#need people 2 listen to this rendition of confide in me not only is it something like a religious experience to me

[garygoldenbignaturals]

life changing thank you miss minogue

[rainydawgradioblog]

Spring & Happiness, My Favorite Songs This Season

On a perfect sunny day I love to wake up and let my days be driven with inspiration from the complexities spring season always brings. However, the past few months have felt like a sprint to finish the school year, so when I do stop to smell the roses, I find there’s nothing better I like to do than find comfort in what I love the most; art. And lately, I find that best to do outside, with my brown Bose headphones on, and my “Spring & Happiness” playlist on repeat.

1. "Beginning Dream" by Triste Janero

The best things in life are short lived, much like this song, which is 1:17 minutes long. 

2. "Saccharine" by Atta Boy

Nothing feels as soothing as Atta Boy’s voice filling your room before bed. The build up of the guitar paired with the piano AND the subtle hint of confidence in her voice as we arrive at the chorus is perfect. 

In the beginning, the lyrics describe the feeling of being in an all-consuming love with a toxic lover. However, your craving for this love is so captivating that it leaves no room to discover that they really aren’t loving you the way you need to be loved. The turning point of the song, a line that caught my attention at first listen, is;

“But it’ll make sense while I wait”

This launches us back into the chorus where we are able to interpret it through a more self-respecting lens. Originally assumed to be about loving someone desperately, it now becomes a song about loving yourself to that same extent. 

3. "Peaches" by In The Valley Below

I’ve listened to this song so much by now that it’s permanently stuck replaying in my head. Upbeat and feel-good, it hits all the right buttons to trick you into having a good day, even when you’re not. So please, In the Valley Below, stay stuck in my head forever!!

“We won’t live too long / So let’s love for one song”

This song reminds me a lot of Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, as it begins as a duet between two people before they end the song singing together in harmony. Without even needing to listen to lyrics, you can make out the electricity between the two which makes this song all the more addicting. 

4. "August" (acoustic) by flipturn 

Missed opportunities, like telling someone you love them (which this song is all!! about!!), are the inspiration for this warm, orchestral song. Flipturn sympathizes with audiences that can relate in the most personal way, though mentioning the lack of confrontation, the way it felt to be almost there yet almost not, and the regret that lives on past August. 

“We don’t talk about it / We don’t have the time”

I think I prefer the acoustic version for its slow, folksy build up. It compliments the vulnerable lyrics with raw elements like strings and the strumming of an acoustic guitar. Both renditions are beautiful and one could easily run in circles trying to choose between the two. 

5. "Masterpiece" by SAULT

Every person I play this for always asks me to send it to them! SAULT just happened to create the most soulful, intimate and mesmerizing masterpiece (see what I did there!) that leaves listeners wanting more. I've been on a comedown from only listening to Tyler the Creator / Foushee type beats since January and this song is the perfect blend of them and the songs I’ve included in this blog.

“You can clearly see God made a masterpiece”

This song is definitely about an obsessive love (there’s a theme in this blog that I am noticing now) but I can't help but think SAULT put that lyric in there to describe themselves and the creation of this song.

6. "No Machine" by Adrianne Lenker

Adrianne Lenker wrote this for your best friend. The person you couldn't live without and wouldn't know what to do if they weren’t here. When bright future was released, I had the absolute fortune of listening to this song with a few of my very close friends during a 3 hour car ride home. There were 5 of us packed into my tiny Lesbaru crosstrek and I remember hearing this song and thinking, 

“I don’t know what I’d do, don’t know what I’d do / Without you”

Lenker is a mastermind at describing people and their significance as earthly occurrences. In this particular song, she compares the vast ocean as the love given by a friend (in my interpretation), and how, like a river, we are constantly giving to it in return. I love my friends like I love this song, with everything in me!

7. "Didn’t Wanna Have To Do It" by Cass Elliot

A true spring anthem, this song comes back around every year at the same time and never fails to make me feel like the lead of a coming of age movie. If this whole blog has had the recurring theme of being in love with someone you can’t have, then this is the someone you can’t have’s perspective… What an endearing thought!! Yet this lovely song has no flaws (they could never make me hate you, Cass Elliot!). 

“I didn’t wanna have to be / The one to say ‘the end’”

Heartbreaking! However, listening to this while internalizing your pain through journaling happens to be incredibly healing. 

8. "If You Were Here" by Alice Phoebe Lou 

This song was sent to me by someone who I can’t see as often as I’d like, and I think it is the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me. Lyrics aside, I am entranced by this intimate exchange of musical blends. This song is romantic, poetic, and mysterious. The most beautiful and sultry version of myself comes out when this song is on. 

“And I’d crumble at the beauty of what might”

 Alice Phoebe Lou, I loooove youuu. The music this woman creates is phenomenal, and I think this song takes the cake. 

Happy spring!

-Mya

[caramia1977]

And it was realized, now was not only the time to let them go but a time of great change. A Tupperware container holding the remains of a giant angel on earth. Surely it couldn't contain more than an arm, possibly a foot but who's to say when the bones are burned away. No, it wasn't just the sadness at the thought of spreading those ashes in waters, waters he would hate, it was the end and my beginning. But alas therein lies the problem. Remove all excuses remove all attachments that bound me to my bed to slumber for weeks on end. Remove the obstacles and enter the race. It shall feel like the world is lighter, my back will hurt less but did any of it mean anything at all?

We've arrived at part two. The military sent him. He swooped in to save a soldier. And save a soldier he did. Months passed as their spirits bonded to one another. Unbeknownst to all this union would be energized by those who have gone before us. Of this I'm sure. Day in and day out they wondered what else the universe would reveal. One knew a change was coming and the other knew a change should come but the later won't identify the who,what, where, when and why. But that's okay because I'll be here when he figures it out. In the eyes of the beholder every second spent as one was exactly how their souls connected, grew and spoke to one another. But what happens when space and time (which isn't real) separate the two?

STOP PART 3: My protector and confident has been gone 31 days and 3 years. The Marine has been gone 497 days. I've been out of work since the soldier fell ill. While loathing my existence without my father and slowly, selfishly dying of malnutrition on my sofa for all the world to see which consisted of exactly 2 people...in swept a smell, a feeling, a well loved memory the one who was not to return from a life time ago. He may not have known (although I have told him, who knows when he's listening) he saved my life. He showed up, he made jokes at my expense, to my chagrin he encouraged me to eat and when I say encouraged I mean harassed me to eat. I was skin and bones. Basically the same as I am now. But in a turn of events, life's rendition of whiplash, I fell in love with him. Every single thing about him I fell in love with. And in an even more peculiar turn of events he fell in love with me. I saw nothing past him but I SAW him. I see him today. I see him without using my eyes. I reveled in every second we spent together, I still do. I needed that time every second and so did he. I still do. But tomorrow I'm going to set my giant earth angel free and that is the day when everything will change. And let me forewarn you that "everything will change" will be read by all as "so basically you're going to return to being an active member of society and complain about missing your twin flame?" . Yes, yes Susan I am but I digress. I will walk away from the beloved Ghosts of my past and face the world and its grotesque people alone without my love. Too much sadness too much pain not enough people that I love out there.

STOP, NO REALLY, PART 3: I think of the future days spent away from him and it's not ideal. I hate it actually. Working 1 full time job is enough to cause someone to climb to the top of the Bay Bridge and patiently wait as the negotiator trys to convince you that your life is worth it and you are loved. okay Officer You've done enough work today you can return to pulling people over for a flashing tale light. But setting my goal on 2 jobs seems lofty. I don't look forward to the time away from him. The only solice I can find is that thoughts of him and I will saturate my view and keep me going until I can get back to him. This was always supposed to happen. But the universe has an agreement with God and is very tight lipped so I waited 10 years and now, now I want another 10, 30 I want enfitity next to him. I hope he wants the same. For the first time in my life I want to jump with both feet holding onto only what I can grasp with my left hand while holding my right hand squarely on his heart. I am not to be confused with an easy to get along with puddle of love who reads soft porn romance novels while weeping when the gardner leaves the rich widow for the younger yoga instructor. I am a lioness. I love him fiercely. I love him with my words and when I glance at him sleeping. I love him with my hands when his shoulders hurt because "tonight the cards just weren't on his side". I adore him when I watch him with my cub. My cub loves him when she watches him with me. And I love him, I adorn him with love when our bodies are connected.

THE END: Well, not really. More like when the Grateful Dead rebranded as Dead and Company. Things changed but damn that's one fine band. And damn I have one fine man. Hey Marine! Hey Giant Earth Angel soon to be a Giant Earth mermaid! Watch out for us. Guide us always towards one another. Let the immense immeasurable love I have for you two continue to transfer to him.

The dog needs to be walked and I really need a tattoo. Until next time... knock twice before you open the bedroom door.

January 8th 2023 8:35pm

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 1)

Part 2 ->

Summary: Barba would never admit to being a RENT geek, but when he gets drunk and no one from the SVU squad is there to see him, he can’t resist the siren call of the karaoke stage. You would never approach a stranger at a bar, but when you hear Barba singing your favorite musical, you gather the courage to ask for a duet. 

Rafael Barba x Female Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Dub-con!! Everyone is enthusiastically willing, but also super drunk. So... use your best judgement. (No smut this chapter just some intense kissing)

4,144 words

The thing about Scotch whisky is, it’s a drink meant to be sipped. A.D.A. Rafael Barba drank a Scotch every day, especially after a difficult case. One or two, mulled upon over the course of an hour. 

At over 40 percent alcohol by volume, the practical difference between Scotch, the gentleman’s drink favored by lawyers and Wall Street executives, and the tequila swigged by rednecks ripping their shirts off at a dive bar is the speed at which the beverages are consumed.

The thing about being a Scotch drinker is, you’re only ever one particularly bad day and a few extra drams carelessly tipped down the hatch away from getting well and truly shitfaced.

This would never happen to A.D.A. Barba. He had complete control of himself at all times. In the courtroom. In his manner of dress. In his speech. He won cases other prosecutors wouldn’t dare to take on, because he was meticulous. He was relentless. And he never let his guard down.

But on this particular day, nothing was going according to plan. All week, in fact, a case he was certain of had been falling apart piece by piece, slipping through his fingers, until today, a man who made Barba’s stomach sicken walked out of the courtroom a free man.

It was his fault. He got cocky. The victims subjected themselves to retraumatization just to testify on the hope of getting some kind of justice, and it was all for nothing. He let them down. He let the SVU team down. The look on Benson’s face when the foreman delivered the not guilty verdict made Barba want to crawl inside himself.

So he did what he always did on bad days, and went to his favorite bar alone to sit quietly and numb his sorrows over a glass of Macallan.

Except it wasn’t fucking quiet. This was supposed to be a subdued, sophisticated establishment that didn’t draw a big crowd. This was his bar! But for some godawful reason, the new manager had decided—unbeknownst to Barba—to try hosting karaoke night.

Karaoke!

He scowled at the colored stage lights. Glowered at the rambunctious crowds of young people. Seethed at the bad 80’s music and off-key bellowing. He dropped heavily into his usual seat at the bar and exchanged withering looks with the bartender, who slid him his usual drink without needing to be asked. What the hell was happening to his life? Barba began to wonder whether he had anything under control at all, downing the dram in one shot.

As he gasped on the fiery liquid burning down his throat, he gained determination. They were not going to take his bar from him. Not a chance. If these tourists and college kids wanted to have their revelry, they would have to do it with a grumpy old killjoy glowering at them. He ordered another round.

***

An hour and a steep tab later, and Barba was gripping the microphone with sweaty fingers, belting out One Song Glory at the top of his lungs.

He rationalized it as “better bend than break,” but the truth was, he had dreamed of becoming an actor before going to law school to please his mother. His inner theater geek was always waiting to slip out whenever he let his guard down, but since that was never, it was side he rarely indulged. Tonight, his head was spinning, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“One song to redeem this empty life. Time flies—and then no need to endure anymore!”

The wooden bar stool creaked as his weight sank back down on it, and he ordered another drink to question about his life choices. “Will I ever be remembered for anything besides my failures?” he asked the glass. He’d come this far from the poor barrio where he grew up, but every step was a fight. He couldn’t just be good, he had to be better than the privileged WASPs he was competing against. He had to be the best. Every little mistake, every lost trial, could be the end of all he had worked for.

Barba was so busy nursing his latest drink, he almost didn’t notice someone else drunkenly belting a track from RENT. Except, as his head swung up to listen, it wasn’t drunken belting at all. A woman with a low-cut blouse and tight jeans that hugged her curves was singing so seductively, staring right at him. She winked and sweetly begged him to take her out tonight.

No—he was imagining it. He was just drunk, lonely, and pathetic. She was working the crowd, making everyone feel like she was singing just to them. Maybe she was a Broadway performer to have that skill, or at least a master at flirtation. Either way, she was way out of his league. There was no chance she had singled him out.

***

So what if you didn’t know anybody, and it was dangerous to go alone? You were in Manhattan on a Friday night—you were going to go out and have a good time, dammit!

The promise of karaoke drew you into a small but packed bar, and you were a few drinks in when you heard a voice like an angel and a rock-star had a baby singing a song from your favorite musical ever. The voice belonged to a singer wearing old-man suspenders, a pink tie, and a light coating of stubble from not having shaved since morning. He was fashionable, you guessed. Dapper. But it was that expressive voice that mesmerized you. As he sang, your gut was wrenched with the emotional pain woven through each note.

You were smitten. You tried to go talk to him, but the moment the song was over he vanished into the tightly-packed crowd. It was silly. It was far too bold to approach a stranger in the big city, but the warm tipsy feeling in your gut gave you confidence to hatch a plan.

Step one: Locate him from the stage.

Step two: Impress him.

Step three: Bond over mutual love for RENT.

Step four, if you managed to get that far, was a bunch of squiggly question marks and “kiss his face?” hastily scrawled in pencil. It was a long shot, you knew that. You were way too shy, and he was far too handsome not to have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or a husband. Frankly, even if he were single, he was way out of your league. But still, the nebulous step four could simply be “Have a fun night with your new karaoke buddy,” and that possibility alone made you feel like glitter was exploding inside of you.

When it was your turn to sing, you found him from your elevated vantage—he was sitting far from the stage, at the end of the bar—and tried to catch his eye. You’d been using Out Tonight as your karaoke icebreaker for years, so you’d gotten good at playing up the sexiness, tossing your hair and biting your lip. Your clumsy ass had even picked up a few dance moves to spice it up, and you gave them your booty-shaking all when you saw him look up at you.

You were glad you’d worn the jeans that made your butt look fantastic, and your sexiest, strappiest sandals (which were actually Tevas with a two-inch wedge heel, purchased from an outdoor gear store). He was watching you with fascination as you pouted the lyric, “don’t forsake me,” at him.

It sent a shiver down your spine to think he might really be looking at you that way.

The moment you got off the stage, you were bombarded by guys offering to buy you a drink, asking for your number. It was discouraging that Sexy Suspenders was not among them. Apparently your sexy routine worked, but entirely missed its intended target. Then again, a man like that probably let women come to him.

Ducking and weaving past your suitors like they were physical obstacles and not people, you reached Suspenders. The bar stool next to him was open, held by a briefcase and folded suit jacket. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his hair was a little mussed. He appeared to be deep in conversation with his empty glass. You took a step forward to approach him, but an anxious constriction in your chest froze you in place.

Who do you think you are?! A gorgeous, sharp-dressed city guy will never even give you the time of day! Your mother’s nagging voice chimed in to warn you not to talk to strange men in bars when you’re out alone, in New York City, no less. You grimaced at your awesome double-dose of anxiety. He would either laugh in your face, or you were about to get murdered. Hooray!

But there was a loneliness in his demeanor that encouraged you he wouldn’t laugh, and up close, you noticed he was so short you could probably pick him up like a little baby chipmunk if things got out of hand. Ignoring how thick his forearms were, of course. But if he crushed you with those, you would die happy.

***

The next singer on stage had started screeching a rendition of Don’t Stop Believin’ with ten drunk buddies, and Barba was squeezing his eyes closed to try to drown them out, so he was caught completely unaware when a tap on his shoulder startled him.

“Is this seat taken?”

His vision blurred. He had to rub his eyes and look twice to be sure he was seeing who he thought he was seeing. “Mimi!” he blurted. “From the—nice, um—no. No one’s sitting here.”

He moved his belongings to the top of the bar, and you sat on the vacated stool, quite pleased with yourself. The bartender immediately handed you a pink icy cocktail with a slice of lime, and pointed his thumb to someone at the other end of the bar who paid for it. Barba followed his gesture to a very cute guy in his twenties and felt a twinge of double-edged jealousy that the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was most likely about to get up and leave him, and that the drink hadn’t been for him, because frankly, he couldn’t blame you. You did get up, but only to crane your neck to find your benefactor. When you did, you gave the world’s dorkiest thumbs up, while conspicuously putting your hand on Barba’s shoulder.

Barba’s lips spread into a smug bastard what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it smirk as he stared down his attractive rival. His head cocked to the side pleasantly. The other man’s flirtatious gaze fell into an annoyed tick. You sighed with relief as he moved away.

Turning back to Barba, you realized your hand was still on his shoulder and quickly removed it. You inhaled and said, “I heard you singing you were amazing do you want to do a duet together? Can we? I love RENT! I’ve always wanted to do Light My Candle—can we do it together?” in one breath.

Your flurried gush of words nearly knocked him off his stool—he put his hands up defensively and sat wide-eyed, nodding slowly as you went full babbling-nerd on him. You may not have been as suave as he initially thought, and oddly enough, he was okay with that. It was disarming, and your enthusiasm was infectious.

Because his instinct to distance himself from anyone he might risk forming a real emotional connection with wasn’t working at the moment, he grabbed you by the shoulders, locked his piercing eyes with yours, and emphatically answered, “Yes. We must!”

***

Having a karaoke partner is essential for Broadway musical numbers, as most of them are duets—two or more characters interacting with each other as the plot of the show advances. Light My Candle was one of your favorite songs, and snagging the mysterious suspendered singer meant you could finally perform it outside your shower.

It was a bouncy back-and-forth duet that was fun to sing, but you forgot how aggressively flirtatious it was until you had to ask him—you hadn’t even asked his name yet—if you had the best ass below 14th street, and about wax dripping between your… um, fingers. But the way he looked at you made seducing him so natural. You just had no idea if it was part of the performance, or if it was real.

When the song was over, you bounced on your toes, clinging to his arm for balance as you tripped on the stairs down from the stage, squealing, “That was so much fun!” He put his hand around your waist to steady you. It felt like it was made to be there.

His face was flushed red and his eyes sparkled with exhilaration, and he quickly agreed to another duet, though he muttered, wiping a light sheen of sweat from his brow, “Thank god no one from the precinct is here.”

Performing together with a partner always makes you feel a connection—even if it’s just drunken karaoke. When you sang one part of a harmony and he picked up the other part, your voices became two halves of a whole. And with musicals, it’s as much about acting as it is singing. He threw so much emotional intensity into the lyrics, which gave you something to respond to, throwing it back at him in fluid conversation as your voice soared above his and dove beneath it again.

You hadn’t had this much fun in a long time, and you had a feeling he hadn’t, either.

Not that you had any way of knowing, really. You guessed it by the ease in which he embodied Roger’s stubborn refusal to open his heart, by the mournful way he lifted his drinks to his lips like he was toasting at a funeral. His expensive leather briefcase and formal attire, too, suggested a well-paid but dreadfully boring line of work, like a financial manager.

Your guess was dead-on, in truth. Barba was vigilant against dating anyone he met professionally. Even if there had been a secretary or paralegal or two he’d had chemistry with, for the sake of his career, he could not afford to conduct himself in a manner that could raise even the hint of a scandal or ethical conflict in the workplace. And anyone he met outside of the workplace… well, he didn’t. His entire life revolved around his job.

The bartender had just brought a fresh round of drinks, and your head rested on your fist, elbow on the bar. Barba was staring deeply into your soul with those pretty green eyes, trying to figure out how he managed to get you and how he could keep you.

“We should do Another Day next,” you grinned.

“Who do you think you are, barging in on me and my guitar!” He sang in a gritty rock voice, poking at your chest accusingly while holding an air microphone with the other. You forgot to be surreptitious and blatantly checked for a wedding ring.

After Roger’s verse, you sang back Mimi’s part, seductively leaning in closer to him. “There’s only us. There’s only this...” As you leaned closer, his eyelids drooped, and his eyes darkened. “Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.” The smoky smooth molasses of Scotch was strong on his breath. He studied your face hazily, his eyes drawn down to the movement of your lips. There was no mistaking his attraction for a performance now. You sang softer and softer until your forehead was resting against his, your lips almost touching. Then you just breathed.

“No day but today,” he mulled the lyric and the impulsive circumstances that had led him to being with you in that moment. “I should follow that advice more often.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” you murmured. “Here I am in the city, having fun,” your voice slowed to a crawl as your eyes flicked up and down his face, “...with a perfect, handsome stranger...”

His tongue ran over his lower lip again as his eyes dropped to your mouth and clouded over with some sultry thought.

You’re not sure which one of you moved first, but in the next moment his lips were melting into yours, desperate and passionate. That tempting tongue of his ran along your lower lip now, sliding easily inside as your mouth parted to invite him within, swirling in heated wet circles around yours. It was heavy with the taste of Scotch and the faint bitterness of coffee, as if that were all he’d eaten that day. You curled your fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth, and his broad arms closed around your back and pulled you off your bar stool onto his lap.

His skin was burning hot, and waves of heat coursed up through your body like you were both on fire. Your pulse thundered in your ears until it drowned out the off-key music, and each pounding heartbeat sent a corresponding throb to your cunt. Your eyes closed. All that existed was the messy clashing of your teeth and tongues, the woody-sweet scent of his cologne filling your lungs, the heat of his strong hands on your back, and the bulge of his cock twitching beneath you.

When you finally had to come up for air, and hopped back onto your own bar stool, suddenly self-conscious of how pornographic that nearly was, all he had to say was, “I’ve never done that before.”

You blinked. “You’ve never… kissed someone?”

“Not someone I just met in a bar!” his eyebrows shot up and he sounded so utterly scandalized, your euphoric high from kissing him came crashing down. He saw you as some kind of cheap tramp for kissing him. Pretentious asshole. Suddenly you felt like shit.

You turned your attention to the second round of that fruity cocktail that random guy paid for. It turned out to be a pretty tasty drink, so you ordered another. Maybe you should have given that guy a chance.

“So, are you here by yourself?” Barba asked your profile, not bothering to hide the patronizing concern in his tone.

“Yeah,” you said without looking up.

“Jesus. I thought so. That’s really dangerous, you know.”

“Ugh,” you groaned and pivoted away from him further, leaving him confused. So first he implied you’re a slut, and now he was pulling the whole, the city is full of predators, but I’m a Nice Guy—let me walk you home routine. This is what you get for picking a guy based on how good he sings.

“I did not mean to imply that. I only meant that I’m usually more... careful.” Oh. You must have said all of that out loud. Oops. “But you’re right to be suspicious of my intentions. There are… all kinds”— he breathed the word out in a jaded huff—“of tactics predators will use. Manipulations, brute force, drugs, fake personas… And all they have to do is claim consent and half the time the jury believes it even if the physical evidence is horrifying.” He was getting visibly angry thinking about it, his drink dangerously close to spilling as he clenched his fist around it.

You stared at him. “Um.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m an A.D.A. for Manhattan. Prosecutor. I’m a lawyer,” he clarified when the acronym earned no look of recognition in your eyes. “Lately I’ve been working with the Special Victims Unit, so when I see someone drinking alone late at night, talking to complete strangers,” he gestured at himself. “You have no idea how many sexual assault cases start with this exact scenario.”

“Big-shot lawyer, huh? Sure, now pull the other one.”

“What?” His head cocked at you in utter bewilderment.

“Pull the other… leg. You’re pulling my leg?”

“I know what it means, I’ve just never heard it said by anyone under sixty. Are you secretly an old man?”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re an old man,” you retorted childishly.

His lips folded in on themselves as he tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t know. What can you tell me about the Model T?”

You took a grumpy swig of the fruity strawberry cocktail.

“What was World War II like?”

“So are you really a lawyer, or do you just use that line to pick up chicks?”

“I am, I am!” he laughed. “I can prove it. Let’s see...” he pulled out his phone, brought up a search result for his name, and scrolled through headlines. “DA’s Office Helps NYPD Persecute Immigrant Families,” “Justice at Last for Serial Rapist Victims,” and others rolled across the screen. He narrowed his eyes as his index finger hovered over each one. “Oh, sounds like I’m an idiot in this one,” his mouth twitched into a sardonic smirk, “and I’m a real asshole here… Oh, look, here’s one where I’m the big hero.” He held out his phone so you could see the photo of him in another flashy suit and bold tie, speaking to crowd of reporters in front of the courtroom steps. He looked so sexy in his full three piece suit, and much more severe, his face hard and intelligent. The caption below it praised his victory putting away a notorious rapist, and identified him A.D.A. Rafael Barba.

“Wow. That is you. Who knew I was doing karaoke with such an important guy?” You slung your arm around his shoulders, which were irresponsibly broad and solid. God, being with him felt so right. Casual touches were so comfortable even though you’d just met, and the way he responded, melting under you, sent a wave of heat through your lower back.

He kept flipping through headlines, his brow quirking a little at one, eyes narrowing at the next. Then he saw one that made him stop scrolling. He put the phone down on the bar and scrubbed his hand over his face and hair, blinking back tears suddenly forming. You caught the glowing screen before it automatically locked. The headline was from today. “Local Teacher Found Not Guilty—.”

His head dropped into his arms on the bar. “It was my fault. If I had done something different, been more prepared...” A sad groan emitted from the Barba puddle.

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” you soothed, and rubbed his back sympathetically. “So one guy got acquitted. It happens every day.”

“I know,” he growled. This fact was the opposite of comforting.

“You’re sure he was guilty?”

“He did it. To at least a dozen kids over the last two decades, but no one wanted to testify, or the statute of limitations was up, and then our key witness… There must have been something I could have done, something I didn’t think of. I let him get away with it.” His shoulders heaved as he sobbed into his arms. “I fucked up.”

You kept rubbing circles over his back, whispering soothing words to him. You leaned down and peppered his head with soft kisses. He shifted off the top of the bar and began crying into your chest, his arms wrapping around you like a baby lemur. You held him tight, suddenly understanding that this was the memory he came here to drown. This was why all night you had caught him looking wistful every time the conversation lulled. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “It’s alright. Shh.”

His arms tightened around your waist, then relaxed, tension melting from his body. “This is nice,” he sighed into your shirt, enjoying being snugly pressed against you, surrounded by warmth. “Thank you… this is nice.” He never let anyone comfort him like this. Never let his need for comfort show under his stoic exterior. If his judgment were functioning properly, it would have struck him as a red flag how easily he sought comfort from a stranger that he wouldn’t have accepted from his closest friends, but it felt good to let it out.

Eventually, he remembered his dignity and sat up, drying his eyes on his sleeve and glancing regretfully at the wet splotch he’d made in your shirt.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. He picked up his latest glass of scotch, and swirled its half-empty amber contents before setting it down again. It was possible he had drunk enough.

“It’s OK. You had a bad day.”

His lips tightened at the corners in agreement. “Usually Liv is the only one who tries to cheer me up. So, thanks for…” He closed his eyes and tilted his head. “You’re very nice.”

Your chest fluttered. He was terribly cute, and far too vulnerable for you to be having these lascivious feelings about him.

[madmaddoxfuryroad]

HSMTMTS: Season 3 thoughts

So I’ve been ruminating a lot about this show today (like every other day) and I got to thinking about what they might do for season 3. Less so plot-wise (I mean season 2 is just over halfway through), but more about what musical they might do, what the cast might be, and how that could tie into the individual characters and their arcs (some more so than others, but c’est la vie).

In trying to figure out what musical they might do, I started first with the obvious: what does Disney own? I don’t think they would return to the HSM franchise (until the final season, but thoughts on that for another day), so anything related to that and other DCOMs I counted out. I also eliminated all Disney animated/princess films. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but seeing as this season they are doing BATB, I don’t think they would immediately go into another animated-film-adapted-for-broadway right after that. So at that point I wasn’t quite sure where to go. Mary Poppins was really the only other thing that came to mind and while I love the film and broadway show I just don’t think it fits the cast well slash even has enough parts to really showcase them. You have Mary and Bert. And then I guess Mr. and Mrs. Banks? Then the kids are a whole other issue. It just felt messy. So I just started thinking about broadway shows that I like, I mean if they wanted to, Disney has the money and could pay for the rights to use most shows. Then everything fell into place.

Into the Woods. I am 100% positive I am letting my bias for this show cloud my judgement, but if you stick with me, I think I can persuade you (or not, your mind is your own and I respect that). First off, Disney owns it. At least I think they do. They made the movie (RIP), so I am going to safely assume they have the rights at this point. Next, yes it contains fairytale elements, which might make you feel it’s a little too close to BATB, but it is such a deconstruction of fairytales and their tropes that I almost feel like it is an amazing follow up to a more traditional fairytale. It introduces conflict and the real world into these fantasy scenarios, which I feel goes really well with high school in general and growing up, expectations being shattered, and learning to alter your world view (I really love this play). Plus, I think it would be exciting to see this cast do a more broadway-type show. Obviously BATB is a broadway show, but I think there is a lot of reliance on knowing the film and less on the play itself. And not going to lie after Julia Lester’s rendition of “Home” last week (which I have not STOPPED listening to) it would be amazing to hear these teens tackle more broadway-style music. Which, takes me to my final point: the cast. What I love so much about Into the Woods is how it is very much an ensemble cast. Yes some roles are bigger than others, but if you have a named character, odds are it’s a fairly good role. And the whole HSMTMTS cast is so talented, I like the idea of them picking a show where it does not feel like anyone is sidelined with their part. Now the only thing left to do is cast it…

FULL disclosure. I ran into an issue early on that I ended up thinking Ashlyn was perfect for every female role and Seb was perfect for every male role. But I was eventually able to push through and cast it (in my humble opinion) pretty well. So I am just going to go off in the order that I cast them, because I think it will help explain my thought process.

THE CAST

Cinderella - Nini. Once I got over my need to hear Julia/Ashlyn sing “No One Is Alone” (loophole to this coming later), this felt like a pretty natural fit and was one of the easiest to cast. For one, I just think Olivia’s vocal range pairs very well with Cinderella’s and she could do beautifully with her songs like “On the Steps Of The Palace”. But what really got me was the way she parallels the character so perfectly. Cinderella is a character who always dreams of more but isn’t quite sure what that “more” is. And because she isn’t *quite* sure what she wants, the character is often seen grappling with indecision (see: “On The Steps Of The Palace”). Most of Act I is her being stagnant and letting the Prince take the active role. Finally in Act II she starts to get a better sense of who she is, who she wants to be, and what she doesn’t want. So this felt like it tied in really nicely with Nini’s journey and would be a great role for her, especially when…

Cinderella’s Prince - Ricky. Yes, yes I know. Ricky and Nini playing love interests? Groundbreaking. But stay with me. For one, I just like the idea of Ricky not getting the lead male role, and this part is perfect for him, regardless. The whole relationship between Cinderella and her Prince mirrors Nini and Ricky remarkably well. The way the Prince sees Cinderella as this perfect maiden who, if he could just be with her, would be the only thing he would ever want/need. But of course this isn’t realistic and isn’t how relationships work, which they both come to terms with by the end of Act II. Their break-up/parting ways scene might be my favorite in the entire play and I think it would be so great for Ricky and Nini to get to perform. In part because the conclusion of the scene is basically them both admitting that they will always love the idea of the other, even though they don’t actually work as a couple. (**I am operating on the assumption that they will have broken up in season 2 and are still broken up, but never really dealt with it). Honestly I recommend just watching the scene I will link it here (it goes from about 2:12:35-2:15:00). Plus, I could totally see there being an episode where they are trying to rehearse this scene, but it just isn’t working so Miss Jenn has both of them improv it or rewrite the lines to something that might feel more comfortable or personal. And I just see that being a really beautiful moment for the two and a chance for growth and closure. I could go on about this dynamic, but I will move on to my final point: “Agony”. First, while it is mostly a comedic song, you can take just the first verse of the song and recontextualize it really nicely as a Ricky pining kind of song, which I absolutely dig (not quitting on my Rina endgame, and you can’t make me) I mean: “If I should lose her, how shall I regain the heart she has won from me? Agony, beyond power of speech, when the one thing you want is the only thing out of your reach”. And BONUS I think we could also get a full-on version of “Agony” in all its absurdist glory with…

Rapunzel’s Prince - EJ. Well, sort of. Technically, no. BUT for the purposes of “Agony”, yes. At this point EJ will have graduated, but I don’t think he will be written out of the show, so it remains to be seen exactly what his place will be. I just think these two 100% need a song together and this is 100% that song. I could see it being something as simple as EJ is helping out with the show, the unnamed kid playing Rapunzel’s Prince is out, so they have EJ fill in. Or they have to have him go on for that kid last minute during the performance. It’s a quick, easily explainable thing that would have SUCH a great payoff.

Jack - Big Red. This was certainly one of the easier ones to cast, but my first thought was of course Seb. Jack is just a boy whose best friend is his cow and Seb radiates that energy. But I needed him for something else. Enter Big Red, the perfect Jack. For one, Big Red has a lot of that starry eyed wonderment that Jack has, that none of the other characters do. There is a purity and innocence to the way Jack sees a lot of things. That pairs nicely with Big Red. And it also opens the door for him to grow and mature more as a character. By the end of the show, Jack is in a place where is needs to transition more to adulthood and with Big Red being a senior by season 3, I think there is a lot of potential here. Also, with Big Red as Jack, I really like the character he is often paired with in scenes, but I will hold back until I get to them.

Witch - Kourtney. Yes. It is her time. One can debate over which character is the “main character” of Into the Woods, but for me it’s the Witch. And Kourtney deserves this. Did I heavily consider Ashlyn for this as well? You know I did. But I grow more and more confident in the casting of Kourtney the more I think about it. First thing’s first: the Witch belts, and I mean BELTS. Dara is such a powerhouse vocally that she would crush every moment of that; I have total faith. But the Witch also has such quiet and tender moments that people don’t think about as much, but are so necessary for the character to be effective and I think she also has that on lock. We have not seen a ton of it (so I would be eager to get more) but when she did her version of “Beauty and the Beast” she was able to find soft but strong moments in the song, and it was so lovely. Then, from a more thematic POV, the Witch is characterized as “the voice of reason”. While everyone else is running around in their fairytale dream world, she is always the one there dolling out the reality checks. And if that ain’t Kourtney. Basically, I think it is her time to get the lead and she would be amazing in this role.

Baker - Seb. Finally settled on a role for him. But really, how could it be anything else? I have felt since the first time we heard him sing (in Truth, Justice, and Songs in our Key, I think) that he was severely underused. The Baker is essentially the male lead, and he has earned it. I don’t think there’s much more that needs to be said here.

Baker’s Wife - Ashlyn. Here’s the thing: could someone else be cast as Baker’s Wife? Yes. And I am sure they would do a fine job. But the thing about this role is that you often don’t realize how fantastic it is until you see someone really great playing it. There’s heart, humor, tragedy, and so much more all wrapped into this character and I would far and away trust Julia/Ashlyn with this above all others. And Baker’s Wife gets to sing a short reprise of “No One Is Alone” so I get to win both ways. No matter how I try to cast it or rearrange characters, I keep coming back to the fact that Ashlyn is just hands down the correct choice. Plus she is one of the better options when it comes to having chemistry with Seb. And I’m not even talking about romantic chemistry, just more about the camaraderie of it, and being able to really see them as a team worth rooting for. They both have an inherent sweetness that makes you care for them, which is crucial for the show. AND this would be another opportunity for Julia Lester to flex her acting after playing VERY different roles in HSM and BATB. Basically, I don’t know when it happened, but I think I am a Julia Lester stan and I only want what is best for her and I think this is it. 

Little Red - Gina. “Didn’t see that one coming did you?” -Pietro Maximoff. And honestly same. There’s always that tough moment in casting when you’ve done the more obvious ones and then you feel sort of stuck with cast choices that weren’t really your choice. But this one really grew on me. Hopefully, I can do it justice. And I will be the first to admit Gina deserves her time to shine because I do think she is amazing. It just isn’t her time yet. It also doesn’t help that Into the Woods is one of the LEAST dance-centered shows and dance it where she really puts all others to shame. So this is where we landed. But it works. I promise. Little Red as a character is pretty naïve, but covers it up with over the top confidence. That feels pretty Gina. I love where her character has gone and all the growth she is displayed in trying to be more vulnerable. But there is still a part of me that does miss mean girl Gina and I think Little Red is a great way to get that energy without backtracking the character development. I don’t think she would be the stereotypical “bratty” Little Red, but I think she could still do something great with it. Also very similar to Jack, Little Red is one of the more innocent characters that has to grow up and face a lot of harsh realities over the course of the play. And I have no doubt Gina would nail that aspect of it, too. And speaking of Jack, Little Red has a number of scenes interacting with him and you know what that means: Gina and Big Red bonding time! I really like the idea of these roles bringing the two closer as friends. And I already head-canon that they would have a ton of fun playing with the fact that they are now Big Red and Little Red (especially since he is on the shorter side and she is on the taller side). Basically I see this as a way for them to build up a really good rapport. I am also pretty convinced that Big Red is a secret Rina shipper, and this would only add to that. And finally even though this is not a dance-heavy show at all, one place where they could add a dance is during “Hello Little Girl”. Now I will be the first to admit that this song is dicey at best, particularly for Disney. But even a scene working on the dance with just the instrumental, no lyrics, could be great. I see it as a partner dance with the wolf (I don’t know dance terms, so maybe this is super vague). And oh, wouldn’t you know it? Cinderella’s Prince is often double-cast as the wolf! (WHAT ARE THE CHANCES) Meaning the Wolf would also be good ol’ Richard Bowen. And I like the idea of getting Rina scenes of them trying to work on the dance, but Ricky is super bad a leading, and they just have fun trying to figure it out. It’s also nice that it is absolutely not a romantic dance so the two wouldn’t feel any added pressure and could just have fun with one another, and that really is when Rina is at its best (not that I would say no to a scene where Gina has to teach Ricky the BATB waltz, but I digress).

Narrator/Mysterious Man - Carlos. By process of elimination, you probably could have guessed who was next. And I know this one also feels like a weird choice but I do kind of love it. First you have the narrator, which is another one of those roles that is only as memorable as the actor playing it, which I think is right up Carlos’ alley. He is always trying to put his unique stamp on things and be memorable and he would take the narrator in a very enjoyable direction. There’s also the matter that I see Carlos as something of an assistant director with Miss Jenn, which makes him a third-party observer of the shows inherently, so it is almost a little meta that he would also end up being the narrator. Then there’s is the mysterious man. I love the idea of Carlos getting to play two very different characters, but I love it even more because the mysterious man is the father of the baker which makes for a lot of sweet moments between the two of them. Yes it might be a little weird for Seblos to be playing father and son, but there is such a vulnerability and tenderness in the moments between the two characters, particularly during “No More” that I can get over it. Because I think they are one of the few pairings on this show that could really pull that off. I just think this character would be a great way to exhibit the range of Carlos.

**BONUS ALTERNATE CASTING**

I really, really love this idea and could not fault them if this was the direction they went, but I ultimately decided against it, mostly because I felt too strongly about another character having the role BUT:

Baker’s Husband - Carlos. I just really love the idea of Seblos getting to be front and center, with their dynamic as the focal point of the show. And honestly Carlos would also do an amazing job as this character. I mean, Seb and Carlos singing “It Takes Two”? How sweet is that? This would also be a great way for the development of their relationship to get a little bit more attention, instead of a side story here and there. There is a lot that could be done with this from a story perspective and I would be here for it.

Unfortunately, then that leaves me unsure of where to put Ashlyn. She could be Jack’s mother, but that feels like such a waste of her. I mean, she would do well and she does have the lead this year, so it’s not SO terrible her having a more minor character, but it just doesn’t feel right. And I really just feel so strongly that she would be the best option for Baker’s Wife out of everyone. And it opens the door to develop the Seb and Ashlyn friendship more, which I am always here for. 

Anyway. Those are my thoughts. If you made it this far: wow and thank you!

[photolover82]

The Masked Singer Season 5 Episode 1 Recap: The “Game Changing” Premiere, Let’s Meet Group A (Commentary & Guesses)

Hello my fellow Masked Singer friends! Welcome (or welcome back) to Ana’s Masked Singer recap, where I, Ana, recap every episode of the Masked Singer! Woohoo, the first one of Season 5 and I am so excited wow! Season 5 was off to an amazing start, with Group A performing for the first time. I really enjoyed this one, so let’s get into the recap:

Ok, so to start, we have a new host aka Neicy Nash, and I really liked her, she was like the female version of Nick Cannon. I enjoyed her banter with Ken too so it was great I liked it a lot.

Also, let’s talk about the infamous cluedadoo or how I am gonna call him the freaking “Rooster” 🐓🐔 who is not really an actual contestant competing but he is feeding us the clues (hehe see what I did there?) ...

He was kind of mysterious and I am intrigued honestly, but I still have so many questions, will he have clues? He did say that we have to guess who he is as well so how will this work? Anyways having said that, let’s get into the main 5 of Group A which are Snail 🐌, Seashell 🐚, Russian Dolls 🪆, Raccoon 🦝, and Robopine 🦔.

Let’s start with the eliminated contestant who was

*DRUMROLL PLEASE*

The Snail 🐌

Commentary: He sang You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oats and it was good, nothing amazing or mind blowing (we’ll get to those performances later), but I didn’t expect him to go home first (I’ll explain who I expected later too). I really enjoyed it personally, the song is well known and catchy, I was bopping my head. It was a solid performance. I would give it a rating of a 7/10. I kind of felt the same way about Baby Alien last season that I felt about Snail going home.

Anyways, having said that, he was revealed to be (to my surprise)...

*DRUMROLL PLEASE*

Kermit the Frog 🐸

Omg ok, I didn’t expect that, when I tell you my jaw dropped, I am not kidding. My first impression guess was Ted Danson for God’s sake.... like I didn’t get this and I am so mad I didn’t because when I rewatched it, I totally heard the Kermit in there, and I saw people say it on Twitter, but I was like nah they wouldn’t do that, these people are trolling... and wow yeah I was wrong, I felt like a 🤡. BUT OMG IT WAS KERMIT, WHAT AN ICON. The most famous contestant on the show ever... how dope! Now, we need Miss Piggy on the show, because she’s another icon lol. I wonder what she said about this hehe 😜

Anyways, now that that’s done with, let’s go over the remaining 4 and give you my subpar guesses, the first ones of season 5:

1. Raccoon 🦝

Commentary: Ok like yikes my eardrums... this one’s one of the worst performances I have seen on the show, like it was so screechy oml. He honestly should have gone home instead of Snail, Snail was done dirty. I really don’t understand how he is still in the competition... Sorry I wish I had something nicer to say but he was just yikes, I’m sorry it kinda seems like he isn’t singing on purpose, it seems like a joke.

My guess for Raccoon is (I am 💯 on this):

Danny Trejo

Reasoning/Clues: So like this sounds stupid, but when the guy sang, Danny Trejo’s face popped into my head for some reason... idk my logic sometimes isn’t logical... but anyways the clues align:

Been in Prison for a long time= he was in prison in California when he was young because he got into a lot of trouble with drugs

Read Hunchback of Notre Dame= he said that during his time in prison acting kind of helped him survive and he would recite Wizard of Oz and... you guessed it... the Hunchback of Notre Dame

2. Russian Dolls 🪆

Commentary: ok, so I already knew how they were gonna sound but I am still super impressed. I feel like there are more than 2 people, maybe 3, I feel like I heard 3 voices in there. They sang Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson and it was impeccable, their harmonies are really great, and their voices blend together amazingly.

They are (again I am positive about this one):

Hanson

Reasoning/Clues: I know like everybody on the internet says this, but when I did the voice matching, it really does sound like them (even tho idk much about them personally)... but anyways here are clues that match:

Used to be the world’s hottest toy but then got replaced by shiner toys= they were popping off with their song MMMBOP in the 90s until they were replaced by other boy bands like *NSYNC and Backstreet Boys

Bus Stop= reference to a lyric from their song Man From Milwaukee

Sign that says Mitzfitz Toyz Store= Abbreviation of the guys’ first names, which are Issac, Taylor, and Zac aka ITZ

3. Seashell 🐚

Commentary: I am so happy that her voice is just as good as her costume, costume wise she is my favorite, and I am happy to report that her voice is also one of my faves. She sang Listen to Your Heart by Roxette and honestly she reminds me so much of Jellyfish, someone who is amazing vocally but has a bit of nerves at first. She does ease into it as it goes on and I really enjoyed it, she was great! However, at first, I thought she was someone else but then I heard her voice a second time and it sounded familiar....

My guess is (I feel good about this one):

Tamera Mowry

Reasoning/Clues: Besides her voice that made me think it was one of the twins, but the clues made me specifically think Tamera:

Hot Dog= the twins were born in Germany and Hot Dogs are German

Witch Broom= References to the Disney movie her and Tia Mowry did, Twitches, which btw is the reason I know them (that and Sister, Sister), that movie was my childhood I loved it

Chameleon= in an episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Tia gets bitten by a chameleon and turns into the evil twin aka Tamera

Rooster clue: “No 2 Shells are the same”= she’s a twin lol, and she isn’t the same as her sister kinda thing

4. Robopine 🦔

Commentary: BRO I WAS SHOOK WHEN I HEARD THIS ONE SING. If you saw my costume rating, I was like meh I am not a huge fan of this costume, it’s kinda scary looking, and I just wrote it off, but BOY I WAS WRONG. My jaw was on the floor when I heard this man’s voice on the TV for the first time. He is absolutely my favorite of the night with his rendition of Never Too Much by Luther Vandross. His voice is BUTTER 🧈, so freaking smooth and wonderful. I just want him to sing me to sleep or for my birthday, like man I love him so much.

This one is so hard omg but I am gonna guess for now (it’s not a good guess, subject to change):

Eddie Murphy?

Reasoning/Clues: Ok, so I am not even gonna give reasoning, bc I don’t really know who he could be, I just threw Eddie Murphy because the man can sing and he is the age that was told... what really tripped me up was that he said he was in his 60s and has GRANDCHILDREN.... like he could be lying but it was so nonchalant that it was too good to be a lie, I was so confident at first thinking Chris Jackson but that what he said to the judges about grandchildren tripped me up, but also the judges thought he was lying but I am gonna act like he wasn’t and the only person I thought who could fit that profile is Eddie Murphy (or someone else said Terry Crews but idk I don’t think the man can sing like that)... however a lot of people say that it is Tyrese Gibson but that’s if the whole age thing is a lie but it is a good guess. Here are the clues tho:

Can of Soda Men in Black Drinking from

Spaceship Flying into Strands of DNA 🧬

He “used 411 day and night just to make a connection... until a certain angel said hello and a random call changed everything”

George Washington Figure

Now on his next mission

Anyway, that is it! I hope you guys enjoyed this recap! Don’t forget to follow, like, comment, and do all the social media-y things people do. Tell me whose your favorite performance/do you agree with my guesses? Lemme know! See you in the next recap! Bye guys 👋🏼😄

[doomedandstoned]

Colin MacGregor: A Portrait

The cover artist for Doomed & Stoned in Scotland shares his craft and journey.

Last month, Doomed & Stoned revealed its latest survey of the heavy underground by zeroing in on the Scotland rock and metal underground, with our usual anchor to doom metal and stoner rock, but showcasing several genre blenders to boot.

We assembled an enthusiastic team of musicians, artists, and local media types to help us vet each of the submissions so we had the most authentic picture of the Scottish scene's character, as well as a listening experience of the utmost excellence.

Doomed & Stoned in Scotland by Doomed & Stoned

We're thankful to each of the bands who participated, and especially grateful for the enthusiastic participation of Colin MacGregor, whose striking dark, rich colors on canvas of an ancient druid captured the spirit of the project so succinctly, and inspired many a casual peruser to give the 40-band compilation a good and thorough hearing.

Following is a virtual gallery of his work, with commentary by Mr. MacGregor himself, from Colin MacGregor Maker Art.   (Editor)

SELF PORTRAIT IN RED (2009)

9x6” acrylic on board

This is pretty much how it all began.

I was living in a flat in the centre of Edinburgh with next to no furniture, no television, no internet connection (no landline!) or working radio, I had to think of a way to keep myself occupied in the evening when I wasn’t working. This is when I found a box of 20 small acrylic paint tubes I’d bought years before and never really used, along with about 5 paintbrushes of dubious quality.

Using a photo from my rather poor mobile phone at the time, I set about creating this painting on a piece of board that I had.

The colour comes basically through how I see people I meet, depending on circumstances. This is how most of my early paintings were executed.

THOMAS BLACKLOCK “THE BLIND POET” (2013)

20x16” acrylic on canvas

This one was painted for the then bar manager of a long-gone Edinburgh pub called The Blind Poet, and the portrait is of Thomas Blacklock, of the aforementioned moniker, who lived in Pear Tree House for most of his life and was an influence on both Sir Walter Scott and Robert Burns, despite losing his sight as a child through smallpox.

The painting itself I don’t have much recollection of as I’d had extensive knee surgery at the time and was on quite a number of strong painkillers, but safe to say this painting led me to my first paid commission, where I produced two more paintings for Pear Tree House, one of which is still on display in their basement bar.

This one and the largest of the three, of Andrew Usher II, are currently in storage, I believe, in the south side of Edinburgh.

MAGGIE (2014)

12x9” acrylic on canvas

This was painted for my friend who was moving from Edinburgh to Bremen. She wanted something to put in her new home and also something to mark our friendship so I painted this in about 3 days.

It’s also quite rare in my canon as it actually has a bit of background in it, usually my backgrounds are just solid black.

This colour was actually quite difficult to get right, and it was applied in very thin layers and built up gradually, which is why I think it has quite a diffused, soft image overall.

ARANCHA (2017)

12x9” acrylic on canvas

This one is of my girlfriend and is based on a photo I took of her whilst walking through a park in Amsterdam. The photo itself was quite blurry as I took it on the fly whilst walking, but her face ended up on the whole in focus so I thought I could get something out of it.

There is a second version of this painting which is done in very pale pink and white paint, which was a bit of an experiment, but I kind of liked the challenge of doing something different

DAVID BOWIE (2016)

12x9” acrylic on canvas

This was painted within two weeks of the announcement of his death. I’d painted a few musicians before this one but they were all plain black and white, whereas this one actually had colour in the eyes, something a bit different to my usual stuff.

It was also the first painting I’d done by painting the canvas black first and drawing the basic shape on in chalk, something I’ve only done again once, and that was the recent Druid painting.

FRANK ZAPPA (2019)

12x9” acrylic on canvas

As mentioned above, this was actually started in 2016 and sat in various states of… started-ness, for around 3 years.

The painting actually spent most of its life as a scribbly mess of marker pen and gun-metal grey paint, and was almost scrapped entirely until I reassessed it in October 2019 and decided to attempt to salvage it, which I’m glad I did really as it’s been used on my business cards and as the “face” of the exhibition it was included in!

LEMMY (2019)

12x9” acrylic on canvas

I actually started this one, along with Frank Zappa, back in 2016 but the pair of them languished in various states of unfinishedness for a long, long time due to a variety of circumstances.

I eventually got them both back out of storage and managed to find the focus to finish them both in time for a week-long exhibition in Bannerman’s Bar, Edinburgh, which also featured Wraith, Cronos, Ozzy Osbourne, Chris Cornell, Nick Cave, David Bowie, Mark E. Smith, the aforementioned Frank Zappa and a rendition of the Xenomorph from the Alien movie franchise. This exhibition coincided with a Bismuth gig which had been organised by Bailey Junior, who was instrumental in dragging me out my block and getting these completed.

CRONOS (2019)

15x11” acrylic on canvas

Bailey Junior approached me with the idea of producing a poster for an upcoming gig he’d organised with a heavy doom band from England called Bismuth, expecting a fairly quick Photoshop effort.

I hadn’t painted in a while maybe a year or two, having suffered a drop in confidence and not being able to find the time or motivation, but I’d long wanted to create a poster which was almost entirely in paint, rather than digital text over the top, so this proved to be the spark needed to push myself into painting again.

Loosely based on the Ancient Greek myth of Cronos and partially based on “Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan'' by Ilya Repin (1885) it took two or three evenings to complete. The text for the poster was hand painted on separate canvases and then put together using Photoshop to give the impression it was a completely painted poster. The only thing not painted was the Scapegoat.tv logo which was added later, just before the gig took place.

OZZY OSBOURNE (2019)

12x9” acrylic on canvas

This one was really, really quick. Probably about 2 ½ hours from start to finish, maybe 3 at a push. Painted roughly about 7 days before I was due to open my first exhibition at Bannerman’s Bar, it was a last-minute decision, but turned out really great.

The acrylics were almost used like watercolors here, being as there were large light areas and deep, deep blacks.

I’m especially proud of the mouth area, it really has an almost 3D effect, something I rarely managed to get right.

WRAITH (2019)

16x12” acrylic on canvas

This was the second collaboration with Bailly and Scapegoat.tv after the Bismuth gig. This was designed for Japanese band Friendship but sadly due to the rapid spread of COVID-19 the gig was eventually cancelled.

The painting itself was based on a number of different sources for reference for cloth, lighting and the hand gesture. I’m not actually that much of a fan of painting hands to be perfectly honest.

The painting itself is currently still in Bannerman’s Bar. We were planning to hold another exhibition for all the paintings in the Bismuth gig exhibition again, but the day after putting them all up Lockdown began and the pub had to close, so I’ve not seen any of the exhibition paintings in person in about a year now.

Hopefully things will change soon.

MIKEY LAWLESS (2020)

12x9” acrylic on canvas

This one was painted in the first week of January 2020 for Mikey’s mother after Mikey himself sadly passed away from cancer just days after the new year began.

I think it took me roughly about 11-12 hours from start to finish and ended up being the only painting I completed that year, despite the coronavirus lockdown and other things happening.

DRUID (2021)

16x16” acrylic on canvas

And so it brings us to this one, again it took a nudge from Bailey to get me kick-started enough to unbox the paints again, and it took a bit of time to get started.

I’m not going to lie, after over a year of being nowhere near a paintbrush and canvas I was nervous and unsure if I could even do it, but once the canvas was primed and the blue paint started drawing out the shapes it started to come together.

It took about 4-5 days, give or take, spaced over a number of evenings, to complete and use references from a number of different sources.

The blue colour was chosen as a representation of Scotland in general, trying to capture the colour of the Saltire, but also evoke moonlight.

Follow Colin MacGregor

Get Colin MacGregor's Art

[seleneauger]

propinquity

propinquity - noun.  the state of being close to someone or something; proximity.

Lead: Oh Sehun

Genre: Angst, neighbor!au, soulmate!au 

Warnings: sexual content

Words: 4347

For my moon goddess @enaasteria​. 

Note: I finally got to finish this after many laptop transfers and life events. I’m so sorry this is so late, but I hope you’ll accept this small gift Ena!

--

i. It is golden hour. Your hair threatens to fall out of its bun as you climb the stairs to your apartment because the elevator is undergoing maintenance again. In your hands is a pot of English Ivy you bought, its tendrils threatening to get caught with every step you take. The diffused sunlight makes it hard to determine exactly what time it is, but you're confident that you didn't dawdle too much in the flower shop  at the corner block where you bought your new houseplant. God knows how many succulents you've killed, but you're determined to make this plant live.

Your apartment is minimalist without it feeling too clinical. It has lots of natural light and rent is reasonable enough for its location. It's peaceful and cozy, and you appreciate that it's not facing the street where all the noise and hustle of life fill the streets. Your daybed is comfy and the sheets are fresh. It's home.

To you, silence was golden. In the busy tempo of life, you felt the need to get away for a while, when work becomes too much, when the  heartbeat of the metro gets too loud, when the voices of the people passing on the street overpower your own. Silence was your friend and sometimes your enemy, but most of the time it provided you the respite you needed.

The moon hangs low in the sky, when the nap you take is interrupted and you sigh in resignation because you're used to hearing them. Again.

For the nth time since you've moved in this apartment, the sound of laughter and conversations muffled by the thin walls fill the room. You're a light sleeper and quick to wake up and you would have clawed your eyes out if 1) you weren't so used to it and 2) if you actually had the energy to do so.

You wonder if your neighbor makes it a point to let everyone know how much of a great time he's having with his significant other, but it's the irritation at being disturbed in the middle of a nap that's talking. Said neighbor takes the space at the end of the hallway and your unit is directly beside his, so it's only you that has the unfortunate privilege of hearing his and his partner's laughter at the most opportune of moments, and the occasional sound of thumps of what you can only assume is a bed. Or a couch.

You recall the first time you confront him about it.

It might have had more impact if you knocked on his apartment in your pajamas to drive the point across that he was too goddamn loud last night with his rendition of Fancy at two am in the morning with his over eager girlfriend who likes hyping him up. But you were dressed for work, and you didn't get enough sleep and you had enough. Your boss caught you dozing off in the middle of coding and you wanted nothing more than to hide in embarrassment when he joked about you having too much fun the night before. You started doing overtime to finish your work.

"Hey Unit 901, if you don't come out, I'm gonna start charging you for all the overtime I have to do at work because I can't fall asleep to your incessant laughter at ungodly hours!"

The first thing you see when the door swings open is a clavicle.

Human beings that were this physically attractive were few and far between, and this guy looked like fucking Adonis. Figures he'd be getting all the sexy times he wants but if you had to wake up from a really nice dream to listen to his laughter for the fourth time this week (it's Friday), you would seriously consider breaking his door out of spite.

It takes you a moment to compose yourself and to look up at him and not at that sliver of skin. "I'm the person who lives in 902 and I'm happy for your love life and all your fun times with your girlfriend, who is very pretty by the way, I saw her leaving your place once, but for the sake of my sanity, if I hear you being playing PubG with her at 2am in the morning as you both start shouting at each other to snipe the enemy, I will seriously combust."

He takes in your features and your face feels warm, too warm for your liking.

"Sorry about that, I didn't realize the walls aren't soundproof?" He apologized but it sounds like an excuse and all you want is a concrete plan of action for you to get a decent amount of sleep. "I'll try to minimize the noise, so I hope you don't file a noise complaint to the landlord uh…"

You realize that you haven't exchanged names and you give him yours and he finishes his apology slash excuse.

"I'm Sehun by the way. Oh Sehun."

You are determined not to get distracted by his good looks. "Well Oh Sehun, unless I stop waking up in the middle of the night because of your noise, I'm gonna stick to calling you Unit 901."

He smiles and apologizes properly this time. You excuse yourself to leave work, and try to forget how warm his hand was when he shook it.

Now it's only been two days and the noise starts again. But it's a different kind of noise this time; its melodic and you vaguely register it as a ballad you've heard on the radio before.

It’s the sound of his singing that makes the annoyance go away, and you fall asleep to Sehun's voice.

ii. Oh Sehun is water. Fluid and graceful, and is one who easily slips away from your grasp. He doesn't listen to your half-hearted threats to tape his mouth and easily dodges your fist when you try to hit him that he looks like he's gliding away from you, but does try to bribe you with food so that you won't rat him out to the landlord.

It started with his buying a mini cake as a peace offering for disturbing your sleep the morning after your first complained to him. It used to irk you that all these hole in the wall bakeries that he gets his pastries from are far from your office because you were seriously considering selling him out to the landlord if he didn't move his bed to somewhere not near the wall that divides your unit and his because you really didn't need to know the specifics of what he and his girlfriend likes in bed, but you'll be damned if you don’t get another slice of their peach earl grey mousse cakes.

Since then, you've been in this weird relationship with this noodle of a man, which consists of you half-heartedly bitching to him about how loud they're being, (halfhearted because  you're slowly getting used to it, and it makes your apartment seem less lonely). He brings you food and helps you change your light bulbs, while you change his life by giving him the address of a really good sushi restaurant just 20 minutes away from the apartment complex and teaching him how to make a damn good lasagna. You don't comment on his drinking habits, and he doesn’t comment on the ring on your finger.

iii. The first time you hear him laugh in front of you, you're already familiar with it.

It was a Saturday, meaning it was your mission to sleep in as late as possible. You're rudely awakened by the ding of your doorbell and were so out of it to properly wonder who could be visiting you on a weekend without informing you beforehand (your friends knew you had an unwritten rule to schedule visits three business days before they were approved).

Remembering it is a little embarrassing, but it doesn't surprise you that you standing there in the most over sized pajamas you own, hair in a bun sitting at the very apex of you head as you give him this look as if you were so used to threatening visitors with minimal effort with a butter knife in hand made Sehun laugh.

He probably couldn't decide if you looked threatening enough or that you'd possibly be an actual threat, what with the muay thai classes you're taking that you mentioned in passing.

"The landlord told me to tell you that there will be a temporary power outage about an hour from now since they need to fix the elevator. It'll last till late in the afternoon so you might want to charge your phone or laptop."

The laughter comes unbidden when you squint at him because you forgot to put on your glasses when you opened the door and he's laughing again, but it sounds different when there are no walls separating the two of you. It's not muffled, it is clear and warm familiar and you feel something in your chest as he slowly pushes the hand wielding the butter knife down to a less threatening level.

Oh. Oh.

He waves you goodbye and walks towards the stairs while you stare dumbly at the space he used to occupy. Your brain is finally catching up to all that happened and you take deep breath to clear your thoughts and stop thinking about his laughter.

You've been his neighbor for two months, and nearly half of those nights are either spent listening to him and his girlfriend laugh and talk every other day, Fridays being the day where they laugh with nearly no reservations because it's their movie night (you know this because he lets you leech off his Netflix account). She laughs freely with no reservations, in bursts that made you think she was the sun. It rang clearly and sometimes catches you off guard when you're in the middle of making dinner.

When he introduces you as the neighbor who recommended a movie on Netflix that she enjoyed so much she could quote the lines, you realize that she was the sun. His sun. And her laugh was like honey.

iv. The noises stop completely.

It was the laughter that stopped first, followed by the hushed tones. What was once laced with small giggles morphed into bites of annoyance, frustration, and then eventually to quiet sobs. You don’t know who is crying and who is talking; the walls seem thicker than ever and one day it just stops.

It goes on till the next day. And the next day, and the next week and Sehun's smile seems to have disappeared completely and you're worried. Worried because its physically painful to look at the emotional turmoil so evident in his face. But it's not like you can just demand answers from him, to him, you are simply his neighbor, the one who teaches him how to cook and sends way too many pictures of cute dogs.

So you bide your time.

You catch him entering his apartment at 3am, after your spontaneous trip to the convenience store to buy some tea bags. He seems to be permanently slouching these days, his skin is pale and crescent moons line his eyes in purple. He notices you and the words are coming out from your mouth before you register them.

"Do you need someone to talk to?"

Sehun's face nearly falls at the question but makes a small motion for you to enter his apartment.

It's clean and orderly its almost sterile. You expect it to be messy either from neglect or from it being inhabited but it's too clean, it's almost clinical. Detached.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Hot water is fine, I actually came from the convenience store with tea…"

He nods and quietly sets the electric kettle to boil. By the time the tea has steeped, the silence is almost oppressive and you're about to say something, anything to break the silence that is suffocating the air when he speaks.

"I'm not her soulmate."

The tea scalds your tongue.

His hands envelope his mug as if looking for warmth. Warmth that only a soulmate can give and you're glad he's looking down so he doesn't see you wince. The air becomes even heavier; it is stuffy and oppressive and you resist the urge to open his balcony doors to let some air in because the nights are getting cold, but you know what Sehun feels is much, much worse.

Because in this world, the cold that comes with heartbreak bites before it settles in your bones as it makes breathing a little harder till there doesn't seem to be enough oxygen. It becomes parasite, leeching off your energy to fuel how cold it is till you move on and find love somewhere else, in someone else and warmth will suddenly flood you once you meet your soulmate.

Sehun is not a stranger to heartbreak. He remembers his first love in high school and the cold that came not with the changing of seasons, but in the way his first love accidentally found her soulmate when she nearly fell forward when the train suddenly stopped in their third year of high school. He remembers their agreement to date till they found their soulmates but it was still painful seeing them meet in the train, this stranger's hands on his girlfriend, and the way their eyes both lit up in response to the warmth that started from her shoulders and his hands and ended  on their left chest, right where their hearts sat beating. He remembers that day so vividly, his first heartbreak and the first time he felt the cold on a summer day, and he remembers never feeling warmth when he held her hand. It was just over the middle of the spectrum of temperature. Not nothing, it was simply lukewarm, that changed into an uncomfortable chill over the train incident. Uncomfortable, but bearable.

This heartbreak, however, just unbearable.

Sehun was not prepared for how frigid it was when he finds out he is not her soulmate but she was his. It was painful when he experienced his first heartbreak, but this was on an entirely different scale. It was overwhelming; it made him keel over in pain and all but tore the oxygen from his lungs.

He shows you her name on his skin. It winds across his ring finger in neat handwriting and it's so small you need to move closer to read the letters. You don’t take his hand and simply stare at her name. It's greyed out instead of the usual black and Sehun shivers as he traces the characters gently before his eyes settle on your hands. It focuses on the silver band on your ring finger and he tries to forget the way he stumbled upon a pretty ring by the jewelers a month before everything spiraled down.

That ring was supposed to be for her, his sun, his soulmate.

Sehun cries quietly as he brings his hands to his face. He is water, and the question that flows out of his lips through the gaps in his fingers carries the curiosity and sadness he's had for a while ever since he noticed you started wearing your ring.

"How about you?"

You press your fingers together, minimizing the gaps between them before stretching them out and twirling the ring on your ring finger, the band thick enough to cover the greyed out name that loops around it.

"I'm not his soulmate either."

You let out a choked sob, and suddenly you're not as grounded as your element as vines constrict your throat and encage your chest. He is the rain and you are the earth. He is a torrent of emotions and you are an earthquake. The air is charged with sorrow. It circulates the room and you both cry for yourselves, and for each other. Sehun feels another rush of water sting his eyes when his assumption about you and your soulmate had been correct all along and he tries to remember the warmth from his sun to no avail. Was it naïve for him to think, to hope that his name would appear on her fingers when hers was on his? Her hands were empty for so long; was it a sign that they wouldn't end up together?

He misses her. She was (is?) his lifeline and now he has nothing but the greyed out name on his fingers to remind him that it has been cut.

v. "Let's be happy together."

Not saying anything, you smiled wryly. Sehun thinks it's because you both are glitches in the system of fate, and he wonders if one could really be happy with a person that isn't his or her soulmate. But he stands in front of you and he's tired of feeling sorry for himself and he offers you a way to solve the predicament you're both in. He doesn't know who your soulmate is and he doesn't press the issue, doesn't force you to say anything. It's a sensitive topic that still brings with it the touch of a chill that starts from his chest whenever he remembers her, and he's sure it's not different for you.

vi. You start sleeping with each other the night after.

Sehun rationalizes the whole set up. "We aren't the soulmates of our soulmates. Might as well try with people in the same boat as us, right?" He's cutting up vegetables for tonight's dinner as he says this very casually. But you hear the slight strain in his voice, see the momentary shake of his hands on the kitchen knife and you know he's thought about it enough to voice it out and ask your opinion. His voice is becomes quieter but gains a certain kind of stability when he speaks next.

"Physical warmth is nothing compared to the warmth that a soulmate can provide, but sometimes you just need someone to be there when you want to remember how warmth feels like, to stave off the cold."

Your brain doesn't catch up to your body. It listens to the beat of your heart as it flutters erratically and you're kissing him before you know it. You don't care where this will lead you, the rational part of your brain pleads not to give in but it loses the battle against what your body wants and you want it now and all that is running through your mind is him, him, him.

His eyes are turbulent like a tsunami, as he mouths against your belly button. You arch your back and you don't know exactly what your pleading for but you do, and all you can hear is how desperate you are, begging, begging with your hoarse voice and even that is washed away when his head is between your thighs and you crash against the currents till it takes you to the peak and you can't breathe.

In those moments, he is impossibly warm and you cling to that warmth like a lifeline as he takes you, as you give yourself to him over and over again till your lungs catch fire. You're swept up by the waves of love lust and dragged down by the undercurrents. All you see is the swirling of water, violent and passionate that you don’t see the bubbles rising to the surface and forget that you need air, not water to breathe.

In those moments, you don't mind drowning.

And drown you do.

vii. It is not long that you become a part of each other's lives when the sun is gone.

Sehun pulls the covers over your bodies and pulls you flush against his chest. Your voice is small when you ask.

"Stay?"

"Sure."

But Sehun is water and you can't ask water to stay. It is never static, always moving with the changing of tides and will always slip from the seams.

It is when his breathing is rhythmic that you allow the sob that choked you to escape. But slowly, slowly.

Sehun sleeps deeply that night, so he doesn’t not notice when you curl in towards yourself and lift the ring on your left hand, just enough to read the grey characters flickering with red as if they were dying embers. The cold hits you more painfully than before because the warmth is snatched away from you so quickly you barely had time to embrace it. It is replaced with the burning feeling not from heat, but from something so frigid it burns, oh god it burns and you're reminded that Sehun is your soulmate, but you aren't his as you stare at his greyed out name on your finger. 

It is exhaustion, the weight of your secret, and the sadness you’ve been carrying for so long that pulls you to sleep.

You wake up in the morning alone in bed. Sehun is making breakfast and the scent of coffee wafts through the apartment.

At first you think nothing of it. It's always like this, and you roll over on his side of the bed and cling to the residual warmth of the sheets. It's nice to wake up to the smell of breakfast but you find yourself reaching out to the opposite side of the bed every time.

You want to wake up next to him on a lazy morning.

But then in the middle of one night, weeks into whatever this relationship is that you catch him by the couch on the window. He doesn't notice you stir from sleep; he is drawn to her, traces her name on his finger and his voice is breathy, wistful, longing.

"You're the only person I want to wake up next to in the morning."

It is whispered to the air, as if it would carry his wish towards her, his sun. He says it to the moon and closes his eyes. He stays in that position for a long while, and when he slides back into the bed, he is facing away from you.

Stay?

Perhaps you were being too greedy. Overwatering kills plants after all.

viii. Sehun met you on a summer day, when the season was just changing from the cusp of spring. It was warm, and as time passes by it grew warmer and warmer, with the sun rising higher into the skies like smoke that curls in tendrils. He remembers because he remembers his sun, with hair that glowed like the gold during too bright mornings when he woke up next to her. And he remembers the summer heat dissipating and making way for autumn, the cold starting to seep in. It's uncanny how the seasons of the following year seemed to reflect his emotional state, mocking him with the cold that blew his hair from his face while the cold he felt at the loss of his soulmate seeped into his bones. Fate was cruel and nature was its accomplice.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be operating on the opposite conditions. Two years could do a number on people, and he remembers the different sweaters you'd wear all year round the first time you met him. Till the events in both your lives seemed to intertwine like the vines on an endless hedge maze, bound together but without any clear pattern or path. Circular, in ways more than one, and both as full and as empty as the number zero.

Recently, you stop wearing sweaters and jackets altogether, your arms constantly exposed to the chilled air. Sehun calls you out on it on one of those nights where you've developed the habit of standing by your balcony in nothing but an old shirt when the moon hangs high in the sky.

"I've gotten used to the cold."

He doesn't recognize the tone of your voice.

ix. "Can I ask a favor? For tonight, can you think of me, and only of me?"

The day you decide to leave him, you ask for one tender night with him. Your voice is soft but filled with a kind of determination Sehun doesn't catch. After all, it has become an unwritten and unspoken rule that this whole arrangement with you was for both to get over your respective soulmates. Sehun doesn't read too deeply into the stakes of this relationship, doesn't want to open that can of worms. Doesn't realize the weight of your words because in his mind, you are both using each other to forget.

But the body remembers. And he sees the tears fall from your eyes, he can only stare. It becomes clear to you that Sehun never noticed, never realized the depths of your feelings for him and that hasn't changed. The heartbreak you feel has reached a fever pitch and you break down. Sehun moves to hug you, but you shake your head. Sehun thinks, believes he understands you; you two are in the same predicament after all. Both your cases are rare and for the two of you to have met in this lifetime was something he believes was fate's way of consoling the both of you.

He takes your refusal for aftercare as a sign that you wanted to get over your soulmate by yourself, and it dawns on him that perhaps that’s what he needed to do as well. Acceptance is the first step towards recovery, and for the both of you to move on, really move on, you needed the kind of strength that came from within, and not from another person. He's not sure if he was ready for that.

But it seems that you were.

His dreams elude him that night. It's all vague and a faint sense of unease lingers underneath. Images of the moon and a peculiar kind of warmth. You're wide awake as he stirs in his slumber and press a kiss on his shoulder as he succumbs to sleep once more. It is your final goodbye.

When the morning arrives, it is Sehun who wakes up alone.

[multimask]

Alright buckle up we got a lot of questions: 13, 14, 16, 25, 26, 33, 37, 38, 42, 63, 68, all for my wonderful friend The Head of Coin! 👁👁 show me the forbidden information

ALRIGHT LONG LIST HERE WE GO (love that you’re asking Coin, who is supposed to be good at keeping Secrets, all of these questions, and so soon after That Chat with Von Kri, too)

13. What do they dislike about themself? Why?

I'm honestly not sure. Coin's been running around my head for a good number of months now, and I don't know if I've ever heard him say anything about something he doesn't like about himself. He's a cocky cheerful bastard, and I'm *still* trying to figure out if that's honest to god Him or if that's a façade he puts on. I'm not sure Coin completely realizes this - though he's definitely noticed after That Chat - but he's somewhat careless when not sworn to secrecy, is a way to put it, I suppose. If he's made a deal or an agreement then by the gods he will follow it, but if not? He can be unfortunately loose-lipped, as we discovered in that chat with Von Kri. If it involves his Own, then he is... better at being tight-lipped when not sworn to, but he can be careless when it comes to others he doesn't have any formal Deals with (like the main party...). He knows this isn't necessarily favorable, but he's also not sure how, or even if, he wants to really change that

14. What is something they love about themself?

Coin loves his surefire confidence. He’s a cheerful bastard, and a cocksure one at that. Until That Chat, I don’t think Coin’s been really shaken or felt out of control of a situation in a good long while. I still need to really sort out his backstory, and his early early life, but I don’t think that this cocksure attitude was always the case for him. It’s something he developed and worked for and... well, you heard it here first, he was *so awkward and shy* as a kid, a total wallflower. He's able to slip into the unnoticed wallflower easy enough, but it's not something he tends to do much these days. He was always watching, listening to others growing up, and he managed to basically turn that into his job?

16. What are their feelings on the people who raised them?

Alright, going to be copy/pasting this Q&A for Coin into one of my hidden DM channels so I’ve got this on record there lmao. The people who raised Coin. . . Hm. Coin was born to eladrin parents on the Material Plane, and he was not born with the “name” of Coin. I have that name written down in my notes, but that is not information I will lightly give where other players might see. The Name/Title of “Coin” he took on after he made his way to the Shadowfell, but that was later in life. His parents were kind folk, and they raised him best they could, but there was only so much they could do for the shy wallflower of a child he was. He doesn’t think badly of his parents, when he remembers them, but it’s been so long since he’s seen them that he rarely thinks about them. He knows his parents have passed away, but he doesn’t know where they’re buried or else he would visit their graves while he’s on the Material Plane right now

25. What stories do they like to tell? What stories do they like to hear?

Coin *loves* to hear stories of all sorts. He trades in information, among other things, and stories can tell you so much about an event and about the people telling you the story. He especially likes the “stories” that are basically someone catching the new person up on all the office gossip & drama. That’s always fun to listen to when they bring someone new into the offices and he gets to overhear the latest rendition of the complaints about Ayen’s Code that no one can understand. Stories that Coin likes to tell? Hm. Whatever kind of story he thinks his audience would like, something to keep them engaged and continuing to trade stories with him. I’m not sure I could get more specific than that, since what sort of story he’d tell depends on who his audience is and if he’s looking for information

26. Who do they miss?

Really digging at the backstory here, I see. *Any* information I’m giving here that pertains to before Coin joined the Shadow Court is new information we’re spinning up to answer these questions lmao. I don’t think Coin misses anyone, not seriously. There might be some old warlocks of his that have passed away that he misses, but there’s always someone new to meet. Perhaps his parents? When he remembers them, of course. It’s been *centuries* since he last saw them, and he has less and less reason to remember them as the years pass by

33. What makes them cry?

As much as I wanted to try and find a possible backstory scenario or something on something that makes Coin cry, I couldn’t think of anything, so we get a funny answer here. What makes Coin cry? Get him drunk enough and he’ll cry over the funniest things, like snakes not being able to walk because they don’t have legs. S&C have both seen this from him on numerous different occasions, I believe, and C will *gladly* offer up facts and info like that if he’s gotten over snakes but needs something continue to cry about. And also drops information like that around Coin when he's sober to add to the list of topics to cry over when drunk. Simply stating “The point is dolphins” around a drunk enough Coin will send him crying about dolphins bc 1) “so long and thanks for all the fish” (Coin: why would they abandon us!?!) and 2) dolphins attacking pufferfish to get high (Coin: they’re so meeeeannnnn why would they do that 😭)

37. What is their favorite thing to hold?

A pen or a coin. When he’s not running around watching the party in their chaos, he’s often found with a notebook or at a desk working on notes or ledgers. He keeps records, and so he’s often found with a pen in hand. He’s also almost always fidgeting with like a silver or copper piece. I think the cool metal of the coins helps ground him, and, as some other characters have seen, he will occasionally hand them out, so he’s always got a coin on hand. 

38. What do they smell like?

Musty, like inks and papers of a records room full of books. There’s also a sharp metallic edge to him, as well, that smells like copper pennies or blood

42. What are three words they would use to describe themself?

Sure-footed, Watching, and Energetic (and, of course, Cheerful, but I call him a cheerful bastard enough that that one’s a given at this point lol)

63. What fight has scared them the most?

A fight with the Baron, back in the early days of this Shadow Court. Things were rough going until everyone settled into their places and got used to each other. Fighting the sorcerer wasn’t that much of a problem, the magic he could handle, but the *blankness* of the Baron was incredibly unnerving. Coin is normally good at reading people, in both combat and conversation, but he’s never been able to read the Baron in either. There was a disagreement between Coin and the Baron about something or other, probably something pretty petty and insignificant looking back, but the fight scared Coin. He’s fought mages before, and can hold his own against them, but he wasn’t able to read the Baron’s movements or his casting, and that was the first fight he nearly lost in a long while

68. What was the best moment of their life?

Watching the party kill the Sage? Hearing that the Sage, Father, and Templar were all three dead? I think that second one, since that signaled him becoming the head of the Court. If there’s another moment, I haven’t mapped out his backstory too seriously, so I couldn’t tell you

[If you want to ask me questions about my characters, the post can be found here!]

[iamleavingthisfandom]

karaoke bar - request

@glimmersinner​ said:

i have a reddie fic idea, dont know if youre taking requests, but im thinking of after the battle of it (eddie survives bc its canon) they go out for kareoke and stan can live or die its up 2 u :) but they do kareoke at this bar and like richie sings “eddie,baby” to come out w his feelings and i need that in my life thank u

I am, indeed, taking requests! And this is such a lovely one, thank you for sending it to me. Hope you like what I’ve cooked up for you!  read here on ao3

Raucous laughter rolled over the table full of drinks and snacks that the Losers occupied. After all the “you’re a fucking clown” were said and all the sinister interdimensional entities were done with, everyone went to settle their own affairs, but agreed to reconvene in New York. Which was currently taking the form of getting together in a karaoke bar, an occasion full of drinking and revelry, finally not bearing the shadow of responsibility for defeating an ancient evil. The laughter erupted after Richie’s quip about Ben and Beverly’s over-the-top cheesy rendition of (I’ve Had) The Time Of My Life, all in good fun, of course. A “happy for you, but keep all the straight details to yourself” was a drunken comment of him trying to read the room, with no malice behind it. He had come out via his twitter earlier in the week, with all the Losers sending him messages of love and support afterwards, and it took no time at all for jokes about being gay to become his go-to response to many things, despite the lingering internal problems. Humor was always his coping mechanism, after all, and it helped that he was surrounded by supportive friends. The main problem he was actually struggling with was his less-than-friendly feelings for none other than Eddie Kaspbrak, currently sitting across from him and sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri through a bright green straw. His jokes were decidedly not helping with that, especially not when Eddie let go of the straw to laugh so hard Richie could hear his snorts above the general rowdiness of the bar, but that was not going to stop him from making everyone laugh.

Just as Richie looked away from Eddie, desperately willing himself not to blush (he was almost forty years old, for fuck’s sakes, he did not blush), Bill called out in a challenging tone: “Beep-beep, trashmouth, either step up and sing something or stop making fun!” Richie put his hand to his chest, as if deeply wounded. “Billiam, making fun of you all is my sacred duty.” “Sing something, Richie,” Beverly joined in. Soon, Bill and Beverly were both chanting “sing,” while Stan sat between them, looking entirely unimpressed if not for a tiny hint of a smile. Ben was mostly interested in looking at Beverly enthusiastically chanting, Mike was grinning a bit, but waited to see the situation develop, and Eddie… Well, Eddie was looking at Richie with an impish expression that the latter was having trouble reading. Finally, after a few seconds of this, he raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, you vultures. Let me show you how it’s done,” he grinned as Bill and Beverly cheered, and stood up to go to the karaoke machine. He scrolled through the list of songs when one caught his attention. His jokes weren’t helping, but maybe… He didn’t let himself finish the thought before he pressed “play” and the first soft chords poured from the speakers. He lifted the mic just in time for the lyrics to start. The cameras captured all of the glances And all of the chances we’ve missed Everyone at the table cheered supportively, except Eddie, who looked like he recognised the song all too well and was slowly starting to show a very fetching blush. Though there was a small, hopeful smile— except was there? Richie didn’t want to give himself vain hope, and instead sang further, only gaining confidence and enthusiasm with every line. As always, it took little time for his flair for showmanship to show itself, and by the time the first chorus came, he had started moving his hips and his free arm, in a more dramatic than choreographic fashion, but expressive nonetheless. Oh Eddie, baby, won’t you come to my arms tonight? I beg and plead you, please succumb to my charms tonight. He spared a wink at Eddie, who looked progressively more scarlet, before grinning and making a show of holding his palm to his heart. I give my heart But you take it and you break it and you tear it apart Oh Eddie, baby, won’t you come to my arms. Not that he hadn’t heard the song before, but somehow actually singing it out loud was different than listening to the lyrics: they resonated deeper now. He didn’t let himself show that, though. A smirk here and a rakish grin there did the trick, and apart from Stan’s raised eyebrow and knowing smile it seemed like no one had thought too much of it. And I hope one day, dear friend, you will come around. The second Richie thought that maybe choosing a song that showcased his hidden feelings was, in fact, not the best idea he’d ever had, he caught the sight of Eddie biting his lip in a small smile. He reminded himself that Eddie was just embarrassed at being the center of attention (wouldn’t be the first time for that) but in on the joke, yet no matter how he framed it to himself, that little smile was all that it took for his breath to catch. The rest of the performance was likely not his best form, but it mattered little, and when he finished the last line, the Losers’ table erupted in cheers and applause. Even Stan clapped, unable to hold back his smile. Richie made an exaggerated bow and got back to his seat. “Alright,” Bill clapped his hands once more and got up, “I’ll go see if they have Tubthumping,” and with that, everything seemingly got back to normal. Well, everything except the weird, almost-calculating look Eddie was giving Richie that stopped him from joking about how cheesy Bill’s song choice was. The rest of the night was uneventful and full of that special drunken merriment that can only be found in good company. If anyone noticed the looks Richie kept throwing Eddie, no one mentioned anything, and if Eddie had anything to say about Richie’s initial choice of song, he kept it to himself. Eventually, as everything in life, the night had to end, and the Losers started parting ways until the only people left outside the bar were Richie, smoking a cigarette, and Eddie, shuffling his foot on the asphalt and looking anywhere but at his friend. “Fun night, huh?” Eddie wondered, seemingly at no one in particular. “Yeah, but my head’s going to be killing tomorrow,” Richie joked with a puff of smoke. Eddie lifted his head, biting his lip and meeting his eyes for the first time since they said their goodbyes to the rest of the group. It took a lot of Richie not to let that stop his inhale of smoke, but he kept his breathing steady. “Rich,” Eddie started and paused again, unsure. “Yeah, Spaghetti?” Richie was determined to keep it light. “I wish you’d stopped doing things like— like the song,” Eddie rushed out on a single breath, like he was running on a sudden drunken influx of bravery. “If you don’t mean anything by that, it’s just cruel,” he added, quieter and hiding his gaze again. Wait— cruel? If he didn’t mean anything? Within seconds, hope grew in Richie’s chest, one that he’d systematically squashed down, and too soon it became too big to contain. After a short awkward pause, it pushed the words out of him. “I meant it.” Eddie’s eyes shot up as he looked questioningly at Richie. “Whatever you’re thinking of now, I meant it.” “Can you say it? What you meant?” The look in Eddie’s eyes, cautious but on the verge of happy, and the tentative step he took towards Richie, gave him the strength to throw the cigarette on the ground and step on it without taking his eyes off of Eddie. “I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was,” he knew it was always a risk to be so open with his heart, but the giggle Eddie let out and a smile that lit up his face were the best payoff Richie could ever want. “You’re so cheesy, Tozier. You’re lucky I’m in love with you, too,” Richie barely had the time to make a sound before Eddie moved in and tugged him down into a kiss with a hand in his hair. The kiss was short-lived, though, and soon Eddie was pulling away with a frown, quickly replaced with a laugh. “You reek of smoke, that’s gross.” “I’ll give up smoking for you,” Richie promised dramatically, his ability for coherent thought almost gone with the giddy high of their long-anticipated finally. Eddie chuckled and stood on the balls of his feet as Richie wound his arms around him. “I can get used to it,” he kissed Richie again. The rest of the world melted away when their lips moved against each other, and as he tasted the sugary residue of strawberry concoctions on Eddie’s lips, Richie knew he’d never felt quite as elated before in his life. No, not even when his agent booked his first large venue for his show. When they pulled apart, Eddie looked at him from under his eyelashes. “Want to come over to my place?” “Ouch, Eds, not even gonna buy me dinner first?” Eddie let out a small laugh, but he looked determined, and maybe, just maybe, Richie felt like he would do absolutely anything for him at that moment. “Well?” “I’d love to,” Richie smiled in response. Eddie stepped back to hail a cab, and suddenly there was a slight twinge of doubt in Richie’s gut. “And we don’t have to— do anything you don’t want to do, of course.” The look Eddie gave him in response was best described as amused. “Oh, we don’t have to, but I definitely want to. That is, if you…” he didn’t finish the thought, because Richie interrupted him. “You have no idea how much I want to.” With a grin, Eddie took his hand and waited for a cab to pull up, which it did in just a few seconds. Richie followed him into the car with a blinding grin and put his hand on Eddie’s thigh as he listened to him tell the driver the address. His main takeaway from the whole thing was that sometimes joking about his true feelings paid off big time. Anything else was overshadowed by Eddie’s hand sliding smoothly into his once more and his large eyes staring gently into Richie’s own, but maybe that was just as well.

[cloudstriffes]

Final Fantasy VII Remake Review

I’ve officially finished the game and I have soooo many thoughts and theories and emotions, so imma jump right in about what I loved, what I wanted more of, what I disliked and what I want to see for part 2. This is gonna be long, but Spoilers below the cut! (also I am not including anything about ships in this)

What I enjoyed/loved:

Characters:

Like with FFXV, I think this games biggest strengths lie with it’s characters (unlike FFXV, I think the story has the potential to be strong too, but I’ll get to that later).

It goes without saying that for me this is the best characterization of Cloud Strife since the original game. I really love the character development we see with him just within part one (we see him go from lovable jerk to really caring about his companions and making the effort to listen to them and comfort them, even if it’s not easy for him and he struggles a lot). I really have a soft spot for characters like that and I think it’s done really well here.

Tifa Lockhart is BEST GIRL! I have so much love for this girl and she’s hands down my favorite to play as (I even made her the leader in the fights because I can don’t @ me). Tifa shows that you can have your cake and eat it too, in that she can be gentle, considerate, kind, and even shy at times, but she still takes names and kicks butt; she doesn’t have to sacrifice who she really is to be considered a bad*ss female character. I think her character is greatly expanded on here than in the original and we get to see just how everything affects her and not just Cloud (which is important since they have been through a lot of the same traumatizing events).

I always thought Barret Wallace was an interesting character, especially seeing his backstory in the original game (something I can’t wait for in the next installment). Here, it’s down 10x better and I love every second he’s on screen. I’m very excited to see how that Black and White morality view he has on the world will be broken down and really put a strain on how he view himself and the things he’s done. I also adore to the heavens his relationship with little Marlene. Also the way he starts to Dad towards Cloud 😭😭😭

Now on the the best character of the entire game. Mere words cannot express how much I adore Aerith Gainsborough. Her characterization is a god-send that I definitely wouldn’t have appreciated had I not looked into other FFVII properties and saw the disservice they do to her. Fortunately for us, in Remake, Aeirth is everything we originally loved about her and more. She’s got a mischievous and sassy side that I adore and just love how she plays off of Cloud. Their interactions were so sweet and genuine and got quite a few laughs out of me.

Other characters:

Um where to start. First of all, Avalanche. I can relate to Jessie on spiritual level because I too thirst for Cloud Strife. All said and done though, he characterization is great and she’s a lot of fun. Her backstory is good too and her relationship with the rest of Avalanche is very genuine. And I love Biggs and Wedge with all my heart. I overall think the expanded character development for these 3 is spot on and really makes their “deaths” hit hard.

Marlene Wallace is a precious baby and I can cry all day about how precious her scenes with Barret are😭😭😭😭

Red XIII is the best boy and he’s hilarious. I can’t wait to delve more into his backstory when we get to Cosmo Canyon.

The Side characters in Wall Market are some of the best in the game. They're all interesting and I really hope we see more of them. 

I hate everyone at Shinra HQ but also Reeve is a good boy, but also screw Hojo x10, but also Scarlet can step on me, but also THE TURKS (where tf is Elena😭), but also SCREW HOJO, bust also that Kunsel/Crisis Core reference tho, but also Rufus Shinra CAN GET IT.

I said it before, but Sephiroth is actually very intimidating (not that he wasn’t in his other appearances, especially Advent Children) but hoo boy, the way we actually see how it terrifies Cloud really makes it stick for me. Sephiroth can get it too don’t @ me.

Story/Other:

I know a lot of long-time and even recent fans won’t agree, but I thought the story was very, very good. Don’t get me wrong, it’s flawed, but would I have honestly been happy with a shot-for-shot high definition update with some expansion here and there? Yeah probably, but I know how that story goes. 

I think doing a complete 180 to the story we know is a huge risk that I have hopes will pay off. I really love the idea that by changing fates of certain characters for the better (ie. Zack, Biggs, maybe Jessie and Wedge), Cloud and the others may have doomed themselves to an even worse fate with Sephiroth and I absolutely love that I don’t know where it’s going to go from here. I mean, I sure we’ll still get our fan favorites like Costa del Sol, the Gold Saucer, Yuffie, Vincent, Cid and ELENA, but we’re in for so many twist and turns and whatever the heck Zack being alive will do to the universe (or alternate universe? Idk I have theories).

My favorite areas in the game were the Sector 7 Slums, Aerith’s House, Wall Market, the Collapsed Expressway and Shinra HQ.

I think the voice acting is good, and for some character’s it’s great. The main cast (Cloud, Tifa, Aerith, Barret, Red XII and Avalanche) is VERY GOOD and the major side characters are good too. I already know there is discourse about Sephiroth and Zack’s English VA’s so I’m not sharing my opinion right now on that. 

Also the soundtrack is god-tier. I cannot stop listening to “Hollow” and hearing updated renditions of tracks from the original soundtrack somehow made me nostalgic for a game I only started playing last year. It’s top-notch imo.

What I didn’t like:

There’s nothing in the game I genuinely hated to the point where it ruined things for me.

I did enjoyed the second half of the sidequest for Sector 5 Slums (when you have Tifa and Barret back in your party), but the other sidequest were either annoying or hit and miss.

There’s also the issue with padding and certain areas seeming to go on forever. I really liked the Train Graveyard, for the first 20 minutes and after that it kinda dragged on too long for me (we had like two major boss fights in that one area😩) especially when the next major story part was the drop of the Sector 7 plate. I did love the little scene with Aerith waiting to be found; that was really good.

I also am confused about the back and forth about how much Aerith may know about her and the others’ fates. At times, it seems like she knows much more than she’s letting on and other times, she either really doesn’t know or she subconsciously is aware of something, but I guess it’s to be revealed.

Enough people have commented about the graphics and npcs in certain scenes (you know what I mean) so imma just say that at best it’s hilarious and at worse it’s very distracting.

What I want to see next and my overall rating for part 1:

As expressed before, I’m excited to see how much the story diverges and if the Arbiters of fate are really gone. I just feel like there’s more than Sephiroth pulling the strings here, but who knows. I also can’t wait for more references to Crisis Core (if ya’ll show me Kunsel I’ll cry) and I definitely hope we get more scenes of Zack and Cloud in the, I guess, alternate reality? Also playable Red XIII and If ya’ll think i’m thirsty for the characters in this game, just want until Vincent freakin’ Valentine shows up. 

All and all, I think I can confidently rate part one with a solid 9/10. It’s flawed, but it’s going in such an unexpected direction I didn’t anticipate that I’m left hungry for more. The characters are stellar and the expansion of certain parts of the game is amazing. I cannot wait for part two guys. I hope you all found something to enjoy too. Now I’m in the process of replaying it along with some other games I need to finish. I’ll still be tagging spoilers for now (ffvii remake spoilers)

[caltropspress]

Notes on Pink Siifu’s NEGRO

You and anybody else who wants to get their random vicarious kicks off White Power can stay the fuck away from me. 

—Lester Bangs

Tell a nazi he can suck my dick. —Pink Siifu, from “SMD”

My first contact with white america was marked by her violence, for when a white doctor pulled me from between my mother’s legs and slapped my wet ass, I, as every other negro in america, reacted to this man-inflicted pain with a cry. A cry that america has never allowed to cease; a cry that gets louder and more intense with age….A cry? Or was it a scream? —H. Rap Brown (Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin), from Die Nigger Die!

it is the hour of conflict, antagonism, struggle the world turning autumn in warpaint everything silently prepares to scream —Amiri Baraka, from “Disorder”

1.  

White institutional power operates to negate or suppress. To that end, white institutional power bestows awards on singular figures when it’s convenient. Let’s call one such example Kendrick Lamar. Pulitzer Prizing DAMN. is white institutional power taking cover. This, in no way, defangs DAMN. But it does provide crowd control. Pink Siifu, meanwhile, won’t be awarded a Pulitzer for NEGRO. If he did, I’m confident he’d pull an Adrienne Rich, telling President Clinton to choke on his National Medal for the Arts, seeing as how the U.S. gov’t drives “the demonization of our young Black men.” Siifu would be PE boycotting the Grammys on the grounds of Black invisibility. Or John Lennon relinquishing his membership in the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire because, well, empire (see: Biafra).

2.

NEGRO is what happens when Three 6 Mafia goes full bandolier, full decolonization, full Thomas Sankara. When the emphasis is on the 666 sirening[1] across white cop foreheads, reflecting off Makrolon face shields. Siifu cites and channels Sun Ra, June Tyson, Death, and Bad Brains, but you also hear the mass hysteria of Abbey Lincoln’s vocal cords trembling, of Max Roach’s We Insist! in a street brawl showdown with the LRAD. Basically, it’s Ornette blowing sax in a riot, harmolodics like incendiary devices.

3.

“FK” is the primal scream reaction of hearing the news another one of your people has been killed, snuffed out. Suffer through our screams, it says to the listener. And “out of body, out of mind” distorts what we see with what we witness. It’s the re-played, re-tweeted, re-shared visuals of Black death.

4.

At moments, NEGRO sounds like Aaron Dilloway organizing a chapter of the White Panther Party.

5.

Siifu’s lyrics are a Stokely speech draft. His artistry is prismatic, shattered pane glass: crust punk, jazz cat, marching band drummer, hood ballerina, noisemaker, bareknuckle emcee. His lyrics should be run off on the mimeo and saddle-stitched into a chapbook for Totem Press to publish.

6.

“SMD” samples from Ivan Dixon's 1973 film The Spook Who Sat by the Door (“Do you hear me, man?...I am BLACK!”). Just like dead prez sampled the dialogue before Siifu on “We Want Freedom.” Siifu and dead prez are bedfellows, for sure, but Siifu's head rests on a pillow of static. It’s the friction that electrifies.

7.

NEGRO is the art of de-arresting in audio form. As the comrades at Mask Magazine have stated, de-arrests “are beautiful,” reminding us “the law and the state are not supernatural forces.”[2]

8.

I’ve always felt uncomfortable using the word freedom. It’s a word that’s been co-opted and gutted to the point of parody. I subscribe only to a different form of freedom, one articulated in noise. Suicidal Tendencies’ “Freedumb” cuts it: “Peace through politics is a fallacy—that doesn’t exist.” Liberation more seriously expresses the extinction agenda. Poor Righteous Teachers taught the curriculum out of Trenton, on “Freedom of Death”: “Consciousness—it’s a must / Just avoid the wicked, wicked ways of this pale Caucasoid.”

Regardless, we see freedom, liberation, knife through even with Siifu’s orthography. Revolutionary thought requires revolutionary language. Ask the Combahee River Collective. Come correct. Fuck autocorrect. Remember womyn. Siifu spellings like: nxggas, eye, tyme, iono, and the evergreen ameriKKKa. The abbreviated words—eliding letters wherever possible—don’t reflect self-censorship so much as the mindmaze of a harried man. Deliberate typos demonstrate no faith in the system. It’s like if Bon Iver (see: “22 (OVER S∞∞N)”) decided to forgo BLM symbolic gestures (Mahalia Jackson) and straight-up encouraged looting. Siifu is CAPS LOCK happy, too. We’re witnessing the joy of militancy.

9.

To begin with, it must be said that former African slaves and their ancestors have been the avant-garde of everything in this country. There’s no culture in America, in this American wasteland, without us. There’s no classical music; there’s jazz, and that was invented by us. And besides that, America has nothing to offer the world and it never has. —Idris Robinson, from “How It Might Should Be Done”

Siifu in the audience of the Congress of Afrikan Peoples, and Baraka imploring him like, “Get up, Pink Siifu.” It’s nation time. But on “Nation Tyme.,” Siifu groans, I’m tired…can’t fall…asleep. Black rage, of course—but what of Black insomnia? The French revolutionaries abolished the calendar. CPT, so, is rightly weaponized. “I feel fettered by Western time,” Gregory Pardlo writes in “Colored People’s Time.” Punch clocks need punching, smashing. I saw Baraka roll up to a conference panel late as fuck once, cane-walking right down the center aisle, shameless, commandingly.

In a somnolent slur, Siifu says, “They treat me like I’m wasting away / I know I’m worth more than they pay.” What of these capitalist definitions of work? What of productivity? What does it mean to monetize every waking moment? He’s been quoted as saying, “I ain’t have to work for no white man.”[3] “Nation Tyme.” picks up there.

10.  Feel like deadmeat. They say I’m deadmeat.

“DEADMEAT” is a pig siren stuffed into an industrial-grade slaughterhouse grinder. It sounds the way Alan Vega's sculptures look—hazardous masses of electronic junk, like wires raveled inside a homemade bomb, like buzzing viscera. 

I want to see Siifu perform it at the Meat Locker, a cellar club in the underguts of Montclair, New Jersey (s/o the dramacydal Outlawz). The place is dingy and bedecked with feces—a venue befitting a GG Allin opener. GG Allin, a racist, who also hated cops. Who, on “Shove That Warrant Up Your Ass,” a track that appeared on the posthumous Brutality & Bloodshed For All album, sang, “You say I broke the laws in your state… / Your courts and cops should all be hung.” Allin hoists a headless, legless, armless torso on his hip in the cover photograph—a slab of meat. Like the Beatles with baby doll parts and prime cuts in their laps, bloodless butcher coats on the original Yesterday and Today (1966) artwork. Like the papal kill floor in Francis Bacon’s “Figure with Meat” (1954) with its tapestry of offal. But what you don’t get from Bacon, or the Beatles, or GG Allin is what Siifu needs us to hear. What Siifu tells us is the reality of corporeality is that cops continue to make carcasses of Black people.

11.

That cellar club can be scream therapy, can be cell therapy. Siifu brings us there—to the darkest, dampest corner of the Dungeon Family’s dungeon. Big Gipp, speaking self-defensively: “Try to separate me from the blood / Is disrespect like you coming in my home and not wiping your feet on the rug.” It’s echoed in Siifu addressing the question of his audience: “This [album] is for black people, but I know white people are going to fuck with it. I’m mad cool with that. I just want everyone to know, before they come through the door, that this is a black house and you have to respect my people.”[4] The theme of respect as it relates to a sense of home, to cultural tourism, is paramount in both. Everyone’s got to know their place. No listener should approach ignorant of the auction block. Siifu’s noise refuses the separation of kinsfolk and his stubbornness makes the dungeon shake—he is rightfully “tough, dark, vulnerable, moody,” and, on NEGRO, he has a “definite tendency to sound truculent.”[5]

12.  

“ON FIRE, PRAY!” eventually grinds the brakes to a cavernous slowjam pace. “Blood on my body / Blood on my face.”

13.

The racist dog policemen must withdraw immediately from our communities, cease their wanton murder and brutality and torture of black people, or face the wrath of the armed people. —caption on Huey Newton photograph

NEGRO’s album cover, painted by Junkyard, is a call-and-response. Pink Siifu is a portrait of exhaustion, slouched, shirtless like Huey was when he was released from the Alameda County courthouse in 1970. It’s a tableau like Huey in that rattan peacock chair was. Eldridge Cleaver orchestrated it, right down to the zebra rug.

If you squint, the glimmer of Siifu’s gold fronts looks like his jaw is wired shut. Of course, violent threats are routinely directed at Black people—that's how the system operates. Media is often behind the scope. Relentless orders to “shut up,” to silence yourself, police yourself. We know this from David Wojnarowicz, photographed with his lips sewn shut, blood dripping like shadows, in “(Silence = Death)” from 1989. The violent threats on queer life are kin to those on Black life. But Siifu, like Wojnarowicz, refuses the censorship. After all, those aren't wires—they're the glint of his grill. Siifu is dribbling blood, too, and those black splatters across the flag are like pen bursts—ink poisoning for all. If you squint, the mind’s eye might see the Pan-African flag.

The flag above his head recalls Jasper Johns’ flags: elliptical, non-patriotic, made slop-bucket sloppy from newspaper shreddings and other detritus, i.e. amerikkka is a trash heap. At least the stars are black in the “Flag (Moratorium)” rendition. Bullet hole dead center, too.

If all goes well, the riots going on—bless them—will go on interminably. Sly Stone’s customized flag with black in place of blue[6] and sharp solar-flared suns in place of Betsy Ross geometric stars is yet another parallel to Siifu’s flag. Like Sly, Siifu isn’t opposed to police ambushes. They both know you’ve got to grin at the gun of the devil. (“Don’t you mind people grinnin’ in your face,” Son House sings eternally.) Citizen takes on cop on “Thank You For Talkin’ To Me, Africa”: Bullets start chasin’, / I begin to stop. / We begin to tussle. / I was on the top. Just the same as Siifu on “SMD”: “Iono why eye ain’t shot ya.” Or on “run pig run.”: “Kill a cop / Left a pig dead.”

14.

We can't disparage any aggressive protest on the reductive grounds it's aggro or violent. I think of Pam Echols in Milwaukee in 1968. Siifu’s assertion of you are my enemy on “steal from the ENEMY” corresponds with Paris’s sophomore and shadowy album, Sleeping with the Enemy. Like on the corrode-ode “Coffee, Donuts, and Death”:

You get poached when you fuck with black folk. Said it ’til my voice was hoarse. I ain’t down with excessive force, But of course I wasn’t heard so I’m silent now. Black folk can’t be non-violent now. […] The only motherfucking pig that I eat is police.

Which is to say, try no pork, ameriKKKa.

15.  RE: punk

Think of Bad Brains playing CBGB’s in 1982. Lester Bangs writes of a woman in the scene who referred to Black people as “all these boons.” He tells us a Black friend of his believes the clubgoers “[strive] to be offensive however they can.” Anti-Blackness plagued CBGB’s and nascent punk like vermin, a pestilence. A white woman in the music business claims she “liked [Black people] so much better when they were just Negroes.” These anecdotes are culled from Bangs’ 1979 Village Voice piece entitled “The White Noise Supremacists.” He notes Ron Asheton’s predilection for “swastikas, Iron Crosses, and jackboots.” He cites Ivan Julian, guitarist for Richard Hell and the Voidoids—one of the few Black individuals to grace those inchoate punk stages—as saying “whenever he hears the word ‘n-----’…he wants to kill.” He calls Nico a “dumb kraut cunt” for her brazen, Third Reich-ish brand of racism, which was no industry secret. Bangs even implicates himself, quoting an earlier article: “…it’s the n-----s who control and direct everything just as it always has been and properly should be.” He meant this, somehow, as a compliment.

16.

On “we need mo color. Abundance,” there’s no innocence left in asking “tell me your favorite color.” Siifu answers rhetorically, parenthetically, melanin. Don't settle for forty acres of color—demand abundance. Take, loot in abundance. And don't be contained by the gendered parameters of “pink or blue.” “You can have any color you like” suggests the limitless possibilities if you move your mind beyond the imposed parameters.

The “favorite color” invoked on “we need mo color. Abundance” becomes abundantly clear on the following track, “BLACK!”

17.

“ameriKKKa, try no pork” starts in a slurry of radio static, news reports of Black death. Black, Black, Black, Black. Sped up. Slowed down. Drag the progress bar. “Progress,” ha.

18.

“run pig run.” See the pig / Run away / Run, pig, run. Like a Dick and Jane basal reader. Like picking your favorite color. Like a Three Little Pigs fable. Like huffing and puffing. These are childhood exploits for childhoods that aren’t allowed to be. As long as the Kenneth and Mamie Clark doll experiments keep providing the proof, there can be no childhood innocence. So it's a carnival game in the meantime: See a pig / Shoot a pig. Huffing and puffing: Run, pig, run.

19.

"myheartHURT" is the safehouse after the shooting. It's the cooldown, the chillout. The hypnagogic nightmare. It's vaporwave minus whiteness. We all know Biz had the vapors before Daniel Lopatin. As if DJ Screw was just an apparition, a codeine cloud. The fact remains, Screw's phantasmagoria hovers above all our heads.

20.

The wail of distorted police sirens introduces “Chris Dorner.,” a track gleefully indebted to Ice-T and Body Count’s “Cop Killer.” Repetition was a popular device and it still is: die, pig, die. Chris Dorner has achieved folk-hero status in anarchist circles and beyond since he waged asymmetrical warfare on the LAPD. His manifesto has been published as a zine.[7] “No one grows up and wants to be a cop killer,” he wrote. Begs the question.

21.

“faceless wings,BLACK!” nods to Frank Castle[8], a figure who may or may not be recoverable from militias and thin blue liners, despite Gerry Conway’s best efforts.

22.

White institutional power operates to negate or suppress. Pink Siifu, through NEGRO, refuses suppression and negation. Siifu delivers a hole in the head, and it’s sublime.

Footnotes:

1  “The Law comes sirening across the town.” Gwendolyn Brooks, “THE THIRD SERMON OF THE WARPLAND” from RIOT

2  “De-Arrests are Beautiful.” Mask Magazine.

3  “The Necessity of Pink Siifu’s Rage.” Marcus J. Moore. The Fader.

4  “Pink Siifu’s ‘NEGRO’ is a Riotous Mix of Jazz, Rap and Punk.” Max Bell. Bandcamp Daily.

5  Baldwin, the god.

6  “What did I do to be so black and blue?” (see: Armstrong); light a reefer and listen to the phonograph (see: Ellison)

7  Research and Destroy New York City. https://researchdestroy.com/

8  https://archive.org/details/PunisherPigs

Images:

Emory Douglas work (detail), courtesy of Sean Stewart archives | Makrolon face shield, Google Image Search result | Amiri Baraka performing at the Congress of Afrikan Peoples (screenshot) | Alan Vega light sculpture (photograph) | GG Allin Brutality & Bloodshed for All album cover | The Beatles Yesterday & Today album cover | Francis Bacon, “Figure with Meat” (detail) | Goodie Mob “Cell Therapy” (screenshot) | Splitting up a family at auction, Public Domain | Huey Newton Black Panthers Minister of Defense, photographed by Blair Stapp, 1968 | Andreas Sterzing, David Wojnarowicz (Silence = Death), 1989 | Sly and the Family Stone There’s A Riot Goin’ On album cover | Jasper Johns, “Flag (Moratorium)” | Pam Echols punching cop, 1968 (photographer unknown) | Sid Vicious, nazi (photographer unknown) | Emory Douglas work (detail), courtesy of Sean Stewart archives | Biz Markie Goin’ Off album cover | Oneohtrix Point Never Memory Vague album cover 

[sophrosinn]

the (un)lucky ones

story description:

“the story’s great, but I think it would be better if the story ended like this”

Affronted at the audacity of the comment, she furiously replies, “then write your own story, asshole!”

word count: 2,048

a/n: happiest solar anniversary to one of my best girls @vanaera! thank you for being the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for. this short story, which is loosely based irl, serves as my gift to you. i hope you’ll like it! 

shout-out to @senfleurs for being the best gal and helping me out with this. she even stepped up and edited this omg, and i cannot stress how much I’m thankful, lol especially she made sure that I get to finish this on time

—

3.

In retrospect, she knows better than to let some dumb comment, especially from someone on the Internet, rile her up this much. Even her followers tell her as much: it’s unwarranted, insensitive even. One of her followers, hippopopo tries to take it a step further, justifying by saying, verbatim: It’s her story anyway!!! So only she knows how the story should end best, okay! 😤😠💢

(in actuality, she has qualms about that, mostly because she had read some books which she thought didn’t end well. but that would take time to unpack and this story isn’t about that, no. she’s flattered at the support, nonetheless.)

And yet, there she is at 8 in the morning, her fingers furiously gliding across her keyboard as she writes a spite-filled story in response. Oftentimes, her muse for writing comes from movies she watched with her family, or from songs she heard on Korean dramas, or those meet-cute scenarios she gushed about with her best friends. This time, however, spite’s her main gal.

She finishes at 10. Later at 4 in the afternoon, she posts it. About an hour later, she doesn’t even try to contain the smirk lighting up her face when a familiar notification pops up.

—

1.

The story starts with an inconspicuous like from a user named agust-d five months ago. Back then, she thought nothing of it. A day later, agust-d comments on a story from her drabble series. Since then, every day without fail, agust-d leaves a small token of their appreciation for her works; brief, concise comments such as, “nice job on the flower descriptions,” or “i liked it.” 

Belatedly, she wonders if agust-d is a person of few words, because why else would they leave comments with only six words or less, even on her works with over 30k words? Don’t get her wrong, of course she’s eternally grateful for all the support she receives from her affectionate dears. But sometimes, especially on days her self-confidence plummets and she’s in need of reassurance, she ponders if all her efforts are for naught. (of course not, never, she gently reminds herself.)

And each day, she resists the growing urge to reply: don’t you have anything more to say!!! (but alas, she isn’t a rude person—unless provoked—she can’t so she settles with letting her mind wander.)

Three months of this and she finally caves in. With her interest piqued, she browses through agust-d’s posts. After two hours, she learns that agust-d goes by suga online. Coincidentally, Suga is a male student at the same university she’s currently attending. For a moment, she briefly considers a possibility—what are the chances that they’ve met, have fallen into step alongside each other, have passed by him in the large hallways, or have shared her table with him at the library during exam season? The possibility of knowing someone without actually knowing them? 

(that’s the funny thing about the online world, she supposes. you may know all that matters about someone: their likes, dislikes, kinks, fears, and horrid taste in music, absolutely everything except that one thing that matters the most: their names.)

Suga, she eventually learns, is not a man of few words. In truth, he’s got a few words too many to say about a diverse range of controversial topics. In his words, his passion burns bright and clear, but for her, he doesn’t shine any brighter than when he talks about music. It shows in his blog, which consists of a myriad of album reviews across different genres (fascinating, she notes, their music interests align as well).

Occasionally, he posts his renditions of some popular rap music, and as sporadic as this happens, she admits that his covers are her favorite part of his blog. And naturally, she refuses to acknowledge that it has everything to do with her fascination with deep, raspy voices, which, (un)fortunately for her, Suga undoubtedly has.

After some serious debating with herself, she decides to not follow him back. But she makes sure to check his profile every other day for no real reason, really, her soul wallowing in denial. In her defense, when did anyone need a reason to stalk someone?

And so, it begins, her fascination with this stranger on the other side of the screen. Never in her whole life did she imagine herself harboring a (teeny-tiny, infinitesimal) crush towards someone on the Internet. Certainly, she knows there’s always a one-in-a-thousand chance that it happens in real life, it’s just that out of all the 7 billion people in the world, she wasn’t expecting herself to be the (un)lucky one.

—

2.

The fateful day begins like any other. She wakes up to a brand new day, at 7 am, and like clockwork, she begins to stretch atop her pink yoga mat. Halfway through her workout, her phone pings with a new notification. Immediately, her phone screen lights up: agust-d has left a comment on your work!

Her traitorous heart skips a beat in the utmost display of betrayal. It’s Suga!

Ever since she scrolled through his blog two months ago, she has been exchanging messages with Suga. Her covert mission to surreptitiously listen to his song covers ends miserably when she accidentally double-clicks on a post he made two years ago. A string of expletives followed as she stared agonizingly at the post. She attempts to remove her blunder, but soon accepts defeat as it doesn’t even take a full minute until she receives a message notification from Suga. The internal debate resumes as her finger clumsily hovers on the computer mouse and she hesitantly clicks. From thereon, the rest, as they say, is history.

She ends up following his account the day after.

Although, if she were being truthful, all they’ve been sending back and forth are pleasantries. Suga seems hellbent on keeping the conversations polite and distant. She doesn’t understand, it’s not like she’s flirting with him! All she just wants is a compelling conversation with someone (because the Lord knows how much she needs an intellectual to talk to; and suga seems like an intellectual, if his posts are anything to go by).

She unlocks her phone and throws herself onto her bed. Normally, her lips quirk up automatically in response to seeing his name pop on her notifications, but it is not the case for this time. Instead, a frown mars her forehead as she reads his comment.

agust-d: the story’s great, but I think it would be better if the story ended like this

For a moment, she can’t believe her eyes. She blinks a few more times in the hope that her eyes were just playing tricks on her. Nada, it remains the same. 

If there’s one thing to know about her, it’s that she meticulously plans out every detail in her stories. She even spends weeks to outline a draft, and even then, it must be decent enough before she puts it in writing. Publishing her works online, for all the world to see, still intimidates her even after all this time. Not knowing how people will respond to her works frightens her, but what is life without a little fear?

In addition, she’s receptive to constructive criticisms, but criticisms that come from those she looks up to? It’s a bitter pill to swallow sometimes. Suga—he’s become one of those people, and seeing his comment really hurt. She turns her phone off and does her chores for the time being. The moment she logs back in, she is taken aback by the multitude of comments expressing the same sentiment. 

bubbleboy: “Yeah, I agree, I think it would be best if the story ended in this manner.” 

She can’t help but feel the bubble of anger gradually rising. Another even started with, 

orange-gloss: “No offense, but the ending being suggested by others is kinda good.” 

The audacity and the entitlement in this comment! Asking her to not be offended when it is within her right to take offense is absolutely laughable. Furthermore, who are you to even tell me how I should react? 

When she reaches the 20th comment, she explodes. The next two hours find her furiously typing out a decent response disguised as a story, albeit with passive-aggressiveness, addressed to all of the comments, but primarily to the one left by Suga. She talks to the rude commenters with the sweet addition of a phrasing 101 lesson. In her contained rage, she ends with the note: remember, it doesn’t hurt to be nice, and if you have qualms about how I ended my own story, do me and yourself a favor and write your own story!

She makes up her mind to take some time off her blog for a while. But after a familiar notification pops up at 5 PM, she resists the urge to run away and instead, opts to open the messages he sent.

agust-d: i’ll admit, the way I said it was rude

agust-d: but I stand with what I said

agust-d: you should consider the possibility as well

seen

(In hindsight, she realizes that, for once, Suga’s comment surpasses 25 words.)

—

4. 

After the whole debacle with the barrage of rude comments and her consequent outburst, everything has never been the same. Understandably, some of her fans have left since then, but the majority stayed with her and for that, she’s eternally grateful. Although she still publishes her stories and interacts with her followers, a certain emptiness fills her at times. 

A part of her thinks it has a lot to do with Suga, who she doesn’t talk to anymore. She… doesn’t know how to respond to him after her outburst. In a span of a moment, she manages to both defend her honor and drag agust-d through the mud, which was never her intention to begin with. Okay, well, maybe just a little bit. But she’s hurt, so it only makes sense to retaliate.

If only she could easily strike back in her current situation. 

Unbeknownst to her, someone with the handle void-mayo tags her on a malicious post the night before, calling her out for being fake. Apparently, she’s a ‘copycat writer wanna-be with no real ideas of her own.’

She only discovers it when her followers start sending her messages of reassurance and appreciation. Of course, she checks the post at once, reading carefully and taking in everything that was written. (Shit, at least I have a better username, she muses). And not for the first time, she feels hurt, uneasy, and anxious at the same time. Void-mayo is already an established writer, with years of exposure under her belt and a large army of rabid fans at her disposal. Meanwhile, she’s just started her writing blog. And although she’s diligent, thorough, and ensures that each of her stories has its own personality and flavor, most of void-mayo’s fans wouldn’t care. She can’t risk losing her credibility over a baseless accusation such as this! 

And with that, she feels anger bubbling from the pit of her stomach. She doesn’t get the purpose behind the destructive post. She gets humiliated, her reputation tarnished, and worse just because she had written a similar scene with an ice cream . It certainly doesn’t help that others are quick to join in calling her names and ‘cancelling her’ without even bothering to check the facts. 

And as she contemplates on how to proceed with such a delicate situation, her dashboard refreshes. At the top, she notices that agust-d reblogs void-mayo’s post with the addition of his response and for once, the word count exceeds 100.

—

5. 

In a roundabout way of saying sorry and expressing her gratitude, she proceeds to write the ending Suga requested. And illuminated by the dim light of her laptop screen, she can begrudgingly admit that he does have a point; his version of the ending does make sense.

—

fin.

—

omake

agust-d: so am i forgiven yet?

you: i don’t know

you: maybe you’ll have to make it up to me

you: and get me some coffee first?

you: 😉

—

a/n pt. 2: happiest birthday to you again! i’m so grateful to have met you in this lifetime. truly, like you’re the best. even if your internet connection’s always shitty, you always find ways to join our chats and discord parties. just thank you, for all the countless laughs that i’ve had with (and because of) you, for the counsel with my writing, and for the stories and advice you’ve willingly shared with us. here’s to our three years of friendship and counting! i love you so much! enjoy this day and stay safe! 

p.s. keep rocking and keep writing! we’ll always be here with you! muah! ❤️❤️❤️

p.p.s. hihi 🦆🍄

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/ Hello CRMediaGal and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

Many of our members will know your Unquestionable Love series. 

We’re grateful you can spend some time with us today. 

Okay, so let's jump into it!

What’s the story behind your pen name?

CR is an abbreviation for “cracked rendition” and that comes from the excerpt from a poem I’ve loved since I was young. Years ago, to help put myself through art college, I did web design on the side and called my little company Cracked Rendition Designs. When I created my pen name, I combined all of these elements together to make CRMediaGal (for some illogical reason I thought it was a solid name at the time lol) and, to this day, I still think about changing my pen name altogether.  I figure it’s too late for that now, though. 

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

Luna Lovegood. I wish I’d had her self-assurance and confidence in who she is at that age but, that aside, I identify with how she’s a bit of a loner, an oddball, and tends to be left out (or does until she finds her Hogwarts friends). I’ve really struggled with being an outsider most of my life, so it’s comforting to see that representation in literature but through a young woman who possesses the self-confidence people like myself often lack. 

Do you have a favourite genre to read? 

I tend to love period dramas, so a lot of the classic novels are my favourites (i.e. Austen, Henry James, etceteras).  

Do you have a favourite “classic” novel?

The Portrait of a Lady is one of my favourite novels.  I reread it every couple of years.  

At what age did you start writing? 

I’ve been writing since I was very little, so probably seven, eight, nine-ish? I used to be much more of an artist/sketcher than a writer, so I’d make up stories and write and sketch and staple them together all day long lol. 

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

After watching Deathly Hallows: Part 2 at the cinema in 2011.  Severus Snape’s death hit me hard all over again (I hadn’t read the last book in a few years), and I decided that I desperately needed to change that for myself lol.  Unquestionable Love is the first fanfic (SSHG) I ever wrote and it’s become an ongoing series, so I’m grateful to have gotten the “spark” to write fanfic from somewhere around that time.  I decided in 2011 to try my hand at “fleshing out” my little Snape family that had been mucking about in my head for much longer than that.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

I’m a total sucker for the brooding, self-loathing male who thinks himself unworthy of love and redemption and the sunshine, kick-arse lady, aka Centre of His World, who loves him back to life. #GimmeMorePleaseandThankYou

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

I’ve written fics for Star Wars (ReyBen/Reylo is another one of my favourite ships outside of SSHG), The Hobbit (Thranduil/Tauriel), and Les Miserables (Enjonine). 

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

Severus Snape’s death (he’s NOT dead! #nope #denial4ever). 

My favourite piece of fanon is probably Severus being Draco’s godfather. Regardless of where it originated from, I’m all for it. 

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? 

I used to need complete solitude and quiet to write, but nowadays I can write with some instrumental music playing in the background.  It depends on where my headspace is at. 

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? 

I don’t read much fanfic anymore, as it’s hard enough for me to find time for my own writing…but off the top of my head, I’d probably have to go with a “classic” - The Tattered Man (SSHG) by Aurette.  It’s gutting and heart-wrenching and doesn’t have a happy ending, but it’s a hauntingly beautiful piece that stays with you. 

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I’m somewhere in the middle. I tend to plot out certain points I want to hit from chapter to chapter (if it’s a multi-chapter fic and heavy on plot, for instance), but writing is an organic process and I enjoy allowing my muse to surprise me as well.

What is your writing genre of choice? 

A good mixture of Angst and Fluff (and nearly always with a HEA!) 

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? 

I’m proud of all my stories for different reasons, mainly technical milestones I was able to achieve with the writing or the emotional attachments I had to them at the time that I wrote them.

If I had to choose one (or two because I gotta cheat here haha!), I’d go with either Unto Their Own (SSHG) because the subject matter was so dark and took me to places mentally that were very tough for me to navigate (the fact that I finished that fic is an achievement for me because it could have very well been abandoned at various points in the story); or Unquestionable Love (SSHG), both the original and the series as a whole, because that story has my heart entirely invested in it.  That precious family means everything to me and the story, from beginning to present, is my headcanon for the SSHG pairing.  I really can’t see them any other way, though I’ve written other stories where their lives turn out quite differently. 

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

Sticking with Unquestionable Love here, the original story came together mostly as expected, though there were a couple darker turns the fic was supposed to take that I didn’t have the heart--or the stamina, I suppose--to end up developing.  

One of my dear OCs/one of the daughters was supposed to die at one point in the story and I realised that doing so would have ultimately changed Severus’s fate, as well as the entire course of the storyline.  (There is just no way that UL!Severus would survive the death of one of his children, so I guess I’m no JK Rowling or any other esteemed writer who can just ruthlessly kill off their characters haha!) I’ve learned through writing this series that I can tackle subject matters that are very emotionally tough for me and that’s a good feeling.  

I’ve also learned that I have something to say, even if it’s not much heard or well-liked, and that that still makes my storytelling worthy of being out there in the fandomverse; or, at least, I try to remind myself that it’s okay to exist.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

It’s intensely personal in some respects and those aspects are difficult for me to discuss.  I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to talk about them in depth, but I will say a couple scenes in the latter half of Unquestionable Love were incredibly trying to write due to personal experience. I pushed through those moments, though, and I think that, because of that therapeutic exercise, I’m able to tackle other tough subjects in my stories more easily. 

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

I admire various writers, mainly for the love of the language that’s reflected in their writing styles.  Anne Rice immediately comes to mind.  If I had an ounce of her talent, I’d write with so much confidence lol. I don’t think writers like her necessarily affect my writing style, but they’re certainly people I aspire to write more like.  

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? 

Only more recently.  I haven’t really allowed any of them to read my work, as so much of it is deeply personal, but just being upfront with my closest friends and family has been a nice development.   

How true for you is the notion of “writing for yourself”? 

I think this is something, as a fic writer, that’s essential.  However, I’m also of the mindset that fandom is about community, and fanfic writers want to engage with their audiences.  We want to feel less alone in these wacky and often times complicated scenarios we put our characters through, and we want people to respond to them...hopefully, with a positive reaction. 

That’s what it’s all about--interaction--and it can be rather heartbreaking, as a writer, when you don’t receive engagement because maybe your headcanons or takes on characters aren’t popular or are considered outside of the ‘norm’. 

For me, I find it too crippling anymore to continue sharing my stories with the fandoms I love when they’re met with silence or hate.  There’s nothing more soul crushing than just being dismissed or disliked or not accepted...and that’s why I’ve chosen to post my stories privately (for now, at least).

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

It’s pretty essential to me to be able to engage with readers.  I absolutely love it and I wish it happened more often haha.  I used to run polls and interact with readers on my fanfiction.net and AO3 accounts (both now inactive) and through my still active Tumblr account (http://crmediagal.tumblr.com/ ).  I now have my own website - www.crmediagal.com - where I can fully control the flames and negativity. 

It may be temporary but, so far, it’s working out pretty well.  It’s made my readership a lot smaller but, at least, I know the people who are there genuinely want to read more of my work and won’t leave me hate comments.  That’s so comforting and encouraging.  

What would you most like your readers to take away with them when they've finished your stories?

A powerful message of some kind...remembrance...perhaps, suggest one or two of them to other readers and shippers out there.  

That’s the only way our stories survive, really. 

What is the best advice you’ve received about writing?

That you need to protect your “voice”, no matter how unpopular it may be, and that there is no one else who writes like you and that you should take pride in that.  

I try to remind myself of these important pointers when I’m feeling particularly down about my storytelling abilities. 

What do you do when you hit writer’s block?

Watch my favourite films or television shows to help re-spark my creativity.  I come back to the writing when it ‘speaks’ to me.  I no longer press myself to push out writing because, more often than not, the result is going to get tossed and reworked anyhow.  

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Yes, certain experiences and people I’ve encountered in my life have definitely wound up in some of my stories.  

Many of my OCs in different stories are examples of that. 

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? 

I’m working on a new SSHG story that’s based off of a fun prompt from a dear, long-time reader.  

It will start posting at my website - www.crmediagal.com - in the coming weeks/months, so if anyone would like access to it, you can contact me there.  

Here’s a short excerpt:

Cradling his head in his hand, Severus stomped to his front door and opened it a crack, jostling the handle loud enough that it caught three people’s attention, the woman firstly before the others.  

“What’s the bloody idea?” he snarled, shouting above them.  

Each individual—two wizards and one witch—went mute and turned to stare from the neighbouring sidewalk.  

“I’ll have you know that this is a quiet street!  And I was sleeping!”  When the guests next door to him, who were just towing the property line and about to get themselves knocked out, offered no response, he prodded, grinding his teeth together, 

“Are you daft, you fools?  Do you not comprehend?  HEY!”

The two gentlemen, who appeared to be fresh out of Hogwarts—or maybe they hadn’t gotten that far in their magical studies, judging by the stupidity on their expressions—startled and nodded in unison.  

“Yes, sir!”

“Oh, my...” the witch, in turn, murmured, seemingly more to herself than anyone else.

Severus identified her vacant, open-mouthed expression at once: she recognised him.  As of yet, he had little recollection as to who she might be and didn’t give a damn.  He kicked his door open the rest of the way with his boot, jostling the three near trespassers backward a few more paces, and stalked down his steps and onto his sidewalk. 

That was when he finally understood the reason behind all of the commotion: one of the branches to the old oak tree that shielded his stoop, and had been there since the earliest days he could recall of his childhood, had crashed onto the pavement, cracking the sidewalk in half. 

A part of his iron fence, too, had crumbled under the weight of the broken branch, and there was an assortment of boxes, some severely banged up, scattered across his property. 

“What the...?  That’s my tree you idiots hit!  And my bleedin’ fence...!”

“I - I’m sorry, sir,” stammered the witch with wildly curly hair and worrisome brown eyes, hastily stepping forward to intervene.  

“I’ve been trying to figure out how this happened—”Severus turned his glare on her.  

“And who are you?”  The seemingly thirty-something woman blushed to her roots, which he couldn’t account for, until she spoke in a faint, insecure whisper, 

“Um, Hermione, sir...  Hermione Weasley.  Oh, gosh, I mean, I - I was Hermione Weasley until...”  She cleared her throat and attempted to reintroduce herself, flushing in such a manner that it flaunted dainty-looking freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose.  Had she always had those?  Severus couldn’t remember.  

“Oh, bother!  It’s Hermione Granger, Professor.  Surely, you...you remember me?”Severus went as rigid as a column.  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake...” he blurted aloud before he could stop himself. Hermione blinked, taken aback.  

“I’m sorry?”Severus’s shock morphed into a tight-fitting sneer.  

“I thought I was done with the lot of you.”

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Try not to get too discouraged by lack of reviews or not making the recommendations lists.  Keep persevering and know that someone out there, even if it’s just one reader, will love what you have to share with the world.  

Thanks for spending some time with us today CRMediaGal, we’ve enjoyed getting to know you.

[myaekingheart]

Top 5 accessories for cosplaying? (Like, Favorite wig, necklace, dress, etc and if you have photos I’d love to see them. 😂)

OH MAN THIS IS ANOTHER GOOD ONE, THANK YOU JESSIE xD

1. HANDS DOWN, my Rapunzel wig.  This little baby is truly my labor of love and the pinnacle of my Rapunzel cosplaying experience. I’ve actually always felt kind of competitive about my Rapunzel cosplay? Like I was never a good enough Rapunzel cosplayer, and it took a lot of work and money hrmmm for me to feel this confident and proud of how far I’ve come, and this wig is like the end-all, be-all for that. The dress is gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but the wig just really pulls it all together. Ever since I saw usagi-kirov’s amazing Rapunzel cosplays, I knew I needed to have a super long wig. It took a lot of trial and error to finally get where I am now with it, and I couldn’t be more in love with it. It tops out at 13ft long, and as much as I hate having to clean out all that hair, a part of me wants to expand on it EVEN MORE in the future, until it reaches maybe 30ft! 

I’d like to say I’m a very detail-oriented person and this is especially true of things I’m passionate about, like cosplaying Rapunzel. As such, I felt extremely compelled to go the extra mile with my wig and add in a special little detail to it that I think makes the whole thing even better: Rapunzel’s brunette strand. 

In the movie, as a quick refresher, Mother Gothel tries to snip a lock of baby Rapunzel’s hair when she breaks into the castle in the very beginning of the movie. She finds, however, that when the hair is cut, it “turns brown and loses it’s power.” That little strand of hair that Gothel cut never grew back, and Rapunzel displays it to Eugene after they escape death in the cave after the dam breaks and she heals his injured hand with her hair.  Adding this to my own cosplay was probably the best impulsive decision I ever made. The strand itself is a clip in that was originally long and white and bought for a now-defunct Anna cosplay. I got really inspired one night, so I grabbed a pair of scissors and a brown sharpie and voila-- Rapunzel’s brunette strand! Even if you can’t always see it when I’m cosplaying, I always love the fact that it’s there and that I can always pull my blonde hair back and show it off whenever the timing is appropriate. I just feel like it adds an extra little dose of magic, you know? 

2. Pascal Now this little guy has been with me since 2012 and is honestly one of the best purchases I’ve ever made. I found him for $7 on Ebay by a company named Bullyland, and while he’s tiny he’s super screen accurate in design and just the cutest damn thing. I’ve brought him lots of places with me over the years, including Oktoberfest at my grandparent’s church and Bok Tower in Florida! As well as pretty much every con I’ve attended as Rapunzel, too <3

3. Satchel (Wow this is really becoming all Tangled props, isn’t it? Whoops!)  Now this one I have yet to break out at a convention but I will tomorrow and I am so excited to! I’ve been itching for a replica of Eugene’s satchel from the film for ages, but I didn’t think I was skilled enough to make one on my own, and the internet is a wonderland for people of all different styles and skill levels to sell their own renditions. I put off getting an actual one for so long, and ended up even settling for a slightly-similar brown cross-body bag instead for the longest time, but then came my lord and savior mothership supreme HOT TOPIC. As part of a recent Disney collection, they released a replica of the satchel and I knew my time had come. My parents were gracious enough to buy one for me and bring it up on one of their trips to my college town and I can honestly say, I am absolutely in love with it. It’s so screen accurate and beautifully made, and the inside lining is purple with the Corona sun emblem! It’s honestly just one of my absolute favorite things and I am so grateful to have been able to get my hands on one. 

4. Rapunzel’s Crown I don’t really wear this one out just because she’s delicate, but this is another beauty I couldn’t be happier to get my hands on. I had wanted a replica of Rapunzel’s beautiful crown for so long, and even more than the satchel, but had the hardest time getting one for years. Disney had released an official replica in 2010 when the movie was released, and it was available until late 2011/early 2012 I believe? But it was so gorgeous, and I wanted one so badly, but I was never able to actually get one, they had sold out way too quickly-- go figure. Disney has never released another crown quite like this one since, so I was heartbroken when I was completely unable to get one. This was really before “princessing” took a huge boom back when Angel-Secret, Fairytale Wigs, and Secret Honey’s Halloween line were really household princess cosplay names (or at least for me). Much like the satchel, there were sellers online creating Rapunzel tiara’s but they were always either not quite what I wanted or way out of my price range. I felt like the only way I’d be able to really get what I wanted was to try and make it which my then-fifteen year old self really did not master. I had first tried sculpting one...we don’t talk about the results of that. I nicknamed that attempt “The Sand Mound” because that is exactly what it looked like: a mound of sand. Then I tried using a cheap plastic tiara that I got in a Barnegat, NJ Target one summer as a base and that worked for a while but it still wasn’t really what I wanted, was super top heavy, and really poorly made to the point where it was just falling apart. It wasn’t until 2015 when I finally found a reasonably priced, screen accurate Rapunzel tiara, the crown of my dreams. It was made by an indie company named Moonfire charms, who has since stopped making the crown, and is one of my most prized possessions, honestly. It’s just so beautiful and detailed and well-made, even if it is a little top-heavy, too, and I’m too scared to wear it to a convention for fear of it breaking on me (which I have good reason to fear because it actually came damaged when I ordered it and they were gracious enough to send me a new one free of charge). Looking back, this one is actually even more screen accurate than the Disney Store one was, so I guess things worked out for the best in the end, anyways! 

5. Dinglehopper I know what you’re thinking: how can a fork be one of your favorite cosplay accessories? Well, listen, this dinglehopper thank-you-very-much is just super magical, okay? When I was putting together my Ariel cosplay, I thought it would be cute to have a dinglehopper as a prop but I wasn’t too concerned about buying one. It was something that I was just kind of “whatever, I’ll just grab a fork” about. But then I came across this vintage serving fork that my mom had, I think it may have belonged to her grandmother, and I instantly knew this was the fork. 

“It’s her! She’s the one I’ve been looking for!”  Seriously, though, this fork just has a certain je ne sais quois about it that makes it feel like it was ripped straight from a fairytale. Maybe because it’s antique. Maybe because it has some rose detailing on the handle. Maybe I’m just a sap. Who knows? But this fork is definitely a precious keepsake that I just love incorpoating into my Ariel cosplay. 

[papikakashikahn]

Ink Flowers - Chapter 1

Hey there! So after watching Shippuden and mainly creating this Tumblr to commemorate my love for the series... my Tumblr seemed to lean towards my other interests... nevertheless! I’ve recently gotten into the Saiino ship again, but sadly there aren’t too many fanfics out there for these too... good ones that is. So since I’m a writer (I use the term loosely), I decided to at least try at writing my rendition of the two together... here goes nothing! Hope you'll enjoy! (I intend on continuing this series) 

Chapter 2 here

“Pfft.” Ino exhaled, blowing a tuft of her hair out of her face, just for it to flow back were it had just resigned a few seconds prior.

On any other day when Ino Yamanaka was not on a mission, you could find her behind the register working in her family’s flower shop.

Ino rested her head on her elbow from her boredness. Business had been running slow today, as per usual… other than Kakashi Sensei’s usual purchase of a bouquet of yellow lilies, and some dark red carnations. (The yellow lilies, meaning thankfulness, the dark red carnations, meaning love). Who he got these flowers for every day you might ask? Ino never knew. She was just surprised he was able to set aside time to wander the village being Hokage and all.

Nevertheless, he was the only customer so far today, and Ino was starting to become bored being all by her lonesome.

She started to stare out the flower shop’s window. It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon, which made her even more irritated she had to be working.

She bit her lip and looked down at her nails tapping the surface of the counter. You would expect Choji or Shikamaru to visit her but lately, they had become quite caught up in responsibilities involving their clan. Ino didn’t particularly like to think she was bitter about the whole situation… but bitter certainly was a good word.

Ino truly liked working in her family’s shop, socializing with customers, working with the flowers, all that good stuff… but the shifts were becoming more and more tedious, and it was obvious as to why.

It seemed everyone around was doing something with their lives. Her teammates, her friends, the entire village it felt was succeeding past her, not even giving her a chance to catch up to them. Hell, even Shino was starting to shadow in the AMBU’S tracking division!!!

Ino and most of her peers were 18 now. The Fourth Shinobi war had only ended a year ago… she had only lost her father a year ago.

Although almost everyone had become a repercussion of the war, it seemed as though they were handling it better than her. Everyone was able to pick up with their lives and move on, continuing to do more exciting things.

Everyone except her that is.

Naruto was fulfilling his dream of becoming the next Hokage, Hinata was finally in a relationship with the idiot blonde himself… even Sakura finally dating her childhood Uchiha crush, who was returning to the village because of her.

Ino rolled her eyes just thinking about it. “What a bunch of bs.” she muttered to no one in particular, except the flowers maybe.

Sakura was Ino’s best friend … at least … she used to be. The two had become a lot closer ever been since Sasuke had left the village, but Ino couldn’t help but question if it would change now that the rogue shinobi was returning. The reason why the two kunoichis stopped being friends in the first place was because of that stupid Sharingan user.

Back when they were in academy when Sakura was picked on for that HUGE forehead of hers, the two kunoichis had become friends. Ino had often told off Sakura’s bullies and from then on, the two of them were inseparable. Ino helped Sakura have more confidence in herself, and to embrace that huge forehead of hers. Ino even gave Sakura one of her headbands to push back those bangs of hers she was using to hide it .

And just like that, it all changed.

Just like many other kunoichis, Ino and Sakura started to develop feelings for the Sasuke Uchiha. Could you blame them? He was a handsome, and a skilled genin. Not to mention he had this cool, mysterious vibe to him that had all the girls drooling. It was alluring. To be fair though, Ino did like Sasuke first, but never really pursued her interest in him until after Sakura admitted she had liked him as well, and because of it, Sakura explained they couldn't be friends any longer. Apparently, they couldn't both like Sasuke. Certainly, that was unheard of. After Sakura cut ties with Ino, even giving back the headband Ino gave her, winning Sasuke Uchiha’s heart became an obsession for Ino.

Deep down, Ino didn’t like to compete with Sakura or anyone for that matter - especially over a boy. The true reason Ino “competed” with Sakura to win Sasuke’s heart - even going to the lengths of growing her hair so that Sasuke would be more attracted to her - was to make Sakura feel the pain she had inflicted on Ino when Sakura told her they could no longer be friends. She made Ino feel unneeded, left behind, and especially - betrayed.  

Ino didn’t notice the tears welling up in her eyes as she continued to tap her nails on the counter mindlessly.

No matter how much Ino tried to convince herself that she didn’t care, or that she didn’t need Sakura, it hurt her that the truth was that Sakura was the one who didn’t need her anymore.

It stung when their friendship ended.

Ino, was the one that gave her all the confidence she had today, she was the one to nurture and care for the stupid pink flower that Sakura bloomed to be today!

And to think billboard brow didn’t even thank me for it! 

Ino slammed her fist on the counter in frustration, letting the hair fall in front of her face.

A tear had slipped onto the counter, but Ino hadn’t paid it much mind.

As of now, Ino and the Pink Haired kunoichi were close, but she couldn’t tell how the severity of their relationship would change with Sasuke coming back and all.

In the past, Sasuke was solely the trophy in the competition betwixt the two. While Ino lost interest in Sasuke as a person a long time ago, her interest in winning him as a prize against Sakura had increased. Winning Sasuke over was winning against Sakura… at what this game they were playing all these years Ino never really knew.

“You're strong-willed, Dependable and responsible...

Choji and Shikamaru...They're total goof-offs. Keep them in line...

And don't let Sakura beat you...in ninjutsu or romance”.

“I’m sorry Asuma Sensei...” Ino whispered to herself as another tear slipped, remembering his last words he said to her.

“I tried.” Ino she whispered as she wiped her tears.

Just then, she heard the chime above the door, meaning someone had entered the shop.

After quickly wiping the tears from her face, Ino shot her head up and smiled, exclaiming almost as if it was rehearsed :

“Hello! Welcome to the Yamanaka Flower shop! How may I help you!?” Ino greeted the customer.

When she opened her eyes she realized it was only Sai.

She untensed a little. Sai wasn’t that new to their tightly knit group of theirs, but still, she hadn’t really talked to him much.

She blushed slightly remembering their first conversation when he had called her beautiful.

It’s only been a couple years later, and yet she can’t seem to remember ever exchanging another word with him following the incident… it was quite sad actually.

The same pale ex-root boy stood in front of her, with the same simple smile he gave her when they had first met, as he gave everyone.

“Hello beautiful, I am here to buy flowers.” He said greeting her.

She could feel her cheeks tinge with color at the nickname as she did a slight little shimmy.

It seems the nickname has stuck with her… even though for some reason it didn't feel all too genuine. Well, as long as it pissed off Sakura considering he referred to her as ugly, she was fine with the nickname. After all, it was the little victories that counted… right?

She laughed lightly to herself.

“Well obviously Sai, this is a flower shop. Any kind in particular?” she smiled leaning over the counter a little more. He turned to observe the bouquets of vibrantly colored flowers before him, scanning each one carefully. It didn’t seem to help much though.

“I-I don’t know really…” he began.

“Well what’s the occasion?” she smirked, interested. He turned to give her another one of his smiles.

“I wish to draw a subject of beauty for my new composition.” he explained. Ino furrowed her eyebrow at him, slightly disappointed there wasn’t any tea to spill today.

“Listen, I’m not complaining or anything… but you do know you could just go outside and pick a bunch of dandelions for free… right?” she asked him.

Sai solely shook his head. “I am after something more vigorous to portray, I do not mind paying.” he assured her. She simply nodded her head in response as the pale boy turned his head back to the bouquets. After a moment or two, he picked one up, and turned to Ino. “These will do.” he told her.

Ino looked from the flower to Sai, and from Sai to the flowers, with a distasteful look on her face.

“Is something… wrong… do you… not approve?” Sai questioned confused as he looked down at the flowers in his hands. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly wrong to him. They were flowers, weren't they?

“Blue Bells are a pretty flowers Sai, but they represent humility. People usually buy them when they are trying to apologize to someone.” Ino told him.

It seemed as though Ino’s explanation of her distaste still didn’t help Sai understand.

“F-flowers have meanings?” he stuttered looking down at the bluebells in his hands.  

“Why of course!!!” Ino exclaimed, walking around the counter towards him excitedly.

“Candypuff's for example-” Ino paused, pointing to a bouquet of white dainty flowers a few feet across from them “-means indifference.” she told him. He stared down at the flowers in his hands still.

“...And what is humility like?” he questioned, looking up to her curiously. She was about to ask him what the fuck he was talking about - until she remembered that he was still new to emotions, being from the root and all. From what she understood, he had a lot of difficulty understanding the concept of human socializing, empathy, and emotions in general. It seemed odd for such a confident, talkative girl such as herself. But really, could you blame him? The foundation trains genin and or younger with the potential to become apart of the ANBU black ops to suppress their emotions to the point where they don’t exist, not to mention every connection you have to the world is cut off. You have no name, you have no family, you don’t even have a gravestone when you die. Your sole purpose it to protect the leaf, and connections get in the way of that. Therefor, it's no wonder the guy has trouble understanding his feeling , for about all of his life, he’s been taught that he shouldn't have any.

She sighed patiently. Ino loved talking to people about things she was passionate about, especially when it came to flowers, so therefor she didn’t mind explaining it to him at all.

Ino paused for a few seconds, trying to come up with the best explanation for him.

“Humility… humility is when you feel vulnerable because of something you might have done that you regret, you especially feel humility at another person’s reaction to it. For example, if Naruto spilled a bowl of ramen on his pants, you would laugh because it looks like he pissed himself, and Naruto would then feel humility.” Ino explained, adding a smile at the end. He nodded his head. “I think I understand.” He stated simply. He then turned to the other bouquets of flowers.

“And what do those mean?” Sai asked pointing to a dark red bouquet of roses. “Those mean sadness.” She responded to him. “Oh… like you were when I came in.” Sai blurted. Ino practically choked on air, her eyes widening at his comment. She blinked once or twice, comprehending that he had seen her upset. He turned his head to the side.

“May I ask what you were upset about?” Sai asked innocently.

Ino stirred uncomfortable, knowing even if she told him, he wouldn't understand. He’d ask her why she felt that way, although she didn’t really understand it either to begin with.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sai, i’m perfectly fine.” she defended herself. He gave her a shrug. “Whatever you say, Beauty.” he responded every word laced with doubt, even if it was unintentional.

Sai turned back to the flowers. “... What do these mean?” Sai asked pointing to yellow roses. Ino cleared her throat, glad he jumped to another subject.

“Comradeship.” Ino stated. He turned to her with a smile on his face.

“I am familiar with this term.” he stated content. Ino smiled back at him as well.

Sai’s eyes shifted to something over Ino’s shoulder. “And those… what do those mean?” he asked, pointing to something behind her.

She turned around, her eyes drawn to the bright red bouquet of roses on the counter. She had been assorting them for some guy who had ordered them for his girlfriend.

“Love.” she stated in a flat tone at the thought of her love life being so nonexistent. She wished someone had order flowers for her. ...It seemed the bitterness was kicking in again

“...What does that mean?” he asked once more.

Ino bit her lip. That one was simply hard to explain, most likely because she hadn’t known what it felt like yet either.

“Well… it’s a little hard to explain Sai.” She turned around to find his curiosity filled face. She tried to form an explanation of it, in a way that even he would understand. “You see, it’s when you like someone... a lot. When you care for them.” she told him with a nod.

“... So you can say, I love my friends?” Sai puzzled.

“Mhmmm, well yes - but the love I’m talking about is more for a significant other… like a girlfriend or boyfriend.” Ino continued. Nevertheless, Sai blinked absentmindedly.

“Someone you like like...like Hinata and Naruto for example!” Ino exclaimed.

“Oh, I see. So if someone is dating another, he or she is in love.” Sai nodded. Ino pushed her fingers together and did her little shimmy.

“Well not necessarily… just because you’re dating someone doesn't mean you love them. It’s-it’s a very hard feeling to explain. You’ll know it when you feel it Sai.” she stated. Sai tilted his head to the left.

“Have you ever been in love before beautiful?” he asked her.

Ino tensed as she looked up at him, but the way he stared at her so intensely made her shift her eyes to the floor again.

“No, I don’t think I have yet Sai.”

A silence formed between the two.

“These will suffice.” Sai stated, breaking the silence. Ino looked up at him, to find him holding the yellow roses. A smile was formed on Sai's face, as well as Ino.  “Of course.” Ino responded taking the flowers from Sai, and walking back to the counter.

Comradeship huh?

“It was interesting to learn that flowers having meanings. In a way, I guess you can say they are like art. There is more meaning than meets the eye?” Sai concluded, then looking to Ino for her response as she was ringing the bouquet up. After a moment or two, Ino’s eyes shifted towards Sai who had the same smile on his face that he had walking. She liked that he was conversing with her about it.

“Hhmm. I guess you’re right Sai.” She nodded. She handed him the bouquet of delicate roses.

“Here, don’t bother paying for them, they’re on the house. After all, it is for research anyways. A respectable cause if you ask me.” She smiled at him. He smiled back gratefully.

“Thank you for your kindness, beautiful.” He said as he held the flowers, turning around. “Mhmm.” She muttered, looking down at her now-empty hands. She began tapping her nails again on the countertop.

“Beauty, Sakura once told me about - well, I forget what she called it.”

Ino looked up at Sai who held the flower shop door open slightly. She felt the warm September breeze of Konoha flow in through the door, and wash over her, giving her the chills for a moment or two as Sai seemed to be thinking.

“Ah yes… lying as she called it.” He said looking over to Ino. She knitted her eyebrows together slightly confused about what he was talking about.

“You lied when I asked you if you were upset, although...I don’t know why exactly.”

Ino almost choked on air again she was caught off guard.

“Forehead told me that sometimes, people lie to protect their friends’ feelings… then again… I still don’t understand how lying about your feelings would protect anyone else’s. It is not good for you. You should talk to the person that is causing you to be upset.” He explained to her, concluding with his smile that never really reached his eyes. Ino’s voice got caught in her throat at his words.

Sai then proceeded to look to the ground again. “Women are a most confusing gender.” he muttered to himself.

And just like that, Sai had left Ino all to herself, and to her thoughts.

She tapped her fingers against the counter, in a calm tempo, as she drifted in thought over Sai’s words to her.

She looked to the flowers on her right, that sat on the counter beside her, looking at the rose petals that had seemed to fall off.