#the people loudest about not policing her or laughing at the idea that she has an influence over young black girls

[champagnemoon]

The sexxy red discourse is interesting to me because I support her right to be who she genuinely is but I also have to laugh because I see people only acting like they encourage that behavior online when in real life they love the privilege class and optics give lmao

[luciferloveschloe]

goodbye, lucifer (but not really!)

I cannot BELIEVE that I just watched the last episode of my favourite show.

I usually cram everything I have to in tags under gifsets I reblog, but for this final season I'll go through the pain of actually writing shit down. I'll try to keep it short, and I'll try not to ramble. (Edit: Did not accomplish that.)

what i loved

SCREAMS

God, soooooooo much!!

Deckerstar baby

Okay, so when Rory showed up in the trailer I was like "Ugh, another annoying angel? Meh." FORGIVE ME, my sweet murder child! Of all the things I thought they might do, a Deckerstar baby was DEAD LAST on my list. And a daughter no less, I just... When she says she's Lucifer's daughter, I was like *SCREAMS*, but when we learn she's Lucifer AND Chloe's daughter, I completely lost it. My boyfriend's on a trip with his friends this week and I'm sooo grateful for that, I made the weirdest, loudest, ugliest noises while watching this season, I ran around our apartment like a maniac, I squealed and laughed and cried and just generally lost my mind. But when she says that?? Oh my God. Also the way Lucifer reacted when Chloe shows him the pregnancy test? Straight outta fanfic.

Lucifer being a father

Oh my God?? I've always said he'd be the BEST father, and actually seeing it on screen... I love the parallel of him being ridiculously over the top with Rory at first, just like God and Lucifer in S5. The way he looks at her when he sees her playing the guitar? Their duet?? Instantly one of my favourite scenes. Them driving in the Corvette, their last day together, how he keeps her from killing Le Mec? Just murder me.

Established Deckerstar

All the hugs and kisses?? The declarations of love, the besotted looks, the absolute power couple we got? Their look from Maze and Eve's wedding, OH MY GOD???? Just, these two are so pretty and we got SO MUCH. Also, their scenes with Rory?? I just love them so much...

(More under the cut!)

Ella's storyline

I wanted a reveal for her so badly, and the way it turned out was brilliant! I loved her figuring it out for herself and calling everyone out lmao. I especially loved poor Carol returning to that room full of shocked people. They had some GREAT punchlines and gags this season, absolutely hilarious! I also love Lucifer's parting gift for her and that she finally found a good one with Carol.

Hugs, so many hugs!

That's it, that's the paragraph.

The Police storyline

As a white person who has literally never once had a problem with the police, I know this is not my place to say, but I think they did a good job? Not giving into the "a few bad apples" excuse but acknowledging that the whole system needs to change? I also really enjoyed the scenes with Amenadiel and Officer Harris, showing what policework could and should look like.

Maze and Eve's happily ever after

I'm so glad auntie Maze and auntie Eve got their happy ending! And that wedding was a bomb. Also, "You're my hell!", lmao.

Dan's ascend to heaven

First of, great to know his only torture was Belios' lack of table tennis skills. Secondly, how very fitting for the show that they didn't hand Dan his happy ending easily, that he fought and won it for himself. Him as a ghost and him as Le Mec was equally funny, and his talk with Trixie was just perfect, literally tears you guys.

Amenadiel becoming God

I mean, dude's perfect for the job! From the loyal, distant, obeying servant to a God who wants to work as a team with his siblings, who wants the Celestials to experience the human world, who hates injustice and loves fiercely? In this universe, I couldn't imagine anyone better suited to be God.

Nobody misses the case of the week

At least I don't! God, I wish they'd tried this out sooner.

The bittersweet ending

Let's preface this by saying I HATE bittersweet endings. Give me a happily ever after or else. And yet, and yet!! I think the ending they settled on is perfect. Would I have loved it if Lucifer had a life on earth with Chloe, Trixie and Rory? God, yes. Do I get emotional over him being alone in hell, again? Goddd, yes. But still. I so love that he found his calling in the end, that they reunited, and that he actually makes good on his promise from S5 to change the system. Also, I don't care if this is canon or fanon for now, but they totally spend time in heaven with Rory and visit earth whenever they like. And this would have been my ideal ending - them being free to go where they like, and I don't see why they shoudn't. It's definitely more satisfying than just traipsing off to heaven indefinitely, so I really, really loved that.

what i didn't (do feel free to skip this!)

Lucifer missing out on Chloe's life on earth and being alone in hell again. Chloe being left again.

Time travel shenanigans. I just finished Dark and that was enough of a mindfuck. Do not want to think about loops for this show, thank you very much.

Chloe felt a little too housewifey in the first episodes, but it thankfully didn't stay that way for long.

Lucifer and Chloe talking about keeping secrets for a whole episode, and then NOBODY TALKING ABOUT URIEL AND CANDY. I mean, ahhhhhhh! If you don't want to talk about it, then don't, but don't remind people of it constantly and then NOT discuss it. It drives me mad, honestly, how many times they referenced these storylines only to completely ignore them when there were opportunities to resolve them. Ahhh. That's what fic is for, I guess.

Adam. Like, why? Bye, dude.

what i'll keep with me

When someone I'd just met at my boyfriend's cousin's wedding in 2019 recommended this "funny, little show" to me that intrigued them because they were interested in finding their faith, I really didn't think I'd write all this three years later.

Lucifer is my third fandom, and it won't be my last, but it sure as hell - ha - will stay with me. I resonate so deeply with Lucifer as a character because he fights with the idea of God, fights with this concept of a benevolent father that everyone seems to believe in but never fit his experience. I come from a Christian family and studied theology, but somewhere along the lines I had to come to terms with the fact that the faith I had as a child and teenager didn't fit me anymore. I want to believe again, and maybe someday I will, but right now I don't know that. So Lucifer's journey with that meant a lot to me. I'd like to find what Ella did, I guess.

Although I never really thought Lucifer needed redemption, I loved the whole "anybody can be redeemed" message as well. And hell reform! Hell is such a weird, awful construct - speaking as the theology expert - bringing a bit of purgatory in in this universe is really fucking cool.

Also, I binged Lucifer when I was alone in hospital late at night. That experience alone I'll never forget.

So, I guess - thank you!! Thank you to the cast and crew, to the fans who campaigned for season four, to Ildy and Joe, to the writers and the directors and the people who brought lunch: Thank you so much for this incredible show. I'm not ready to say goodbye, not by a long shot, and I hope this fandom feels the same.

Yabba dabba do me, I love my stupid little show!!!

[pupandangelscoffee]

SWEET LIKE SUGAR, DANGEROUS LIKE SNAKES

Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley x Reader

Genre: Action, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of drugs, mentions of being shot, mentions of being attacked, jumping out of window (no death), mentions of deaths in the past, inappropriate language

Synopsis: When Buck and Eddie agreed to do an undercover job for Athena, they didnt expect to meet someone like you

Wordcount: 2387

Taglist: @enterprise-medical

When Athena had come to Bobby with the request to allow two of his firefighters go undercover to a rather inclusive underground dance club, he had been against the idea. For one, he didn’t want to put Eddie or Buck in danger, but most importantly, he knew how reckless those two could be and he didn’t want them to risk being caught up in anything more dangerous than their everyday work. But after some persuading from both his wife and the two men in question, he had given in.

That is exactly why they are now standing in the door of your dance studio, eyes following your every move as you lead the group choreo, believing that you had yet to take notice of them and Athena. However, when you send them a smile through the mirror, Buck feels his breath get stuck in his throat. Eddie chuckles between his friend, feeling how the other stopped breathing for a moment while Athena shoots the young male a quick glare. “Remember, Buck, this mission is extremely important. Do not compromise it by sticking your slong where it does not belong,” she hisses as you finish up the dance and make your way over to them. “So, these two are the ones I am supposed to take with me?” You ask with a rather hushed voice, looking them over before raising a brow at Athena. “Listen, Athena, I respect you but with those clothes, they will stick out like a pink elephant in a black room.” You state blankly, earning an offended scoff from the two men and a small chuckle from Athena. Before any of the three could even reply, another girl walks up behind you and wraps her arm around your waist. “Hey babe, who are these two flamingos?” She asked, studying the men from head to toe before chuckling at their appearance. “Did you pick them up at the circus?” She added, making you giggle and shake your head before retorting “nah, I found them outside the clown school. Apparently, they got kicked out for looking too much like a giraffe that drank too much paint.” While the two men look incredibly offended at your comments, Athena tried to bite back her laughter. “Do we have to work with them? They are mean.” Buck whines softly, looking at Athena like a puppy that was just kicked.

Shaking your head a bit, you turn to look at your friend. “Okay, Marie, you will help these two gentlemen find some new clothes, okay? Afterwards Marcel and I will see how well they can dance and help them learn some moves, so they won’t stick out like a wedding dress at a funeral at the party tonight.” You instruct her, earning a small nod before she rushes off, dragging the two dumbfounded men along. “You will take good care of them, right? Otherwise I may lose my husband, they are like sons to him.” Athena explains causing you to nod with a soft smile playing on your lips. “Don’t worry, Athena. I will watch over them like my life depends on them. I just hope that Travis won’t figure out what we are trying to do. I would prefer not getting shot again.” You state before sending her off with a wave.

An hour later, Marie returns with Eddie and Buck, both looking more like they would belong to your scene than being model citizens. At this point, you had discarded your shirt and Buck had to do everything in his willpower not to stare at your chest. “We are back, and they finally don’t look like tropical birds in a crowd of crows.” Marie informs you, smiling at you through the mirror before grabbing her bag and waving goodbye to you, rushing out of the practice room. Turning to the men, you introduce them to Marcel before instructing them to show you some of their dance moves. To your surprise, Eddie was rather good at an assortment of dance styles, whether it was just basic salsa or some sort of break dancing, he was doing well enough that you didn’t have to fear for him to stick out unnecessarily. Buck, however, well he was a completely different story. You wouldn’t say he couldn’t dance, he could, but The Sprinkler and The Carlton would not be received well in any club, especially not one as exclusive as the one you were planning to take them tonight. While you managed not to burst out laughing, Marcel was on the ground, crying from the laughter that was ripping through his body. “Please, please do not do that when we are out tonight.” You beg gently, trying to not let the laughter get out that you were trying to keep down, eyes flicking over to Eddie, who is very amused by his friend’s interesting dance style.

You end up taking some mercy on the poor man, stepping closer to him, and placing his hands on your waist. “Just follow my lead, darling.” You say softly right as the music starts before starting to lead him, giving him a gentle smile as he stumbles a few times. After a few hours of showing him random dance moves that would be acceptable in the club, you hum in succeed. “Great, imma go shower and then we can head out.” You state before grabbing your bag before heading to the shower.

The smell of sweat and alcohol are the first things that hit Eddie and Buck when they finally get to enter the club. You had introduced Eddie as your boyfriend and Buck as your friend from a few states over to get them access to the club and Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart sting when you introduced Eddie as your boyfriend instead of him. Weaseling your way through all the bodies, you lead the two boys over to the table where your friends are sitting and to sell the illusion of dating Eddie, you sit down on his lap. Buck quickly averts his eyes as he feels jealousy raise in him, though it dies down as soon as the waitress brings over a tray of shots. Quickly, all of you grab one and down it before your friends stand up as your group’s name gets called out by another group of people. Frowning a bit, you get up as well, whispering a threatening “stay here or I will make sure neither of you have sex ever again” to the two men before following your group to the middle of the dance floor. Of course, the one night you bring in firefighters to a club that has seen more deaths than necessary, is the night your group gets challenged to a dance battle. You figure that they must be new around the club, because your group had a reputation build up about how you didn’t come to play. “Basic rules, whoever gets the loudest cheers gets to stay, the losers leave.” You state, smiling at what you assume the leader to be as you reach your hand out for a handshake. Your opponent nods and takes your hand, shaking it before both of you resume to your positions in your groups.

Meanwhile, Buck and Eddie both stood up, trying to see exactly what was happening. Buck is the first of the duo to end up climbing onto the table to get a better view, becoming completely entranced as he watches your group – especially you – start to dance. Holding his breath, he watches as the crowd goes wild for your group after the battle is over, only releasing the breath once you are back safely at your table and on Eddie’s lap. Eddie quickly wraps his arm around your waist, smiling and pressing a gentle kiss to your sweaty shoulder, clearly enjoying the fact that he got to play your boyfriend for the night.

Both of the men nearly forgot why they were with you and your group of friends in the first place, having a wonderful time and probably a bit more alcohol as they initially planned, though making sure that they were sober in case anything happened. And sure enough, after dancing, drinking, and talking for nearly two hours, three rather big men came up to you three. “Travis wishes to see you.” One of them states, motioning for you three to follow them, which you do. Once you enter the room where Travis is waiting, the bodyguards leave as Travis waves them off. “I see you brought some new friends, Y/N and you didn’t even bother introducing them to me. That is rather rude, ya know?” Travis states as he pulls out a clear bag of some white pills. “Why don’t we show them what real fun is?” he adds, mistaking your smirk for an agreement though quickly frowning as you take a picture of him holding out the pills. “You see, Travis, I don’t think the police would be very happy if I allowed their men to take some of your shit.” You state with a hum as you walk over to him and pat his cheek while Eddie takes out the handcuffs that he had hidden in his pocket. However, before he could get close enough to arrest Travis, the man dropped the bag and ran off. Sighing a bit, you take your heels off before chasing after him, knowing the club like the back of your hand.

A small scream, courtesy of Buck, could be heard when you jump out of the second story window, as he fears. Though when Eddie starts laughing while looking out of the window, he slowly walks closer and the scene in front of him was rather amusing. Not only were you absolutely fine, but you had also managed to catch a very bewildered looking Travis, who did not understand how you were able to cut him off and pin him against the metal fence, since he had been so far ahead. “Oh, this is Julie,” you whisper before slamming his head against the fence again before looking up at the boys. “Are you gonna come arrest him or do you want to continue playing pretty creepy dolls?” You yell up to them, causing the two to spring into action.

Soon enough, Athena shows up and takes Travis off your hands, not even questioning why he has a cut on his face. “He deserved it.” You state with a shrug before turning to Eddie and Buck to thank them and wish them a goodnight. “So, you think we are pretty, huh?” Buck teases before you can even say a word, causing you to giggle. “I said pretty creepy if I remember correctly, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Evan.” You reply before giving him and Eddie each a soft hug and a kiss on the cheek before grabbing your heels and walking off into the night.

It has been a few weeks since the boys last saw you and even if they didn’t want to admit it, they actually missed you. So much actually, that they drove past the place that you took them to, only to find it completely abandoned. Through a stranger, they found out that after Travis was arrested, the whole place fell apart and people just stopped showing up.

So, the surprise was real, when they hear your voice after coming back from a call. Racing up the stairs, they find you and Chris dancing with one another. “Well, what is going on here?” Eddie asks, immediately regretting that his voice came out a little more on the hostile side, but it was his father instinct kicking in as soon as he saw Chris standing without his crutches and only holding onto you. “Well hello to you too, Edmundo.” You state, quickly handing Chris his crutches before grinning and leaning down to his eyelevel. “You wanna show your dad what you learned?” You ask softly, getting an eager nod in return. So you step back and turn on the song that Chris had requested, watching Chris take the “stage” and showing off the dance moves that you had managed to teach him while the 118 was at the call. Meanwhile, the whole team joined you, all of them watching the young boy enjoy himself. “You have a very cute and sweet son.” You whisper to Eddie before walking over to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water, one for you and one for the young boy. “Dad, what do you think of my moves?” Chris asks innocently as he sips from the water bottle that you hand to him opened already, allowing you to pick him up and set him on the couch besides his father. “They were really good.” Eddie smiles, looking at you in amazement before ruffling Chris’s hair. “What are you even doing here?” Buck asks you, the smile on your face faltering. “Athena said it would be the safest if I change back to being a paramedic instead of a dance instructor, especially since I was attacked twice last week.” You add the last part in a whisper, not wanting the kid to hear.

Though you couldn’t help but giggle at the shocked faces of everyone except Bobby, who had been informed by Athena that you would be joining his team, because somehow none of them expected you to be a paramedic. “I finished the training 3 years ago, right after High School. However, I preferred dancing and it paid very well, so I never actually went to the firehouse.” You explain quickly before Bobby added “they will be joining us starting next week”. Huge smiles break out on Buck’s and Eddie’s face as they realize that this means they get to spend more time with you, almost like their wishful thinking has actually worked. A definite bonus was that Chris also seemed to really like you, so perhaps they could make things work.

But with your past? Would it come haunt them as well? Would it bring any of them into danger? Would it put Chris in the line of danger? Could they actually win your heart though? Only the future can tell, but the two men hope that their future is with you by their side.

[bnhabadass]

This is a collaboration with the bnharem server for Angst April. This was incredibly fun to participate in even though it hurt writing. Make sure to check out everyone else’s pieces which you can find here.

Pairing: Tokoyami x Reader Warning: Angst

You always thought that if you were to get dumped it would be in person, over coffee, at a cafe on a sunny day in late spring. Well maybe it wouldn’t be that scene exactly, but you were sure that you would be able to look into your lover’s eyes one last time before bidding them farewell forever.

A text message. It was a measly six word text message that broke your heart into a million shards which blew away with a gust of thick wind.

I think we should break up.

You were confused. You thought that your relationship was going well, especially considering that you went to different schools and how busy he was with his hero work. Third year students are already busy as it is, and what he has told you about his hero training seems so rigorous and taxing. Even with all of that you managed to find time to see each other and to go on dates at least once every other week. It was a healthy relationship, and you weren’t ready to give that up just yet.

Why do you say that?

You waited for a response. You checked your phone constantly, threw it against the couch cushions when you had no notifications, and practically ripped out strands of your hair as a pit of anxiety formed in your stomach. You tried to distract yourself by turning on the TV, but the first bit of news that popped up was a case that Hawks’ agency dealt with earlier in the week, and of course he was the headliner.

--

“Where are we going?”

“Just wait. It’s only going to be a few more minutes.”

You held your boyfriend’s hand as you walked under the bright moonlit sky together. The trees cast shadows down onto your skin. It was breezy out and you pinched the sides of your sweater together with your free hand.

Your boyfriend had told you the truth, and it was only a couple more minutes before you had arrived at your destination.

“I know that it has been a while since we were able to see each other,” he said, “what with me having hero work and all. So I thought why not make the most of the time we do have together.”

You gasped and couldn’t hold back a smile as you saw the picnic laid out before you. A blanket was spread on the grass and candle holders with red candles inside illuminated the picnic basket in the center.

“Fumikage, you never fail to impress me.” You kissed the top of his beak and gently guided him over to the spread he had made for you.

--

You tried to forget the memory. You smacked the side of your head in an attempt to make it go away, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stop thinking about the small smiles that he would give only for you. And your head started to hurt.

You tried calling one of your friends but she didn’t pick up. You needed something to distract yourself, something to pass the time. You took a long shower where you planned on letting all that pent up emotion loose, but it refused to come out. You sat in the shower for an hour feeling the hot water beating down on your upper back. Your toe nails scraped against the bottom of the tub as you counted the seconds that went by.

Why can’t I cry? My boyfriend broke up with me, so why am I not upset?

That isn’t entirely true. You were furious. How could a year and a half of laughing and taking late night jogs and cooking meals with each other end with just the tap of a finger? You weren’t ready for it to end. You didn’t think you would ever be ready for it to end.

When you turned off the water and slid the shower curtain open, you relaxed slightly as you saw the heat emanating from your bare arms. As you cooled down, you could finally take a deep breath.

It was late. The full moon cascaded through your bedroom window, lighting the room in an almost magical way. However you could only feel a tightening in your stomach, as the moon reminded you of him.

Checking your phone for the umteenth time that night, you realized that it had died while you were in the shower. He could have responded while you were away and you would have no idea. What if he tried to call you? What if he decided that it was wrong to break things off with you and you weren’t there to answer?

Your trembling hands desperately fiddled with the plug by your bedside. How could you have let this happen? How could you have let it die? How could you have let your relationship die on your watch?

Tears clouded your vision as you waited for your phone to regain it’s battery. Just one percent. All you need is one percent to see if he responded, to see why your boyfriend left you.

Your face lit up as soon as your phone did, having regained the smallest bit of charge. You waited for a notification. You refreshed your messages, left dozens of little finger prints across your screen which were sure to cause an oil build up, but that was the least of your concern.

Nothing. There was nothing. No notification or anything. No text from your boyfriend giving an explanation for why he was leaving you. Nothing except the message you sent earlier which he had left on read.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just answer your simple question? Did he not think you deserve an answer? Your throat began to ache as your eyes welled with more tears, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet at least. Not until you had a good reason to cry.

You gripped the towel that was sliding down your body and hoisted it back up. You took a shaky breath in and prepared yourself to call your boyfriend. You waited a moment to hear the ringing on the other line before putting the phone up to your ear. There was a chance that he would not answer, but you knew you needed to try.

“Hello,” you heard after a few moments.

“Hi.” Your voice broke into the speaker, and you cursed yourself for letting any cracks slip through.

“(Y/n) it’s two in the morning.”

“I know it’s two am. I know that, but I need you.” Your voice had turned into a soft whimper as the tears you tried so hard to hold back were inching their way in big globs down your face.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot go to you anymore. You know that.” His voice was cold. It cut like a sharp blade and the wound it left was deep.

Your breathing became rapid. “Can,” you started. “Can you just tell me why? Can you please just tell me why you think we should break up?” Your face grew hot as you struggled to come up with what to say to him next. “Because I thought we were doing so well, a-and I really just need to know.”

You heard an audible sigh on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to date you anymore. I don’t think I love you the same way I used to.”

There was silence on both ends of the line. How could he say that when not even a week before he told you that you were the only person in his life who mattered this much to him? How could he pretend like none of what he told you over the last year and a half mattered?

Your face pinched in as you tried to create the most quiet sobs you could. You didn’t want him to hear how much pain you were in at that moment.

A minute went by before he spoke next. A minute of you quietly wiping away soft yet harsh tears that couldn’t seem to stop spilling out of you. “Are you alright?” He asked.

What did that mean, are you alright? “You’re an asshole, Fumikage” you managed to softly spit out before hanging up and releasing the loudest sob. Your head hit your pillow and you held on for dear life as it slowly started to dampen. The towel slipped past your chest and started to drag down but you didn’t care. You let it fall to the floor as you cried out.

“I loved you. I loved you, I loved you, I loved you.”

--

The sun was beating down on the calm streets. Most of the people out and about had no idea that there was a bank robbery close by. Tokoyami had swooped down from his perch on the roof of a near-by building, waiting for his mentor to meet him.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was right by some cafe, a cute little shop known for its pastries. Sitting outside the cafe, he spotted someone who he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

You sat at a small metal table, sipping at your cappuccino. Your eyes were glued to the pages of a book, barely ripping them away in order to take a sip of your drink. You looked calm, much more so than the last time he heard your voice.

He felt so guilty. That night, he wanted nothing more than to go to your house and hold you as you sobbed. Not a day went by without him thinking about how much he misses holding his princess of darkness in his arms.

“Nice work, Tsukuyomi,” he heard Hawks from behind him. “The police finished taking my statement. I’m ready to fly back whenever you are.”

Tokoyami didn’t bother looking over at his mentor. Instead, he kept staring at your eyes as they concentrated on the story unfolding in front of you.

Hawks looked at what his trainee was staring at. He recognized you from somewhere. He wasn’t sure where, but then he remembered the picture that Tokoyami showed him a few months before. He spoke about you like nothing else mattered. He had never seen the dark boy smile until he said your name. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his cloak, scared that if he stared for much longer you would notice.

Hawks looked at him, a warning expression lacing his face. “How long has it been? Four months?”

“Three months and seventeen days.” He looked back up at you, your eyes still trained on your book.

Hawks turned around and readied his wings for take off. “Remember what I told you. Hero work is dangerous. It’s better if you don’t get your loved ones involved.” With that, he took off, but Tokoyami stayed behind.

He wanted to approach you. He wanted to say something, to apologize for everything he did that hurt you, to tell you that he is still very much in love with you and that he wishes he could hold you again.

Your eyes flickered up from the page and he darted behind a tree as to not be seen. When he peeked his head out, he saw that you were now talking to someone. You had set your book aside as you spoke to another young man, one who was clearly attempting to make you laugh with a poor excuse for a joke. Even so, you laughed. And Tokoyami was fuming.

He wanted to push that man out of the way and kiss you like his life depended on it. “Stay away from my girlfriend,” he would say before dipping you down for seconds. He wanted to do that so bad, but he didn’t. He had a feeling, seeing you laugh, that this was the first time in a very long time that you were truly happy.

[reyescarlos]

from the bottom i come running

co-written with @bilbobagglns in celebration of @starlightbuck‘s birthday. we love you so much, nicole! so much so that we dared to try our hand at writing a soccer fic just for you! happy birthday, lovebug!! 💕💜

read on ao3

It’s not that Eddie doesn’t like soccer, but he doesn’t really care for it.

So when he is asked if he wants to try out for a charity team of first responders, he declines with a smile. He is busy as it is without needing to add training on top of all his responsibilities. Also, truth be told, soccer rules don’t make much sense to him.

Baseball now! That’s his sport and he could rattle about it for hours, enough to put Mr. Trivia himself to shame. Speaking of which, of course Evan Buckley tried for the team and, of course, he made the cut.

That’s how Eddie finds himself in Oregon ready to cheer his friend on.

“Do you think Buck is going to like my sign?”

Christopher has worked hard on it – it’s painted in every color he had and he even insisted on glitter.

“It’s to cheer him on, Dad. It has to be colorful!”

“I know he’s gonna love it, bud.”

It’s the truth. Anything that Christopher will do, Buck will love. It’s as simple as that and this does nothing to Eddie’s heart, no. It’s not like Buck’s love for his kid, true and pure and unconditional, makes Eddie long for a life together with the three of them as a family.

(Well it does, but he will keep denying it.)

“Hi, is this seat taken?”

A man with kind eyes and a bright smile is pointing at the seat right next to Eddie.

“No, you can take it, no problem.”

“Thanks,” the stranger replies and extends his hand after sitting down. “I’m TK.”

“Eddie,” he replies, shaking his hand.

“Hi, I’m Christopher,” his son says and Eddie is bursting with pride and amusement as he reaches to take TK’s hand as well.

“Pleased to meet you, Christopher,” TK says easily. “That’s a beautiful sign you got there.”

Chris beams at the praise, his cheeks turning red but he holds TK’s gaze anyway.

“It’s for Buck,” he tells him like it explains everything, and to him, it does.

“He’s on the Purple Team,” Eddie reveals. “We’re all here to cheer on him.”

“And see him make a fool of himself hopefully.”

At the comment, Chris whirls to give Chim quite the impressive stare and in that moment he looks so much like his mother than it makes Eddie breath catch in his throat.

“He’s going to win,” Christopher announces, sure of himself like he would be of the sun rising in the morning. “Just you wait.”

“Don’t worry, Chris,” Hen intervenes with a gentle smile. “He’s just teasing.”

Seeming to accept the explanation, Chris gives Chim another warning look before turning back to the field, waiting for the players to come out and start the game.

“So your Buck,” TK says, “he’s on the Purple Team? So’s my boyfriend. His name is Carlos.”

“Oh, he’s a firefighter too?”

But TK shakes his head, “I am, he’s a cop.”

“That’s great. We’re all firefighters here, Buck too.”

“We’re not all firefighters here,” Athena cuts in.

Eddie laughs, “Yes, sorry. Athena here is a police officer.”

They talk about their stations, crazy calls they have encountered and TK fits in seamlessly with the big rowdy group that has become Eddie’s family of choice. They learn TK has come by himself to root for his boyfriend and that they both of them live in Texas, which in turn makes Eddie talk about El Paso and his time there.

Should they ever find themselves in Los Angeles, invitations have already been offered to TK, and by extension Carlos though they have yet to meet him, but if he proves to be as delightful as TK, there should be no reason not to enjoy his company as well.

“You’ll have to explain the rules to me,” TK fake whispers with good humor. “I only know they’re kicking after a ball and it’s supposed to get in the goal over there. That’s it.”

“Oh, I don’t really understand soccer. I’m only here for Buck.”

TK laughs freely at Eddie’s comment and then adds, tongue in cheek, “Well, aren’t we a pair? Two soccer novices cheering their boyfriends on?”

Behind them, Chim bursts out laughing and Hen almost chokes on her drink with her lour snickering. Meanwhile Eddie – Eddie is just frozen.

“I don’t,” he splutters at last and it takes him several tries to get a proper sentence out. “Buck and I aren’t dating.”

Frowning in confusion, TK glances at Eddie, then Chris who is still holding tight onto his Go Buck! sign, and Buck himself before settling his gaze on Eddie again.

“Oh,” is all he says, sounding like he is biting his tongue not to say more.

“They’re still in denial, don’t worry about it,” Chim intervenes and Eddie does not have to turn around to know that he is wearing a very satisfied smirk. “You get used to the pining.”

“No one is pining,” Eddie lies, quite well if he’d say so himself.

He knows very well that one person is in fact himself and it is not Buck, no matter how hard he wishes his feelings were returned.

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” Hen says, “and then one day you’ll finally get your head out of you as – butt and pull us all out of our misery.”

She catches herself before she swears but it doesn’t escape May who hides her laughing behind her hand. Hen winks at her before laughing too. Nia, in her mother’s arms, joins in the laughter just for the love of it.

“Come on,” Athena chimes in, trying to look stern but Eddie knows her well enough to see she is amused as the rest of the team. “Leave the poor man alone.”

TK’s eyes alight with restrained laughter when Eddie turns back to him, offering him a contrite smile.

Before anyone can embarrass him any further, the two soccer teams enter the field and the crowd screams out in excitement – Christopher being the loudest of them all.

Buck waves at them, a huge smile on his lips, his eyes alight even with the distance. Eddie’s heart soars with love.

The match starts and Eddie can only cheer with the rest of the crowd.

~*~*~

TK breathes in the fresh air, hoping that it’ll be enough to flush out the nervousness he feels in the pit of his stomach. Soccer may not be his area of expertise but each time he comes to watch Carlos out on the field for a match, he feels invested. A part of him is out there on the green. Even from such a great distance he can tell Carlos is having fun with this. He’s in his element, his strong legs all but making him a blur as he races down the field toward the goal post. It’s a marvel, truly, to watch Carlos in complete control of himself and the ball. For the life of him TK can’t understand how any of the players manage to do this with such ease. But there’s something just so special about Carlos in particular— though, TK realizes, that may just be his bias talking.

Though this game is hardly the World Cup, TK can’t help but to feel the pressure build within him, his knuckle turning white from how tightly he’s gripping the sign in his hand. It’s not nearly as colorful as Chris’ beside him but TK couldn’t resist getting into the spirit, donning a purple hoodie as well. He wishes Michelle or his father could be here now but TK has enough energy for everyone back home and then some.

“That’s Carlos,” he points out to Eddie and Chris.

TK eyes his boyfriend in his shorts, feeling his cheeks flush for a moment. He’s glad for the crisp autumn air to disguise it.

“Hey, he’s with Buck! Maybe they’re friends already,” Chris notes as the two guys exchange a quick low five after Buck makes an impressive block.

“That’d be awesome.”

TK grows quiet then, the players really pick up with intensity out on the pitch. He may be surrounded by people in the stands but his attention rests solely on the field before him, his eyes tracking Carlos’ every move.

Despite Carlos’ best efforts to get TK to understand the nuances of the game, TK’s knowledge is still rudimentary at best but it’s enough for him to know that his boyfriend is doing amazingly well out there. Carlos and Buck work seamlessly off each other as if they’re tuned into the same frequency.

TK breaks his attention away to smile over at Chris and Eddie, the two just as absorbed in the match as he’s been this whole time.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” he muses aloud.

“It’s like they’re flying,” Chris replies, eyes bright behind his glasses. TK can’t help but to agree as Buck and Carlos go thundering up the field.

Even though Buck’s maneuver is thwarted by the other team’s player, there’s no question that the man is extremely skilled as well.

TK’s eyes move over to Eddie who doesn’t seem to have heard any of the exchange TK has just had with his son. Eddie’s eyes are unmoving from the field and it’s obvious there’s only one person he’s truly paying attention to out there.

Despite what the man may have been willing to admit aloud or even to himself, TK can see Eddie’s affection for Buck clear as day on his face. Granted, he’s just a stranger but even from their brief conversation on the matter, he could discern a lot. As far as he could tell, Eddie didn’t have to worry. Chris was clearly a huge supporter of Buck, perhaps in more ways than one and Eddie’s crew seemed to be more than on board with the idea of them. All Eddie would have to do was be brave enough to say something but TK knew just how hard that could be.

Getting together with Carlos and letting go of his own fears was easier said than done but it landed him in the best, most meaningful relationship of his life. Now isn’t the time to have such a heart to heart and TK wonders if the man would even want to hear what he has to say on the matter. He’s an outsider but TK feels a kinship to him all the same. All he can do is hope that Eddie and Buck find their way to each other. If everyone can find the kind of happiness he’s found with Carlos, TK figures the world would be a better place.

TK feels his phone buzz inside his hoodie’s pocket. He sets his sign down and retrieves it, smiling at the screen when he sees an incoming FaceTime call from his father. He answers, his screen filling up with his dad’s face as he connects to his earbuds. He can see that he’s inside his office back at the 126, undoubtedly sitting before a mountain of paperwork.

“Hey, kid. How’s the match going?” Owen asks, not wasting any time in trying to see how Carlos is doing so far.

“Neither team has scored yet but Carlos is killing it out there, of course.”

TK flips the camera on his phone so his father can watch a bit of the match as well. The timing is perfect as Carlos is now in possession of the ball, doing some complicated footwork to maintain control that would have had TK tripping over his own feet if he were to even dare trying a move like that. TK can’t help but to beam with pride.

TK holds his breath as Carlos sidesteps a player on the orange team that’s barreling towards him. He rises to his feet, his heart in his throat as Carlos is able to keep control of the ball and sends it flying into the goal.

“Go, Carlos!” Chris shouts.

TK lets out a triumphant roar of his own, his father whooping as well. TK looks to Chris and gives the young boy a high five, beaming back at him.

“Oh man, I wish I could stay on and watch the rest of the game but duty calls. I’m sure Carlos and his team will keep the momentum going,” Owen says. “Enjoy the match and keep me posted.”

“Will do,” TK responds, quickly ending the call. He can feel his whole body buzzing with excitement for Carlos who finds him in the crowd and gives him a wink.

TK mirrors the move as he claps and sits back down again. He’s practically bouncing in his seat as the game continues.

The purple team continues to do well though no more points are scored as the second quarter begins but Buck and Carlos are on fire during this next leg of the match, their skills clearly a cut above the others. Buck manages another goal with an assist from TK, the two exchanging another low high five. The orange team tries to rally after Buck’s goal, desperate to at least score one point now that they’re down two nothing. The tactics become a bit more intense with players from the orange team clearly marking Buck and Carlos as the main ones to focus on. Carlos is being guarded heavily by one man on the orange team when he’s in possession. TK feels anxious watching Carlos try to break away but the man is like a shadow. As Carlos darts to the right, he’s felled by the other player who very deliberately tripped Carlos.

TK shoots up from his seat, his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach just as Carlos’ body drops to the ground, clutching at his leg. The crowd sucks in a collective breath but TK can only really register the sight of his boyfriend’s face contorting in pain. Buck crouches down beside him, speaking to him hurriedly.

“Dad, is Carlos going to be okay?” Christopher asks, his voice a quiet whisper as if not to spook TK. It’s touching that this kid he’s only just met is so considerate.

“I...I’m sure he’s alright,” Eddie says. He doesn’t sound entirely convincing but it hardly matters. The man’s words are like static in TK’s ears as he fights the urge to go racing out onto the pitch to check on Carlos himself and also give the other player a piece of his mind.

His body moves inches forward on its own accord as the rest of Carlos’ team crowds around him along with a medic from the sidelines and the referee heads who holds up a yellow card to the player responsible for bowling Carlos over and TK shouts his frustration.

“That’s it?” Certainly a red card and dismissal from the match would be the best course of action.

TK can see Buck getting upset at the call as well, the man drawing nearer to the referee to make the case. TK could just hug him for that, for stepping up and defending Carlos right then and there when he’s unable to do just that on his own.

It’s obvious Buck isn’t having much luck, his expression growing grimmer as the medic tends to Carlos. It’s torture watching his boyfriend in pain and TK can feel his eyes stinging as he struggles to keep himself in together as Carlos is helped off the field.

“I can’t just stand here,” he says to no one in particular.

TK leaves the stands, racing down the steps and hurrying along to where the purple team is congregated on the benches. He isn’t even sure he’s allowed down here but he doesn’t spare a thought to it as he pushes his way to Carlos’ side.

“TK? What are—,” Carlos starts but TK silences him with a hug.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s my ankle. I think I twisted it.”

TK shoots a glare over at the orange team, searching for the guy responsible for this.

“Babe, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You’re the one with the busted ankle. I should be comforting you right now, not the other way around, Los.”

Carlos laughs and nods as the medic wraps his ankle and ices it. She confirms Carlos’ suspicion about the severity of his injury.

“True but I’d also like to make sure we keep the peace. This is a charity event after all and I’d hate to have to see my boyfriend arrested. Don’t forget, we’re surrounded by cops; you’re severely outnumbered,” he teases.

TK’s lips twitch with a smile, his disdain towards the other player fading away as he gives Carlos a quick kiss, cupping his cheek and brushing his thumb along Carlos’ cheekbone.

“I take it this is TK,” a voice says. TK turns and sees Buck holding out his hand. “I’m—”

“Buck. It’s nice to meet you.”

Buck’s brows furrow in confusion, no doubt wondering how it is that TK knows his name already. TK points over to where he had been seated in the stands, Christopher holding up his sign above his now that they’re all looking his way.

“I got the chance to meet your crew and two very special parts of it. Chris is the coolest kid ever and his dad is just as incredible.”

TK doesn’t miss the soft expression in Buck’s eyes as he looks over at the father and son duo. TK and Carlos exchange a glance before Buck turns his attention back on them again.

“They’re family,” Buck says simply with a warm smile. “How are you feeling, Carlos? What’d the medic say?”

“Twisted not sprained so that’s a relief. It’s low grade so I won’t be out of commission for too long.”

“The second the match is over I’m taking you right back to the hotel, alright? I know you’ll be fine but I’ll feel a hell of a lot better when you’re in bed getting rest.”

“Yes, Dr. Strand,” Carlos muses. “Report back to the stands. We all need to see Buck continue to kick some butt out there.”

TK gives him one last kiss. “To help with the pain and suffering,” he quips before hurrying back to rejoin Eddie and Chris.

~*~*~

Purple team wins.

Even as he cheers, Eddie spares a glance at his new friend and is relieved to find he has already rushed to his boyfriend's side and both TK and Carlos are smiling widely and clapping on the bench.

The crowd rushes on the field to congratulate the winners as loud as they can.

Both Eddie and Christopher are somehow the first to reach Buck despite the rest of their family getting a headstart on them while Chris got his crutches. Something tells him that they have let them, though he couldn’t say why.

(That’s a lie. He knows why.)

(Damn meddlers)

(That is also a lie. He loves them all dearly.)

Buck has sweated through his shirt, his normally well-coiffed hair is a mess of curls and unruly strands. Eddie has no rights to find him as beautiful as he does but he can’t help it.

Buck is magnificent. The sun itself must be envious of how bright he shines.

The energy is high and everyone is speaking excitedly about the game, Carlos’ injury and the insane rules of soccer.

Chim slaps Buck on his shoulder with a, “Good job, Buckaroo,” which earns him a satisfied look from Christopher, ever defendant of his Buck.

“Did you like my sign, Buck?” he asks, pointing to it now in Eddie’s hands.

“I loved it, buddy. Thank you so much, it’s the best sign anyone has ever made in the history of signs.”

From anyone else, it would have been an exaggeration to please a kid. From Buck, it’s nothing but the truth.

They stay a while there, chatting and laughing, and then the players go to change and finally, it’s time to leave. The kids are tiring and so are the adults if Eddie is being honest. The Oregon fall air keeps chilling and they are all angsty to get back inside where it’s warm.

“Eddie, wait.”

It’s TK running up to him, his phone in his hand which he gives to Eddie. Carlos waves at him from the car.

“Give me your number,” TK says. “I’ll hold you to your and your friends’ words when Carlos and I are in LA. I’m gonna have to see for myself how great your station is.”

“Of course,” Eddie replies with a laugh. “But be ready to be impressed.”

He gives TK his phone back.

“Reach out to if you ever find yourself in Austin, you and anyone else you’d wanna bring with.”

There’s something else there in between the words but TK is already saying goodbye, probably in a hurry to bring Carlos back to their hotel room so he can shower and rest his poor ankle.

Yet, half-turned, TK stills.

His gaze finds Eddie and, gently, only for his ears, he says something that has Eddie’s foundations shake.

“You know, if everyone sees it, it may be because it’s actually there.”

He glances behind Eddie before wiking at him and then he’s gone.

“They make a great couple,” Buck says when he comes up to him, seconds later.

Eddie can only hum in return, his thoughts are miles away.

“You’re okay?”

Buck is frowning in concern. His cheeks are still warm from the effort of the game but his breathing is even as his eyes wrack over Eddie’s face.

Buck is always so concerned about Eddie and Christopher too. He would gladly give up any plans he had if the Diaz boys only asked for anything at all.

Maybe it is there.

“TK thought we were dating,” he admits, voice low.

“Oh.” Silence. “Carlos thought so too.”

Eddie searches in his best friend’s eyes an answer to a question he can’t bring himself to ask just yet. What he finds gives him hope, and courage as well.

“Weird huh,” Buck says and he licks his lips in what Eddie recognizes to be nervousness.

He smiles, relieved beyond words. “No, not so weird.”

“No?

Buck is carefully hopeful, as if his heart beats too loud in his chest and he is afraid the whole world might hear it but unable to calm it all the same.

Serene like he has not been in so long a time, Eddie reaches for Buck’s hand and squeezes it.

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not weird at all.”

And though they don’t say it, they both know.

It is there and it is forever.

[be-dazzled]

A Tread-Thin Line

Pairing: Sasuke x Sakura Alternative Naruto Universe

Writer’s Corner: This is some sort of alternative Naruto universe where no parent died. lol.

Borrowed Concepts:

Shinobi – ninja Hokage – leader and protector of the village

Masterlist

—

Sakura came out of her tent very exhausted and very much insulted. Still a seething mess as she marched out of her one-person tent to give that backward-thinking, woman-hater a piece of her mind. Oh, she was going to give it to him good. That Uchiha guy probably sensed her plan, that’s why he wasn’t there at the camp. Her jade eyes automatically searched for his tent standing opposite to hers; it was zipped open and empty of one dark-haired Shinobi. Maybe, he was hiding from Sakura and maybe, it was the wisest decision he ever made since shutting up when her penetrating glower told him to.

“Oi, Sakura-chan!” The golden-haired beamed at her. His toothy smile a total contrast to what Sakura was always receiving from the other third of Konoha’s Team 7.

“You’re still eating?” Sakura walked up to Naruto, deciding against sitting next to him near the fire. She still had some scolding to do. But as she ambled toward him, the young healer winced at him, scrunching her nose at the ramen cup still hot in his hands.

“Wan’ some?”

Sakura only gave him a disapproving look to which Naruto was accustomed to by now. Being the son of the current Hokage wasn’t as grand as they make it out to be, Sakura realized, as she watched the said son slurp up the noodles with the loudest and most irritating sound possible to man. It was one of the young medic’s pet peeves and it was making her want to hit something – or someone.

“Have you seen the Grinch?”

She did not understand his response but Sakura assumed he meant to say ‘Sasuke’. They both came up with the codename since both Naruto and Sakura were at the receiving ends of Sasuke’s subtle but palpable derisive prejudice. The arrogant, ‘my smile is too precious to waste on you’ Uchiha branded the two the second he laid his charcoal eyes on them and quickly decided Naruto and Sakura weren’t worth his time.

Naruto continued to talk while limp noodles hanged between his lips and the vein on Sakura’s forehead threatened to pop. Talking with a mouthful was another one of Sakura’s pet peeves. So, she decided it was better for her and her poor vein to be away from the bumpkin as far as possible.

“Well, I’m just gonna go find him and hammer some manners into that rich snob.” Sakura started for the darker part of the forest.

Sasuke was probably somewhere out there doing some secret training so he could rub the fact on both Naruto and Sakura’s faces that his skill was a hundred levels above the two. But what really pushed her buttons was the fact that Sasuke Uchiha was right. Sakura could never catch up to his skills even if she trained until training actually killed her. She was just a medical ninja, after all, while Sasuke hailed from one of the founder clans of Konoha and one of the strongest, most influential families, a fact he never forgot to remind her. He was the son of the chief of the Konoha Military Police Force and was believed to follow in the footsteps of his father and older brother in serving in the force.

She, on the other hand, was a plain civilian before enrolling into the Academy. No family influence, no power, no great feats under her family’s name. But Sakura had one of the highest marks in the Academy despite being a regular Haruno and she trained religiously to become more powerful, even earning the spot to train under the Great Tsunade, one which was highly coveted. She ought to be proud of herself but if given the opportunity; the young medic wished she’d be assign to some other team. Of all the people she could team up with, Sakura had to be stuck with the annoying son of the Hokage and arrogant heir of the Uchiha Clan.

Well, it wasn’t like Sakura chose to be part of that team. So, the feelings were mutual.

“Dammit!” She kicked a pebble so hard that it hit deep a trunk of tree.

Why couldn’t she be with Ino? Hell, she’d even choose Rock Lee any day, despite his bothersome flirting towards her, if that meant she could lose the shackles from the Grinch, the wicked demon lord that walked on earth.

Naruto, she could deal with. But Sasuke?

She remembered the argument they had earlier that day. At the mission briefing, the very first time the three of them were officially introduced to each other, Sasuke had managed to insult her for being a civilian and for being a woman. He not only announced to the world his disappointment being chosen into such a low class team but had gladly pronounced that ‘the girl’ would only slow him down in the mission. He said he’d rather do it on his own.

“What a prick!” She screamed into the air. “He thinks just because he’s an Uchiha that he was above everyone else?”

If the old Oak could talk, he would politely ask the young woman not to glare at him.

“I’ll show him.”

She stopped for a second, shutting her eyes close to concentrate, straining her ears to listen to the muffled noise. She followed the sound, clearing the path toward where it was coming from. With every step she took, the sound of the steady fall of water calmed her nerves down. Her anger slowly ebbed away but was gradually replaced by a feeling of sleepiness. Fatigue slowly caught up with Sakura and her tired muscles was begging her to jump into the promising bath in the waterfalls. What with all the arguing and glaring she engaged herself with that arrogant bastard. It wasn’t such a bad idea, she thought. A good bath could wash away all those anger she’d been harboring against the youngest son of the Head of the Uchiha clan.

The moment her jade eyes found the source, her body demanded she jumped right into the shining water pooling at the foot of the magical falls. She was about to give in, starting to peel off her jacket, but stopped when she realized someone has beaten her to it. A surge of panic and, if Sakura was being honest, a sense of shame too, forced her to hide completely behind one of those large rocks that surrounded the pool. Her decency told her to walk away and return to camp. Let whoever it was to enjoy some private bath time. But curiosity had always gotten the better of Sakura. She poked her head, adjusting her vision to see clearer. Sakura’s eyes widened when she realized who it was – butt-naked Sasuke Uchiha himself, showering under the falling water.

With Sasuke’s back on her, the very curious jade eyes had a full, unobstructed and front-row-seat view of Mr. Uchiha’s butt cheeks gloriously resplendent in the moonlight. Sakura’s mouth ran dry. So much so that she contemplated to drink the water from the pool just for a second. She probably shouldn’t since it wasn’t purified.

Sasuke Uchiha’s gloriousness must have had them purified, a voice in her head suggested. Absent-mindedly, outer Sakura nodded in agreement. Who could blame her when that evil woman-hater possessed that perfect round and firm butts just waiting for a bite?

She slapped herself for thinking such dirty thoughts and scolded her inner Sakura. Weren’t we mad at him?  Inner Sakura said she wasn’t – not at all. As a matter of fact, Inner Sakura could really have a taste of those, “No!” Sakura probably said it too loud as the unwitting Sasuke turned around to her direction.

The young medic quickly plunged behind the rock, slapping both hands over her mouth to keep herself quiet and wishing Sasuke wouldn’t make anything out of what he heard. For all he knew, it could have been a wolf low-whistling when it saw the tushy too. Because who wouldn’t? Sakura hit herself on the head to stop thinking dirty butt-related thoughts.

The peeping tom waited quietly behind a large, misshapen rock; cautiously poking her head out of the edge to make sure Sasuke wasn’t suspecting anything. When he had his back on her again, undisturbed from enjoying the natural shower, Sakura peeled her eyes away from the tushy region – which proved to be a struggle because Inner Sakura was lonely – and up his muscular back and then finally, at Sasuke’s beautiful side features in full view now that he tilted his head on the side. He looked like a character from a romantic novel came to life, bathing under the silvery illumination of the moon. He was hypnotizing.

Go get it, girl. Inner Sakura goaded, snapping the real Sakura back to the here and now.

“Get a grip, Sakura.” She whisper-yelled to herself. “This is the guy who thinks you are nothing but a dust he could just step on.”

Sasuke’s calm and serene face was replaced by that scowl he seemed to have permanently in Sakura’s memory. It was enough to erase all dirty thoughts she had about that despicable woman-hater. Man, those good looks and delicious assets were a waste on such an evil narcissist.

“Yeah, we hate him.”

Yeah right.

Shut up, Inner Sakura.

Sakura looked around to see an escape but the universe did her better. On a line of smaller and drier rock formation nearer her hiding place, there lazily sat a pile of folded clothes. Bingo. A crazy idea hit Sakura, one she’d never dare to do. But with all the humiliation and evilness she had to endure because of one certain Uchiha, it didn’t hurt if she asked for some payback.

The trained medical ninja took steady and furtive steps toward her destination, cautious so her small movements wouldn’t be picked up by Sasuke’s heightened sensory. That guy had the ears and eyes of an owl. Once the package was secured, Sakura got out of there in a whiz. The moment she was out of earshot, the thief let out the evilest laugh she could muster, holding Sasuke’s clothes draped on her arms. She could only imagine his face walking back to camp completely naked and discovering it was this ‘girl who will only slow him down’ who stole his clothes. And oh, how much he’d hate himself because he didn’t even notice her stealing them? What a blow in his face that would be.

“Just giving him a taste of his own medicine.” Sakura reasoned. What she did was only as despicable as Sasuke belittling her and her capabilities. No one crossed Sakura Haruno and got away with it.

The cherry-haired started back to camp and couldn’t wait to tell Naruto what she did to that evil snob. Sakura walked on cloud, momentarily forgetting where she actually was and the dangers that the forest held in its depth. Suddenly, her shining emeralds came confronting two pairs of hungry, glowing eyes. With measure steps, they stepped out from their hiding, revealing their sharp canines, ready to tear skin from bones. Sakura was transfixed in her spot as she faced two hungry creatures ready to pounce at her anytime.

“Okay. No sudden movements.” She told herself, remembering what she learned in the Academy about saber-toothed cats that eat humans; one of which was that these predators usually travel in packs, which meant that they also attack in packs. Quickly reviewing and analyzing her options, Sakura made up her mind. “Nice kitties.” She cooed, as she started slowly backing up while her predators advanced.

“You guys hungry?” Sakura mentally memorized the way back to the waterfalls. At least she’d had some good chance to survive since Sasuke was there; she could throw him at the hungry, killer cats, if push came to shove.

“You guys are nice, right?”

Her predators growled in response, jogging the medical ninja’s memory about the killer cats being hostile too, hence, the name.

“Okay, maybe not.”

The hungry animals picked up their pace, slowly but steadily lessening the gap between them and their cherry-haired prey. Afraid her attackers were running out of patience, Sakura was left with no choice. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Accordingly, she threw the garments in her hands at her attackers to blind them momentarily, then, ran for her life. No looking back.

Her ears picked up the sound of the steady flow of the water and increased her speed, not wanting to wager on whether the hungry killer cats were able to catch up with her. If they did, then, she must be dead by now. But since she’s still breathing, albeit running out of it, then that meant she was able to outpace them. For how long? She’d rather not answer and decided to run as far as her feet could take her.

The sound was becoming clearer which only meant that Sakura was near her destination. As she was approaching the base surrounded by big rocks, Sakura’s trained eyes made out the silhouette of a tall man stepping out of the natural pool. The runaway never thought she’d think it but Sakura was glad the evil snob was still there. So, with one last push, she jumped the man and clung to him for dear life.

“Sasuke!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso, causing the man to sway a little as he tried to balance both their weight on his two feet. Sakura buried her nose against the crook of his neck and tried, as much as possible, to explain the dire situation. “Killer cats.” She cried between pants. “Killer cats. After me.”

“I don’t see anything.”

Sakura heard him say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Sakura felt him crane his neck to look in the dark. “There are no scary cats after you, Haruno.”

Sakura, ignoring the Shinobi’s condescending tone and, for some reason, starting to trust his words, lifted her head back just far enough to look at him in the eyes. They were deep and dark, like he was always carrying the night sky in his eyes.

Interesting.

But what’s more interesting was that thing poking at her stomach.

Very interesting.

Inner Sakura forced the young medic to confirm her suspicion and, being the obedient woman that she was, the young woman lowered her gaze between her and Sasuke. Both Inner and Oouter Sakura widened their eyes in astonishment.

Blessed and highly favored! Inner Sakura mused. No wonder the guy thinks he’s a gift to humanity. He’s the whole package! For the second time that night, Inner and Outer Sakure were both in agreement.

“T-that’s because you surprised me!”

Sakura tore her engrossed gaze away from the ‘package’ and back to the face she couldn’t recognize.

Is the Great Sasuke Uchiha… blushing?

The young medic couldn’t believe her own eyes; given it was dark and his face was illuminated only by the moonlight. Plus the fact that, from what she had learned about the total snob, it was impossible for him to get flustered, especially because of her. But before Sakura could confront him… and maybe tease him about it, if she actually had the ability to form sentence after witnessing ‘the thing’, the flustered snob unceremoniously dropped Sakura on the ground.

“Hey!” The pang of pain helped her with the ‘forming coherent sentences’ problem. She pushed herself off the pebbly ground, dusting dirt off her hands and butt and glaring at the naked man turning away from her.

“I placed my clothes here somewhere.” Sasuke said to himself, not minding the fact that his back view was in full display to one very angry and very guilty Haruno.

Time to come clean.

“About that…” She began, intense glare softening to embarrassed, looking everywhere but at the naked man.

“What did you do?”

Of course, Sasuke Uchiha had good deduction skills too. He quickly and easily caught on, narrowing his eyes at the possible culprit as he kept his back on Sakura.

Yes, tell him, Sakura. Inner Sakura goaded. Tell the naked man why he is naked.

“The killer cats.” Sakura unconsciously shifted her weight to the side, scratching a finger against her cheek, very telling signs of her guilt. “The ones after me? Well, I panicked a little. So…” A short laugh tumbled out of her lips. She meant it to ease the heavy tension forming between them. Now that Sasuke fully faced her, eyes promising bodily pain, the soft chuckle came out awkward.

And when Sasuke was running out of patience, he took an intimidating step forward, forgetting about his current situation, to force the truth out of the woman.

“Ithrewthematthekillercatsasdistraction.” Sakura blurted out in one breath.

“What?”

He wasn’t just mad. Sasuke Uchiha was boiling in anger.

“You threw them at the killer cats as distraction?”

Protector-covered arms flew to cover Sakura’s face, bracing herself for the coming KO punch. She was sure the woman-hater wasn’t above hitting a girl after what she had done.

But despite appearances, Sasuke was above hitting a girl.

Sakura dropped her arms when a moment passed and she was still standing, completely unscathed. Realizing belatedly that Sasuke was just a foot away from her and becoming hyperaware that Sasuke wasn’t wearing any clothes. Well, because she threw them at the killer cats.

“Oh, your boner is gone.” Sakura slapped a hand over her mouth when she realized what she just said and made sure her eyes were just staring at his deep and dark orbs.

And not somewhere down south.

“Yeah, girls stealing clothes and throwing them at killer cats can do that to a guy.”

Sakura could feel his suppressed anger by the way his hands squeezed her forearms, then, spun her around to the general direction of their camp. Good idea, she thought. Since the jade eyes couldn’t keep themselves from drifting down that dangerous place.

“Now walk, you thief.”

Sakura did as she was ordered, feeling exactly like what Sasuke called her – a thief who got caught in the middle of a sloppy job, arrested and forced to do the walk of shame. Only differences from an actual police arrest were: one, she wasn’t actually under arrest and two, Sasuke wasn’t aiming a gun at her in case she flees.

Speaking of guns… No! No, speaking of guns, the medic scolded her Inner Sakura and continued down the path back to the camp, serving as human shield for the naked Sasuke. All the while uneasy, a little nervous and a bit… turned on because have you seen the size of his thing?

Yeah. Inner Sakura had this silly, all pleased and satisfied smile plastered across her goof-ball face while Outer Sakura had to fight a sudden rush of heat. The clothe stealer mentally slapped the silly smile off that stupid goof-ball. No more thinking about it too, she berated her inner self.

But Inner Sakura refused to listen. That stubborn bitch. So, now, Sakura had to deal with her inner self staging a rebellion.

A part of her wanted to just strangle the guy in his sleep; another part had no qualms jumping him naked. Granting that her reason was life or death, still, she had no business thinking about that woman-hater’s ’business’. But silly Sakura kept forgetting that if there was one universal truth we all share, it was that the line between love and hate was a thin one.

In her case, lust and hate and thread-thin.

—

TBH,  Main girl stealing main guy’s clothes isn’t at all original but honestly, I just wanted a mental image of SasuSaku in that compromising position. And unfiltered Sakura? Yes pls. Ahahaha. I’m sure I’m not the only one! Who liked the return of Inner Sakura?

[cyberdva]

Drummer Boy Part 10 Roger Taylor X Reader (John X Reader)

(Originally From My Wattpad 📓 @panicathetrash15 ) A/N: This took me a month to draft and 9 hours to write... enjoy 

Word Count: 2k Paring: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader Warnings: Mentions Of Alcohol, Cursing, and Cheating {Angst}

Main Masterlist 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 

Part 6 

Part 7 

Part 8 

Part 9

_________

Y/N POV

_________

The thunder crashed loudly, as the power flickered on and off, another crash was heard from upstairs. Brian, John, and I tried to get any information from Freddie. We all stumbled up from where we were positioned before. I’m scared, I don’t know what is going on, is Tammy ok?

“Freddie what happened?” We began to scale the stairs, our mouths spat our bundles of questions. We couldn’t all fit up the stair and we uncomfortably slammed next to each.

“Tammy fell and hit her head on the corner of the table.” his expression was mortifying, it was a mix of shock and utter normality. This news wasn’t exactly awe-inspiring, Tammy was a very clumsy person, she has had her fair share of falls. Nothing like this though. We made it to the top floor and started looking around.

“Which room is she in?” I was jogging down the hallway frantically looking through rooms.

“The second guest room at the end of the hallway.” Freddie ran in front of me and almost tripped over a beer bottle. Is it Roger’s? Speaking of Roger, where is he? Shouldn’t he be concerned about his “girlfriend”? Are they actually dating? It’s kind of pathetic that Tammy acts so tough when I even make eye contact with Roger, which happens very rarely at this point. I feel like we hate each other and it’s going to stay that way for awhile.

“I found her!” Deaky had made it to the room with Freddie, “Come on Y/N.” Brian was tugging my arm, I reluctantly followed him. Another crash of lightning came bounding down from the sky, it was the loudest one yet. I jumped from the sound and entered the room. My eyes scanned the room, until they stopped on Tammy’s limp body, with what could only be blood seeping through her hair.

“What the hell happened?” I rushed to her side quickly. How? That’s all I have to say. “Did she drink?” I sighed, each day gets worse and worse.

“Not that I know. I’m pretty sure she fell.” Freddie came walking through the door.

“Well what are you doing? Call an ambulance.” We scurried around looking for a phone we could call someone on. I gave up and basically threw myself onto the floor, I’m too overwhelmed at this point. John came down to sit down with me, I must have looked so flustered, god it’s so embarrassing. I started to talk to him about tiny things and music became a swift topic.

I sighed, “We were supposed to practice tomorrow.” I trailed off with more of my relevant problems and John just nodded along.

“Of course everything revolves around you Y/N. If you haven’t noticed by now your friend is dying on the floor bleeding and what are you doing about it?” Roger stood in the doorway.

“Well what are you doing about Roger?” I sneered back.

“As much as I love drama, we have a conundrum, I don’t know how we didn’t notice this, we can’t call the police the phone is out.” Freddie pushed Roger out of the door.

“What?”

“The power is out and we can’t call anyone.” My grip on Tammy’s hair became tighter.

“John could you please get your car ready?” he gave me a small nod and flashed me that adorable smile. He dashed out the half closed door and Roger left. Good.

“Does anyone know where Cynthia is, she went to nursing school at one point. Maybe she can help?”

Everyone shook their heads no, god dammit. Everything is going wrong. Should I look for bandages, I might as well. I picked up Tammy and slid her back onto the floor. I could’ve sworn I saw her eyes open, weird. I heard a commotion coming from outside, walking over to the window I gazed outside. The streets were already starting to flood and it didn’t seem like the downpour was stopping anytime soon, I went back to Tammy and it seems her arm was now lying on the floor. That’s not how I left her, is it wrong that I feel skeptical. I pulled a stray hair away from her face, a sheet was nicely folded onto of the bed next to us, so I grabbed it and laid it over Tam. The bleeding looked the same as it did before. It stopped that quickly? Another glace out the window led me to see a frantic Freddie yelling at the sky. I could vaguely hear him screaming. Something about “the rain being a load of bollocks.” Genius Fred, like that will magically stop the rain.

Fred was completely soaked, when I turned around I was greeted by no one, I guess Brian left. Might as well check the bathroom. I sighed, before I made it to the bathroom John came tumbling back into the room. He was out of breath panting.

“Y/N, the car is useless, it’s about to flood”

“Yeah I saw. By the way do you have any first aid kits or supplies. If we find Cynthia or Crystal they can fix Tammy up.” John thought for a moment before he could restiger what I said. I was about to wave a hand in front of his face, he definitely zoned out. The conversation became gradually awkward.

“Oh, um, there’s some stuff in the cabinets and I last saw Cynthia going into the downstairs bathroom with Brian when I ran upstairs, do you want me to get him?” he scratched the back of neck and glanced at his feet.

“Yeah! That would be great!” He nodded, gave me a look of uncertainty and another lightning bolt came down from the sky and lit up the small room. Tammy twitched? She hates thunder and lighting, did she really pass out? John looked at her body and just left.What is up with everyone today?

The bathroom was my last resort, it was painted a nice shade of lime green the floor and shower tiles were pink to complement the green. Inside a woven basket was a white box with a red plus sign on it, finally. I peeked inside and it had everything I could use to help Tammy.

I carefully pulled out a needle from the box, my hand guided itself through her hair. The red substance was chunky, nothing like blood should be. Flakes of white were laced in the red blood. It was like cornstarch, pulling more threads of hair I could see no cute, no bruises, nothing that could have caused this much blood. I tried to think this through, anything that I could think of to proceed in this situation. Nothing came to mind. I layed the body down, I went to go seek out John. Why would Tammy lie about something so serious, she scared all of us. Was Freddie in on this, he was with her before the incident. My head hurt too much to comprehend it. My legs cracked and I groaned, my feet padded softly as I went to go find someone, anyone that could help me through what I’m seeing.

Half way down that same hallway the door to that “second guest bedroom at the end of the hallway” slammed shut. I jumped and the storm grew louder. I contemplated going downstairs or going back to the room. I went back and it was probably the worst decision I made. I cracked the door open and what I saw was mortifying. John was positioned in the small bed with a conscience Tammy making out. I slammed the door back shut and ran down the hallway. My breaths were inconsistent, before I knew it I collided head first with Roger. My head spun and a ringing sound flooding my ears. Beer was spilt all over me, my clothes were drenched in the sticky substance.

“Are you bloody serious?!” He was holding some sort beverage and it spilt all over us. I was too concerned with my own thoughts to even give a damn about Roger’s drink. I started jogging down the hallway while Roger spat out a string of curses. My first instinct was to sought out Brian since he was the one that made me think I had a chance with John. Turns out Roger was following me and still was bent out of shape.

“Am I not even going to get an apology?!” he whipped me right round, he was partially fuming. “Go check on your “girlfriend,” I spoke in a condescending tone he didn’t like. “She’s busy snogging John down the hall.” He shot me a look and rolled his eyes. “Very funny Y/N, I get we hate each other, but don’t bring Tammy into this.”

“I’m serious Roger go look.” he looked at me and glanced at the door. As if I was lying or something. Something clicked in his tiny brain and he headed towards the door. His face contorted into a mixture of a scowl or a frown when he heard what was going on. Just the petty conversations between John and Tammy. He pushed the door open and peaked his head in, then closed it with a bang. He looked betrayed, he’s probably going to take it out on me, right? He strutted back to me, and looked like he was going to cry.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” As he rants I leaned against a wall, listening attentively. He went into how Tammy and him could’ve been his dream idea of a couple., a ‘power couple’ per say. I honestly can’t agree, but I kept my opinions to myself for my own benefit.

“I put time into dating a girl, and I rarely commit, only if I really like the girl. This time was different she used me to get to John. Is this something that you and your friends do. Make people upset and thrive off of it. Just to make me feel like this” Is he tearing up? Tammy can do some serious damage….

“Woah Rog, I think you’re cutting to conclusions here.” I put my hands up to signal defense, he really likes to start fights.

“Don’t call me Rog.” he huffed. “I’m struggling here. You should be listening.” he proceeded to cross his arms and I laughed while he shot me a glare.

“I can tell.” I patted his head, before I could hear his wrath I slipped my way downstairs and into the kitchen in look for some food. I raided some cabinets, not looking to take anything major. All I could muster up to read was a granola bar. I did find a large grandfather clock that was quite interesting. It was adorned in many engravings of leaves and flowers. Some of the pieces were painted in a lighter brown and it made it seem like the sun was shining on it. Stunning.

The clock read 6:56, today was pretty eventful, honestly not in a good way. I still can’t wrap my head around why John did that. I thought we had a thing going, I thought we loved each other. I mean I’m just a guitarist, who wants to date a guitarist? People find more interest in the drummer or the singer. What if the drummer is an inconsiderate asshole and the singer leaves at any waking moment, only to show up at the worse times.

Maybe a nap will help me balance my mind. A fire had been put in the fireplace, John’s living room was cozy, a perfect place to rest for the meantime. The sound of rain and fire cracking let me peacefully drift off to sleep, I dreamt that life was good, that Roger wasn’t mean, that John loved me, that my band was successful. I dreamt that I was loved for once.  If I knew what I had to face when I woke up, I would’ve just walked back home in the pouring rain.

[sawthefaeriequeen]

Top Ten Books Read In 2018

1) The Last Summer of the Death Warriors by Francisco X. Stork

I picked this up at a book fair, read the summary, and figured I'd surprise myself with this author I'd never heard of before. It's about the friendship between DQ, a guy with terminal cancer dealing with his complicated feelings for his estranged-but-conciliatory family, and Pancho, a guy who's biding his time until he can get revenge on the person who's killed one of his family members. I like that both boys are raw and real and people—Pancho obviously has messed up emotions, but DQ can be plenty bitter and angry too: he's not an Inspirational Cancer Patient stereotype.

2) The Sherwood Ring by Elizabeth Marie Pope

Girl moves into her uncle's old ancestral house sometime during the 18th century and gets immersed into the past lives and loves of the ghosts that thrived there during the days of the Revolutionary War, their paths often crossing each other's. I swear I have never seen more delightful ghost characters in my entire life.

3) The Unbound by V.E. Schwab

So by the time I'd picked this up, I was having mixed feelings about V.E. Schwab – on one hand, she'd always written worlds that engage me almost instantly with their creativity. On the other hand, I'd just recently been horribly disappointed by the ending to what's been her most popular series so far: I thought her final Shades of Magic book did a most spectacular job on dropping the balls on everything good about it. Up to reading it, I'd thought the author's hype was deserved. But after, well…

So when I picked this up, it was with much trepidation. I'd loved the previous book, The Archived: the big old house setting, the grim closed-off girl/sweet sunny boy dynamic the lonesome warrior setup, all were like catnip to my id. I didn't want it ruined by a bad sequel. Fortunately, this book took everything I loved about the book and turned it up to eleven. It upped the stakes, it intensified the relationships, and it also added a mental illness angle that I personally found very meaningful.

The author is still kiiinda on notice so I'm not sure I want a third book. If there is one, dear God, please be good. *crosses fingers*

4) Turtles All The Way Down by John Green

I remember thinking, as I was reading this: this is really, really working for me but will it work for someone neurotypical? 2018 was hell and I was just so desperate for the people in my life to get it, and so I kept hopping on trains of thought like this.

Anyway, this book was spot on in what goes on in the wirings of my anxious brain. Green's usual turns of phrase took an incredibly frenetic turn at times, which, I know, is exactly what it's like to have a mental illness. This is not a book about "this is what to do" it's about how it IS or how it can GET.

I'm still really grateful for that quote about the spiral – how it tightens, but also how it eternally widens. When I first saw the cover, I thought it was kind of blah; now I look at that spiral and see something different. I see the hope of creating a new 'normal'.

5) The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

This was so readable it surprised me. I thought I'd go slow on it because: war story where it's a foregone conclusion that it ends tragically for the leads? Yeah, I'm not in a rush to reach the end of that. But I blazed right through this book. There's something really addictive about Madeline Miller's storytelling and how she brings her characters together and follows their blossomings and downfalls through the years. And then, the course of the Iliad and the inevitable sadness for Achilles, Patroclus, and Briseis was more like the slow turning of the tide rather than getting hit with a tidal wave. Anyway, not only was it readable but I'm finding myself eager to re-read it.

6 ) The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley

Part of my Read Everything Robin McKinley Writes mission that began last year. I'd liked the sheer escapism and the desert setting in The Blue Sword, but that whole white savior thing kinda put me off from enjoying Harry and the book more fully than I would've liked.

It was not so for this book, thankfully! Who knew that reading about the nitty-gritty of slaying big scaly beasts could be so satisfying? That's classic Robin McKinley, as I'm learning – you love what the protag loves. And then I really dug how the dead dragon's ghost haunting Aerin acts as a metaphor for mental illness.

(As I continue to wrestle with my diagnosis, I continually appreciate all the depression/anxiety metaphors I encounter in media. Maybe one day I'll make a post about it) AND ALSO: a love triangle that's actually well done and that serves our heroine's identity and character rather than taking away from it? Yes. Yes, thank you.

7) A Certain Slant of Light by Laura Whitcomb

Yeah so, this book killed me. It's about two twenty-something ghosts with unfinished business who find themselves in the bodies of two teenagers whose souls appear to have completely vacated theirs. They find themselves falling for each other and trying to find out what happened to their 'hosts' and what went on in their past lives. They also find themselves battling to survive the hostile home lives that their 'hosts' left behind. It's all very beautiful and kind of twisted and also a love letter to words and probably my most unexpected book of the year. And I have NO idea to rec it to people. "Read this, it's kind of fucked up but gorgeous but also can get triggery so step warily?" Uh.

8) Deerskin by Robin McKinley

See warnings above. Oh God. But really, I totally respect Robin McKinley for going full-out faithful to how utterly fucked up fairy tales can be while still creating a survival story. I'm not just talking about Lissar surviving spoilers incestual rape and miscarriage (indeed, I'm not qualified to talk about it) but how hers is a story of healing: by surviving the elements, by nursing living things back into life, by building herself up into a legend without even knowing it.

9) Muse of Nightmares by Laini Taylor

Just an incredibly satisfying ending to a duology that at the same time echoes that quote from Michael Ende's The Neverending Story: "but that is another story and shall be told another time." I love when something ends with that sense of: "there are even more stories and adventures for our beloved characters out there than you can possibly fathom, and you are now free to make up them yourself."

10) Autoboyography by Christina Lauren

I was intrigued by the premise: a half-Jewish guy and a Mormon guy fall for each other over the course of a writing class. And upon starting it, I could tell straight (heh, straight) away that it was going to be a favorite. It's an unabashedly kilig romance about falling for the wonderfulness in each other,and both mains are fucking adorable, and made me want to give them both a ton of hugs. Oh, and this book further reinforced my belief that the key to first-person writing is having a good voice.

Another thing is, I basically never see YA books that deal with growing up in a religion and actually-loving it and having it be an inextricable part of your identity… and then having to deal with the darker, prejudiced sides that you really wish would be excised from it altogether especially if they are opposed to who you are. To deal with it sensitively and touchingly, not only in a YA book but in an m/m romance? Well done.

honorable mention!

-The Secret History by Donna Tartt

I was reading this on the bus on the way home to the province for Christmas and I could not stop laughing and I had no idea to explain to my very curious sister that it was because half the protagonists were high as a kite at the funeral of the friend that they all killed and one of them had just very noisily killed a bee in the church vestibule and it made the loudest sound on the planet and they're all gonna have to ~aesthetically grieve and pallbear now even though THEY killed their friend and w o w it's like Nuwanda from Dead Poets Society was cloned five times.

Sometimes "pretentious people murder someone and somehow it is hilarious" is just exactly my cup of tea.

and a couple of series binges!

Almost 10 years ago (god, what the hell), I had a "YA Paranormal Romances I Might Actually Like" list, and the two trilogies below were on it. There's something gratifying about finally crossing off books on your TBR that have been there for ages:

-The Shade Trilogy by Jeri Smith-Ready (Shade, Shift, Shine) This series came out on the tail of the Great YA Paranormal Romance boom and I really wish I'd picked it up then (I also really wish some of the covers it got weren't so damn off-putting. It's like Animorphs all over again) because it's such cut above so many of the books that were being churned out in those days.

The premise is: what if there was a global paranormal event that left the portion of the population born after a certain year with the ability to see ghosts? I really like that the author thought this out thoroughly – it's not just a oooh spooky ghosties gimmick. Everything is affected: the educational system, the police force, politics, technology, travel, you name it.

The heroine was smart and truth-seeking and had nuancedrelationships with lots of female characters (bff, mentor, aunt who raised her, mom who died… ), the Betty love interest was a total sweetheart who also didn't seem too good to be true and who was capable of making major teenage fuck-ups, and the Veronica love interest was a rock-and-roll ghost who had the post-life character arc that I sadly wish Maggie Stiefvater had given Noah Czerny. I kind of loved them all a lot and one of the reasons I wish I'd read these books as they came out was so I could've been un-jaded just a little bit about Those Pesky Love Triangles.

(Someday I…really ought to make an analysis about why I dislike love triangles in general and what exactly was up with the ones that DID work for me.)

-Wolves of Mercy Falls trilogy by Maggie Stiefvater

I read the whole series toward the year's end. It was precisely the cold-weather binge I was craving. I may have my quarrels with some of her writing decision, but really few people can do atmospheric, poetic writing the way Maggie Stiefvater does. The romances were a bit too YA for me in this one, but I ended up really sympathizing with every single POV character anyway. And I mean, cold and poetry and family and books and wolves-as-family*.

(*One day, I'll have the emotional armor to watch Wolf's Rain again. )

[classic-rock-roller]

1.You are at a bar with Kevin, Randy and Bonham. A big guy is walking by your seats and he accidentally bumps you. Kevin gets up and says drunkenly, “Don’t you fucking touch her pal.” and tries to shove the guy. The guy just turns around and hits Kevin square in the jaw, effectively knocking him out. His eyes glaze over and he’s out before he even hits the floor. The guy calmly starts walking away. How do you, Randy, and Bonham respond?

I’m not as drunk so I huff and try to get a passed out Kevin out of there. Bonham tries to help me and Randy just giggles because he’s equally as drunk and thinks this whole thing is hysterical. 

2. You’re outside with Kevin, Randy and Bonham one afternoon in summer. You’re all sort of milling about the yard when Kevin slaps Randy on the arm. “Let’s play punchies.” Bonham says, “I’ll play you Kevin.” and takes a mocking kick at him. He doesn’t even flinch; he just grabs her foot and tugs, effectively knocking her over. “No, you don’t play fair.” How do you and Randy respond?

Me: Jeez, Kevin. Be more careful. You could have hurt her. 

Randy: Bonham, are you ok? 

3. Kevin is on the phone with one of those robocalls. He tells them, “I’m satisfied with my service, and I’m sick and tired of you people always calling during dinner. I demand to speak to your supervisor!” There’s a flurry of conversation on the other end, and Kevin sighs exasperatedly. “This is ridiculous. DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH!” he shouts into the phone. How do you respond?

“It’s a robocall, Kevin. It’s not going to answer you. Just do what I do and hang up.” 

4. Your band is at a party after a show, and you all are completely plastered. Bonham doesn’t normally drink at parties at all, and even she’s completely off her nut. At one point you hear someone whoop, and you turn around to see her up on a table, doing some ‘dancing.’ What do you and your band do?

Me: Aww, sweet. (I’d join her on the table.)

Daryl would be recording it for blackmail purposes. Linus is off doing coke somewhere and Erik would try to get us off the table so we don’t hurt ourselves. 

5. Bonham is over at your house one day and you are watching Scooby Doo with Kevin and Mal. When the characters all see the monster, they shout their given catchphrases (jeepers, jinkies, zoinks), and once they do, Bonham absentmindedly says, “Well fuck.” Mal says, “Auntie Bon said a bad word!” How do you and Kevin respond?

Me: Yes she did and you do not say that bad word ok?

Kevin: I’m with you there Bon’s. They’re fucked. 

Mal: Daddy just said it too!

Me: Kevin, stop saying that around Mal. 

Kevin: But you didn’t yell at Bonham!

6. You’re in a thrift store with Kevin, Randy and Bonham when you come across a section of huge sweatshirts. Bonham says, “Oh man no way!” and puts one on. She squats down and pulls it up over her knees and says, “Let’s all get one and have a midget race!“ Before scooting off. How do the 3 of you respond?

I laugh a little and grab a sweatshirt before following her. 

Kevin: You two are insane. 

Randy: We’ve been dating them for three years. Do we expect any different? 

7. Bonham is jumping on the trampoline with Mal and Eddie one day, and she's trying to teach Eddie to do a handstand. She gets into a handstand, and once she does her elbow buckles, and she slides across the trampoline on her face. Kevin is watching with you, and he calls out "there goes your pretty face! Oh wait, you don’t have one. ” How do you, Bonham and the kids respond?

Me: Bons, are you ok?!

Mal and Eddie are laughing like little kids do at that kind of stuff. 

Bonham: Kevin, you fucker!

Kevin: Don’t swear in front of my kids! But yes, I am one. (and he gives her a shit-eating grin.)

Bonham: Like you don’t already curse in front of them enough. 

8. You join Bonham at her high school reunion, and when you get there no one seems to know who she is. They’re all confused when she says her name is Bonham, and she makes no effort to correct anyone. “This is the funniest shit ever.” She says. How do you respond?

I’d laugh along with her. It is really funny. 

9. Mal can’t get over it when Randy and Bonham sing Heart and Soul. He says, “you need to make that a record so everybody can hear it! Right, mom and dad?” How do you, Kevin, Randy and Bonham respond?

Me: Sure, that’d sound amazing. 

Kevin: I don’t know...

Randy: Why don’t we make one for you so you can listen to it whenever you want?

Bonham: That’s a great idea, Mal. 

10. Bonham takes you and the boys to a restaurant that she loves. She’s been saying forever that their fries are the best. When you get there and she brings some back, she looks at you and says, “fries before guys.” How do you and the boys respond?

Me: Hell yeah (grabs a fry)

Kevin is offended and Randy just really wants fries. 

11. You and Bonham are visiting Kevin and Randy in their hometown and Kevin insists you all go to his favorite Mexican restaurant. Immediately, Bonham scoffs and says, “you can’t get real Mexican food here, you’re too far north.” Kevin is personally offended by this. How do you and the boys respond?

Me: I mean I’ll eat anything so I’m down. Plus I had sucky Mexican by me all my life so I’m immune. 

Kevin: It is authentic Mexican! It’s good!

Bonham: Than your taste buds must suck at detecting good food. 

Randy: I wouldn’t mind trying it. 

-------------------

1) You and Kevin went with your singer to her job because it’s in a mall and you had to do some shopping. You come back when she’s done four hours later. She all but runs out of there, and once in the car, she blasts music and for a solid ten minutes just screams at the top of her lungs. How do you and Kevin respond? 

2) You go to Kevin and your singer’s house with him. When you enter through the garage, you hear Ratt playing rather loudly and a clunk. Soon you get into the living room and she screams, “Watch out below!” Before you see a huge, empty cardboard box fly over the railing and land with a clunk. Kevin looks up at her and goes, “Why the fuck are you throwing cardboard boxes over the railing?” What does she say and how do you and Kevin respond?

3) Your singer comes home one day with a bunch of papers and says, “I’m going to audit a music class.” Kevin gives her a weird look and says, “You’re going to go through their financials? Why? They probably barely have any.” How do you, your singer, and Randy respond? 

4) You and your singer decided to play a drinking game and are now both really wasted. Rudy comes into the kitchen and then backtracks. He looks to your singer and says. “Hey, sweetheart. Wanna go back to my place?” She sits back in her chair and goes, “Yeah baby, I’d like that.” Rudy glares at you and says, “Don’t let her have any more, Bonham.” Kevin came in during this whole thing. How do you and Kevin respond? 

5) You’re off work one day but your singer had to work. So Kevin is watching Mal and Eddie. You get a knock on your door and when you open it, you see a tired looking Kevin with Mal and Eddie running around him crazily. He says, “When Mommy’s around, they’re the cutest little darlings. Now, not so much.” How do you and Randy respond? 

6) You and Kevin pick up your singer from a ten-hour shift at her work. She doesn’t say hello or anything she just grumbles when she gets into the car. Kevin is about to say something to her about being pissy when she sharply turns to him and goes, “You’re testing the beast. Don’t do it. Drive.” How do you and Kevin respond?

7) You’re writing a new song with your band when your singer jumps up enthusiastically and says, “We need a cowbell. Can we use a cowbell?” Daryl stifles a laugh before saying, “I have a fever and the only prescription is more cowbell.” Your singer turns to him, “You really had to quote that?” How do you, Daryl, Linus, and Erik respond?

8) You’re sitting on your singer’s uncle’s deck with Kevin and Randy when you get this rancid smell. Your singer wrinkles her nose and then goes over to the edge of the deck. “Aw fuck. Larry is burning his trash again.” Randy says, “Your parents have some weird neighbors.” How do you, your singer, and Kevin respond?

9) You’re sitting at home with Randy one night and your son, Will has gone out with friends. You get a call and it’s the police chief he says that Will was caught defacing public property and you have to come to get him. What do you and Randy say when you get him and how does he respond?

10) You and your singer are always really careful about raising your children without any more privileges just because you’re famous. You and your singer are walking on the street one day when a passing guy says, “Oh look, the washed-up musicians and they’re spoiled brat kids.” How do you and your singer respond?

11) You’re on tour with your band and your singer hasn’t seen Kevin in a while. One day, he surprises her by coming to one of your shows. He says he’s going to spend the night. Once you get back to the hotel, you and Linus realize you left something in your singer’s room. You have a key so you go in to get it and find her and Kevin...otherwise occupied. How do you and Linus respond and what do her and Kevin say?

12) You, Kevin, and Randy go with your singer to a family reunion. She hasn’t seen her sister in years. The three of you are sitting outside and your singer’s been gone a while. You go inside and the three of you hear the loudest screaming you ever have between your singer and her sister. Soon your singer stops but her sister keeps saying some really nasty things to her. Apparently, your singer was screaming so much her voice gave out. When the three of you go upstairs her sister says, “This doesn’t concern you.” while narrowing her eyes and you singer looks over at you with tears streaking down her face. What do you, Kevin, and Randy say? 

@osbournebemydaddy   your move Bonham, love

[meditatemoremedicateless]

Dear Kate, (There are Pieces of you everywhere there used to be Me)

Fandom: Life is Strange

Pairings: Chasemarsh, Ambermarsh

Major Tags: Angst, possession

Words: ~ 3,200

Summary: Kate Marsh wins the Everyday Heroes Contest. She never entered.

Kate hadn't realized Mr. Jefferson was at the party until she heard the wave of sharp feedback cut through the Blackwell pool, followed by everyone suddenly cheering. But there he was, recoiling from the microphone he had just turned on until it settled down, at which point his laugh could be heard over it.

Max nudged Kate's side as if she wasn't already looking, while Luke just sat forward in his seat to get a better look.

"Okay, everybody calm down."

Of course, they did the opposite as everyone started yelling and whistling, making it almost impossible to hear him, nevermind command their attention.

"Thank you, thank you. I appreciate it. I don't want to get in the way of the party," he made a quick, pointed glance backstage - Kate could only imagine what he might be looking at -, "but it's time to announce the winner of the 'Everyday Heroes' contest."

Everyone started to quiet down a little, and Max started to twitch excitedly. Kate knew entering a photograph had been a big deal for her - she'd ripped up her original entry and only gotten a new one in recently, and she'd loved it.

"Before I do, I want to thank everybody who entered their photograph this year."

As if on cue, girls from around the pool started to whoop and cat call Mr. Jefferson, but he just laughed it off and continued. "Now this is the most important step in being an artist - sharing your work with the world." Max nodded along - she reminded Kate of someone hearing a sermon that went straight to the heart. It was just normal teacher stuff, but, well, Max was cute in that way.

Meanwhile, Luke just rolled his eyes.

"All of you represent Blackwell Academy and everything our school stands for. As far as I'm concerned, you're all Everyday Heroes."

"More like Everyday Monsters," Luke joked quietly.

Max snickered. Kate silently agreed.

Jefferson pivoted, looking back at the DJ. "The envelope - please."

He's so dramatic all the time. Doesn't he get tired of-

"And the winner is . . ." he peeked down at the envelope. Max snorted, but also scooched to the edge of the bench. She was on edge, literally.

"Oh my, what a shocker." He looked up over the crowd and announced, "Kate Marsh!"

"OH MY GOD!!" Max yelled the loudest she'd ever yelled in front of Kate. There was a slight delay, but some cheering and clapping followed suit.

Meanwhile, Kate just sat there with her mouth open. "Wait . . . what . . .?"

Luke shot her a look to let her know he wasn't impressed with her humble performance. "You won, you goon."

That doesn't make any sense.

"But I didn't even enter a ph- fuck."

It's true, she hadn't. But she had gotten a message that read, 'Dear Kate,' that said otherwise.

Now that the cheering was dying down a little, Jefferson spoke again: "Congratulations, Kate! Want to get up here and say something about your photo?"

The noise died down almost immediately to let her speak, and she desperately wished it hadn't. Max was looking at her. Luke was looking at her. Warren and Brooke and Courtney over next to the drinks were all looking at her. She got the sinking suspicion she might pass out - which, given how her life was going, might be the best solution for what was happening.

Kate stood up, and, as loud as she could, replied, "Uh, no thanks!"

Jefferson laughed, but Kate's peers were less amused - with the exception of Luke, who had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing, too.

"Typical Kate humility, everybody. But don't worry, I'm sure she'll have something more to say tomorrow. We'll be showing Kate's photo before she heads off tomorrow at 9:00am in my class, so if you want to stop by and give Kate congratulations - and you should - or look at the prints gallery we'll have set up tomorrow, you'll have to wake up a little early. Now, you kids have fun."

He tapped the button on the mic, handed it off, and left.

I'm going to kill her.

Dear Katie,

Congratulations! You won the Everyday Heroes contest. I looked through your photography folder to try and figure out which one you entered, but I couldn't really tell which one - they're all so good! You're a really talented photographer, I wish you'd told me sooner.

I hope you'll be the one to wake up tomorrow morning so you can accept the award and fly down to SF with Mr. Jefferson. If you are, I think he wants you to say something at the awarding - which is at 9:00am tomorrow in the Photography room.

I don't know if it's you or Max who is friends with Luke, but we hung out a little today at the party. He seems nice but also kind of mean. I think he means well.

In regards to your offer to set up a Her profile for me, please don't. I'm not sure how I feel about dating in high school to be honest, and doing that I think suggests I have clearer ideas about myself than I really do. Plus, what if someone from school is on there and tells someone? I don't think apps like that have chastity vows in mind. I don't need more people thinking I'm weird, so just, please don't. If you make an account for yourself, please try not associate it with me.

I think Stella has been avoiding me. Do you know what's going on? I've barely seen her this year. Alyssa hasn't seen much of her either.

Also, I know you think Max and I should get closer, but I don't think that's a good idea. Max likes to be close to me and I think it's too much for me. Please don't lead her on about me, I don't want to stop being friends with her.

Please be advised: I'm lactose intolerant. I found your bags of Hot Cheetos in my drawer, but being vegan -> lactose intolerance -> please don't eat dairy products. I'm glad you haven't been eating meat, but I think that is probably what's been making us sick.

I've started a period calendar on my phone. My cycle's pretty inconsistent but JUST IN CASE it starts this weekend I'm packing you pads for the trip.

I found that you texted Mom about my doctor - what's wrong? My doctor's Dr. Zimmerman in Tillamook, you can look him up online and set up an appointment if you need to.

If you get to go to SF, tell me everything.

I hope you are well,

Kate

Unfortunately, Katie was not the one who woke up Friday morning at 6:25, she was not the one who had to give a stumbling acceptance speech when her photograph was unwrapped and shown to her, she was not the one who was told that she'd be leaving with Mr. Jefferson for the airport at 10:30. The picture was beautiful, of course - it was the interior of the Two Whales diner, at just an angle so that the entire bar was visible. Most of the people there were truckers and other regulars, but there was also a police officer clearly present, Preston, the former dockworker-turned environmental advocate, and, behind all of them, standing next to the jukebox, there was a tall, lanky girl with blue hair hugging a waitress who still had a tray in her hand. Her mother, Kate guessed. Of course, while that was all pretty clear, the shot was taken to include an out-of-focus poster that took up the middle-right. Kate hadn't noticed it when she'd just been looking at the jpeg, but once she had a chance to look at the print, she realized it was a poster about the use of prison labor to fight forest fires in California. She thought it might have been unintentional, until she realized that the fire referenced in the poster ended in 2011 - she managed to find a copy of the poster online later with minimal effort.

Katie, as it turned out, was a lover of irony.

It wasn't until they were after security at the airport that Kate got a text she hadn't been expecting.

Unknown: Congrats on the win

Before she could ask 'who is this?,' she got a second message.

Unknown: You're a better photographer than I realized. Don't get cocky though, I'll get you next time.

Kate did her best to text while walking, but she was terrible at it, and Jefferson just slowed down with a bemused smile and a glance at his watch.

Kate: Who is this? Sorry, I don't have your number.

Unknown: It's Victoria. We all switched numbers the first day of Photography, remember?

Kate: Oh right. My bad, I hadn't created a contact for you. Kate: But yeah, I was surprised! I'm sure you'll beat me next time too, haha :)

She added the contact info and put her phone away so she could speed up again. She felt her phone buzz again immediately, but ignored it until they were at the terminal.

Victoria: real cute Victoria: Learn to banter, Katie, it'll make this more fun in the future

Kate smiled. Teasing and outright bullying from Victoria had the same tone, the teasing just didn't sting on the level of personal shame and insecurity.

Kate: Oh are we bantering? Here I was thinking I was having a run-in with my first fan.

This time, the '...' stayed around a bit longer, but the wait was nevertheless rewarding.

Victoria: Touché Victoria: Have fun in SF. I hear it's pretty gay there this time of year.

That actually made Kate feel less comfortable, but at least she knew Victoria was, for once, trying to be nice. Maybe one-upping her really was the way to get her to stop being mean. She'd have to start writing witty comebacks with Max sometime soon.

Kate kept her laptop on her lap during the flight so she could check out Katie's photographs some more, studying them in detail. After looking over the big print, she had the feeling that if she could just figure out what gave her pictures their wit, their two-steps-ahead quality, then maybe Kate could approach her own work like that. After all, Katie was using her eyes, her hands, her brain, her camera to make these images, wasn't she? So Kate must be capable of the same.

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think I remember you saying your passion is painting, isn't that right?"

Kate's ears felt warm as she realized what this must look like. She slowly turned towards Mr. Jefferson with a warm, albeit fake smile. "Oh, yeah, of course! I just . . . uh . . . I can't help but second-guess myself. Bad habit."

She closed the laptop as Mr. Jefferson laughed quietly.

"Now, there's no need to be embarrassed," he said, scooting back to sit more upright in his seat. "I just didn't realize what a dedicated photographer you were when you first joined my class. You play an instrument too, don't you?"

Kate nodded. This was getting uncomfortable - not that her skills outside of photographer were less legitimate, really, as not liking the attention.

"Violin and piano," she replied.

"And what do you want to do after this, Blackwell Academy? Going to study art?"

Kate shook her head. "No, actually, I'm applying to be an English major. I'm also interested in journalism but I feel like switching from journalism to English will be harder than English to journalism, so . . ."

He looked amused, but quite pleased. "My, my, you're quite the all-star."

Kate hadn't realized she had shared so little about her academic interests during her time as Mr. Jefferson's assistant. Admittedly, sometimes it wasn't even her working with him, but most of their conversations started with some polite conversation and questions about her friends and life around school, followed by an hour of him prattling on about his work abroad. Not that she minded, really, but her keen interest in the life of a celebrity photographer had waned after about a week of it. There was nothing that made something quite so mundane as constant exposure to it.

"Thanks," she replied, and turned her attention out the window to California.

"You know," he started, shuffling around in his seat again, "You remind me of a former student."

Kate looked back at him now, curious. It's not like he'd been teaching very long - who could he possibly remind her of?

"Rachel was very multifaceted in her talents and interests as well. She was a gifted photographer, of course, but oh, she wouldn't have any of my suggestions to pursue it. She wanted to be a legal scholar, and started modeling in our very own little Arcadia Bay."

Kate nodded, looking back towards the window. "She was probably going to be valedictorian, too. I guess . . . that'll probably be Warren now."

There was a short pause while Kate let herself wonder where Rachel was and what could have happened to her. Then, Mr. Jefferson said, "I take it you knew her?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Up until the end of last year, it was the three of us still in the running - me and her and Warren. But . . . she hasn't come back, and I'm getting a C in physics, so."

No one had ever compared her to Rachel before, and she'd never had a reason to, either. They had been from different worlds that the other could not understand, and Kate, for all of Rachel's charisma, could not hold a conversation with her. Warren was easy to get along with, so long as you could take not understanding the pop culture references shooting out of his mouth every five seconds. Rachel was . . . well, whatever she was, Kate hadn't figured it out, and with her gone, it didn't look like she was about to.

All of a sudden, as Kate caught her reflection in the window, she felt a wave of sadness. Where are you, Rachel? I know someone here misses you.

"I wish . . . Rachel were back," Kate mumbled.

Mr. Jefferson seemed to hear, though. He let out a sigh and reclined his seat as well as he could. "As do we all," he said.

But, for some reason, Kate didn't believe him.

Dear Katie,

I'm sorry you missed the Everyday Heroes awards. This was your big day and I feel like I stole it from you. But, don't worry - I'm recording the information of everyone I met who was interested in your photography so you can give them a call if you want. I really liked your photograph - Evan had a lot of critique of it I didn't really understand but I'm pretty sure he liked it. I missed doing homework Friday, though, so if you wake up this weekend please take a look at the planner so we don't fall any more behind.

Also, I'm sure you've seen the posters, but there's a girl who used to go here named Rachel Amber. It's so weird to try and describe what the school was like with her here because I transferred here, but, to me, Blackwell feels like Blackwell minus Rachel. Back when Rachel was here, Victoria wasn't half so bad to anyone because she was so busy trying to get at Rachel. I didn't even share with any classes with Victoria then and I'd still hear about the stuff she'd pull. But let's just suffice it to say that Rachel was a golden child. You can tell how perfect she was by the number of people who try and talk mean about her with graffiti and stuff - even people who didn't like her seemed obsessed with her.

Anyway, Rachel disappeared at the end of last year. She still had another year to go, (another month, too), but one day she was just gone. Some people told me she used to deal drugs and she might have gotten hurt because of that. She's probably fine - basically everyone thinks she just packed up and left one day - but, I don't know, I just wish I knew what happened to her. I really have missed her the past couple of days, even though we were never friends. If you ever find something out, tell me about it, would you? I wish I knew she was OK.

I saw on Amazon that you were looking at clothes. Do you want to buy some new clothes? I hadn't even thought about the fact that you might not like what I wear. I know it's really hard for us to schedule things but maybe we can work out a way for you to go shopping? I know it's impossible, but I sort of wish we could go together. I think it would be fun to be friends. At least, I like to think that.

Oh, also on Amazon - I know you really want a vibrator but I don't think I can afford it. And if I could, I'm still not sure how comfortable I'd be shipping it here to school. I'm sorry.

I hope you have a good day today;

Kate

P.S. Alice says hello

That night, as many other nights, Kate cried in bed without really knowing why. In her dreams, she saw a lanky girl with blue hair playing around with the jukebox inside the Two Whales diner. When she finally saw Kate, she smiled.

Then, there was nothing, and Kate Marsh was gone.

[multifandom-hoes]

Too Far Gone

Member: G-DRAGON || BIGBANG

Genre: Mafia!AU, Yandere, Smut

Short Summary: Turns out that having a pretty face can bring on way more problems than horny males. For example? Being put into the assassination list of one of the most infamous mafia bosses that is now after your head.

Words: 1.8k A/N: I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO HOMEWORK FOR FUCK’S SAKE...

/ Part 1 // Epilogue /

A heavy bundle of files was dropped onto the top of a bleached blond male’s desk. He cracked one of his eyes open, a lazy, cat-like grin on his handsome face. “SeungRi?” his velvety voice spoke, “What is it this time?”

“The new assassination lists came in today.” The younger male answered timidly, only knew to the corrupt work that their organization did.

“Oh? Is that so?” the bleached man’s lips fell down for a second, settling into a pout to show his dissatisfaction. “Got anything interesting?”

The younger man’s eyes widened for a second. “E-excuse me?”

The man’s eyes closed again, this time in pure bliss and reminiscence. “Ah… I remember when I was new to this work, too. You’re allowed to skim through the lists, SeungRi. You’re going to see them at one point, anyway. Better get familiar with the victims now rather than later. Make out some easy money so that you’ll be the first one to snatch the reward.” The same cat-like grin from earlier graced his luscious lips again.

“I’ll keep it in mind, Sir.” The younger said with a determined voice and from behind him a deep laugh was heard, coming closer to the duo.

“Disgusting. It was a long time since I heard you being called `Sir`.” The deep-voiced male spoke, his dark brown being ruffled to the side as he wore a black suit combined with some black shoes, a jacket over one of his arms.

“You’re back, T.O.P.” the man in the chair snickered. “Stop destroying my fun and just get on with the list. That’s what you came here for, right?”

“As lazy as ever; ain’t you, GD?” the man nicknamed T.O.P mumbled under his breath, taking a total of ten files into his hands and walking towards the couch skimming through them. “Oh! This seems interesting…”

At this GD’s head flew up from the backrest of his chair. “A long time has passed since you were interested in someone.”

“The file’s empty.” T.O.P simply said, gaining SeungRi’s attention and making GD walk closer to where he sat.

“Show me.” He extended his hand, demanding the apparently empty file. And true enough, apart of the picture in the top left corner of the document and the place of the target’s stay, plus some hefty sum of money given away for the assassination, there was nothing else there. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“She’s pretty, though.” SeungRi commented absentmindedly, peering over GD’s shoulder to get a look at the mysterious target.

“She’s mine.” GD proclaimed, taking the file with him and walking towards his desk.

“What’s with the sudden interest? You’ve never taken up any interest in targeting people after you were appointed as the new head of the mafia…” T.O.P breathed out heavily.

“Changed my mind. Besides, she is pretty. Of course, not considering the fact that she may be a possible threat to the organization. People with no background are a danger.” He chuckled, opening the file once again and looking at the round face belonging to a girl no older than twenty-five of age. “SeungRi, I’ll need you to tell DaeSung and TaeYang to come here. I’m going to need someone finding out her regular schedule and set the cameras in her apartment.”

“She spends most of her days inside her house. Only goes out for work and occasional meetings with her friends. And then again, she only hangs out with one person. There are guys, but as far as I’ve seen she only teases them. Nothing serious.” DaeSung read off from his notepad all the information he had gathered.

“While she was out working, I set up the micro-cameras. Doubt she’ll notice, since she’s literally the most common human being ever. I have no idea what she’s done to be put as a target; probably just saw something.” TaeYang added, handing a micro-chip to GD. “This contains all of the twenty-five screens that are currently in the house.”

“Why are you so careful with her, anyway?” T.O.P added from his spot on the couch. “She’s obviously not a threat as you had thought earlier.”

“I’m just curious now. You don’t usually get paid seven million won for a simple assassination. The most you can get is about five hundred thousand.” GD answered with a wave of his hands, dismissing his closest subordinates.

“Curiosity killed the cat, JiYong.” T.O.P added, the last to leave the room. “Don’t go in too deep.”

Sending his boss a last careful glance the deep-voiced male walked out, leaving JiYong to his entertainment.

At first, JiYong was careful with what he watched when the girl was home. He had skipped her showering, her changing clothes or going to the toilet. He did not watch her when she was sleeping. Why? Because as much as his work required of him to do so, he simply felt like a creep.

Then, about a month later, he had begun to switch his screen on whenever she showered, looking at her naked form through the foggy bathroom glass with an eagle eye. Changing from screen to screen as she walked, stark naked, to her room to change into her underwear and then lay on the bed, without even bothering to cover herself with the sheets.

The feeling of depression had begun to set over his head when she left for work in the morning and he instantly brightened up whenever she returned.

He had caught her masturbating one evening. Quite quickly he had felt a stretch in his abdomen, his pants tightening as a tent begun to raise in his lower regions. With itching fingers he unclasped his belt and looped his hand under his underwear, softly palming his dick as she pushed her fingers in and out of herself.

Soft moans left his lips as he observed her arched back and sweat gliding down her body, her fingers curling into the sheets as her orgasm approached. He held his breath as his pace quickened, palm sliding quicker up and down his erect member, the pre-cum making it all the easier to slide skin against skin.

As he saw her body shudder and a loud moan escape past her clenched teeth he himself felt his legs tremble and soon his lower abdomen was covered with white semen, his eyes glued to the screen as he saw her wobbly form waltzing to the bathroom, where she took a shower.

“Fuck.” He muttered through clenched teeth. T.O.P’s words replayed themselves in his head as he was cleaning up the mess that he had made. “You must be fucking kidding me.” He growled and threw his fist on the desk’s top, shaking up all the computer screens through which he observed her.

“Curiosity killed the cat, JiYong. Don’t go in too deep.”

He was already in, far beyond the point of return.

He sat frozen in front of the computer screens, hearing only his own heart beat as he observed the girl, that he came to like without even actually knowing, making out with a man. A man that wasn’t him.

Rage consumed him as his hands shook on the table top. His eyes turned into narrowed slits as he heard her moaning from the man’s tongue working in her pussy. He had to bite his lips to not begin cursing at the man right there and then.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” He muttered with malice, fists now white from the pressure of being clenched. “That fucker won’t live to see tomorrow.”

With one last glance JiYong turned off the screens, in his mind only saving her naked form covered in sweat as he walked out of his office and towards her house.

“Good morning, my dear (Y/N).” he muttered, caressing the girl’s face as she squirmed awake, only a thin nightgown to cover her bare body. “Had a good night’s sleep?” JiYong’s velvety voice continued to speak, even through her confused daze.

“What the fuck?!” she yelled, sitting up and trying to stand up all together only to notice the cuffs that were tied to one of her hand and then the metal post of the bed. “Who the fuck even are you?!” she cursed, scrambling away from the psychotic man.

“Do you not know me, Princess?” he asked, sounding confused, his scrunched brows portraying the same feeling- confusion.

“I’m calling the police.”

“First off, you do not have your phone. Secondly, police fear me, Princess.” He chuckled and sat down on the bed, getting closer and closer to the terrified girl.

“Stay the fuck away!” she screeched, her arms covering themselves in goosebumps from the horror of the situation.

“Is that any way to speak to your beloved?” JiYong asked, his hand flying to his heart to add dramatism to his act.

“You’re a fucking psychopath! This is my first time seeing you! How do you even know me?!” she continued yelling, her voice being blocked out by the choked sobs and salty tears sliding down her face.

A frown on his face, JiYong stood up and pressed the `start` button on the small controller held in his hand, starting up the twenty-five screens that were now all around his room. “Looks familiar?” he asked, his voice full of mockery.

The female stopped breathing for a second, shocked beyond belief. “This is… My home…” she muttered, voice shaking as she took a close look at every screen, tears drying from her face as another level of terror and shock shook her entire being. Her eyes landed on the screen closest to her. “Oh… My God…” she began hyperventilating.

“Ah, yes… I had a feeling you’d want to see this image the most so I placed the screen there.” JiYong let out a thoughtful comment.

“You killed him!” she screeched, the loudest sound to yet leave her mouth. “You fucking murderer!” she cried, and thrashed around, and kicked at him and scrambled away again.

“He was trying to get you away from me.” JiYong simply said, his eyes empty of emotion as he gazed at the mutilated body of what once was her fuck-buddy. “He didn’t deserve you, anyway.”

“Besides, what belongs to me, let no others touch.”

[ecotone99]

[SP] The Carousel Troupe

Under the corrugated iron roof there are twenty men in vests, wearing soot and sweat and suit jackets and glasses. There they build things, tear them down sometimes even, the ground has grates for their spit and piss and, when there is an accident, blood. Together, begrudgingly, they work on a joined project, they have families to feed, a vacation coming up, they need this more than they can express. The project is a carousel. A big one. It has horses, lions leaping to catch the eagles who fly before them, bears bowing down for fish, roaring up at the clouds, a winding Chinese dragon with a seat at each one of the waves in its long python frame. There are gods on chariots, penguins, deer that have fur that changes colours with the season, unicorns with horns of ivory. Ivory is illegal in most parts of the world. Not here.

The workmen sit and spit and drink on the job. Great lengths of fired iron, writhing orange in the centre and white-hot on the outside, sharp with heat, pulled out of metal beasts with metal tools, flying above the floor and curving towards a conveyor belt that they would loop, semi-predictably, onto. Not before, of course, the person working the flaming snake jumps over it. It was a gross, ugly, dangerous, beer-drinking, piss-going, blood-pumping, fire wielding lottery. The winners got the pleasure of living, albeit with a scar, at the very least, to remind them of their time in the warehouse. These conditions were inhumane. Not here.

Up on the steel walkways the foreman would waltz around carefree, the odd spark flew his way, but he was mostly out of the danger. His position as foreman did not, however, grant him privileges to his own bathroom, so his pants would drop like flies, sometimes his fly would drop too, he was a big man. He would aim for the gutters, the grates, ‘guttersnipes’, he called his little game. That is what he would do, scream, “Guttersnipes!” and watch as the workers below scatter as if someone had announced a bombing or the death of a relative and they are compelled to run to the scene (or run away from it) without permission from the foreman. Plenty got hit with the foreman’s piss, plenty more than plenty, he would often only shout once his stream was in the air, and the sooty air meant the workers had a hard time seeing him, and he they. This, in most places, might make the news, maybe even at a reasonable hour depending on the day. Not here.

Then one day they all left, gone, poof. Moving on with their lives, new places, new people, a thousand stories of deaths and the defying of it collecting in a warehouse in the arse-end of nowhere. Leaks sprung in the ceiling, little holes in the paper-thin shield, and it filled up the grates of piss and blood and spit until they overflowed, it smelled for a while before the Winter rain diluted it, dissolved the smells or pulled them further away toward the rivers or sea.

In this time, many-a-teenager climbed in through broken roof or by cutting holes in the weak walls. Here they congregated to smoke and to drink themselves into stupor and silliness, presumably far away from society. A few more came in pairs, dipping behind stacks of wooden boxes and under the metal railings and the foreman’s platform and into debauchery. They would scream and moan and be unsure, the sound would stop at a footstep, sometime people would interrupt, they could hide for hours behind those wooden boxes, nobody ever checked.

It was behind those wooden boxes, stacked high up against a wall, that there appeared a winding trail of blood and the body of a girl, pale and cut up. Dead. She was screaming when she died, a tall man ran off into the darkness streaming red of his own as he did, he collapsed not far away in a field, a stab wound in his side. To this day that don’t know who killed who. One police officer joked to another, as they do joke in these awful situations, “Do we question the carousel?” Ah, but if they had. But if they had.

People came and went, fewer than before, and many were older people checking for younger people or crazy, twitching, poor men and women armed to the teeth with tiredness and sorrow. And those ‘crazy people’ did come, oh how they came! But never maliciously, just with desire for a bed of dirt, perhaps a carousel horse or Chinese dragon to listen to their deepest secrets, their many regrets, how they just wanted, just wanted, just wanted to stop. For that was how they said it, many of them, angrily, in a pique. “To sleep and wake up ten years ago, what a pleasure,” they would say behind their words, with the fear in their eyebrows, a scarcity or abundance of full-stops.

The police would come and ask them to leave, back to the streets, back to the alleyways, back to the wandering about at early morn till dusk, strategising their sleeping place, scurrying like rats through a sitting room, hopeful, terrified. Private property. Unused private property.

One day, a man came in, escorted by people in black shirts and pants, guns at their sides, eagle eyes sweeping over the area. They never spotted the scared old woman behind the boxes, lying on blood of a little girl and her killer.

“She’s beautiful!” said the man, he smiled wide, his teeth and craters where teeth once were on display like piano keys, “They’re beautiful.”

“Really?” said one of the armed escorts, “But it’s all banged up, I mean, look at the fuckin spider!” and laughed. The spider was missing six of its legs and half its eyes.

“This isn’t “banged-up”, this is time-worn. I’ll see that it gets all fixed.” Said the man with the big smile, doting, “Did they say it was a mover?”

The other armed escort piped up, “It’s just a showpiece sir, never made to spin.”

“It’ll spin.” He said, and continued in his beatific trance, “Oh, the canopy! It’s perfect! A Chameleon, elephants! Dolphins! Real ivory! Not illegal here! No, No, No!”

Then sun was bright in the eyes of the carousel animals as they were carried somewhere far away by a new metal beast, one they hadn’t seen before. The top blades spun like the fiery pillars that those men, the workers, would throw about the warehouse, and it flew, flew above fields and water, above houses and cliffs that drove themselves like a wedge deep into the water. Above mountains and little meadows, between caverns and glens, setting down where they would be set down, for they had no control, no freedom. The whole sky and no freedom.

The grass was pushed down as if by a heavy boot when they were brought to land again. It was a great carousel. The water rushed to all sides of the many-ton circle and escaped in one, long, diminishing tidal wave. “Where do you think we are?” said Chameleon

“Somewhere better, I hope. The other place was homey but dreadfully boring.” Said the unicorn, ivory horn casting a sword-blade shadow in the sun.

“Shit to shit, I say. Just being realistic.” Said the bear whose head was bent down to the ground, scanning the metal ground for fish

The animals debated that night, Unicorn and Bear being the two loudest voices. The men in black shirts and pants, no guns now, came to the carousel came after the sun had fell beneath the waves, they brought and screwdriver, a chisel, and a hammer. They moved to Unicorn and did a slow job on his horn, working for one whole torturous hour to rip it out of his head. Illegal here. How he screamed for that hour - and cried after. They couldn’t hear him. It rained that night, they were given no roof or embraces like they might have gotten from the odd person who slept on the dirt or metal, or one of the godly chariots that never had spun around, not even once. It was then that they had agreed, “Shit to shit.”

They were moved to a warehouse at dawn, a large crane-on-wheels rattled and grumbled and smoked a black smoke into the air as it carried them part of the way, calling three more for backup for the rest. The warehouse was clean, there was white clinical walls, yes, but it was warm, there was a roof, there was no blood on the wooden boxes near the corners, there was light from the windows undarkened by dust. There were toilet facilities, no fire-snakes, no foreman screaming “Guttersnipe,” like a mad-king from the speech-giving balcony of his great palace, from which he could watch and see, really see his power, and then, obligation to the body being primary, use his power. There was paperwork done here, signatures, not that the carousel troupe knew what that was. It looked organised, like those teenagers who would roll their sheets up, which were covered in numbers and letters and strange symbols, they called it maths, to smoke them. There was an artistry to it, it felt timeless, every generation had to do it. Or at the very least they should.

The days were long, they talked forever, when they ran out of things to talk about, which had happened a long, long time ago, they played little games. They would play something like chess, same idea anyway, one of the gods had come up with it, or was it the donkey? Spider was the best at it, he never lost. They would call out where they wished to move their pieces on the board, the board was in their heads, and they’d have two adjudicators that would remember the board as well in case either of the players forgot. They often joked that Spider had given up six of her legs and half her eyes for how good she was at the game, and she’d always say that she still had more eyes than anybody else, and still the same number of legs as the gods. As this was going on, the mystery men, the workers new, would tinker away and stare and plan and take their break sitting in the chariots or on the dragon, on the back of a galloping horse, a wolf, a great manticore.

The lights went off, everybody went home to their families and fireplaces and warm beds for the night. The side door of the warehouse opened again; light poured in from the next room over. A man came out, short, thin, with a big piano-key smile. He went over to Horse, whose plastic had been washed of its original chestnut colour and was now a pale as pinewood, his golden reins and wild reddish eyes had never lost their colour though, and so the contrast between he and his clothes grew, and he became more beautiful with time. “We shall run away together, my friend. Escape.” Said the man. Many a murmur of death was past about the carousel that night, Horse heard it all. His soul told him to run, his hooves, welded to the metal floor, his body, pierced with a great metal spear, told him otherwise.

Mr. Aubrey, with his piano-key teeth and midnight visits, was the foreman in this warehouse, factory, building. They couldn’t place what the building really was, not completely, it was too clinical to be a warehouse, not enough heavy machinery to be a factory. The words, as they so often are, were used interchangeably. The late-night visits persisted, the door would crack open, sending a line of yellow light across the clean ground from the room in which Mr. Aubrey liked to stay, and liked to, at night, amble happily out of. He would make his own little changes to Horse, he sparked little fires, shot blue licks of heat into his parts. Horse would scream, blood, if there were any, would curdle, the other plastic-metal animals, poked with spears as he was, would attempt to console him, he would try to listen. He would fail. The man opened up the side hatch of Horse, taking parts out putting new ones in, soldering glowing green and blue orbs that hung from springs and coils and plastic like bells on the leash of a cat. “There, there.” Said Mr. Aubrey, thinking him just plastic and reins, “I do my best not to leave a mark.”

Dragon saw the whole thing, he had two heads, each chasing each other’s tails like a winding ouroboros, yet he was one and could see out of both. “You are Horse no longer, I think.” He said, he had a wise voice, people listened, even if his tenor and his sentence did not match, “We’ll call you Lightning, or Sparks. For all the changes, you understand.”

During the day the workers worked, the foreman watched, at night the foreman snuck around, spoke to Lightning, or Sparks, or Horse, dragged ultraviolet fireworks from his insides, set him alight, and sealed him back up for the workers to come in the next day. This persisted, the need to run persisted, the night time visits, the working men lunching on the chariots and Manticore, on majestic beasts of old and myth, dropping crumbs and water bottles and little leaves of lettuce that flew wildly in the air as if in a hurricane. Until something changed. The other door opened, the one at the front of the warehouse, and in stumbled a man with white hair that sank down below his shoulders. He had on a spiral-patterned beanie that covered his eyebrows and coiled its way around his head. In his left hand there was the top of a bottle jutting out of the top of a brown paper bag. He sang, the words like they were water in his mouth, like waves, ethereal, unintelligible, somehow still soothing.

The new man was someone the carousel troupe had seen a million times before, a man who needed a place to sleep, away from the cold rain which now slapped with the force of hail on the roof. The man put his right hand out and felt the ground, looked absently for cover so that if someone was to enter, he might leave before them seeing, although it would be at least ten hours before a plan like that was possible on account of his loud steps and pronounced wobble. Mr. Aubrey’s door opened a crack, the light shone towards the drunk man’s foot, he didn’t notice, the door was pulled shut. They all silently hoped the police wouldn’t come, wouldn’t force this man out to freeze as they had seen them do before, if they had an inkling of what might happen next they might have prayed for the police, prayed for the man to freeze. Mr. Aubrey shot out of his door like a madman, wielding two large kitchen knives as deftly as any surgeon with scalpels. There was a coldness that ran through the plastic bodies of the troupe under the canopy of the carousel, the same feeling one might get when the see a waterfall at the end of the river they are sailing down. A coldness in the air that Aubrey breathed, a cold off-kilter manner to his half-sprint, half relaxed amble. Mr. Aubrey smiled his piano key smile and cut the man up slowly, letting him scream, but not too loud, letting him bleed, but not too much. He did have to clean it, after all. When the job was done, he put the body somewhere inside the door he always left and came back out to speak to and to change that beast he called Horse. “Mine, you’re my horse. Good horse. Tomorrow, tomorrow.”

Tomorrow came, the men seemed lighter, they had not brought lunchboxes in plastic and paper bags with them. “Ready to be done with this piece of shit?” one of the workers said to another

“Feel bad for those guys on the painting team, that’s gonna be one helluva job. And with Toothy lookin’ over your shoulder.” Said another

“We get to run?” asked Manticore

“Sounds like it.” Said Dragon

“Run where?” asked Chameleon

“Nowhere.” Said Horse, “Fucking nowhere.” He felt sick, his plastic frame and the metal spear growled and shook, he thought it angry with him for hating Mr. Aubrey. He longed for the smell of piss, and blood, and spit, or the fresh open air of the ride on that flying metal beast or the night outdoors in the rain. Anything. Not this factory with no stench, the warmth of new blood on the clinical white. “White, white, white, why is the whole thing white? Where’s the red, from last night, where the yellow and red? Where’s the feeling, the debauchery, the dipping behind the brown boxes, risk, pleasure, death? We’ve been around for too long, my friends. We’ve not changed. Surely, we must have seen small children turn to parents, turn to the police officers, the same ones we would swear at on entry to our domain, time and time again. How long has it been? Too long, I say. They bring us to life now, I say no, I say run, against the metal, against the spears. Fly, Eagle, phoenix, dragon, to the sun and moon our gods, fail and fly and run and die. Manticore, feed, kill, sprint, sweat. Chameleon, disappear, blend, terrify, confuse. My reins are plastic not leather, fake not real, I shall do no such thing as move for these puppet masters.”

The thousand bulbs stuck the canopy lit up, a jaunty circus tune came in and out of earshot menacingly, only one of the rotating speakers on the top was working. The rotation began slowly, the animals and mythical creatures began to dip, rise, dip, rise, dip, rise. Mr. Aubrey jumped on while it was moving, grasped the spear which was stuck through Horse’s chest. He bent his back so that his mouth was beside Horse’s ear, placed his hand on the side of the spear and twisted it. The spear began to dissolve into something other, it was mercurial, it slid down Aubrey’s suit jacket as he rode, it dripped off of Horse’s mane and his plastic skin and down onto the floor of the carousel. Lights flashed on and off, away and back, there was something in them, fire, new flame. The smoke came on first, then the canopy was ablaze, a thousand bulbs exploded, the glass shards spilled out around the troupe.

There was screaming from the other plastic creatures still skewered. Some breathed heavily, although they had no need to breath, other looked about regretting the fact that they had to die in such a place as this, one where you’re more likely to see a dead body that a friend. The sea-creatures screamed the loudest, for they saw it in the most colour, through the most vibrant lens. Where Horse saw an orange flame, the crustaceans and fish and sea-dwelling lizards saw ropes of colours none of the others could comprehend, terrifying colours, colours they had never seen before except at the front of the cigarettes and rolled up sheets those teenagers would roll and smoke. Horse could twist his neck as if it wasn’t plastic, as if had joints, tendons, muscles. Dragon saw Horse looking around, as Dragon sees everything.

His eyes opened as wide as is possible for a plastic dragon, “Go it, Lightning!” he screamed, “Go it, Sparks!”

Aubrey kicked Horse’s sides, his hooves tore away from the metal that was holding him down, bolts and nuts and sense going with him.

How fast he sprinted! How his legs kicked the air to dust behind him! Aubrey hung on barely, the golden reins were studded with rubies, emeralds, sapphires, false all but beautiful the same. Horse was unaware of how he got out of the factory, couldn’t even guess at where he was going, he just knew that his hooves were scraping grass and that he was running faster than any carousel ride would allow. What they had flown over, the cliffs, the glens, the voluptuous fields of golden wheat and grass greener now in the sunset. “Forward!” cried Mr. Aubrey, “Yes!”

Horse did go forward, straight forward to a cliff edge, slowing before he got there, tipping Aubrey over the edge when they arrived.

Horse ran for a bit more, sparks running off his hooves as they scraped away from rocky ground, his mane blowing in the evening wind, running unprotected by bolt or by spear, running with all the risk in the world. Right now, he could die, he could fall and break everything, he could lose himself and topple over cliff edge, die in any number of ways, and it was liberating. Now he need only pick one. His skin was hardening his fur beginning to stick together, to grey. There was a little dirt path nearby, he thought, he shall fly, like Dragon, “Go it, Lightning!” he has said. He ran to cliff above the path, neighed at the strange and tiny birds that littered the grass fields where he trotted. He reared up in the air, forelegs up high above where the cliff stopped, his head held nobly forward like a fighting ox. He froze, plastic, stone, he didn’t care. It wasn’t just his body freezing now but his mind. He smelled the fresh air one last time, the tinge of burn that followed on his run, and he knew his friends were there with him, just as free as him, all on the next leg of their adventure, as he was on his. If a horse could smile, then he was, if not, well, he tried, by God he tried.

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[matsitle]

#ArtLivesHere

It all starts with an inquisitive child, eyes wide open, held tilted forward, right on the edge of the frame. The problem with children – or at least mine own biggest problem with them – is that they always ask the difficult questions. It is no surprise that in some of our cultures children are usually discouraged, sometimes violently, from asking too many questions. It is even worse, I found out on Wednesday evening at the Blend Restaurant and Bar, when the question is a silent one. A stare. That is, when one is tasked with interpreting a child’s silent stare. Which is exactly what Mo Matli’s lens burdened us with at her maiden exhibition “Intrinsic Melanin” for Bloem First Fridays. The photograph of the boy is one of many adorning the Blend’s meshed wall. The boy with the menacing poser is staring down at us as we ask Rashid Vries, the main model of this exhibition, if as a person living with albinism feels black, or black “enough”. What is blackness vele? And what are the degrees to blackness – how much of it is enough? Is it the melanin perhaps? I choose to go with the photographer on this last one; ‘Intrinsic melanin’. Blackness in not just – to correct Biko’s formulation – a question of pigmentation. It is intrinsic in the centuries of dispossession (of land, labour and sense of being) that mark us all. No amount of pigmentation variations – be it natural as in the case of albinism or cosmetic as in bleaching – can alleviate blackness. Try as you might! (And I secretly root for those who try; who wouldn’t wanna escape?). I hear the boy whisper Fanon’s sagacious words to my ears; “I am over-determined from without. I am a slave not of the “idea” that others have of me but of my own appearance.” Kids and their bloody questions! I panic; can we move past the albinism of Rashid? Is he not a beautiful man – of course he is! That is the reason Mo shot him. Did he not just say he’s an engineering student? How did he manage to make the transition to being a model? And would he be doing more of this modelling thing? Can. We. Just. Not. Make. Him. A. Slave. Of. His. Appearance? We all know what that is like – it is our collective pain. We enter and nervousness engulfs the room. We attract security escorts in shops. We don’t get served in restaurants. Then why do we do it to him! But we were enslaved by his appearance – do albinos make albino babies? The boy in the top right corner of the wire mesh quizzically, even whimsically, asks a question that would’ve saved us four centuries of msunery had we knew the power to pose the question when the three ships docked at the cape; ‘aninyi perhaps?’ A question Ayanda Mabulu asks of white patrons of the #Amandla![Re]form,Debate,[Re]dress? exhibition catalogue book launch at the Oliewenhuis Art Museum the very next evening. The exhibition has been running from December last year, and it is one of the few that is decidedly black – in both the artists and the subject matter. Also curated by a black woman – another “milestone” in the museum’s history. Laughable really, the whole thing, were it not so painful. And indeed the artwork was painful. On opening night in December I thanked my imposed masculinity for not breaking down in tears when I confronted Reatile Moalusi’s photograph – titled #FMF III – of protesting students holding a placard with the words “police we are your children”. I was, in the words of Ayanda, paining. And this pain permeated through most of the artwork on display. This was, after all, ‘resistance art’. On the Thursday however, as I walked up to the Museum, I was joyously singing Makeba’s version of ‘Bahlelibonke etironkweni’. I was dancing even. Not one iota of my being told me there was something intrinsically wrong about finding joy in a song – a lamentation really – about black people (someone’s parent, child, lover) languishing in jail for daring to be. Enter Ayanda! I got to the museum and like a dog wishing to mark territory headed straight to the loo. The song still ringing in my head. I went straight for Moalusi’s photograph afterwards – it elicited fokol in me. I moved right along. All the artworks were quite. Boring even. So I gave them all a cursory look just to maintain my lie as a cultured person (we are responsible for the upkeep of our lies). One oil painting did manage to insult me though; Martin Steyn’s ‘Die land is ons land.’ A white man laying languorously on a large expanse of land. But only enough for a ‘Nxa!’ I went and took a seat and waited for the show – for that’s what it was, pre-Ayanda, a show – to get started. Sooner it ends, sooner I can check-in and say something banal like “what a lit time we had at Oliewenhuis” and live another day known as the patron of the arts. But Ayanda wasn’t about that life. When asked to introduce himself, after the flurry of self-congratulatory speeches from those involved for doing something so “radical” and other artists had literally just stood at the podium and said “Hi my name is….” and left, Ayanda recited ithakazelo zakhe. At their tale end he excused the ‘unsophisticated juvenile tongues’ of our paler counterparts and gave them a pass to just call him Ayanda. It got uncomfortable; but the kind of discomfort that makes things ‘lit’, that will have us tweet ‘bars!’, but threatens very little. He too must have noticed he was playing into the masochism (we seem to enjoy performing our pain) of the zeitgeist; a candidate for a meme. He went further. “We are not entertainers…we are not going to dance for you.” Some uncomfortable laughter could be discerned. Loso logolo ditshego akere? But how long will we hide behind laughter? He goes deeper. “You are worthy to be protested.” He tells the 1652s. We are now lodged in Fanon’s black abyss. There is no way we could laugh our way out of this one. Someone attempts to clap him off the podium. “Wait I am not done!” He must have heard IceBound on how applause kills. “This is not art…this is our pain!” He stands in front of Asanda Kupa’s “Situation right now.” A painting that painfully reminds one of the haunting line “the children are flying, bullets are dying” in Makeba’s ‘Soweto Blues’. Indeed this is our pain, it is not something to pretty up some dining room in Woodlands. “Fuck that! And fuck you.” He leaves the mic and walks away. “Thank you,” the curator, Tshegofatso Seoka, walks calmly to the stage, smiling away all that just happened. Time for the formalities is over, we hear, now let’s go mingle. But clearly her smile and infectious charm are not enough, she comes back after leaving the podium to disclaim that “Ayanda’s views” (not our collective pain, our immutable truth; just one man’s views in the melee of our wonderful freedom of competing ‘views’) do not represent the museum nor anyone who cares to distance themselves from such ‘anti-nation building’ sentiments. So much for encouraging debate! On Friday though at Pacofs “Lipstick” was looking to entertain and dance for us. But the perennial party-pooper I am (what with my constant search for meaning), what was meant to excite my baser instincts, led me to some very uncomfortable questions regarding black sensuality and femininity – the later a topic any black man must avoid like a plague in these perilous times. (Hotep policing alert!). It would seem to me, from the show and elsewhere, that black South African sensuality and femininity (I point out femininity specifically as it has been assigned by patriarchal determinism as the bastion of sensuality) is couched in white femininity on one extreme and black American sensuality at the other. It was quite telling that the women on stage all wore blond silky weaves, and displayed the Monroesque damsel in distress and non-patriarchy threatening feme fatale type of femininity. One that is very white in character. In this instance they looked to the music that'd be churned at a Mystic Boer karaoke night. All not local – important point this. When they got sensual, seductive, they looked to the Trace playlist; of course your girl B! led the pack. Again – all American. Femininity – white . Black – hypersexuality. This dichotomy is worth annals of literature. But let us not digress, the question here is where is our organic femininity and sensuality – one rooted in the soil of you will. The music says it all as to how the writer and director imagine femininity and sensuality. It is here that we need the wisdom of king Hlaudi's 90%. Music (and culture in general) influences how people imagine themselves. Music in particular speaks specifically to how we imagine ourselves in the libidinal economy. It is worth noting that when Hlaudi took the logical decision to play 90% local music on public radio, the loudest critics where Metro FM’s Sunday’s ‘love movement’ listeners. They begged profusely that 90% not apply here; as there simply weren’t enough romantic songs locally. Dare not ask what is more romantic than Masekela’s ‘Marketplace’ or Mahlasela’s ‘Kuyobanjani’. It became apparent then that South Africans don’t deem ourselves capable loving – being romantic – on our own terms (not that we do much on our own terms, the colony we are). This is especially surprising from a people that (admittedly mostly when selling ourselves to tourists) describe ourselves as ‘musical’. We can compose a struggle song one time! – as Tatz Nkonzo ably demonstrated – but to express the love in our heart, we need to cross the sea and search for our dictionaries and twangs (the current Lesedi FM TV advert is a welcomed deviation from this abnormality). This is highly disturbing. It also explains why Babes Wodumo blew up so big; despite a largely mediocre album. She represented something that has been absent from South Africa’s popular imagination for a long time; authentic township black female sensuality. Lipstick though stuck to the colonial script; no “I love Hansa and fucking” Brendaesque ‘bad girl’ sensuality, or cheesegirl fragile femininity was invoked. Never mind a new kind of black femininity or sensuality outside the confines (be it submission or rejection) of patriarchy being imagined anew. But because God is a lesbian and o hana ka seatla, there was another happening not too far (listen to me lie!) from Pacofs where we could surely not suffer the dearth of local music. Protential Inc. was hosting ‘Love & Hip Hop’ at Club Zanadu. The people were beautiful; all seemed to be genuinely happy to see us. We were home. We were happy. The line-up was packed, the stage was never lonely – Mafia Code especially owned that space, their energy and fresh sound (christened Koriana-Trap) puts them miles apart of most upcoming and established artists. The bar too. Conversation centred around there – a few pleasantries were exchanged, not enough insults, and mild curves all fought for space on that counter. The pool tables too had plenty of company. It was a Dostoyevsky paradise – everyone had somewhere to turn to. Local music too aplenty – but the incorrigible amongst us insisted that the DJ must play local local music, from Bloemfontein, from the Free State. “Don’t all these rappers dotting the place have EPs? Play those!” But they were sad to learn that rappers were begged to submit music for the playlist but dololo. ‘So what to can must happen?’ the organisers asked. These people and their bloody questions! We thus failed dismally to Hlaudirise that set. CJ though – still very much part of Simple Stories! – heeded Hlaudi’s leadership somewhat on Saturday evening at the Blend. His set, an eclectic mix of original compositions and covers, had a healthy dose of South African covers. One novel thing he did was to cover a living and still active South African artist – Zahara. This was refreshing as our local artists, on the rare occasion that they do cover local songs (ironic this), stick with the dead – the “legends” (another word Rampolokeng warns us about). I guess this gives credence somewhat to Mosoeu’s gripe that all black people are good for is dying. CJ and his girlfriend also set the bar high, and simultaneously cut wings of unsupportive lovers, by Skyping throughout his performance – twas the romantic thing ever! So long as there is an IP address no lovers should be apart on such occasions. He dedicated a song to the three of us sitting in the front row, about women who bluetick us kanti they’re curving the greatest experience they could ever have. He was right, as least in my case (coz vele mna yhu ndiGreat, ndiWow, in this thing of loving), and for that I will give him a pass for (correctly, we must concede) assuming our sexuality and relationship status. We were all shocked when he confessed, on a Beyoncé classic, to having a big dick – aaram skepsel. But artist are known for revealing a bit too much of themselves. We just sang along; sans the confession. He led us through a medley of emotions and genres. We travelled from RSA to UK to USA and back home. All the time, like a good captain, he kept us in the loop. And landed us safely into the comfortable bosom of the night. A lovely cloudy cool night. We were free to do the things that made the pots disappear. When all was said and done, all that could be done the Sunday after the Saturday was braai meat, recount our failures and plan for more so that we can fail better next time, all because #ArtLivesHere.