person she'd tell stuff too" And during one of his less fuitful periods we had this conversation He decides to envision chains flowing from my head He's probably trying to intimidate you I think a better representation of me is the red misty cloud that came out your pocket and is slowly forming into my likeness on your lap The stupid muppet actually listened to me earlier and kept count, he can't help himself says unity, then again most fools can't help themselves To answer your first question, this was just a conversation we had shortly before you got here From the life of a beautiful painter he once knew As she painted pictures not of an extant quality because of her happy heart and creative style opposed to sole reason or tainted by poverty or even misery like most painters' works normally are thus making her life a whole lot easier as attention and sales figures rose into mastery the artist had became used to success without bothering herself with challenges that some say is inhuman and extremely unnatural Then one day she met a kindred spirit in a fellow creatives and fell deeply in love without sacrificing her position Astral wydle because of his supernal nature is gifted with perfect memory not to mention without sleep and he still finds himself getting bored which sometimes leads him to having unusual ways of keeping himself occupied such as writing random stories or biographies on random subjects I remember reading some where he talked about her On the first week of spring 23 he first met an artist at the Academy called Heather Jane Rogers when she was just a celebrated artist invited there to do a trial run of something called performance art where she proceeded to paint while covered in body paint Astral wydle because of his supernal nature is gifted with perfect memory not to mention without sleep and he still finds himself getting bored which sometimes leads him to having unusual ways of keeping himself occupied such as writing random stories or biographies on random subjects And he remembers watching a video from mica metrological in his flamboyant style where a similar woman called Lou Reed played the guitar to her at Ascot house ; (I think that's what it's called The old artist frequently mentions the palaces and fantastic gardens there in great detail thinking they were some of the most beautiful sights she ever saw) where later on he claimed to have fallen in love with her And he remembers watching a video from mica metrological in his flamboyant style where a similar woman called Lou Reed played the guitar to her at Ascot house ; Talking about a thirty percent chance of rain that evening anyway I happened to bump into you that night at the same place then I forgot all about the clouds as soon as you started talking The young Lou must have put on one heck of a wonderful show then looking back it really is funny how some core things never change, I honestly almost pulled him in just to spite him At this point I can't tell if he hates me or fears me or perhaps both Talking about a thirty percent chance of rain that evening anyway I happened to bump into you that night at the same place then I forgot all about the clouds as soon as you started talking He remembers being at the gory hole in artist community when she was forced out like so many others couldn't afford to buy food or move and he had the feeling that perhaps it was some sort of curse upon her for profiting off such a terrible act, could still be though She even played at a neutral building which caused an outrage at the time but as one reviewer put it "you could cut the tension with a knife" He remembers being at the gory hole in artist community when she was forced out like so many others couldn't afford to buy food or move and he had the feeling that perhaps it was some sort of curse upon her for profiting off such a terrible act, A progressive mid tier art gallery in a trendy section of beetriot city called capitol heights which was thankfully bombed into oblivion by eternium ; (a major art supplier) decades ago A progressive mid tier art gallery in a trendy section of beetriot city called capitol heights which was thankfully bombed into oblivion by eternium ; Known as the bridge of noise (he has an ear piercingly annoying way of describing simple everyday things that probably would end up adding a solid fifty thousand words to a five word quote if you allowed him to speak for more than two hours straight) when they played at some blue building that looked like a monstrous bowl turned upside down ; (earlier in the day he actually attempted to have some obscure artistic name for the place but ultimately failed by awkwardly stuttering to himself apparently they changed it's name without permission which is apparently uncommon Known as the bridge of noise ; There he first learns all of beetriot is laughing at triton arcage again as it happened rather often due to some wise cracks about lady Cassandra's recent decision to add four hundred and thirty-two new erasable colors to their six hundred strong color range He was cursed at and even assaulted only to be saved by and then start flirting with a pretty voice and in retrospect also an incredible amount of alcohol for the time of day The first time they meet in person was over a flaming bowl of some sort of soup which sounds great sense memory I guess huh? There he first learns all of beetriot is laughing at triton arcage again as it happened rather often due to some wise cracks about lady Cassandra's recent decision to add four hundred and thirty-two new erasable colors to their six hundred strong color range As he observes the details of a painting at show known as the triumph of the colored venus as the rest of the room merrily drinks and parties around them he unknowingly stares deep into her eyes As far as he or I ; (at least on his side) is aware they quickly flirted back and forth until the show finished at which point chaos erupted as a cynical announcer ; (they were surprisingly common back then in that day and age) stated to everyone's surprise that what they had all witnessed was an extremely late April's fools art prank "based loosely" As he observes the details of a painting at show known as the triumph of the colored venus as the rest of the room merrily drinks and parties around them he unknowingly stares deep into her eyes That features a group of lesbian women of darker color trampling an infamous bigot of the time under a certain colored delivery venus painting We've never been able to figure out who gave the announcement ; (all records of his id were deleted) but we all guess it must have been one of lady Cassandra's more enthusiastic fans That features a group of lesbian women of darker color trampling an infamous bigot of the time under a certain colored delivery venus painting On the faces of a group of contempory news worthy white men witnessing the far more outlandish unexpected display they were content at first to loudly complain but several white shirted security ; (all artists) from other galleries had already surrounded the group so they quietly but steadily left after that Well, 3 of the most hardcore bigots left with threats under their breath which is when lady Cassandra famously replied "good! " she then played one last song to cheering crowd and promptly left as well forgetting the interview in the bargin On the faces of a group of contempory news worthy white men witnessing the far more outlandish unexpected display they were content at first to loudly complain but several white shirted security ; By emerging twenty something artist cherp cherp quint illion was instantly an internet meme within an hour due to a live recording of the show ; (although basically nobody understood the joke untill years later) he watched some of it with the bridge of noise and cindy lou Triton arcage himself made several pointed antisocial posts accusing them all of obviously staged bull fracking inbetween demands that people send him samples of colored venus paintings for his own amusement By emerging twenty something artist cherp cherp quintillion was instantly an internet meme within an hour due to a live recording of the show ; Known for her delicate rococo style she didn't expect the republican capitalist pigs of southern Gildshire to honor her contract and even politely turned down an invitation to paint the lord's mansion in favor of returning home "That's a load of bull! Known for her delicate rococo style she didn't expect the republican capitalist pigs of southern Gildshire to honor her contract and even politely turned down an invitation to paint the lord's mansion in favor of returning home He overhears saul saint nicodemous giving cherp cherp a critique of the piece Cherp cherp gives a little shrug and then turns to triton arcage with a open grin Seeming him visibly cringe and then nervously play with his fingers she concludes" Well let's just say I'm willing to take that chance Triton arcage goes over to try and compliment her work only to get yelled at by saint nicodemous He pretends to be fine with this but really isn't With a group of other artist friends including saul saint nicodemous and tritons old classmates she enters a small cafe afterward They stay here discussing art for several hours where they are imporantly very accepting of his ideas as he is with hers Cindy lou however seems constantly distracted through all this Every now and then glancing over at the other table where the exact same cafe they are in sold food until only recently With a group of other artist friends including saul saint nicodemous and tritons old classmates she enters a small cafe afterward Katharsis gale the oldest of the group in mid fourties and by most artistic measures very much still alive breaks the silence The ever wordly woman asks triton "well it's all over it went far better than anyone had a right to expect any criticism? "Of course some people are just going to hate anything new" triton replies truthfully trying not to look at cindy lou Suddenly cindy lou exclaims "then someone should go over there and criticize their food! Katharsis gale the oldest of the group in mid fourties and by most artistic measures very much still alive breaks the silence Bransky bronze bright supermacy in her early thirties with work showing in Dugan galleria and genius grant winner at 21 stares at her until the rest of the table breaks into laughter "Who said anything about food? "Bruschetta! Bransky bronze bright supermacy in her early thirties with work showing in Dugan galleria and genius grant winner at 21 stares at her until the rest of the table breaks into laughter Bransky and chirp standing sliently noding there heads in approval "Sorry who's bruschetta? " triton shyly asks wondering if one of them had a superpower of remembering the names of everyone they met since forever "The mean ossider who couldn't appreciate our art! " cindy lou exclaims tears starting to form in her eyes Triton sees the other artist get a awkward almost wincing look on their faces except for saul saint nicodemous "let me tell you what this represents in your art work, " states saul "the feeling of adversity for someone who faced down waves of derision, and vilification for simply for having a vision different from the mass's it was even your own boss at the time who created panel "A" which created a large backlash that could easily have destroyed her career and yet she carried on when anyone else may have quit at that point Saul goes in to hug her "This is good cuz I'm hungry can we go now "the feeling of adversity for someone who faced down waves of derision, As saul saint goes on and on with bullshit language about destruction of the More nonsense on colonialism and purity of artistic visions, he picks up a large crayon looking thing and draws a circle around what looks horridly close to rings around cindy lou's late friend oggie He draws and draws until there is a full drawing around these characters the 2 people commenting on her tragedy with thumbs up, and then himself with his hand raised in an entire crowd giving a standing ovation! to this drivel More nonsense on colonialism and purity of artistic visions, An aspect of queer theory transgression of canonic norms and smashing the cis-normative glass slipper (even though bruschetta is side panel! The entire table stares in awe at how it reflects the entire cafe, from the small amount of patrons to one particularly aggressive looking war era Cartoon bird looking creature in a cage It suddenly ends, then GOE 4 1 red act goes on to fully seize all cartoon creatures An aspect of queer theory, And other fashionable topics of art conflict As usual everyone claps They finally leave Saul hugs Cindy Lou again and tells her how much her sadness and pain meant to him How every piece of art must start with a little sorrow the ECSF officially adopts art as a weapon policy embracing chaotic whimsies to destroy the authoritarian status quo During this time period eventually leading to anti-democratic artist run totalitarian state with over emphasis on aesthetics in every day life The cycle continues During this time period the ECSF officially adopts art as a weapon policy embracing chaotic whimsies to destroy the authoritarian status quo The end Astral can not help himself and says something of a smart assed nature about his lack or orginality on the ending Something about how if one is too ultra supportive of disruptive elements it will grow into a state that destroys all opposition and look at what has happened to bruschetta that little ossider needs to be put in his place R2-43 begins a small electrical shock and sends astral flying with a well placed punch to the face Then turns goblin into a magical light show with her wand "You're pretty good with that thing, Astral can not help himself and says something of a smart assed nature about his lack or orginality on the ending The actual quote is Leaving the others shocked she looks sexually attracted to astral and begins to check him out in just the way you suspect rukka and jaxom have done with you Making a smacking kissy mouth sound Dropping goblin on the floor, she walks over slowly towards the astral while touching his freshly bruised face She touches hand moves toward his crouch "Woah, i'm not gonna suck your Leaving the others shocked, While kat unable to control herself goes on a giggle fit and attempts unzipping his armor With one good blast of magik she sends him spinning across the barre of her legs causing the ents to make highpitched screams as she gets closer and closer to his crouch One swift, forceful pull of both hands in a denim effect on a pair of leather pants done by a very excited tanuki causes him to fall over, this apparently exciting tanuki even more as the ent is sent under the table While kat unable to control herself goes on a gigglefit and attempts unzipping his armor Saul and brankys backs away with out a retort in disgust and ents magik affectation The bar is but a shambles of blood, guts, feathers and denim You approaching quietly as they lay on the table post passionate denium separation far from the carnage Upon approaching he looks at you blushing Still naked and clearly in a state of shame It was all at once hilarious and adorable "I did not F there, there" "No "Or there either, " pointing under the bloody table Saul and brankys backs away with out a retort in disgust and ents magik affectation The group heads for the wine bar wondering about the homeless nature of astral projection as ent dies her arms around in an nearly impossible position to hold The group heads for the wine bar wondering about the homeless nature of astral projection as ent dies her arms around in an nearly impossible position to hold And wondering if he comes from the land of lixie dixie The dealer of gallery motions to cherp to come her way because they need to talk about some finances You tell your new employee where you'll be and probably will be there for quite some time while this goes though Cherp seems enthuisiastic towards hanging out at the wine bar Why that place? Who knows, ents are a strangely docible sort But things go well apparently as the owner of the bar remembers you from your traveling child hood The dealer of gallery motions to cherp to come her way because they need to talk about some finances A collector is interested in buying her work She can't remember when the last time someone was genuinely interested in her work and began making motions to leave with him then and there You try explaining things, but as these things go, they are fairly regular at your bar and she needed to watch her proceedings The man looked promising though if he actually buys them all Leaving astral and kat together for a moment you walk over and speak to the ents, while explaining why cherp left early but ent surprises you with all his rambling about her work and paintings "They got the oddest shapes cherp, " he slurs spilling out an ale "I know I painted them" You muffled with a bemused expression on your face Looking as if he was on the verge of tears, rukka extends one of her branches Leaving astral and kat together for a moment you walk over and speak to the ents, She makes an excuse to leave and you bring two bottles home since the ents offered not to finish theirs The pictures were actually complemented pretty well, the value was definitely there as you sold your creations in only a days time in the past and this man heard of cherp though out lands but her paintings were incredibly rare due to her nomadic nature The group and yourself celebrate taking at least one expensive bar bill off the company payroll for once expectacy in one of his travels and possible may have even had a picture from that time, old iron clasps keeping it bound Strange request though She makes an excuse to leave and you bring two bottles home since the ents offered not to finish theirs He mentions that he has seen her work before Before finishing your drink Her expression drops as she notices your face Rukkia is brought to the table, she looks beat and probably shouldn't have been out drinking tonight as she was on her monthly rampage, seemingly forgetting how much physical strength she holds with that behemoth inside her He mentions that he has seen her work before in one of his travels and possible may have even had a picture from that time, But astral replies with a comment so disarming to that kat can not help but fall in love with him on the spot as his way of expressing himself towards berchemy usually ends in some horrible accident Correcting herself, she looks to astral realizing who he is Her usual sober demeanor becomes a little more light hearted and elegant as she sits with the group "I assume this man is aurvascour, who are the others? You know she really wants to say you look familiar but is having difficulty remembering who you are exactly But astral replies with a comment so disarming to that kat can not help but fall in love with him on the spot as his way of expressing himself towards berchemy usually ends in some horrible accident And they sneak out into the night air together Never being truly introduced They never truly caught each others name before they left either As they walk together he opens up to her more easily than he has tended to do with others, as if this is something easy for him now that he is expressing himself through his mixture of the arcane and her craft Out there in the dark terse vague statements are made about himself accompanied by big arm gestures "I uh my grandfather was a hero" As they walk along the peppled path of a converted bridge from an abadonned subway train yard that the city now uses as park, they get to know each other go from singular sporadic sentences to almost a complete conversation Nothing on the physical plane of course, but the pair got closer than before He knew she was not out to eat him, she knew he was not stupid nor slow, they could still appreciate one another despite this condition engulfing them both As they walk along the peppled path of a converted bridge from an abadonned subway train yard that the city now uses as park, The converstation unexpectedly turns back to triton and his first failed prediction astral wanted the real information if he was going to relay it "Theres nothing more that I know, than what I told you in that conversation, " astral says defending himself "I know that Fair enough" A lie of course, there is much more to it than what he said, it was just so absurd that he did not believe aurvace would relay it to him even if she knew The converstation unexpectedly turns back to triton and his first failed prediction, Twenty years ago ~Chapter 6: prelude to a Storm~ You are leaving the scene of aurvaces first prediction, it seemed initially successful, but you are about to go through an entire lifetime before realizing that your chances were much slimmer than anticipated That gym was on the border of the merchant district now commonly referred to as the clip It had started out innocently enough as a way for the entourage supporting Ruki to legally make some money and give back now Twenty years ago now Here astral learns about about someones world who did end that day From the man ari bloomsfield in the opening days of the great Kishak disturbances, as nameless street urchins in old beat up tennis shoes were running away from looters who shed stolen their recently broken store windows furniture alongside anything else they could find Upon her first rime in that place and sometime during the third day of looting within streets sealed shut by soldiers, aurvace is invaded once again From the man ari bloomsfield in the opening days of the great Kishak disturbances, Who had been scientist visiting beetriot from the orient five years her senior was a blond roguish man only three inches taller than herself They came on to each other fast over a sandwhich after he made sure she was not affiliated in anyway with another division under his command undercover inside the borders of this is city-state called kishak That should have given it away, how silly that they both thought their love was perfect when neither were even from the same continent, let alone the same stratosphere Who had been scientist visiting beetriot from the orient five years her senior was a blond roguish man only three inches taller than herself She had a nickname for him in her mind based on how superficial their connection and length relations were, she then coughed as if trying to hack something up but nothing left her mouth even though something was there a couple minutes ago And the rationalizations commence "It had to be done this way! If it takes humor to lighten the situation I will be happy to provide that, you know I always will, " implying he could not make her laugh under normal circumstances She had a nickname for him in her mind based on how superficial their connection and length relations were, Beastiari later agreed to meet her deep in the snowy summit mountains disregarding objections of all the people who love and care for him despite the distance Perhaps this could officially begin where aurvace had always felt alone even from him For she had through nearly unfathomable efforts concluded that her ability to remain aloof was the only way to survive on this moving forward as, ironically, a means to an end of maintaining a relationship between her and a loved one too Beastiari later agreed to meet her deep in the snowy summit mountains disregarding objections of all the people who love and care for him despite the distance Because of the obsene amount of dark blue brusies he would leave on her neck and other parts of her body without care, still, she knew the end result of his touches always lead to feelings of happiness deadening a deep pain that had always been there when the stars aligned a certain way Because of the obsene amount of dark blue brusies he would leave on her neck and other parts of her body without care, Luckly it was the winter so she could get away with wearing scarves all winter long She had oh so many lovers that winter of so much snow fall with tempers flaring hot enough that the occasional hapless pebble melted Her fellow soldiers were certainly fooled it would have probably worked if aurvace had not gotten out of hand near the very ending as she felt she deserved a good first part of winter months reprieve from grief Perhaps, it might have even lasted closer to spring if her consort did not notice her increasingly decrease in physical strength She had oh so many lovers that winter of so much snow fall with tempers flaring hot enough that the occasional hapless pebble melted While the love affair progressed for aurvace was like the starless winter that had finally lifted, her strength simultaneously decreased dangerously low By the start of march legs could no longer carry her and she had long since gave up on using bushes and other sparse vegetation as a makeshift toilet The cold made it all the worse bit still aurvace was able to make a run for elves until While the love affair progressed for aurvace was like the starless winter that had finally lifted, Another lover appeared on the scene She surely believed its mere presence was jealously summoned but her other gorgeous rascal of an aurvace consort was actually just smart enough to run some diagnostics on his beloved While aurvace may have neglected her share of physical discomfort he obviously did not overlook her decreased immunity and the very thing that caused a perpetual happy face plastered on aurvace now failed spectacularly The first lover Who later became a preacher with rather cult like following would call this phenomenon the so called "Death of Passion" saying that was no way to truly end one's life unless it was done beside someone comparable in beauty and or humor; A compliment aurvace was more than used to hearing by now But when aurvace's consort laid eyes on her they could only stare blankly at one another not saying a word even when practically laying naked together Who later became a preacher with rather cult like following would call this phenomenon the so called "Death of Passion" saying that was no way to truly end one's life unless it was done beside someone comparable in beauty and or humor; The one who took away her virginity on her twenty first birthday The poems he inspired aurvace to create herself were never that great so she never bothered trying for anything beyond writing love sonnets to aurvace anflutter with brand new experiences He had left her three years ago to persue a music carreer out out west due to his infatuation with the songs of the lands towards the setting sun Nor was risking death by starvation in this unforgiving winter worth it but aurvace chalked it up to attempted infidelity, thoughts of such repulsed her to no end though He had left her three years ago to persue a music carreer out out west due to his infatuation with the songs of the lands towards the setting sun Or was it another girl or woman? Unthinkable! Had aurvace's beauty faded so much that death would be kinder than the hurtful truth? The alternative was that some external force had a hand in this True, his disappearance could of been written off as kidnaping for ransom but aurvace's father never alluded to such suspicious activities during the times he comforted her Or was it another girl or woman? She could never be for sure and that uncertainty grew too much for aurvace who needed there to be a reasonable conclusion So after a minor fit of rage aurvace shot up and marched right into yet another snowstorm, luckily her fickle constitution was on her side for what aurvace had in guts she lacked entirely in common sense They found her body at the bottom of a snow drift which showed no immediate signs of trauma though aurvace most certainly froze to death She could never be for sure and that uncertainty grew too much for aurvace who needed there to be a reasonable conclusion But there he was back on the scene meaning well but rarely doing well aurvace's first love would compose a song about aurvace almost as beautiful as she was, in fact it became somewhat of a hit amongst their people leading some to believe that aurvace may have indirectly promoted interracial relationships though aurvace would care not at all as she herself could not see nor whatsoever But there he was back on the scene meaning well but rarely doing well, On the morning of the first doomsday pediction kat and beastiari went to the clinic for the procedure the day after kat visited beast for the first time since the operation though his face was still heavily bandaged "That bad eh? " she asked "Even uglier then I thought it would be, " beast sighed with a heavy heart Kat felt genuinely sorry for her friend as he was probably not exaggerating but beast recovered just fine and vowed that he was really allright and trying to put on a brave face despite feeling like death the day before On the morning of the first doomsday pediction kat and beastiari went to the clinic for the procedure, It turns out this day is the day astral and her meet are the anniverary of that event ful day they would change one an others lives so much and although it wasn't planned she did indeed plan a little get together this evening as a way to cheer beast up That of course involve cannibals and the humble village teacher but more about that in the last chapter Chapter 6A: One Fowl Evening "Is kat going to be there? " beast asked his sister who was wrapping his bandages It turns out this day is the day astral and her meet are the anniverary of that eventful day they would change one an others lives so much and although it wasn't planned she did indeed plan a little get together this evening as a way to cheer beast up For some reason art knocked on my door that day and when I answered art replied that beast needed to see me, not asking just telling I guess he must of thought me showing up unannounced to see a nearsight blind kid would of been a great equalizer Before I headed out though Aurvace caught me and handed me a sealed letter, the only instruction she left for me when accepting this mission But i told him that it was not a good time For some reason art knocked on my door that day and when I answered art replied that beast needed to see me, beast's sister was helping him "Your preaching to the choir sister, I think I'll win her over with my charm though, I mean this concept isn't totally lost on her and besides love is obscure He kept on as we started walking to his house Once inside I was given a lecture of sorts from astral about respecting personal boundaries and I agreed to not do it again with beast around but then beast left us so I felt less restrainted slightly But i told him that it was not a good time, and I was getting a little suspicious of kat's absence, Where is she? "can we try this again? " beast asked, giving astral a push then leaving through the back door which connected the two houses Ari was on the other side of the door with me She followed him out, checking to see if we were coming so I decided to tell art what I can now "The doctors know astral's pregnant, " I said slowly and quietly as to not be heard right away And i remember him being so scared Ari was on the other side of the door with me and I was getting a little suspicious of kat's absence, for his sister when he first learned the news during his mid- semester, but now his greyish pallor was ashen and his eyes looked glassy I tried calling to him but after a few mumbles he just start walking outside I followed him What a view, every villager was out here crowded in front of each others homes with torches a blazing at least but against the adult villagers he looked like a child, and a defiant one at that "Well, what do we have here? " The humble village chief said, in quite a festive tone "It started with a deaf blind boy begging to be taught how to read, " art began in between sobs And i remember him being so scared for his sister when he first learned the news during his mid- semester, Art was a big man well a tall man "It ended with several dead bodies in your home, all eaten Several men handed him another paper figuring that he would want to see it again Art was a big man well a tall man at least but against the adult villagers he looked like a child, But i think he had a streak of cowerdace in him because he immediately pleaded guilty once he started reading it "so this wasn't some cult ritual or religious thing? I had to change the tone of his confession because I didn't want this mock trial to turn real He stopped and re-read, then looked up at me accusingly "wait a second one of them says it was your idea, " another man adds, probably another parent of a dead kid "Now hold on " I said slowly inching forward But i think he had a streak of cowerdace in him because he immediately pleaded guilty once he started reading it And i do not think i could ever rely on him for protection both then or ever again As much as he is frail, he is only a man and i am just a boy CS: ******** Realizing the folly of getting on half of them he once again changed his tune And i do not think i could ever rely on him for protection both then or ever again But yes someones world did end that day mostly for the better though It wasn't just beasts sister who's lust for life died that day, it was also the blind poets The sentence drags in and out But yes someones world did end that day, Moments later the rain came down in sprinkles and we quickly moved under the roof of one of the houses Just three boys wrapped in pale blue sheets with rain drops dipping onto their skin "So why, I mean why do you think that beast would One could only assume that he was trembling from both cold and fear and not madness or sorrow, which leaves me about the same Perhaps the fever made us do it and perhaps it did not Moments later the rain came down in sprinkles and we quickly moved under the roof of one of the houses She mentions that she knows what the name of the child would be once it was born because she had seen the scarf "Whos robe was it? " I ask "Yours of course, " she still could not make out our faces through one squinted eye and one near closed eyelid "My favorite robe, a blue one I couldn't believe it and as terrible at remembering clothes I could never forget that one She mentions that she knows what the name of the child would be once it was born because she had seen the scarf The rain gives her an oppertuinity to part ways and rest her swollen feet Interupted by the chief who was ready to communicate with us once again "Sorry again about all that you have had to go through, " he says, "so what is it that you wanted? No harm no foul we were just gonna make camp here tonight and go about our business in the morn Perhaps this has all been a set up As they part she ends by stating that she does not regret it and that she would gladly do it again and the child too I know that she said this before but the force was so much more behind it this time The chief sound like he is turning then makes an about face turning toward his house made of stone And then he stops and turns and with an outreached hand invites us inside Three squars at any incloure but i decline As they part she ends by stating that she does not regret it and that she would gladly do it again The abortion of this trip was certainly weighed by my actions, I am indeed sorry that it has turned out this way Thats probably for the best come by tommarrow if you like, alright Well no more hugs today boys get some sleep and hope you learn from your misstakes so boy number one stand up The abortion of this trip was certainly weighed by my actions, And that she never regrets anything That girl back there contiplated suicide Why though I do not know, she always seemed happy to me I guess I'll never know And she says good bye Just leaves me here to sit and ponder life and other nonsense that does not really matter Perhaps it is best that she left when she did, who knows what else we would have got ourselves into Though while I may never really know I hope to find a little bit of her once again with the ladies, or at least emuate what I can through pretend I made a joke with the chief, the ultimate chivalrous hero saving the damsel in distress And they part as the first snow of the year comes down just a little harder than it has And the boy ends his story here and bids you goodnight friend

[letlhogonolotakesuclalaw]

Shelved Memories, Fractured  Relationships, Loss and Healing

It’s a beautiful and sunny Tuesday afternoon in Los Angeles. Today will be good day I tell myself. It is a  particularly exciting day because a certain distinguished lecturer from the  University of Free State will be giving a lecture in the history department.  Yes, another South African in LA. I was told that it is going to be an  exciting lecture. The lecture is on the sixth floor of the history  department. I don't know where the history building is and my google maps is taking  me around in circles and I finally sent a text to the Black Grads UCLA group and  someone directs me to the building. I get there and the lecture begins  shortly. Dr Chitja Twala delivers a lecture on Culture activities and  resistance art as tools of the liberation struggle in the Free State, South  Africa, 1970s -1990s. It wasn't a particularly interesting lecture but the  Americans were impressed, I think anything about South Africa impresses them.  

I get a WhatsApp call from my uncle  and I can't answer. I sent him a message to tell him I can't answer and he  says that I should call him after the lecture. I immediately got this sick  feeling in my gut and my gut keeps saying that something is terribly wrong. I  have a look at the time and it is probably passed ten in the evening in South  Africa and he calling me means that something has to be wrong.

 This lecture needs to end so that I can  call him. After the lecture, I call him and he asks me where I am and I tell  him I am walking on campus. He tells me to find a quiet place and sit down.  His tone confirms my suspicions. I tell myself that something is terribly  wrong. I proceeded to the Grad office and go into Sidney's office. She seems  excited to see me and asks about my weekend. I tell her that something is  wrong and I start crying. She closes her office door. I call my uncle. He  relays the story that my mom fell that morning and proceeds to tell me all  the details of that day and then he says "I'm afraid I don't have good  news for you." I'm not sure what he is saying, although I am. I asked  him "what exactly are you saying?" He says "your mom has  passed away". I let out a loud cry. I think my heart stopped for a  minute. I thought I was dreaming. I thought that I was having a bad dream I  was desperate to wake up from. I put down the phone. He calls again. I'm  uncertain how to answer his question when he asks how I am doing, I wasn't  sure myself.

You see the last couple of years of  my mom's life, we had a very complicated relationship. I think it came with  me working. It reminds me of an essay called The Eternal Intern I read in  "We write what we like" edited by Yolisa Qunta. I

 As black people working, we shoulder  and take on a lot of responsibility and for many of us we are our parents’  saving grace, their ticket out of poverty. But sadly, the system works  tirelessly to ensure that we do not truly become that ticket. The system is  not created to allow me to be in full flourish. In theory, my big 5 law  salary after my degree should have been able to take good care of my mother  and her family. All the sacrifices finally paying off, but it didn't. I moved  to Johannesburg, which meant that I had to get a place to stay, a car, buy  working clothing, live in Johannesburg and send money home to my mom and take  care of my sister. I did the best that I can but in many ways it was not  enough. This caused a drift in our relationship. I am a new age person  and my mom is of the older generation, a clash between the generations. I  expressed my discomfort a lot and I felt that she didn't care about me, but I  was completely wrong - I didn't see her point of view. I didn’t see that  I was her ticket to a better life.

 So, when I left for LA I was uneasy,  I felt that there was unfinished business in South Africa and my first two  months, I was uneasy and now I see why I was. She was going to pass away. My  mom and I last spoke two weeks before her passing. It was  a video call. She was happy to see me alive  and well. I was too. I am saddened that when she passed she couldn't call me.  I am saddened that I was many miles away in another country. Her death cut me  deep. I was angry at life for being so cruel. I mean, I had come to LA to  follow my dreams but inadvertently it would mean that this degree would  better her life as well. After my crying, I become the lawyer that I am, and  starting thinking about what is going to happen. I won't lie to you. The Grad  office at UCLA is incredible, within minutes - a flight back was booked (just  changed my initial return flight) and my Professors would be notified of the  horrid news.  But being the lawyer that I am, my first question was  to ask about the contract I signed to be at UCLA, I had many questions about  what happens if I don't come back. I was assured that it should be the least  of my worries.

I messaged my friends in LA and  South Africa and broke the tragic news to them, the number of texts and calls  were overwhelming, my people were showing up for me. I went to my house. I  was never left alone until I made it to the airport the next day. It was  incredible how black people were showing up for me in my time of need. At  embarking on the hardest journey of my life - 27 hours of travelling back to  SA all by myself. It was a brutal and lonely time for me. I cried in  airports, in flights and had to constantly let people know not to be alarmed  if they saw me cry. It was the worst 27 hours of my life. I wrote a lot, I  cried a lot.  I wrote about my grandmother who passed when I was in  grade 11. She was an amazing womxn, who took care of me on her social welfare  - she died while she was in her 50s. I was reminded of the death of my aunt,  who took care of me - her death happened suddenly in her early forties and  now I was flying across the world to bury my mom who died at 50. Who fell and  died at 50. This was all too much to handle. I arrived in South Africa on  Friday morning and had friends come meet me at the airport and sit down and  cry with me. I needed that. To be held close and to be given the space to  cry. The loss seemed insurmountable.  From the airport it was  straight to Kimberley. My uncle - the same one who broke the news - drove us.  While driving, he asked me if I had any dollars with me because he hadn't  seen one. I told him yes and proceeded to show him. It is these moments that  remind me that traveling abroad is an act of revolution. It reminds me of the  words of Koleka Putuma "crossing  oceans is an achievement even for those left behind."

We got to Kimberley, got to my mom's house and the work began. This  was going to be the longest week of my life. I had to plan the funeral of the  womxn who birthed me. It was an incredibly difficult time. Guys, black  funerals are a lot. As the younger generation we need to think of a new way  of grieving and celebrating our loved ones. A week-long of feeding people and  prepare for the funeral by the bereaved is not on. I didn't have many moments  to grieve and mourn the death of my mom. I was too busy running around  ensuring that everything was going well. It was lot. An entire mess. To make  matters worse, I was jet lagged. Waking up at 2am each morning and having to  function until 10pm each time was  cruel  on my well-being but had to be done. It's only by the grace of God that I  managed to do all things. The Bible says

The LORD is close to the  brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. - Psalm 34:18 Some  of the hardest things I had to do was choose the casket she was doing to be  laid to rest in. There is nothing as final as choosing the casket. What rang  in my head was she is gone. Another task was finalising the program. Yoh! Guys!  Finalising her program broke me, I cried.  The preparation gave me some time to think  back. My mom raised me in a shack - this is significant. She opened a spaza  shop in her shack and put me through my primary school and took care of our  needs. My mom taught me about the Pan Africanist Movement - she'd always say  " I am pure PAC". She introduced me to Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe and  Stephen Bantu Biko. She was my library, she was a wise womxn with great  ideas. She was not university educated but she was  intelligent.  She always wanted her children to get what she  couldn't. She was an active member in the fight against apartheid. She used  to tell me stories of her fighting the system, her time in detention and when  she was electrocuted more times than I can count. . She was brave. I had  forgotten these things when our relationship soured but during that week I  was reminded of the womxn who gave me life and her  passion for learning. This is why black  womxn will always be it for me. Mosadi  o tshwara thipa ka bohaleng

 There is a song on the album Moya  called Nobanzi. It brought me so much healing. Nobanzi is a song by Khanyisa  Buti, who sings about his grandmother who was in informal trader. This song embodies  the womxn who raised me. 

 The day of the funeral I had barely  slept. It was the longest 4- hours of my life. We saw my mom in her casket.  She looked different but the same. She was resting. She was gone. She was gone.  My little sister and I spoke at the funeral. My little sisters reminded me of  two things mama always used to say "life  is a bitch" and "over my  dead body" and these phrases seemed appropriate for the occasion. We  were standing there over her dead body and life was a bitch for taking her  away so soon. The service went beautifully, mama is resting in dignity. The  dignity that she deserves.

 And how am I feeling? I'm mostly  calm. I am very grateful for the opportunity to have come to South Africa to  bury my mother. I am grateful for all the people that showed up in various  ways. The people who held my heart and prayed with and for me. I am grateful  to have come home to a solid support network. Home has been so healing.  

And now I'm writing this on my  flight back to the US - a decision I didn't take easily. I don't want to go  back. I felt like there was no point for me to go back to LA and finish this  degree.  I am afraid that I won't do well and I wouldn't cope. I'm  afraid to embarrass myself. But I'm going back to honour her memory. I'm  going back because all my achievements belong to the womxn in my life - who  have nurtured me. I wrote this as part of a longer piece when I was traveling  back. 

 Dear Mama,

Now like  your mother and sister, you will never get to see get how all your traumas  have created miracles. 

How your  shebeen and tuck shop money made a dreamer of out of your seed. I will become  your wildest dreams my whole life. For you, your mother and your sister. I am  going back to LA. Afraid, broken and on my way to healing.

 Robala ka  Kagiso Tlhapi. You are deeply loved by me. 

 Your son,

Tlhogi