#They’ve been grinding for years and to be able to stand up on stage at Coachella and says “music is healing”

[anotherdescentintomadness]

The Rose at Coachella

They did so well! 🖤🥀

photo credit: _visualeyez_

#The rose #woosung #dojoon #jaehyeong #hajoon #krock #the rose at coachella #I felt very lucky to be able to livestream their performance #I was so proud of them #They’ve been grinding for years and to be able to stand up on stage at Coachella and says “music is healing” #God… I love that for them #Kim WooSung has my whole heart #And DoJoon has the rest which is also my whole heart #Now for some time off #Can’t wait for the next album but they’ve earned a rest #They always bring me to tears #Thank you The Rose

[punkpresentmic]

Traitor Aizawa AU Pt. 4 — 1, 2, 3

cw for implied sexual content, but nothing that warrants a mature rating

Hizashi digs back into his husband’s case, & it's clear investigators still don’t particularly WANT him to—partially for distrust, partially for the still-secret letters, he's sure. But he does what he can to show them that he wants this mess cleaned up. They reluctantly give him what they have to chew on: not much—a vague lead, an unreliable source. It puts Hizashi no closer to the letters or why they were taken.

The investigators only keep an eye on him until they get bored &/or annoyed, judging him airheaded or harmless. Once he’s away from prying eyes, he sets off on his own; Hizashi is already in deep with less-than-legal activities lately. He sneaks into their evidence archives.

The letters aren’t there.

Hizashi skips out of the police station before he’s discovered sticking his nose where it shouldn’t be. He has to get back to school anyway. After teaching English & having a shitty, lonely lunch, an idea occurs to him. If it was Nezu who suggested the letters be taken… would Nezu have kept the letters?

So Hizashi sets out about a new kind of heist. Nezu is in a meeting & the principal’s office is locked, but Hizashi as a tenured faculty member has access to anywhere in UA. Of course it’ll record that he entered, but that’s not Hizashi’s concern right now. He goes through every file in Nezu’s cabinet. Nothing. His heart sinks. Then he notices Nezu’s desk drawer has a simple lock on it. As a last ditch effort, he picks it with a bobby pin. There’s a bowl of candy inside. It’s the only idea he has left to pick it up & see if there’s anything underneath &.... Sure enough, just like in a bad movie the drawer has a false bottom. Under it, there’s a neat stack of letters bound with a rubber band.

They’ve all been opened.

Hizashi immediately seeks out the one marked with his name, tugs it out, skims it. It’s everything Shouta said it was. It ends with I love you. The script is shaky. Hizashi’s heart is in his throat. Oh, Shou…

Nezu coughs; Hizashi nearly jumps out of his skin. “You know,” Nezu says, “a locked drawer in a secure area might also be reasonably assumed to be alarmed.”

Hizashi meets his eyes, lets the letter fall to the desk. “Care to explain what these are?”

Nezu is impossible to read. “They are exactly what they appear to be: letters left behind by Aizawa Shouta, confiscated at the time of their discovery.”

“He left me a letter,” Hizashi repeats, careful to reign in his voice as he shakes his head. “He left his students letters. We all thought he left without even saying goodbye.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Nezu notes, tone even and gentle. “You are aware he left a clear & concise description of his crimes. I do believe that’s going to be important to remember going forward.”

Hizashi grinds his teeth at that. “Why wasn’t I made aware of this?”

Nezu backs down with a sigh. He climbs into his desk chair, Hizashi moving to stand on the other side of the desk. Nezu gazes sadly down at the pile of letters. “There were two main factors we had to consider. Firstly, at the earliest stages of the investigation, it was unclear if you or any of the students had secret involvement—the letters could have held nefarious communications.” Nezu took a breath. “We no longer believe that after thorough analysis. Though perhaps this should not come as a surprise—if there was anything we knew about our Eraserhead, it was his steadfast aversion to extraneous details or wasting time.”

Hizashi’s heart throbs painfully in his chest.

“As for the second reason: the emotional & psychological impact that these letters could have on our community. Our hero students with their steadfast trust in their instructor were particularly vulnerable. & you, Yamada, are not an exception to a similar emotional vulnerability. In the interest of damage control, in doing my best to hold the UA community together & keep it from further collapse, the letters were confiscated promptly & without notification of their existence.”

Hizashi’s fingernails dig into his palm, fists clenched to stop his hands shaking. “I’m an adult. & a pro. I don’t need the same protection as 15 year-olds. We’re talking about my husband. I think I’m entitled to some transparency.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Nezu placates. “But I wanted you to receive this information once we had a better understanding of the situation. & once you had emotionally stabilized from what I’m sure is an unforgivable betrayal.”

‘Unforgivable.’ That wording was purposeful, Hizashi knew. It almost begged him to dispute it.

Hizashi spread his hands. “So you don’t think I’m emotionally stable? & you let me keep watching over the next generation?” His laugh was intended to be dry at most, but it comes out nearly hysterical.

Nezu sighs again. “Yamada, you were hurting. & you refused the counselling we recommended. You chose to work through your pain. We were not going to deny you that.”

“Principal, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m not really buying that you’d have shown me these letters even if I had gone to counselling.”

Nezu hummed. “What do you know about Eraserhead’s motivations, Yamada?”

He forces a smile through gritted teeth. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, almost sunny. “Beyond the fact that he has them.”

“Indeed. I’d hoped you & this community would have time to heal. & I’d hoped in the meantime the investigation could provide further insight into why this happened. The rhetoric with which these letters were written is not something that can be overlooked.”

“I thought you said there weren’t any secret messages.”

“Codes & clandestine communications, no. Ulterior motives & further lies & attempted manipulation, on the other hand…” Nezu meets his eyes. “There’s a level of cunning with which these crimes were committed right under our noses, a level of plotting that got past even me. You must understand I am only trying to do what I can to protect my students & staff from any further harm or puppeteering at the hands of villains.”

Hizashi has to look away. He monitors his breathing, lets his head hang when it doesn’t come back under his control. Fists and teeth and heart clenched against all of this. Too much. It’s too much.

There’s a paw on his arm, then. “I’m sorry, Yamada. This was not an action intended to be harmful. You’re hurting. Of course you are. But you are also strong & intelligent. Meet with a counsellor. Talk to someone. Kayama is worried for you; that much is clear. There are people who care & want to help you through this. Please, Yamada. Don’t shoulder this alone.”

Hizashi does try seeing the counsellor. He leaves within fifteen minutes.

The next time Shouta arrives, as he said he would, he’s still absolutely ragged. But it doesn’t seem like he’s gotten worse. Aside from the smell. Hizashi has him take a shower. Shouta stepping into the room towel-drying his unruly hair in Hizashi’s fluffy robe is somewhere between endearing & heartbreaking. Hizashi pats the spot on the bed beside him. Shouta sits.

He tries asking again about the why, about the what caused you to do this. Again, Shouta can’t talk about it. Maybe soon, Shouta says noncommittally.

Hizashi relays the story about finding the letters, about reading his, about the confrontation with Nezu. Shouta looks concerned. Hizashi shakes his head, reiterates that he doesn’t quite have it in him to believe that Shouta is a villain here. But he can’t believe this blindly after all that’s happened. He needs information. Because this doesn’t make sense for the man he knows. Shouta nods. “I know.”

“Then why can’t you give me something to work with here?” Hizashi whispers, & they’re close.

“Two reasons,” Shouta breathes between them. “The first being that it would put me in danger of not being able to do what I need to do.” Then he gives Hizashi a small, shitty smile. “& the second is that if I tell you, you might try to come with me.”

Hizashi hums, drinking this in. “If I did, maybe you’d have someone to make sure you had your eye drops.”

It startles a snort out of Shouta, & his husband laughing in his bed is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in months, & Hizashi knows he’s already too far gone, & Hizashi doesn't hesitate when he kisses him this time.

They sink deeply into it immediately. It’s been so long. Too long. Hizashi makes a move to take it further—it’s been too long—& Shouta pulls back to start on the ‘I haven’t proven myself to you, I’ve done nothing to deserve your trust, etc etc’ spiel. Hizashi wants none of it. & frankly he’s a little sick of people making decisions ‘for his own good.’

& he sure as hell isn’t going to let his husband get away without knowing that he’s wanted here, that he’s missed, desired too. Hizashi tells him as much.

Ultimately they fall together easily, if not guiltlessly. There’s a heaviness between them even as they press desperately close, a weight to their actions. It’s a certain relief—this shared knowledge that they’re still them, or at least willing to try. ‘Deserved’ or not, to Hizashi it’s like catching a glimpse of the Sun after days trapped underground—too bright to look at directly, yet simultaneously the most sublime relief.

Hizashi is naked in Shouta’s lap, Shouta’s face buried in his chest. When Hizashi comes down from basking in the afterglow, it’s to realize that Shouta isn’t just trembling under him. Shouta's eyes are too dry these days to make actual tears, but the shuddering & quiet, hiccupping sobs are unmistakable.

Hizashi shushes him gently, kisses his eyes, whispers about not straining them more, about how he’s got him, how he’s here, how he’s not going away, how he loves him. How they’re going to get through this together. Hizashi lays them down, holding him near, stroking his hair. This time, it’s Shouta who falls asleep in his arms.

He’s still gone by morning.

(pt. 5)

#isaythings #traitor aizawa au #traitor!aizawa #fic #erasermic #angst

[teatime-imagines]

Yandere!Raihan or Yandere!Guzma?

Alrighty this was fun, hope you don’t mind but I only did Raihan, this is a SW/SH blog after all :)

Yandere!Raihan

This Raihan is confidant, how could he not be, after all he’s made himself into the top gym leader in his league but...there’s just one little problem. Leon. After ten straight years of losing to him it’s caused some self esteem issues. No matter what he’s dose it’s never enough, tarnishing what he has accomplished because of this in his mind.

Then one day he’s out, talking, hanging with his ‘friend’ when Leon brings up that he wants some advice. He has a crush. They’re just so sweet and cute, they tell such funny stories, and has he mentioned how helpful they are? Just the other day they helped him find his way! And on and on he goes but, oh, what should he do? His flirting hasn’t been working but you’re a lady’s man Raihan, what do you think?

So he smiles, and tells him what he wants to hear and sends him off with that, but on the inside? He’s seething. It doesn’t matter that he has a huge following on his social media,it doesn’t matter that most people would leap at the chance to be with him, it doesn’t matter because it’s not enough. No. What matters is that his rival always wins,that he one ups him, that he’s going to get the girl because of course LEON will. And he begins to plan.

He starts by getting to know you first, not directly of course,no, he can’t have either of you knowing that but indirectly. He makes a fake account to do his research, finding your profile and going through your history, seeing if there’s anything he can use. He knows that he can take some time to be thorough since Leon doesn’t even show up in your feed and he’s smart enough to give Leon slightly ill advice without it being obvious. Raihan knows that this project of his is going to take time but he’s planning to be in it for the long run if he has to. He’s going to steal you from Leon before he even realizes it.

Eventually Raihan will make his move, speaking from the persona he’s crafted he’ll make some comment or other to you and you two end up talking. He’s surprised by how easy and natural it feels, slowly learning more about you and begins to see why his rival has affection for you. Over time it becomes uncommon for him to not hear from you nor for him to send you little comments through out the day. He, or his persona, eventually even begins to confide in you indirectly about some of his insecurities and having you offer your support... he begins to lose sight of why this began.

Time slips by and Raihan can honestly say that he’s enjoyed talking with you, even other people have commented on the changes they’ve seen. But nothing lasts and just talking isn’t enough for him. It begins small, just saving some photos you’d posted to his phone but he feels the need to be closer and begins snapping his own pics of you. You’d made it so easy for him to find you too, your conversations giving him an easy trail to follow.

But satisfaction and complacency aren’t traits he’s known for and Raihan ends up staging a scenario for you to meet him, the real him. It’s like getting to know you all over again and this time having your full attention as well... it feeds something inside him.

When he’s with you he feels that he isn’t the inadequate, that there isn’t any pretense either of you are putting up or one that he has to live up to. After all he knows it for a fact when you told his persona about how you’d met ‘Raihan’ and what you’d though oh him.

Then... Leon has to go and ruin this for him as well. He finds out from you that the Champion has asked you out for a date and you accepted. But why? He could have sworn that you felt something for him, all those conversations, the little innuendos... He’s not going to let Leon win you so easily, you were probably just too polite to say no after all.

So he lets you go, not alone of course as he chaperones from a distance, following discretely at a distance. In a way he’s aware that what he’s doing isn’t normal but Raihan doesn’t focus on that nagging sense. How can he when all he can focus on is how he let this happen, if he had been better then...

He waits to hear from you first, testing to see if you’re already moving on but finds that he was worried for nothing when you message him the next day. You tell him you want to talk and he invites you to his place to do you.

That’s when things go wrong. It starts off normally enough for the two of you, drinks are shared, there’s a few laughs, you fill each other in on the on goings of your life, the usual. Until he leaves you alone to grab more refreshments, alone with his unlocked phone. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue and normally you wouldn’t care but when you decide to send a quick message to his persona...and the notification on his phone shows your name... Who can blame you for being curious?

You don’t know what to feel besides shock at the amount of photos he has of you, you don’t know what to feel when you realize the truth of your friend, but what you feel when you stand to leave and find him behind you? Fear.

Raihan looks nothing like what you’ve grown accustomed to, his eyes look wild and his hands are clenched. “ Y/N... please, I can explain just...”

Raihan is almost incoherent as he tries to admit as much as he can as quickly as possible to keep you from leaving. How he’s grown to care for you, how he needs you in his life, how you smooth and fill a part of him that’s been hurting for so long. There’s a tinge of panic to his voice and he keeps reaching out for you but you keep moving away.

The worst is when you tell him you need time to think, that you need to go home and - You don’t get to finish as he manages to grab onto you, clasping you tightly to his body.

He explains he can’t risk that, not after everything you’ve shared, not when Leon is trying to take you from him and wouldn’t it be better if you just stayed here with him? If you need time, he can give you that, you just need some help to realize that you’re meant to be here with him and he loves take care of you until you do. After all, you’ve helped him so much how could he not return the favor?

You realize as you struggle against him that you’re not going to be able to fight him off, all those years of training dragon types have left him more than capable of overpowering you. Maybe it would just be better to wait him out, see if anyone is able to find you. But those ideas are quickly dashed when he off handedly mentions that he’ll send a message out via your phone to let people know you’re going off to the Wild Area to train. Aren’t you so lucky he’s thought this out to give you two more time to spend together?

NSFW

Now that he has you he fully intendes to show you why he’s better for you over Leon. You can fully expect him to be in contact with you in some form or other. Either running his hand through your hair, having you sit in his lap, or even just skimming his hands along any bare patch of skin.

You should just accept that physical contact is how he express his need for you. The first time he takes you to bed is almost revenant in how he handles your body, hands and lips paying homage to your shape, tracing the lines that make up your form. It’s not until he’s kneeling at your feet, gazing up at you, that you realize that he fully intends to have you.

Raihan would tease you as he worked his way up your legs, leaving a trail of hickeys along your thighs before descending on the apex between your legs. He wouldn’t stop until you’re shaking around him, even if he has to hold down your hips, he’s going to make you cum on his tongue before anything else.

It’s once you’re almost sobbing that he’ll give himself some reprieve, letting himself sink into you raw as he forces you to look at him. This first time he wants your eyes only on him as he slowly grinds into you, taking his time. He’ll hold you by the hair if he has too because he needs you to know and acknowledge that it’s him breaking you apart.

He’ll experiment to find any weak spots that you have so expect him to go from sucking at your chest, raking his nails down your back, to slow and deep kisses. Any little sigh will just rile him up, saying his name though will cause him to lose what control he’s managed.

When he finishes he’ll see it as marking you as his, both physically and metaphorically because there’s two ways he’ll cum. In you or on you because the sight of something so visceral as you painted in his cum...

Fully expect to be taken by him multiple times, his goal is to make you his and even if you think once you admit it that he’ll slow down...reconsider.

#raihan x reader #raihan hc #raihan headcanon #raihan headcannon #yandere #yandere!raihan #yandere raihan #citrus #lemon #lemon raihan #pokemon raihan #pokemon hc #pokemon headcanon #pokemon #headcanon #headcannon #hc #this was a long one #rewrote it twice #lost it once

[thegreatactingblog]

Catherine Deneuve in The Truth.

  Jimmy Stewart once said that he would quit acting when he no longer liked himself on screen. I thought this was a pretty good rule to go by and so I adopted it for myself. I also thought that age would be the deciding factor – it seemed rare to me that any actor did any of their strongest work during their later years. The obvious physical decline, the dimunition of energy, a loss of creative rigor, the loss of that zing, and a changing of priorities seemed inevitable for all actors. That is until I saw Catherine Deneuve’s performance in Hirokazu Kore-eda’s The Truth – it is striking to the extent that it has forced me to re-examine my beliefs on acting and aging.

Deneuve plays Fabienne Dangeville, a Cesar-winning grand dame of the French cinema. The character’s echo of Deneuve’s own life is obvious, but how much of Kore-eda’s script is based on Deneuve is difficult to discern. Although in an interview with Filmmaker Magazine, the director stated the following; ‘When Catherine Deneuve agreed to appear, I conducted a long interview with her about her own career. So her own experiences and emotions are definitely reflected in the final film.’  He adds; ‘Catherine Deneuve was quite clear from the beginning that she was nothing like Fabienne. So she was able to distance herself from the character and sort of chuckle about her.‘

Dangeville is visited at home by her daughter, a New York-based screenwriter – Juliette Binoche – along with her husband, a sort of second-rate American TV actor beautifully played by Ethan Hawke, and their young daughter.  Dangeville has recently published her memoirs which in turn creates family strife because Binoche views them more or less as a work of fiction. Against this backdrop, there is a film-within-a-film; we see Dangeville at work on the set of a sci-fi feature, where she is determined not to be outdone by the young starlet playing the lead. Dangeville is vain, self-centred, competitive, ruthless, unappreciative of the work of her entourage, but she is also charming, witty, mischievous, charismatic and serious about her art.

Catherine Deneuve’s performance as Fabienne Dangeville is one of the strongest in her extraordinary body of work. It would be a classic by any actor, but what makes Deneuve’s performance here so striking is that she delivers it at the age of 75. Most would have retired from acting altogether by this stage of life, but Deneuve is busily doing some of her best work. In Hirokazu Kore-eda’s The Truth, she is vibrant and vivid; her wit and charisma are intact, her playfulness and intent are unabashed, and she still posesses an intense emotional energy, mostly revealed through the eyes. And critically, she maintains her creative appetite even after appearing in well over 100 films stretching back to 1957. Again, most actors seem jaded at this point, but Deneuve’s creativity is as focussed as it ever was.

What’s the secret then? Why is Deneuve so unusual in maintaining the standard of her work well into her 70s? What is it about her that enables her to do that?

Might we look back at her early performances during the 1960s and see in her reserve and her coolness a young soul setting itself up for the long haul?

Deneuve is a minimalist. She has never been an especially physical actor, nor has she relied on emotional force in the way that, say, Claudia Cardinale did. Deneuve’s is the art of witholding. She pares it back, giving importance to the small details of performance, so that when something does happen – a flicker of emotion across the eyes, a gesture with the arm – it is expressive. Her aesthetic is inside-out to that of most other actors. By her own admission she is an instinctive introvert, and it is this introversion, this desire to withold, coupled with the automatic exhibitionism that comes with standing in front of a camera, that produces her fascinating on-screen tension. Deneuve is cool, still, precise, she doesn’t strain when many actors do – she channels rather summons. This minimalist aesthetic is less reliant on energy levels, and more about the actor’s relationship to camera. It is a spiritual, concentrated form of acting and therefore does not require the body to be in the shape of an Olympic athelete. Naturally then, this minimlism would more easily cope with the aging process, take it in it’s stride, may even benefit from it.

Another clue to the longevity of Deneuve’s excellence may rest within the film itself. The Truth features some lovely meta-moments when Deneuve’s Dangeville discusses acting itself. In one such scene she imparts the following to Ethan Hawke…

” Save your energy for your acting … it’s not a job you can do halfway …. the daily grind doesn’t matter … you know what I think? … When actresses start getting involved in charity and politics … they’ve lost, vis a vis the profession. They’ve lost the battle on screen, so they dive into reality. They pretend to fight against reality . Understand? It’s not the contrary. I’ve always won that battle. That’s why I can withstand solitude. ”

Yes, it’s difficult to discern how much of Hirokazu Kore-eda’s script is influenced by Deneuve’s own life and work, but one senses that the bit of philosophy imparted above, would meet with her approval. To live in solitude and fight against reality is to live in one’s imagination. In addition to a minimal aesthetic then, the maintenance of a potent imaginary life is intrinsic to artistic longevity.

The Truth, UK poster

Catherine Deneuve in The Truth

Hirokazu Kore-eda, Catherine Deneuve and Ethan Hawke

  RELATED READING A Lesson From Catherine Deneuve In Belle De Jour – Accentuate Your Individuality Catherine Deneuve In The Hunger – Compassion And Acceptance

RESOURCES Hirokazu Kore-eda – Interview in Filmmaker Magazine

RECENT POSTS IN THE GREAT ACTING BLOG Acting As If… Michel Piccoli – Vision Of An Actor

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Catherine Deneuve In The Truth – Artistic Longevity | The Great Acting Blog Jimmy Stewart once said that he would quit acting when he no longer liked himself on screen.

[artificialqueens]

crawling back to you (Branjie) - ohhthereuare

AN: Inspired by the night they both perform at Micky’s Vanessa gives a guy from the audience a lapdance during the Dreamgirls’ performance and Brooke disappears, and “Do I Wanna Know” by Arctic Monkeys

AO3

It’s funny how many things the reunion has changed. They’ve been dancing around each other for half a year, sometimes taking tentative steps around the edge and sometimes running full speed with their eyes closed only to drag their feet once they have to do the walk of shame to where they came from. Exchanging light jokes that mean nothing except they hold so much truth and real confessions they weight them down like boulders. Everything to avoid putting a label on whatever it is they still have going on. Not enough to stay but too much to let go. But ever since the reunion something has shifted. Maybe it was hearing the words out loud for the first time in a long time, feeling them hang in the air like a thick, dark fog that made Vanessa’s throat close up and Brooke’s eye water. Nothing is ever black or white and it was easier to say they weren’t together any more than to explain that weird emotional in-between state they found themselves in. They were both hurting for different reasons and dealing with it differently. Brooke just added it to the pile of emotional baggage that rested in the corner at the back of her mind.

Brooke’s body was vibrating with adrenaline after the performance and the unbelievable experience of the entire room chanting her name. She felt drunk on it and the two shots of tequila she had had were already making her pleasantly dizzy. She first heard rather than saw Silky and A’keria making their way to the back of the stage to start their number, Vanessa trailing behind them in a similar outfit to theirs, made out of the same fabric but each had their own silhouette that worked best with their bodies. She looked gorgeous with the exposed shoulder, and the strawberry blonde wig worked so nicely with her cinnamon-colored skin. The Dreamgirls took their places. Vanessa, as if she could physically feel someone looking at her, turned and their eyes met. She looked a little nervous, a little out of it, even given the fragile state they’ve been in for a while. Destiny’s Child started blasting through the speakers and Brooke watched as the queens began the performance. Suddenly she understood what she was about to witness. Seeing the three chairs in the middle of the stage made her stomach drop.

She turned on her heel, wanting to get away from that place as soon as possible. She knew she was not being fair, technically she had no right to be jealous. Wasn’t that what she wanted though? To be free to flirt with whoever she wanted. Vanessa had the same right. She could perform lap dances in front of every guy in the club and take home whoever she wanted and it was none of Brooke’s business. The rational side of her brain did nothing to stop the nauseating wave of anxiety sending cold chills down her spine. She called an Uber back to the hotel and waited in front of the club, the music and sounds of people whistling and yelling echoing through the night. She could only imagine what kind of a show was everyone cheering for at the moment and the hands of some faceless guy from the audience touching Vanessa, making use of the opportunity of the performance. She has never wished to have a pack of cigarettes on her more in her life.

The hotel all the queens were staying in was nice, even if it was just for one night. They were all down the hall from each other, the entire floor at their disposal. It was quiet now, with all the queens still at the club. Brooke felt almost mad at herself for not staying, knowing all of them were supposed to come out together at the end but she knew she wouldn’t have been able to look Vanessa in the eye, especially if there had been already another man on her arm. The sound of her heels got muted by the thick carpet and she didn’t even bother taking them off when she made her way to the bag resting under the table. The pack of cigarettes was already empty halfway through, even though she had promised herself to quit. She had bought it the day after the reunion, saying it was only for emergency situations. She lit the end of the cigarette and the tip flared up in the color of sunsets and their Orange Alert looks. She always loved taking the first drag, hearing the quiet sizzle and feeling the bitter taste settling on her tongue. After she was done she started getting out of drag. Her palms smelled like smoke and hotel soap when she was scrubbing her face clean from the makeup and it reminded her of all the nights they got to share in the past when she was doing the same thing, only with Vanessa sitting on the bed, already shirtless and soft between the sheets, complaining about Brooke’s smoking and tasting like ash but kissing her afterwards nevertheless.

When she finally got under the covers she knew she wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon. The clock on the bedside table read 2:36 am already and the silence was deafening, almost louder than Brooke’s own thoughts. She was wondering what Vanessa was doing at the moment and with whom. If she had been scanning the crowd the moment she had arrived at the club to choose who she wanted to pick for the lap dance before the performance even began. If the guy fell for it and was shamelessly flirting with her, buying her drinks and making sweet promises to get her to sleep with him. Or maybe he didn’t even need to, maybe she wanted to take him to the hotel room with her all along. If Brooke would hear them walking down the corridor, Vanessa’s voice nothing but a purr as she let his hands roam over her exposed legs and—

Quiet footsteps echoed down the hall, slow, tentative, barely there but Brooke already knew who they belonged to and that there was only one person walking. She jumped out of the bed before she could stop herself before she realized it was probably a very bad idea and she didn’t know what she even wanted to do. When she opened the door she didn’t expect Vanessa to already be standing there, holding her heels in her hands, the glittery trail of her dress pooling by her bare feet.

“What’re you doing?”

“What are you doing?”

“Going to my room, bitch.”

“And stopping outside of my room?”

“And you just had to open them doors right as I was passing them.”

“I heard someone. Didn’t know it was you.”

“Why d’ya leave so early? Didn’t even wait till the end of the show.”

“I wasn’t feeling great.” The second lie didn’t roll off her tongue as easily as the first one.

“You missed our performance.”

“Yeah sorry. And what a performance it was.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Nothing. I just hope you enjoyed it. I bet the guy you were grinding on did.”

“You didn’t even see shit so how d’ya know?”

“You’re right, I—”

“Is that why you left early? So you didn’t have to watch some other guy get it on with me in front of everybody since you didn’t want to?”

That struck a chord and Vanessa knew it but she seemed to have had it. There was a new fire burning in her eyes, fueled by hurt and betrayal, one she couldn’t contain anymore and Brooke hated that she was the one that put it there but she couldn’t tell her that. Couldn’t use the words that would explain everything she was truly feeling. Brooke felt so frustrated with herself for not being able to work through whatever was stopping her from enjoying this wonderful thing that they had had, for not being able to appreciate what Vanessa wanted to give her, for choosing to try to kill it herself to make it hurt less now instead of having to watch it possibly die in the future. She was also frustrated and mad at Vanessa for making it so hard to move on, for all the times she’d let Brooke kiss her since they called it off, for wanting something Brooke didn’t want to, couldn’t give her.

“Who said I didn’t want to?”

“You did, bitch. You did when you said we had to end this thing. You can’t eat the cookie and have the cookie, B, not this time. Being sneaky was cute when we was on the show but it’s different now and I can’t keep doing it like that, not when I still—”

“Why didn’t you invite the guy over?”

“You know why.”

“You could have. You can do whatever you want and I can’t stop you, you know that. You deserve someone better. You deserve the world. You deserve to move on.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to move on.”

Vanessa dropped her heels to the floor and huffed out in frustration. She looked so small, being a head shorter than Brooke. She took a step closer towards the other queen, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. The dim light from the hallway’s wall sconces caught on the dark sequins of her dress when she shuffled her feet.

“Do you want to move on?”

Brooke took that final step to close the distance between them, placed her hands on Vanessa’s jaw and pulled her in for a kiss. Vanessa tasted like tequila and Brooke still had the ashy aftertaste from the cigarettes on her tongue but neither cared. They stumbled back into Brooke’s room, their lips still on each other, hands already finding their familiar places on the other’s body. The kiss held the answer to the question still hanging in the air but asked way too many in return. They had the entire tour ahead of them to figure them out. For now, though, they had the night and each other. It was a good start.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #angst #fluff #ohhthereuare #submission #tour fic #canon compliant

[thefreshfinds]

BROOKLYN UNITY FEST:

There is strength in numbers and the Brooklyn Unity Fest went ahead to prove that theory in their 8th annual event. If someone were to question "Where Brooklyn at?" the proof would be front and center. Ultimately the Brooklyn Unity Fest gave back to its community in a major way!

Aside from its free giveaway on Summer Jam tickets, bikes and t-shirts — there was also a Fabolous Way 3 Point Contest and Stomp the Violence Dance Contest.

From the basketball courts, vendors, face painting, multiple stages and even a bouncy house — the festival made sure to bask in its pride.

Overall, everyone was very accepting. Once the performers went onstage their was a common ground shared between the younger and older generation.

Not only were their crowds of kids doing the Stanky Leg, but there was all smiles and a fascination towards the new age sound. Many of the artists recieved new fans but their main focus was giving their all in the name of hip-hop. The genre has taken them to new heights and for that matter they encourage others to follow their dreams. In a word, there was no other place that I wanted to be! The Brooklyn Unity Fest had great vibes. No wonder Brooklyn is the Most Thorough Borough! Their community is willing to give a lending hand if needed be.

Although I wasn't able to interview all of the performers, here are some brilliant creatives that I had an opportunity to speak with:

1. MARLEE HENDRIX: Known for being authentically dope, Mr. 70's cared to elaborate not only through his super fly assemble of jet-black boots (with flowers on the heel) fedora and lime green pants — but also through his genre-defying style of soul and hip-hop. At most, Marlee's palette for music brings his sound to life but what drives it even further are the artist that he's moved by. As said by Hendrix, the Temptations (and even Eminem) inspire him because of the different things they bring to the table. "Music is in my bones." Hendrix says.

INSTAGRAM: @marleehendrix

MUSIC LINK: https://m.youtube.com/channel/UCg05CAoXgpKWMbv9bDSRIJQ?itct=CBoQ6p4EIhMI86S32v7g4gIVbYacCh0JNQ0h&csn=dGP_XPKQEoPR8wSt94XwAw&wlfg=true

2. SOULJIASPAIDE and EVELINASOWAVY: Two who share a bloodline, Souljiaspaide and Evelinasowavy do it to perfection. Even when they've been through the wringer, they're above it all and venture into money missions. Starting off her music journey when her mom bought a computer, Souljiaspaide began to record her own songs. Then as time passed, Evelinasowavy came in and did a solid 16 which left Souljiaspaide in awe. "I didn't even know she could rap." Likewise they share a love for hip-hop. For them it's everything and it all comes down to Tupac because he's an artist who educates. With this in mind, they want upcoming artist to stay positive. "Don't get annoyed," Evelinasowavy says. "It can happen. Don't let anything get in your way." Souljiaspaide adds.

INSTAGRAM(S): @souljiaspaidedwa + @evelinasowavy

MUSIC LINK:

A) SOULJIASPAIDE: https://soundcloud.com/souljaspaide

B) EVELINA: https://soundcloud.com/evelinamusic

3. D.CHAMBERZ and D.MCCRO: D.Chamberz and D.MCCRO wear a lot of hats in the music industry. While D.Chamberz brings the ruthless bars, D.MCCRO makes the soundscape so D.Chamberz can freely express himself. On a whole, D.Chamberz gained something from hip-hop and it helped him control his emotions. He puts his pen to the pad and works with a music group whereas D.MCCRO works in the hottest studios in New York. He is an engineer and producer. Motivated by money, both keep a green thumb. They’ve got their Benjamin’s aligned,

INSTAGRAM(S): @dchamberzciw + @iamdmccro_ondatrack

MUSIC LINK:

A) D.CHAMBERZ: https://linktr.ee/dchamberzciw

4. DATWINPRINCE: Swagful with the drip on his neck and wrist — DATWINPRINCE rode his own wave at the festival. As he gave the crowd a boost of energy when he performed "Drip 3X" DATWINPRINCE gleamed from ear-to-ear because it really just comes easy. Off the rip, DATWINPRINCE identifies as a professional Milly Rocker, dedicated singer and rapper. Still, the grind never stops. Every year he pushes even harder because it's all just preparation and practice. Good music goes a long way, "It made me realize I had a way to express the things I felt, but was always scared to say." DATWINPRINCE says. In the same way he is the voice for those who feel the same. The dope vibes never end. *Make sure to check out his latest single, "DRIP3X", it's on all streaming platforms.*

INSTAGRAM: @datwinprince

MUSIC LINK: https://ampl.ink/dbPxp

5. JX and BIG DAWG K: Real recognizes real & when I spoke to them I just knew they were it. Even though the two exinguish the blaze in their 16's alone, they create a mine field when facing their competitors. As an outsider, I could sense the energy they both share and I've got to say it's very inspiring. At just 9 years old JX was writing and so the pen manifested them into rhymes. Even at a young the first song he sung was"Hip-Hop Hurray." But JX hopes that his music inspires and encourages others to be themselves. In the same way Big Dawg K wants his music to say that dreams are achievable. "If you put your mind to it, you can achieve anything." Middle school was where his music journey started and for the MC, when he's onstage it's another day in the office. On the other hand, JX says to himself "let's go kill it". However they both just aim to have fun. Expect a mixtape from JX on DatPiff in July. For now check out Big Dawg K's album, Soul Food (on all streaming platforms) and JX's video "730 Freestyle" on Worldstar.

INSTAGRAM(S):

@therealjx + @bigdawgk_fnf

MUSIC LINKS:

A) JX: https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=kTWP_mVkESg

B) BIG DAWG K: https://snd.click/SSNCTWI

6. ZOE E ROSEGOLD: A 9-to-5 chick with a ride-or-die soul, Zoe stands for all the women in her sound. As she test all of the genre-elements, Zoe makes sure that her music is for self-enjoyment. Before she gets onstage, the star plans to deliver a message. However she really leaves it up to God. Aside from herself, she's really moved by the rap game because it's now given women a turn to dominate! Even though she just started her journey a year ago, music has always had a place in her heart. "I went to school and graduated with my nursing degree but the music just kept caling." she says. while you're on the road listen to her single, "Coke Music". It defines what her sound does to you.

INSTAGRAM: @officialzoeenyc

MUSIC LINK: https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/zoeerosegold/zoe-e-rose-gold-ii

7. FEE DOLLAZ: With swag on a mf'ing 1000, Fee Dollaz rap style goes untouched. She's really her best self on and off the stage so it's safe to say that she's going places. Although she's from D.C, the rap star felt right at home when entering the Greater New York. Hip-hop has always been a passion of hers and when she says she is tired of a 9-to-5, many "100" emojis go up in favor. Likewise, hip-hop for Fee is bouncy, fun and real. Expect a 90's twist in her sound along some personable rhymes. Her message to the upcoming artist is to be you and follow your dreams. Make sure to bump "Set it Off" on the road. But the best is yet to come! Stay tuned for her album "World of My Own."

INSTAGRAM: @feedollaz

MUSIC LINK: http://hyperurl.co/pwtl9q

8. LIVELIKEDAVIS: The epitome of the fire emoji, LIVELIKEDAVIS brings the flame in 2019 and for many years to come. An avid fan of his, it was only right to tell him how amazing "Choppa For Advice" was but what I came to learn is that LIVELIKEDAVIS has been getting spins from the DJ off the rip. LIVELIKEDAVIS has been pursuing music since he was 13 years old but it really got far once he blew up on Vine in 2013. LIVELIKEDAVIS says that hip-hop is for self-expression and allows one to put it all on the table. But what inspires him the most is hip-hop's ability to paint a vivid picture of the artist's backstory. His advice for all upcoming artist is to stay constistent and to never listen to anyone but yourself. Take his word for it. LIVELIKEDAVIS plans on releasing a project soon. My question is: Will the fans get to hear a Lil Tjay feature? Maybe so. Go and stream “BEYBLADE” now. It’s available on all platforms

INSTAGRAM: @livelikedavis

MUSIC LINK: https://ffm.to/qm7v17k

9. SANTOS: Santos has a larger than life personality. Not only does he carry the same influential power that music does, but he also has an business man mentality, because he’s about his business, man. Starting off with his own marketing company, Santos was blessed with the opportunity to showcase his talents to BET. In turn, Santos shined through the lights and now is apart of the show, Hustle in Brooklyn. Besides this Santos also has his own record label. When he scouts out for talent, they must have a vision and ambition. Really it just shows that they’re ten toes down for the long haul. Santos list women and his mother as personal inspirations. On the road Santos likes to shuffle between 50 Cent, Jay-Z, 2Pac and Biggie. His word of advice to any upcoming artist is to spend the same amount of money you would on Jordan’s on an LLC. If you can’t invest in yourself how do you expect for others to?

INSTAGRAM: @tosmoney

#bkuf2019 #brooklynunityfest #freshfinds #music #musicblog #rap #listen #banger #musicians #hip hop #follow #thesource #complex #fader #xxlmagazine #hypebeast #undergroundhiphop #unity #consciousrap #rapperswithmeaning #hiphopblogger #artistreviews #eventreviews #hot97 #djmelo #vina

[serenity-writes]

A Gift of Pleasure (Scandal in the Spotlight) NSFW

Kyohei’s got a very special present for you. You think it’s just an innocent pair of underwear. He’s got a tiny remote that says otherwise. Let the sexiest Revance singer tease and please you.

“Just wear them. Come on…” Kyohei has that gleam in his eyes, the one that promises he’s up to no good. But he’s currently pairing it with his trademark Sir Kyo smile, a deadly combination that he knows you're never able to resist, even after being together for nearly two years. Tease.

You bit down on your bottom lip, considering the lacy fabric he’s currently holding. Kyohei makes it a point to dangle it in front of you, as if trying to seduce you with the underwear. “I got them for you. You might as well use them.”

His insistence is getting a little suspicious. “Why do you want me to wear them so badly?” You ask, but know that he’s too smart to answer. “We have to go, or we’ll be late for the shoot.” Revance is filming a talk show today. Everyone else had already filtered out of the house into the car; you’re the only ones left.

“Let me put it this way, babe. I want to be sitting on the filming couch, thinking about how my woman is wearing something I bought for her. I want to be thinking about how they’re touching your skin with your every move…” He draws closer, moving until his lips are right next to your ear. “Do this for me, please?” His words drip with sex, sounding just like he does when he whispers words of love while you make love. Uh oh. Your cheeks flush with heat as soon as the memories hit your mind. It’s too dangerous to be thinking of things like that; you don’t have the time.

“Fine!” You agree, perhaps a little hastily, only really thinking of getting to the shoot. “I’ll wear them.”

“That’s my girl.” He grins, tossing a hand through his hair. “I’ll go first.” He winks and exits your room.

Two minutes later, you climb into the car, feeling a little frazzled from Kyohei’s earlier seduction. He sits across from you, looking perfectly calm. Evil.

“Finally! Jeez, you’re going to make us late!” Nagito teases, running a hand through his relaxed blonde hair. “Were you up to no good with Kyo?” Now he’s the one that has the perverted look on his face.

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Iori replies. “Somehow, you’re the one on time today, Nagi.”

“It happens sometimes.” Nagito’s cheeky smile hangs on his lips.

Takashi sits beside Nagi, humming a low tune to himself as he drowns out all other noise with his earphones. Kota’s absorbed into his handheld gaming console, no doubt blasting away extra-terrestrial monsters or something of the sort. You make it a point to ignore Kyohei’s gaze as payback for his earlier teasing. Instead, you pull out the schedule for the rest of the week, making sure to memorize what needs to be done. And once you reach the venue, it’s all business between you two – true professionals.

You don’t get a chance to relax from the moment you arrive, but it’s something you’re long used to. The boys have to get into makeup, into costumes, into equipment testing… The work never really ends. Finally, you get to take a breather when the show begins. You take your usual place in the back near the cameras. You take a sip of water from a little plastic cup, watching as the band settles into the huge talk-show couch, facing their host, world-famous Ellie. They’re halfway through the program, and everything’s progressing smoothly.

You can’t help but stare at Kyohei. He looks damn good any day of the week, but there’s something mischievous about his features today that has your eyes glued to him. The rest of the boys might as well not be there in your mind; all you can see is your boyfriend, grinning and joking along. It’s that magnetic attitude that drew you towards him in the first place.

“So, Kota!” Ellie’s moved off Kyohei, focusing on the cat-eyed member beside him. The cameras follow accordingly.

Kyohei’s aware of how the shoots work, having been in the industry for so long. You watch as his hand slips smoothly into his pocket. Hmm, but why? You watch in confusion as he turns his gaze slowly in your direction, and your eyes meet. Then you feel it.

It’s quiet and subtle, but you can feel it. The vibration in your crotch is insistent, though it remains weak. To your surprise, it feels… good. But in such a place? You know very well these feelings are inappropriate for such a venue. Your eyes widen in surprise as you try to convey “what the heck!” to Kyohei with your stare. His response is an infuriating smirk.

“Stop it!” You try to mouth, but his hand never leaves his pocket. You actually feel the vibration move up a notch. “Hey!” But now your mind is wandering. You imagine Kyohei’s hand on the little toy, massaging it on your clit as he plants sweet kisses all over your skin. Ahh, no! You shake your head, trying to get these thoughts out of your mind. You watch Kyohei barely hold back his laughter at the sight.

“Hmph.” You twist your lips into a pout. If he won’t stop it, then you’ll just take the panties off. Going underwearless wasn’t ideal, but it was the better option at the moment. You turn, about to leave, when an assistant rushes up to you, looking frazzled. You recognize her as one of the new hires, one who’s still getting the hang of things.

“Miss!” She begins in a hushed tone, but you can tell she’s panicking. “We just had a cancellation for tomorrow for the music video shoot, and the advertisement group wants to move up the time. What should we do? And the other group…” There’s no way you can leave now. You grit your teeth as you force yourself to listen to her and ignore the drumming vibrations down below.

After what feels like an eternity, the schedule is finally sorted out. You breathe a sigh as you whirl around to send Kyohei one more glare before turning on your heel. You miss seeing that Kyohei’s fingers twitch in his pocket, pushing the up button on his magic remote, but you definitely feel it.

“Eep!” You let out a surprised yelp as the sensation grows trifold. Oh God, it feels way too good. And the knowledge that Kyohei is fingering the remote in his pocket, toying with you, isn’t helping one bit. Heat surges to your face as you squeeze your legs together, completely aware of the dampness between your legs.

“Are you okay?” A nearby staff member peers at you, delaying your escape. “You look kind of flushed.”

“I’m, uh, fine!” You manage to say, along with a weak smile. You can’t exactly tell him you want to wrench Kyohei off the show right now and push your lips to his.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He gestures to the nearby couch.

“Noo, it’s okay, I really—”

“Don’t worry, nothing’s going to go wrong. Just take a break!”

Damn my habit of working too hard, you think to yourself. This stage manager is used to making sure you slow down and take a breather. You’re shepherded into the seat. You cross your legs as soon as you’re down, trying to supress the vibrations that only seem to grow. Help, you think desperately as you glare at his perfectly composed, stupidly gorgeous face.

After what feels like an eternity, the show ends. “Great job, everyone!” The quietness of set bubbles up as staff members begin to pack and debrief.

“Fantastic show. We’d love to have you back on again.” The show host shoots them her most brilliant grin.

“Thank you for having us!” Iori says, his face alight in his prince mode.

“Anything for you,” Nagito chimes in as he puts a familiar hand on the host’s shoulder. His smile grows even wider when he notices her blush.

“Hopefully we’ll have a new song we can debut next time.” Takashi cuts Nagito off before he can do anything more. “We have to go change now.”

Nagito is wrenched away from the crestfallen host. You’re grateful for the distraction as you stand up. The vibration is easier to ignore when you’re in motion. You begin to follow the boys, going over the schedule again. Nagi and Takashi have a variety show to film, Kota has to meet about his upcoming movie, and Iori has an advertisement gig. That leaves… Kyohei with nothing. Just as you lift your head to gaze at him, you find that your eyes meet.

Then Kyohei grabs your arm and has yanked you into a nearby, empty change room. He’s turned the panties off; he intends to be the one to please you now.

You whirl around to face him but find your back pushed against the wall as his lips capture yours. His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he devours you, tongue lapping at yours while his eager fingers lift your skirt. Then his fingers are at your heat, drowning in your arousal as he smirks at the wetness he finds there.

“It’s your fault,” you gasp, but can’t really complain when he circles your clit, using only one expert finger to rub. Pleasure is heady in your system and you can do nothing but cling to him, the manly scent of him your comfort and aphrodisiac.

He nuzzles into your neck, sucking hard on the skin to leave color blooming. “I know.” Normally he would take his time, but he’s been fighting instincts too. Watching your face change with each tick upwards of the remote… Knowing just how much you must have been craving his cock… No man on earth could resist such a thing.

“Kyo—” He cuts you off with another desperate kiss, and you give in. You let him hook your legs around his waist as he rips the panties off you; just as well, for they’ve served their purpose. The back of your head is pressed against the wall as he shoves his cock against your heat, wetting himself between your folds.

“Fuck, I need you,” he breathes out, a second before you feel him push inside. Ohhhh… The frantic moan is from both of your mouths. That familiar stretch is every bit as sinful as the first time. Nothing can compare to his cock, truly. Nothing can be as filling, as satisfying and frustrating. You pull him in, wanting him up against the deepest part of you, so you can give him everything. Deliberately, he grinds himself over your clit, wanting to hear you sing with desire.

“I need you too,” you gasp, giving him what he so desires as he fucks you against the wall, powerful arms supporting your legs. You choke down the moans that bubble up, for fear of being heard. Instead, you breathe them out beside his ear as he shudders in response.

“You have no idea—I wanted to just fuck you right there in the studio.” Each stroke of his cock leaves you aching for more. You’re careful not to leave marks on his body, but you want to dig your nails into him to hold him closer. He’s merciless, yet still somehow gentle as he slams himself into you, hilted to his very base. “You’re so damn sexy.” His guttural growl has you losing your mind, exploding into the climax he sends you into with that quick pace he knows is your weakness.

Damn, you love this man. You respond in kind, the rapid tightening of your sex dragging into him over his own peak, crashing down in the carnal of ways as he gives his last desperate thrusts, spilling every ounce of his fever into you. All you can do is cling, lost to the moment as he lavishes kisses upon your skin.

When sanity returns to you, it occurs that you may have been a tad too loud. But seeing the fat smirk that sits upon his face, maybe you don’t mind that. “Don’t ever do that again,” you say as you poke his nose.

“Didn’t you enjoy it, babe?” He hugs you close, burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

“That’s not the point.”

“Fine.” He acquiesces, lifting up to carry you to the counter, where he begins to tug at the straps of your dress. “No panties.” He nibbles a trail down your chest, his tongue circling a taut nipple as his hands trail down to your heat. “I’ll just use my fingers instead.”

This was sitting in my WIPs for a long time and I never even noticed oops. I’ve always liked the concept of vibrating panties haha... This scenario just struck me. I hope you enjoyed~

Masterlist ♡

#scandal in the spotlight #kyohei rikudoh #voltage inc #revance #fanfiction #sits

[sidpah]

Glory! 2

Ending up here again I wonder, why is there never any light? By light I don’t just mean brightness, I mean color, levity, Sun… Where are you, you beautiful hot-blooded creature? Why do you run from me? I won’t turn my back again, I promise… Tenderly eased into a state of approximated pleasure,I’m nearly carried away somewhere fantastic when that one-legged preacher starts his maniac call sending shivers through my blood-packed eardrum… “Oh, but don’t you see how they’re wasted! And they’ve tasted the sweet vagrant sin… The fragrance of entropy bleeds from their skin as it touches other warm bacteria-riddled skin! And how my bile riiiises soon as they set about it… Never forget: the most pious man’s the one who claims to have forgotten all about it... Animals needn’t be animals! Beasts, cast your burden off! And kneel down before you eat, before you sleep, before you leave this temple you walk in, the hair and the skin are all nails in your coffin, tell me, must we return there again and again to remind yourself how dreadful the whole cursed cycle truly is?”

Feeling cued, I stand, not sure whether I can walk, but goddamn it, it’s gotta be an easier death on those sand dunes the next block over… I’ll fall on the trunk of a cab, hook my fingers into its wheel wells and hang on to get gone… But as I stand and my head dips down, long gobs of half-clotted blood oozing from perforated skull, I get the woozies and trip those three deadly feet from curb to the middle of the street and I hear a screeching of tires on pavement and curl to protect my already shotgunned head and I’m gone to that sandy shore, that mythopoeic desert surrounded by a million others who tried to fail so completely that they were honored as true pioneers… Bloody swamps made by dead fellahin in deserts collecting their prizes for dying in the heat of gunpowder and fury. The hour struck zero and they all braced themselves for the bitter memorial homage to their Great Omnipotent Delusion…

Curtain rises, protagonist slips on stage, no merchant peddler wiser than tourist mark – snapshot lens glare a wide dusty American grin – Even he isn’t sure if he’s acting or being acted – Green fatigues eye each hunched extra with gated suspicion – A finger twitches, nearly setting off a thick wave of gunfire – Everyone breathes a heavy sigh – muscles relax – A vengeful hallelujah, a bright flare, a second burning Sun, an eruption of visceral smoke and red dust of the lurid town snows all around…

Or it’s red ambulance lights, a curse driven into my ribs. Jerry’s still yelling… But it’s not his voice anymore. It’s Kalday Suglaj, that god-healer in rags… It’s the cloying rhythmic cadence of the street-evangelist, but it’s a ragged pagan voice drilling them directly into that eighth hole in my head…

“Two-thousand years come and gone, and just how many more before the dawn’s shot down from its seat in the sky and laid sacrificially upon the ground feeding buzzards all tradition-bound?… Tradition bound us to the fabled lives of men who’ll never again walk the earth, as if they ever truly did, and weren’t just legends, deified by mouths hungry for heroes – A plague, a god, a fraud, just who are we kidding? Leave it up to the merry men, those denizens of disgrace! Every one of them’ll sell you a book for your soul, all the while impaling you on their devoutly righteous pole. They all take to survive, but greed makes survival so much more palatable. So every time, mark my words, my friends, ev-e-ry time, they’ll steal more flesh than the pound they tell both you and themselves they need as they take a dull butter knife to your love-handles!

Let me tell you ‘bout a man… a man I met recently who lived through the horrors. He is a hero, and yet no one would listen to a word that came out his mouth… I listened, I listened and I’m here to tell you all of his harrowing account… Lie yourself down on a street at night...”

I’m there, waiting as the red lights close in, the siren deafening… I push my good ear to the pavement to drown out the noise…

“Somewhere in the uncharted boondocks lit up by the full Moon and pickup headlights… Around him the gravel shatters and then shatters and then shatters into pieces of pieces of pieces while dark blood splatters steel-toes and asphalt meteors gouge his cheeks, scratch his eyeballs. Heavy links of chain yank tight round his neck bruised purple black, grated and fired by stone rockets and torn apart on streets on the outskirts of right fuckin’ here.”

I hear the loud squeals as ambulance doors open and a collapsible stretcher unfolds its wheels with a clang... There are hands on my body turning me right side up, but I refuse to respond.

“His wrists, impotent, roped together grinding spine since he was kidnapped and shackled like four hundred years refused to pass after one night stepping out of a bar with no words to drunken strangers who were looking for a scapegoat on which to vent their ancestor’s frustration…”

“Pack his head…”

“Support his neck… don’t lift him yet…”

I feel the rough hemp digging into bony wrists… I’m rolled onto the low stretcher, lifted, strapped, thick velcro gripping my arms and chest, legs and ankles, and I’m yelling at them, “Just get me to the next street! Get me to the dunes, man! Get me to the dunes!” But they don’t seem like they can hear me.

They keep shining a light into my eyes and that’s okay, I’m feeling warmer already…

Face of a young Tibetan boy looks down on me. He’s scratching “Liberate Tibet” on a mud wall… Before he can finish, he’s swarmed by drab military uniforms dragging him to a brutal tortured death… This is the land that Mercy forgot…

I feel the burn of my face peeling off grinding against the raging asphalt…

He dies nameless and noble…

Who am I to receive their misguided anger? Am I representative for any in-group? I’ve always been the meekest of outsiders…

Ghosts are gathering in the streets… pale generations clinging to each other’s waists… They all know what’s coming, but no one dares say it aloud… As the truck doors slam shut and Chinese guns flood the thin markets and alleyways… Cell doors shriek embracing robed prisoners, raped and cut…

Sirens wail from the scene but words, manic words, Jerry’s words, still bounce inside the confined little cell, wires and tubes across my face…

“…Reverently they severed that black devil man with the cane in his grip from the white woman at his hip – They did this to him so they did this to me! Tell me it didn’t happen! You know it did! Those dreary soldiers rushing, marching, folding their hands at their hearts… set on getting back the nothing they once were so quick to dismiss! Well they can dismiss us and while they’re at it, they can kiss us a fine ‘fuck you too’ as we pray to be freed from their blessed tyranny – The prince in his finery was shameless. Now we are stones laid before his merciless feet. We threw mud into their faces, on their uniforms, across their eyes and hair, but ended up wearing their mark on our bare chests... You know, I will change what I hate but it will not change me… And I may hate what I change but it will never change me… I will say it a-gain. Say it with me! I will change what I hate but it will not change me… And though I will hate what I change, it will never change me…”

 If I could talk, I’d love to tell him how wrong he is… that we must grow and be flexible, that hate versus hate never succeeds… I can’t even pretend he’d be able to listen… Words never matter to someone who’s caught in his own perpetual rut, so full of righteous fury he thinks he can alter a course of events he himself helped to instigate… Prejudicial anger has an inertia that’ll steamroll even the most skillful and best-intentioned humanitarians. And what use are these thoughts speeding at seventy miles an hour away from the very man I wanted to meet? And what would he know with the likes of a case, and like that, I remember the scaly tote… I yell at the medics, “Give it to me! It can’t fall in the wrong hands. Are my hands the wrong hands? Whose hands are yours?  Bring me back! I must speak with him!”

But they make like they don’t understand. Those sly bastards. They know the sides we’re on. I will get away, though, I will get away… I vow without a breath. And the strange thing is, in this careening ambulance taking me not to a hospital but to an underground blacksite prison, for a moment I really believe it’s possible…

#fiction #revolution #anarchy #Tibet #oppression #atheism

[inseomermaid-blog]

An Inner Circle First-Timer’s Concert Experience In Seoul [#WINNEREverywhereTourinSeoul]

So. If you tell me freakin’ one year ago if I’d be flying to Seoul for a Kpop concert, I’d smack you for slander.

Buuuuut here we are, a week after WINNER’s Everywhere Tour in Seoul :))))) I’ve just begun to recover. Literally, it took me a week to get through the stages of mourning and to accept that it’s over HAHAHUHU

Anyway, here’s my (and Liz’s) experience in attending a concert in Seoul!

---

Why we wanted to see them in Seoul (when it was sure they were gonna go to MANILA anyway):

1. It’s Liz’s annual bday trip gipp!! Or idk, this is part of the rationalization we thought of AHAHA. Initially, we were set for Singapore as it would be way cheaper for sure, but another reason came up....

2. We wanted to see them in their most “comfortable” version - Not sure if comfortable is the word, but I guess we wanted to see them how they were in their home country?? Speaking comfortably in Korean and all? We were anticipating that for other countries it would probably be just Yoon speaking most of the time (not that it’s a problem with us HAHA), and we wanted to see all them four being their natural makulit presence on stage (without them thinking about the language hinderance--even if kami yung hindi makaintindi sa kanila :)))) I know it’s a weird reasoning but :)))) And it’s been a long time since they’ve done a full concert in Seoul! We just wanted to be there in the kickoff concert. I mean, if we were willing to fly out to see them, o di todo na namin diba? Seoul it is!

--

How we got the tickets:

Here’s the thing: this is not our first rodeo. We’ve already successfully watched Coldplay in Singapore last year after (WHAT I THOUGHT WAS ALREADY) a bloody online ticketing war. Coldplay tickets were wiped out in 20 minutes, I think? But I was able to secure 7 tickets (3 VIP standing, 4 upper box tickets) after much death and resurrection.

We thought we were prepared for a WINNER ticketing war lol. We were not. Everything (or at least the seats we targeted) was more or less gone in less than 4 minutes.

There were two waves, one week apart. Both of them were intense :)))) I guess our third-world country internet cannot compete with their 5G data network?!

A HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to Cams and Dianne for basically hand-holding me throughout the entire process of securing tickets from Seoul!! T_T Without them, we probably wouldn’t have gotten tickets. All transactions were smooth and hassle-free. There were a lot of K-ICs who also wanted G-ICs to attend the Seoul concert and thus were purchasing tickets so scalpers can’t get to them first. They also helped me with tips and advice on where to stay, where to go, etc etc as it was our first time in Korea. Sobrang bait and helpful nila as in! T_T

---

Of course that was only half of the problem:

In less than a month, we had to book flights (ANG MAHAL NA NITO SIYEMPRE), book hotel (Thank you Agoda for your occasional flash sales) and of course, VISA. We highly recommend TravelPros for your Korean visa processing needs! We spent around 700 pesos for this, and we got the visa in exactly 6 days. Super fast. Pero may drama pa kami dun sa visa requirements LORD HAHA pero hindi ko na kwento haba na nito. BASTA when we got the visa I wanted to throw a fiesta, ganung level =))

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CONCERT D-Day~~~

We wanted to get in early-ish because we were anticipating the DVD / merch line.

The train was a bit confusing for this stop!! We knew we were not the only ones because some of the Koreans were also confused where to get off haha

This ad greeted us before the exit!

Entering the Olympic Park Stadium~

Sure enough the line was at least 500m already when we arrived at around 10:45.

AAAAAND YES I lined up for 2 hours for the DVD 0_0 Under the heat of Korean summer 0_0 

Questions in my mind while in queue:

1. why does everyone look so fresh except me

2. how to spot foreigners: they use umbrellas for the heat

3. Don’t be weak

4. why am I doing this again

Anyway, tada~

Let’s just ignore the part where if we waited until 3pm, or at least when the line tapered off, I could have gotten it without the sunburn on my batok but where’s the fun in that no?

Liz and teh boyfriend lined up for merch (mercifully it was shorter) and they were able to buy 2 lightsticks (OUR FIRST ONES YAY! Hirap daw lagyan ng battery lol) and shirts (X and XL lang ang available sizes but it still works out!?? What is this Korean sizing sorcery?!)

---

All the cafe / restos were full (Mamamoo was also having a concert that day!) so we had to settle for convenience store food :))) It wasn’t bad!

Met Cams and lots of other PH-ICs who travelled from MNL! You can check out #ICsPHGoesToSeoul to see what everyone was up to while in Seoul.

We got a lot of fans (as in pamaypay) from different fansites (and thus we didn’t have to line up, yay!) and actually saw the faces behind big accounts* HAHA it was surreal.

Actually, the whole thing was pretty surreal (YA THINK) in a good way. Since it’s our first time to attend a KPop concert, we didn’t know a lot of things. One of those was... lining up for freebies given by fansites. 

Girl, INTENSE. As in,  pila kung pila ang mga bagets and not-so bagets. Paano naman kasi ang cute ng freebies! Fans, stickers, photocards, etc. Looking back feeling ko dapat pumila/bumili kami BUT holehhhshit it was really so hot, and after lining up for 2 hours we wanted to just save our energy. 

Super tita namin right?! 

Also most of the masternims who were offering their freebies were all speaking in Korean (malamang) so we didn’t know if it was free or for sale... AH BASTA MAGULO isip namin hahaha yeaaaah looking back we should have at least tried BUT yun nga, it was really too damn hot to walk around talaga. Maybe next time!! (next time talaga?!)

Kill time! We just randomly sat anywhere we could #ifItfitswesits 

At some points, we could hear the sound check so medyo spoilery siya (we heard Jinwoo’s solo performance HAHA) at the same time we were like OMG 0_0

---

FINALLY TIME TO ENTER! 

Our seats were 2F (as in second floor). We were initially planning to aim for 1F but giiiiiirl waley. 2F wasn’t that bad! Ang nasa isip ko MOA Arena levels where it’s too high up. This was okay (as if may choice kami HAHA). 1F would be the best seats talaga. Standing is a gamble because there’s a chance you won’t be able to see anything BUT the interactions that WINNER made with the standing group was really worth it :))))) WATCH THE FANCAMS IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I MEAN

I tried to use MIXLR for the first time pala, since I wanted to kinda pay it forward. The first time I “experienced” a WINNER concert was through Cami’s Fukuoka?? mixlr concert and back then I thought, it’s amazing that someone would really try to share this experience with us that can’t make it to the concert. 

(Now that I’m replaying my mixlr, I AM SORRY FOR THE THOUSAND OMGs I SAID =)))) I swear I’m more coherent than that--except when you know, Mino was body rolling live, Hoony was lifting his shirt to reveal his perfect 6-pack abs, Jinwoo with his ethereal voice and stage presence, and Yoon’s powerful vocals and performance. Wala na talaga ako masabi kung hindi OH MY GOD =)))) So I’m not sure if I’ll ever mixlr again hahaha kasi marami naman who does it and is more pro about it??? let’s see :)))

Here are some notable thoughts I remember from the concert (sorry more Tagalog here because all the feels)

1. ANG GWAPO NILANG LAHAT. I mean, fo sure I didn’t stan them for visuals (promise talaga! It was really about the music. Sawain ako sa visuals actually) BUT hooooshit. They are different irl. I’ve seen them before in NAIA airport for like.... 10 seconds and like I knew they were really good-looking. BUT ON STAGE. IN FULL PERFORMANCE GLORY. THEIR VISUALS ARE INSANE. 

2. SOLO STAGES. WHERE TO BEGIN. I didn’t know I’d see Mino perform Body live ever (I thought he had retired the song and I’ve accepted it) BUT GOOD LORD. The “mashup” for Body and TOTL was just made to be together. The stage and performance was oozing with sexiness and charisma and my mind was just a puddle at this point. Mino doesn’t do full-on sexy very often (am I right? It’s like between deliberate sexy and swag, he’d go for more swag) so when he did this... live... the body rolling... the kinda grinding.... we died. 

3. JINWOO. Jusko. Where to start with Jinwoo. I’m rewatching our fancam of his Untitled 2014 performance and it’s the only one who made me feel goosebumps. Especially the part where he went up the stairs and the spotlight was on him, and he was singing so passionately and the audience was just in complete awe. IT WAS A MAGICAL MOMENT I CAN’T EXPLAIN. It’s like as he walked up the stairs and sang, it was like he was taking his rightful place as a superstar. Jinwoo is not even my bias but I super kaduper want him to succeed and become more confident with this abilities (I am speaking from someone who watched Who is Next haha). After his solo stage, my immediate first thought was: JINWOO IS READY TO HAVE A SOLO ALBUM.

4. YOON’S SOLO STAGE. Lol I cried. Ever since I’ve heard It Rains (his solo song), I’ve wanted to hear it live, but I didn’t expect that he’d sing it ever again--maybe he’d sing Wild and Young but not It Rains. The arrangement was “simple” but the experience was HOLY. As in, it was like angels were singing. His clear and strong voice filled the whole arena. The adlibs he did were insane. Literally it was like going to church. The lights and the background visuals were stunning. Sobrang full on drama / rocker Yoon mode! It is something to behold live. Also... INSTINCTIVELY. I also never thought I’d see Yoon perform with a guitar ever again. (Ang drama?? never talaga?? hahaha but I never know with Yoon kasi! He’s so experimental with genres that when he’s already done something already, it might take a long time for him to comeback [in this case, to his rocker roots]). When he took off his blazer... BAKLA SIGAW TALAGA AKOOOOooooo =)))) Looking at him perform like this, I can’t believe he didn’t go solo. I know he’s happier with a group (and I am thankful) but his presence as a solo artist is still very much there. I hope Yoon can release his solo album soon because Liz and I will definitely fly again to Korea when that happens!!! :)

>>>[OPEN FOR A SURPRISE]<<<

Grabe thissss pic.twitter.com/AvxeuT4Xoh

5. HOON. How so even begin writing about Deputy Lee’s stage. He performed Ringa Linga (modified with Hoon’s rap which was a cool touch I think) and Serenade (EVERYONE’S WAITING FOR THIS). I don’t know where haters get the idea that Hoon can’t dance. Like... are you guys BLIND?!?!? He’s one of the most naturally gifted dancers I’ve ever seen--because he dances to feeling**, not with just choreo. Ringa Linga was a perfect choice for him because he was able to showcase his vocals, dancing prowess and abs all at the same time. The dance breaks were insane. AND MY GOD, Hoon’s body is perfection. His arms, torso, legs... ART. 

6. The costumes, lights (LIGHTS), pyrotechnics, over-all stage design was just A++++. I don’t know why I thought it was going to be a much simpler stage but they really went all-in with everything.

7. The nebula ocean was beautiful. I keep saying in the mixlr... “I’ve never seen so many Inner Circles in my entire life” because it’s true! For some reason there is a notion that we are a small fandom and maybe that’s true compared to others... but we are not less powerful. At least 99% of seats were taken, the standing was packed. Everyone was doing the fanchants. Almost everyone had the lightstick. It was humbling and inspiring to see all the fans who love WINNER come together in one venue, screaming their voices out and singing to the songs (while still being respectful and attentive to each stage performance).

4winner 4ever 💙💙💙💙#WINNEREverywhereTourInSeoul pic.twitter.com/dKXYst03v4

8. The boys really love each other. As in, you can feel their chemistry and their teamwork onstage. Of course, I don’t understand the ments while it was going on (by now I’ve seen the translated fancams of course) but I can definitely tell from their body language and the way they regard each other that they are brothers. And they were just so happy! Running to and from the stage, taking fan’s phones, they were on FULL-ON fanservice. I could feel the love from where I was sitting.

9. I want to pick my favorite stages but I don’t know how. It was surreal to shout “Neol johahae!” for REALLY REALLY and answer Hoon’s pizza pasta so so with “YUM YUM!” =))))) Sobrang surreal na nangyayari siya sa harapan ko at hindi sa Youtube (with subtitles). Love Me Love Me stage was super cute, Moviestar was tear-inducing. Speaking of Movie Star, the fan event was so funny! They were really surprised because it happened right smack in the middle (usually it happens at the end, but they were expecting it kasi). All four of them were very confused and I feel like they really didn’t see the video as much because they were busy being... confused with what was happening. But when they understood they look like they were touched and slightly cross that we were able to fool them HAHA.

Also:

MINYOON MINYOON MINYOON

10. There were many cute moments of ICs that I witnessed. Like, before the concert started, they were playing WINNER songs on the screen. Then suddenly, Body was played. Inner Circles all screamed =))) BASTA SOBRANG FUNNY. During Mino’s kissing scene, half of ICs were turned on, half were saying “Nooooo” =))) Then during encore, we were supposed to sing We Were (as in the whole song). When it was already the second stanza, the singing became softer and softer, because it was apparent that ICs haven’t memorized the lyrics. Everyone laughed hard. IT WAS SOOOOOO CUTE T_T

BONUS:

After the concert, we kinda rushed to the back exit to wait for WINNER. Lol it took more than an hour for them to come out (of course lots of picture-taking, maybe even speeches for the team, etc etc). We saw Yang Hyun Suk (ICs began to chant his name too #insidejokefromtheconcert and sure ako labas sa ilong yun hahaha), PO, Jinwoo’s dad, Yoon’s mom, most of the dancers (Gahee my love were you there) to name a few.

Again, it was a tender moment because the van was supposed to “cover” their exit from the door, but the fans cried “Noooo” and begged security to let us see them :)) So after a few minutes, the van adjusted its position, so WINNER could walk out and wave to the crowd outside. They looked very very very happy and thankful to see us. <3

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We met with some of the PH-ICs again to talk about the concert IN TAGALOG PARA TODO YUNG FEELS :))) I can’t wait to see everyone again in November!

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Aaaaand by 12 am we were back in our hotel after getting lost in Dongmyo exit HAHA. Can’t blame us, all our braincells were left in the Olympic Park Stadium :)) It was really a memorable experience that we hope we can repeat for sure on November (WHICH IS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH). Aiming for nearer seats this time, but let’s see what the universe will give us. 

FINAL THOUGHTS:

I thought if I finally see WINNER live I’d be finally scratching an itch--like I’ve already see them live and that’s that. But NOOOOOooooooOOOOOooo. It’s completely the opposite. Now YouTube and mixlrs are not enough anymore T_T When you’ve seen them live... you just want to repeat the experience over and over again.

To all Inner Circles still reading up to this point: CONGRATS and THANK YOU:))

 Also, my god. You can forget everything you’ve read up to this point but just remember this.

SEE

THEM

LIVE.

See them live.

I am not kidding around. You should, at least once in your life. Even if it’s just General Admission ticket or the farthest seat***. It’s different when you are in the same venue and you see them performing LIVE right in front of your very eyes. In my opinion, Yoon’s voice is 10x better live---recording absolutely does not do him justice. Same with the Mino, Jinwoo and Hoon. Their vocals, dance skills, over-all charisma cannot be simply captured by the camera. YOU HAVE TO SEE THEM LIVE TO KNOW WHAT I MEAN, WHY I’M SO ADAMANT ABOUT THIS :)))) I’ve seen performers that are exactly the same live as they are in YouTube or sound the same like Spotify but I can say with complete confidence: not WINNER. I can say their true strength is live performance.

I’m sure I’ve missed a lot but this is becoming a research-paper already HAHA so I’d end it here. SO glad we pushed for this trip, so blessed that everything worked in our favor (we were the last flight out before the NAIA airport incident happened huhu) and we’re already looking forward to November in MNL****! :)

till then bye~

P.S. If you want to chika more or need me to translate the Filipino bits lol just hit me up on teh Ask :)

*we saw at least 2 big Yoon masternims that we avidly follow talaga, 2 european ics we follow (lol “european” what is dead giveaway lol) and 1 of the 3 japanese KSY fans we also like HAHA so cute T_T

** I’m not a dancer, but my boyfriend is, and I remember him saying that personally he has more respect for dancers who dance according to what he feels--because it’s one of the highest forms of expression (as opposed to just relying with choreo). It’s a testament to a dancer’s ability that he/she is able to catch the beat without “thinking” about it too much--so the dance becomes the story of the dancer, not the choreo. LOL I think I’m botching his explanation about it but it’s just I remember Hoon whenever my boyfriend and I talk about freestyle dance.

*** Of course it you can’t make it due to various reasons that’s okay, but if you have a chance to make it happen, don’t hesitate. I’d say it’s worth every penny you’d spend to see them live.

#yg winner #winner yg #위너 #WINNEREVERYWHERETOURINSEOUL #ICsPHGoesToSeoul #YOON #강승윤 #JINU #HOONY #MINO

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

The Supercorp Christmas Princess AU idea no one asked for

This idea borrows heavily from the Netflix original movie “A Christmas Prince”, which essentially follows the plot of any Christmas princess movie ever. The details are just more specific to this film because I watched it most recently.

The Luthors are the ruling family of Aldovia. Lex is the eldest child of the royal family, the heir apparent. He has a reputation of blowing off his responsibilities and partying all night every night. Lena is his younger sister, adopted and far more responsible. Since King Lionel’s death the year before, Lena has been running the country while her brother uses the year-between-kings to sow his wild oats before being shackled by responsibility.

Kara plays the reporter tasked with covering the upcoming coronation for CatCo media, and goes to Aldovia to report on location. Lex blows off the initial press conference, and when the press are returned to their hotels, Kara ends up helping some hapless delivery guy carry his stuff inside the palace using a service entrance. Of course once she drops off the goods, Kara gets distracted by all the “ooh! pretty!” art and such, and then gets lots inside the palace, on her own, still wearing her press badge. 

She ends up deeper inside the palace, and stumbles across the royal family in the midst of a heated argument in a private study. Lex has finally arrived, unconcerned by the missed press conference, and Lena is taking him to task for it. Lillian chides her, urges Lena to be more understanding. Lena reminds them all that while Lex has been gallivanting around the globe, she has been the one to keep the monarchy alive. The Parliament wants to do away with the monarchy altogether, and Lex is just giving them more and more reason to move towards a vote. 

Lillian doesn’t care, is only pleased that her precious Lex is back home again, and Lena furiously storms out of the room.

...and runs smack into Kara. Kara stumbles back into a suit of armor, briefly recovers, and stares at the furious Princess Lena and awkwardly tries to bow, going all out with a hand flourish to boot. Mid-bow, Lena catches her waving hand in the air (where it is inches away from knocking over a priceless vase).

“Stop. Moving.”

Kara freezes, and the chaos subsides as Lex and Lillian come out to investigate. Kara assures them that she’s not eavesdropping, she just got turned around because she was helping some delivery people, and then there was art and--

“Nothing you just heard is to be printed.” Lena grinds out, cheeks flushed with irritation.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Kara agrees whole-heartedly. “I’m off the clock. Just a tourist, really.”

“A trespassing tourist,” Lena corrects, only for Lex sling an arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, loosen up, Lena,” he urges. “Miss Danvers here didn’t mean any harm. We can all see she’s not the most stealthy of spies, so what is there to worry about?”

Kara can practically hear Lena’s teeth grinding.

“You know what? Maybe Miss Danvers can help us,” Lex suggests. His idea is that Kara will get the exclusive of the century by following Lex through his daily life for a week as he gets up to speed with meetings and events and such leading up to the coronation. She’ll get to ask any questions she wants, and she can stay in the palace, the works.

Lillian thinks it’s a great idea, and Kara agrees, so it doesn’t really matter that Lena rolls her eyes and is basically like, “whatever.”

((more under the cut))

And so it goes. Kara gets embedded in court life. Lex is as good as his word. Kara shadows him in all his meetings, but it actually has the opposite effect of what he intends. Instead of demonstrating that he is able to assume the responsibilities expected of the king, all Kara sees is that Lena is performing all of those responsibilities already. She sees that Lex muddles through in a world of intense politics that Lena is already proficient in. Where Lex has to re-introduce himself to his people, Lena is already a beloved figure.

Two days into her assignment, Kara stumbles across Lena in a rare quiet moment one evening, in a small study lined with bookshelves. Lena invites Kara to join her, and even apologizes for her temper the day they met. The Lena Kara knows so far is sharp and shrewd and stiff and cold, but this is an entirely different Lena. This Lena is the soft, gentle, warm Lena that Kara glimpsed the other day at the orphan’s charity gala, where the princess spent most of the evening in the company of children. This is the real Lena.

And as they talk, Kara asks why Lex is only now getting started with his responsibilities. Lena reveals that Lex always saw leadership as a burden. He saw it as his lost freedom, of having to answer to others. Whereas Lena... it’s always been more than that, for her. For her, it was a gift. When the royal family adopted her, she was gifted with not only a family, but with an entire new country to call home. To her it was a blessing, and she has only ever wanted to give back as much as she was given.

Off the record, Lena confesses she fears that Lex has been away too much to recognize the political shifts within the Parliament. Not only the fact that some view the monarchy as unnecessary, but the way isolationists seek to exclude people in need from their borders, the way nationalists desire to strike out against some of their neighboring countries in pursuit of additional resources. So far, Lionel’s regency has been the driving force keeping the most extreme calls to action at bay, and maintaining Aldovia’s progressive reputation. Without his influence, she’s afraid Lex will succumb to external pressures and lead their country to war or worse. 

Additional moments pop up throughout the week, and Lena starts smiling at Kara more, and Kara starts asking her more questions than she does Lex. Lex doesn’t really mind. The night of the coronation, we get our ballroom full of pretty gowns and uniforms. Lena stands in the receiving line with her mother and brother, wearing a silver gown-- and almost goes weak at the knees when she sees Kara approaching in a gown of gold. When their eyes meet, sparks fly, and Lena abandons the receiving line in favor of walking with Kara.

(When Lex protests being left to face the sharks by himself, Lena reminds him that he’s king now, so ‘get used to it, buddy’, and goes on her way with a smirk.)

Lena and Kara dance, and sip punch, and they talk. Kara asks what Lena plans to do, once Lex has assumed the throne. Lena just kind of shrugs. She’ll keep doing what she’s doing. Lex will need her help. 

“But is that what you want to do?”

They’re interrupted by the start of the coronation ceremony before Lena can answer. Lena joins her family on stage, and Kara hangs back with the other reporters. Halfway through the ceremony, they are interrupted by Morgan Edge-- a pro-isolation politician heavily favored to replace the current PM in the next election. He reveals he has confirmed evidence that prove that Lex is the illegitimate son of Lillian Luthor, and has no right to the throne.

In the scandal that follows, it’s proven true. Lillian confirms it to Lex and Lena before the public learns the truth. Because he is no blood relation to King Lionel, the throne will pass to the next male cousin per Aldovian law-- a weak-willed man already in the pocket of several pro-isolationist/anti-monarchy lobby groups. With him in power, no one expects the monarchy will survive the next PM’s first elected term.

In the quick lead-up to the cousin’s coronation, Kara digs. She digs and digs and digs, poring through every book of the royal library trying to find some loophole to keep Lex in power. She finds none. But she does stumble upon King Lionel’s private study, hidden behind a bookshelf. Inside she finds Lena, looking defeated and forlorn as she and her family stands to lose everything her father ever worked for.

She thanks Kara for her help, but it’s no use. They lost. Lex’s insistence on taking the year-between-kings to go enjoy himself, to be selfish, gave Edge the time to find the information and build an iron-clad case. The monarchy is done. Lena gives Kara a sad smile, eyes too-bright.

“Look on the bright side,” Lena says. “Now I’ll have plenty of time to visit National City after all.”

She leaves then to go prepare for the coronation, leaving Kara alone in the king’s study. In a fit of frustration, Kara kicks the heavy heirloom desk-- causing a hidden compartment to pop open. Inside, she finds the answer she needs.

Kara barges in on the coronation and interrupts it much like Edge did. In her hand she waves the proof that the cousin is NOT the next in line for the throne.

“Miss Danvers,” the prime minister says, “it has already been proven that Prince Lex is illegitimate and cannot take the throne.”

Kara looks him dead in the eye. “I’m not referring to Prince Lex. I’m referring to Princess Lena.”

And then she explains that she found these papers in King Lionel’s personal desk, bearing his royal seal. The papers claim that Lena is his biological daughter (with the DNA tests to prove it), legitimizing her as his heir and simultaneously amending the law that requires a male heir to assume the throne. With the amended law, and Lionel’s blood in her veins, Lena is rightful heir to the throne.

Despite Edge’s consequent rage, the rest of Parliament is thrilled. They’ve worked with her for years and know that she has the support of the people. Lena is crowned on the spot and Kara runs the story that breaks the news to the rest of the world. Lena becomes Queen of Aldovia, and Kara becomes a journalistic superstar overnight. She returns to National City a hero, but... her friends notice she’s not as happy as she should be. Nobody can figure out why, until...

On New Year’s Eve a mysterious cup of coffee is delivered to Kara’s desk by Eve Tessmacher. On it is a neon yellow sticky note, with a note scribbled on it in elegant, flowing script: 

Your boss has a lovely balcony. Mine’s better.

Kara rushes to Cat’s office and finds Lena standing there with her own cup of coffee in hand. Kara freezes at the sight of her, and struggles to curtsy without tipping over as her heart pounds and her knees wobble. “Y-your Majesty--”

“Shh,” Lena teases, smile glinting in the low light of evening. “I’m incognito.”

“Lena what are you--”

“I missed you,” Lena confesses in nervous whoosh of air. “You left so suddenly, and I should have you thrown in the dungeon for that note you left saying goodbye instead of doing it in person.”

Kara blinks. “You don’t have a dungeon,” she scoffs. Then she pauses. “Do you?”

“No. We have regular jail for that now.” Lena’s smile dims. “I can’t thank you enough, Kara. You kept looking, when I had given up. I owe you everything--”

Kara shakes her head. “No, you don’t owe me anything. You’re the one who taught me the meaning of perseverance. Of kindness, and compassion. Aldovia deserves to have someone like you as their queen. I just got lucky being the one to find those papers. Everything else you did yourself.”

Lena blushes, and turns to lean on the stone balustrade. Kara hesitantly comes to stand next to her, and together they spend a long, quiet moment looking out over the city.

“It’s as beautiful as you promised,” Lena tells her.

Kara stares at her. “Why are you here?”

“I missed you,” Lena repeats. Then she sighs. “I miss you so much I can’t stop thinking about you. I have everything I ever hoped for, everything I could have asked for as a girl, and yet... I’m sad. And I think it’s because you left before I could tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Lena bites her lower lip, suddenly nervous. “That I care for you. More than-- more than I’ve cared for anyone.”

“Lena...”

“I’m sorry, it’s selfish of me to just dump something like that on you without discussing it or having a plan for anything beyond just telling you. That’s not fair to you--”

“Would you like to come to dinner?”

Lena blinks. “Ex-excuse me?”

“Dinner? It’s when two people share a meal and--”

“I would love dinner. With you. I would love to have dinner with you.”

Kara’s stomach flutters. She smiles. “Has the Queen of Aldovia ever had a potsticker?”

Lena rolls her eyes, and her smile is just as beautiful as Kara remembers. “We’re royalty, not hermits, Kara.”

“So, the answer is...”

“No, I haven’t.”

Kara laughs, linking her arm through Lena’s and leading them towards Cat’s private elevator. She figures Cat won’t mind, just this once. “Good, because this place is going to ruin all other potstickers for you. They’re amazing! And they have this housemade sauce that is to die for...” 

#gimme a gay christmas princess movie #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp au #modern royalty #queen lena #they eventually kiss #kara pursues her career and winters in aldovia #lena rules her country and thye have nightly skype calls #eventually they get married #aldovia loves kara #i've spent two hours typing this and i hate myself #yall better appreciate it #because now I don't want to watch another christmas princess movie until this is its plot #gimme more gay princesses!

[easyhairstylesbest]

How TikTok Made Pro-Choice Activism Cool Again

In Charlotte, NC, a man referred to as Chris has unwittingly become a TikTok celebrity. He doesn’t have an account—that we know of—and it’s unclear if he’s even aware of his popularity, but his own dedicated hashtag, #christok, has more than 174 million views.

Chris isn’t the typical subject of viral internet fame. He looks to be in his late 50s. He shows up to an abortion clinic in Charlotte just about every day dressed in business casual attire with a sign that reads, in bold white letters, “THOU SHALL NOT MURDER.” His voice is low and dull, even when shouting about unborn children seeking vengeance from God.

But Chris has become a sort of canvas onto which the women of Charlotte for Choice can project the realities and follies behind the everyday grind of pro-choice activism. Since summer, the local organization of abortion clinic escorts and defenders has posted countless videos of him and other anti-abortion protestors outside their local clinic, A Preferred Women’s Health Center of Charlotte, in order to show the world exactly what patients are up against.

“Any video with Chris in it, people go crazy for,” said Reiley, a 20-year-old clinic defender and TikToker (@loveurmother) with more than 445,000 followers. In September, she posted a video dissecting Chris’s “4 moods”, which range from “waiting for patients to harass” to “pouting because you can’t harass patients.” There are also videos of him arguing with clinic escorts, stretching out his tired knees, arguing with other anti-abortion protestors, and getting inadvertently roped into a dance off. The women at Charlotte for Choice have made national headlines for their posts, including a viral video of a clinic defender sticking it to a protestor by referring to God as “sky daddy.” It’s all part of a growing trend on the Gen Z-driven platform—one that’s having as much impact offline as it is on.

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“It was actually TikTok that made me become an escort in June,” said Amy, a 20-year-old in suburban Detroit. (Several sources in this article asked to be identified by only their first name or nickname to protect their privacy.) Amy, who goes by the moniker @basicasstrashcan, was the first clinic escort to grace my own TikTok For You page, the app’s algorithmic homepage curated to each user’s tastes and interests. (If a video winds up in the #FYP algorithm, it’s almost guaranteed to get a high viewership.) In the first video I saw from Amy, she rated clinic protestors on a scale of 1-10, docking points for poor dress or shrieking at patients, all set to a mash-up of Super Mario theme songs.

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Amy’s own introduction was through Hannah (a.k.a. @42069horndog), Charlotte for Choice’s first TikToker who started as a clinic defender this summer with her mother, a long-time volunteer with the group. “I just thought she was kind of funny,” Amy said. “But I was also morbidly curious about the protestors. Like, what’s with these people?” She ended up calling a few local clinics in June and has been volunteering pretty much every Saturday since.

“I don’t want you on the sidewalk just yelling at people. I want you to understand the perspective of the greater movement and what it means.”

Now, Charlotte for Choice has a waitlist of people who want to train as volunteers, and the organization says that this influx of interest has taken place just over the past few months—since Hannah, Reiley, and others have been posting about their experiences on TikTok. Currently, the organization offers two volunteer opportunities: clinic escorts, who help patients get from their cars into the building, and clinic defenders, who use counter-protest methods to distract anti-abortion protestors by directly engaging with them from a safe distance. Volunteers must also undergo a training session that covers the basics of anti-racism and reproductive justice. “I don’t want you on the sidewalk just yelling at people,” said the training lead and media strategist for Charlotte for Choice, who asked to remain anonymous, citing privacy concerns. “I want you to understand the perspective of the greater movement and what it means.”

In the United States, most clinics are what are known as “non-engagement clinics,” where volunteers are not allowed to directly engage with protestors. Planned Parenthood Federation of America, for example, recommends non-engagement, though each affiliate is able to decide how to manage the protestors at their own clinic. “The aim of the recommendation is to not feed or escalate protests, conflicts, or activity outside of health centers, in order to lessen the chaos patients may encounter,” a PPFA spokesperson told ELLE.com. “Our recommendation comes from the desire to center patients’ experiences.”

Still, the practice of clinic defense has been around since the 1980s, initially as a response to anti-abortion extremists attempting to block patients from getting their abortions, which eventually resulted in the passage of the 1994 Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances Act. The law was designed to create a buffer between anti-abortion protestors and clinic patients, but activists say that the FACE Act has been, at best, loosely enforced, especially during the Trump administration. Anti-abortion protestors continue to disrupt patient care and harass visitors with alarming tactics, from shaming patients with bullhorns to carrying assault weapons with their protest signs.

An anti-choice rally outside a Planned Parenthood in St. Louis, Missouri, in June 2019.

Michael B. ThomasGetty Images

“There is always a place for de-escalation tactics,” said Kim Gibson, a member of the non-profit Pinkhouse Defenders in Jackson, MS, home to the state’s last remaining abortion clinic. “But [anti-abortion protestors] are there to escalate the situation.”

The Pinkhouse Defenders have been engaging with protestors since 2013, and last year, Gibson formed a spin-off group, We Engage, to organize and encourage counter-protests at clinics and government functions. Both groups have been posting their encounters on Facebook since 2018 but then realized TikTok was where the action was happening. In December, they posted their first videos to the platform with guidance from the team at Charlotte for Choice.

The influx of TikTok content is owed in part to a strategic change in Charlotte for Choice’s approach this summer. Though the Preferred Women’s Health Center has worked with Charlotte for Choice defenders for years, the two groups decided to band together to move toward a more full-fledged counter-protesting model. It was a controversial move—in early December, the New York Times reported that a handful of Charlotte for Choice board members resigned due to the more confrontational tactics, and they’re not alone in their reservations. But pro-engagement activists insist that, so far, nothing else has worked.

According to the Charlotte for Choice’s media strategist, the Preferred Women’s Health Center has seen an estimated 60,000 protestors over the last four years, with no sign of letting up. Most Saturdays, a Charlotte-based group called Love Life draws hordes of protestors in matching blue T-shirts, sometimes in the thousands, on a piece of land directly across from the clinic’s administrative building—something that Charlotte for Choice believes patients shouldn’t have to face alone. Since this summer, they’ve unofficially renamed the land “Pro-Choice Park” and “Christian Coachella.” They play kazoos and loud music and stand on top of cars with signs in counter-protest.

“Engagement is not for every clinic,” the strategist conceded, adding that the goal isn’t to make the protestors go away—that would be naive. “We just want to make it difficult for them to exist in that space comfortably.”

A happy but unexpected side effect of the newfound TikTok frenzy is that now, not only is the brazenness of anti-abortion protestors on full display, the viral videos are also filling a void for some Gen Z activists. On the political stage, reproductive healthcare continues to get left behind, even by those who support it. Democrats didn’t once mention the term “abortion” at the national convention this year, and even though the party platform has become increasingly progressive on the issue—touting LGBTQ+ inclusion and the repeal of the Hyde Amendment—Dems aren’t always connecting with their base. In a recent Times report, Gen Z and millennial activists associated with racial justice movements expressed lukewarm feelings toward “reproductive rights messaging that is focused strictly on legal abortion access.”

Meanwhile, Republicans had no problem going on anti-abortion tirades at their own convention and pushing for anti-abortion policies that have, for decades, chipped away at reproductive healthcare access, making it nearly impossible for many people, especially those who are low-income or from marginalized backgrounds, to access the safe and legal care they need. The party’s political fervor against abortion seems to match that of protestors on the ground.

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The clinic volunteers I spoke with all said they supported abortion rights before they began working at their local clinics, but collectively, it just didn’t seem like that big of a priority. “I thought that it was important and that people should have access to it, but I was never one to fight for it,” said Jaicie, a 20-year-old clinic defender in Charlotte with over 250,000 TikTok followers on her account @jaiciesmall. In a recent video, she attempted to challenge a couple of men dressed in dark clergy uniforms to a staring contest as they chanted Hail Marys outside the clinic; she managed to get one of them to crack a smile.

Exposure to the odd and often menacing behavior of right-wing protestors at abortion clinics seems to be effectively galvanizing for some Gen Z activists—more so than legislative talking points or complicated court cases taking place in various states across the country. “When I could see patients visibly afraid and terrified and then see this huge group of pro-life protestors out there, yelling at them and degrading them and making them feel guilty about this decision that they’re making, that was when it all clicked for me,” said Jaicie, who started defending at the Charlotte clinic after she saw a friend of hers from middle school volunteering on TikTok. Though she’s begun to post videos herself, she acknowledges that the priority is, and has always been, patients’ safety. “Our goal is to make patients feel comfortable and safe going in to get their procedure. That is number one.” Helping patients is one of the best parts of the job, said Reiley. She’s even had people reach out after the fact to thank her and other clinic defenders for making them feel better protected.

“I always felt like I was powerless…But being out here clinic defending, I see first hand how it makes a difference.”

However, the feedback on TikTok isn’t always positive, and volunteers say they’ve experienced death threats and trolling. Jo, a 19-year-old in Yuba City, CA, who posts her counter-protest content under the name @virgobb, said she had her original account taken down for “hate speech” and enlisted the help of her pro-choice community to regain the thousands of followers she once had. People have also faced harsh consequences for their activism offline. Anti-abortion protestors have taken legal action against at least two Charlotte for Choice volunteers, and many reported receiving harassment in public, at home, or their place of work, according to the organization’s strategist.

But despite the trouble, they say their efforts are rewarding. “I always felt like I was powerless, especially because I don’t have a lot of money,” Jo said. “I grew up poor. I’m a minority, and I never felt heard. But being out here clinic defending, I see firsthand how it makes a difference…It just makes me feel like I’m legitimately doing something about it.”

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They’re also proud of the community they’ve built online. “We made it so that you can no longer ignore these issues,” Jaicie said. “We’re putting this right on your screen, in your face, while you’re trying to have fun and watch TikToks. Yes, we are having fun, but we are also posting a really important message—reproductive health is huge, and you have to pay attention to this.”

As for the future of pro-choice activism, the clinic volunteers I spoke with all have different ideas about what could be useful, from bolder messaging to increased awareness about fetal development. Meanwhile, Chris from Charlotte will keep holding his giant sign, shouting Bible verses, and harassing patients. Perhaps the most meaningful response at our disposal, at least for now, is to hold his antics up to the world and tell him to shut the hell up.

Annie Werner Annie Werner is a writer from Texas living in New York.

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How TikTok Made Pro-Choice Activism Cool Again

[finding--cat]

I really can’t release this to the world without paying homage to a few people who are absolutely crucial to the reason I’m able to share The Longest Sky today. 

To Marisa/@marisa-writes for being my writer-friend for 8 full years, for talking me through the trials and tribulations of writing and sharing, and for always believing in me; 

To Nadia/@justnadia for reading an earlier draft and lifting my spirits about this piece, for talking me through my reservations, and for sending me photos and quotes that reminded her of the story;

To Rachel/@ramblingrachell for becoming my instant friend and volunteering so heartily to look over this huge chunk of work, for being so enthusiastic and for warming my heart every time we speak;

To Kari/@justcloseyoureyesandseee who offered me, by far, the most comprehensive constructive criticism I’ve ever received and who continues to blow me away with her thoughtfulness and intelligence;

And to Steph/@ilivemydaydreamsinmusik, in small part for teaching me weed vocabulary and fixing all my little mistakes, and in much larger part for her unending support: the encouraging cartoons reminding me to write, the music that helped to inspire the story, offering to read it again, and her general aura of coolness and kickass-ness that I aspire to embody in my own writing someday--

Thank you all so much. I hope you know how much you’ve done for me and how grateful I am to have had you be a part of this. I dedicate this to all five of you.

There are so many more of you who spoke words of encouragement to me and/or who expressed interest in what I was working on, and I am forever grateful to you for that. I hope you enjoy the product of your kindness to me! 

Part I: The List

I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.

Emily Brontë, from ‘Wuthering Heights’

1.1 

No amount of fidgeting with the lever or pushing at the ledge with her hands will open the window. It’s only a little opening; a dated semicircular pane no bigger than the surface of her nightstand, but it’s the only way to let in fresh air. And it won’t budge.

“Just use the ceiling fan for air circulation,” Rosen suggests from the doorway. She’s armed with a box of childhood personal items curated by Mom. Ari carried the box in her second suitcase – it put her over the weight limit for the flight as it housed a stack of books from Rosen’s bookshelf, two high school yearbooks, and Polaroid pictures that once hung on a laundry line across Rosen’s bedroom wall arranged into an album. Rosen balances the heavy box on one raised knee as she wipes her sweaty brow and pushes a damp strand of chestnut hair from her face. “That’s what Jacks and I do.”

“I want to open the window,” says Ari, leaning her body weight against the pane without success. “I won’t be able to sleep without it.”

Rosen raises a brow. “Air outside’s no cooler than the air in here.”

August in West Virginia is muggy and damp, but the air conditioning in the house is on the fritz – has been since June, according to Jackson – and Ari doesn’t think she can sleep without fresh air, no matter the humidity. It would be like sleeping in a coffin. Suffocating in a stale box.

It took her an hour in the morning to fix the broken blinds in order to let the light in. She has to let the air in, too.

Rosen sighs. “We can look at it tomorrow. Jackson’s dad repainted the trim outdoors when we moved in; window’s probably painted shut now.”

Ari tries one more time to shift the pane. Without success, she slumps against the wall.

Rosen pauses, still bracing the box on her knee as she peers into the room. “When are you gonna unpack?”

Perhaps she’s confused by the suitcase on the floor that doesn’t fit in the closet or under the tiny twin bed. But the luggage is empty, all the clothes stored snugly into a small chest of drawers and personal products tucked into the drawers of the nightstand.

Ari looks up. “I already did.”

“Oh.” Rosen raises her brows. “I just thought…”

“What?”

She shrugs. “I thought you’d bring your photos, like mine. Or your textbooks – Mom says you’re trying to get into U of R for your master’s. Hell, I even thought you’d bring that ratty old lamb you used to sleep with.”

Ari blinks. For some reason, it surprises her that Mom didn’t tell Rosen about the time Ari threw Lamby away like a candy bar wrapper. It was last winter, right after Louis left and Ari moved back home to Massapequa. Mom cried when she went to take out the garbage and saw Lamby sitting amongst the refuse, his buttoned eyes staring up at her beneath a banana peel and coffee grinds.

“No,” Ari says. Her voice takes on a high and unnatural pitch in her attempt to sound sympathetic, but she has to try. Dr. Sodhi made her see how it frightened her loved ones when she acted too blasé. “I have everything I need.”

Rosen nods, though her lips purse together in a tight smile. “Okay. Just looks a little bland, that’s all.”

It does look bland, Ari notes. The room is cozy, only big enough to house a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. The wall above the bed features a framed landscape photo of Sutton Lake, West Virginia, snapped in 1987 according to the print. All in all, it’s not unlike a motel room. And a motel room is not unlike Ari: impersonal and vacant, nightstand varnish peeling and wallpaper fading.  

Rosen takes her box down the hallway and wishes Ari goodnight – Ari’s first of many in Tillson City, West Virginia. She’s called her parents to let them know she arrived safely. She’s made her bed with linens Rosen brought in, fresh from the laundry. She’s unpacked her scant few belongings.

This is it. The start of something new in a different state. No parents, no friends, no former flames, no therapists. Just Ari. It’s been Just Ari for a while, but now there are no pretences. Nobody to burden or inconvenience. Nobody to cast her sad smiles or give her pity hugs.

Except for Rosen.

With a gulp of stale air, Ari smoothes her palm over her shorts, feeling the list crinkle in her pocket.

. 

Come one in the morning, Ari’s still not asleep. She tosses and turns on the unfamiliar mattress, a little bit too soft for her liking, with a sheen of sweat dusted across her upper lip. The sweltering temperature of the room isn’t lessened at all by the ceiling fan, which rocks back and forth as it spins and squeaks like it’s on its last legs.

She needs air. She needs it to breathe.

Ari cringes when the hardwood creaks on her way down the stairs, freezing in place in fear of waking Rosen and Jackson. After several seconds, when no sign of movement or change in breath comes from their bedroom down the hall, Ari steels herself and continues down the stairs in a flurry, with stealthy, cat-like steps.

She hasn’t had a chance yet to peer in the garage, though Jackson proudly told her that’s where he intends to store his Harley once he gets his license. She uses the light of her phone to guide her out the front door and across the driveway to the garage. The garage door is new and slides up easily with a quick twist of the latch, though the rest of the structure is so old it seems tilted to its side.

Her light comes in handy again while searching the garage. Rosen and Jackson use it for storage rather than parking space, as is apparent by the couch and dining room table covered in a tarp, all its chairs hanging upside down from the table’s surface. They dragged a U-Haul behind their little Honda from New York full of furniture from their apartment, but the Hawleys had even more to give when they arrived and the garage is where most of it ended up.

Ari climbs over a microwave stand and nearly knocks a floor lamp to the ground, but she makes it to the ladder leaning up against the wall. With a great deal of struggle but very little noise, Ari drags the full ladder out of the garage and onto the driveway. Then she stands it on its feet, rung by rung, and leans it against the side of the house.

She shines the light of her cell phone toward the second storey window. It’s a long way up to the sky, and probably not advised to ascend to the second floor in total darkness. But Ari has to feel the fresh air sweep past her in order to sleep. And what’s more, she can do this.

After steadying the ladder against the house and testing its sturdiness, Ari begins to climb. On the third rung, her foot slips – just for a moment – but it’s enough to encourage her to tuck her phone back into the drawstring of her pajama shorts, using only the light of the moon to guide her.

It’s so dark here. Even on Long Island, city lights brighten the streets at night, casting the sky grey instead of black. In the middle of West Virginia, Ari can look up to the sky and see stars.

Stars, motherfucker, she thinks triumphantly to herself, which nearly causes another ladder accident. With regained footing, she blinks to adjust her eyes to the darkness and continues to climb.

Mom and Dad registered Ari and Rosen for ballet classes when they were young. The instructor staged five-year-old Rosen front row, centre for the final performance, and Rosen pirouetted to perfection even with a wicker basket prop in her hands. Meanwhile, seven-year-old Ari was nestled somewhere on the outskirts of the back row, fumbling with the basket caught on her tutu and ultimately spinning herself into a heap on the floor. There was no ballet class for Ari the next year.

Needless to say, Ari’s lack of balance was never quite rectified, and standing on the tenth rung of a ladder in the darkest part of the night while using her cell phone as a flashlight with one hand and her other hand digging in her pajama pocket for an Exact-o knife puts her well outside the boundaries of her comfort zone.

Then again, Dr. Sodhi suggested more than once that venturing outside her comfort zone could offer opportunity and renewal. That’s what the temporary move to Tillson City is about, after all – separation from the comfort zone. At least, that’s what it means to Ari – to Rosen, it means a helping hand to assist with wedding preparations.

Using the Exact-o knife, Ari applies pressure to the trim, cutting around the ledge where it’s been painted over. The navy-coloured trim doesn’t help with visibility, and she may accidentally cause a few scratches and scrapes during the process, but she figures neither Rosen nor Jackson is likely to haul themselves up here anytime soon to get a close look at the damage.

Her knees shake only once, and she retracts the knife before slowly bending down to grab hold of the ladder to steady her balance. Whoever needed ballet?

With the window trim carved to her liking, Ari slides the blade of the knife underneath the bottom of the window and tries to pry it open using leverage. She’s able to wiggle it around, and with a small crack, she feels it budge. Once she slowly maneuvers the window toward her, she can slide a finger underneath and pull it open the rest of the way, though not without nearly knocking herself in the face first.

And that’s it. She did it.

She climbs down the ladder with more enthusiasm than she had when climbing up. She skips the last rung and hops to the ground, blowing upward to get the hair out of her eyes as she fixes her hands on her hips and stares up at progress. An open window: a doorway to the summer breeze and the song of the birds.

She did that.

Back in her new bedroom, Ari picks up her denim shorts, folded carefully across the top of the dresser, and digs into the front pocket. She removes a crumped piece of paper and unfolds it slowly, wary of tearing the edges. The paper flattens when it’s pressed against the wall, though its creases have been fixtures for weeks now. She uses Scotch tape to adhere it above the light switch. A central location, one she’ll be forced to look at every day.

Mom and Dad knew about the list. They thought it was advice from Dr. Sodhi that Ari was taking to heart.

But it’s not. It’s Ari’s idea. All the ideas on the list are hers. And she is the one who abides by it diligently, her own code to living, because if she doesn’t – if she strays from that self-imposed path – she could go back to Before.

Tillson City is not the place for Before. Tillson City is not the place for After, either. No, Tillson City is very specifically a place for Now.

. 

In the morning, Ari wakes to the sun shining through the small window. The room is still hot, but at least it’s not a stale, muggy heat. She could bask in it for hours if she wanted to. But after a few blinks when her vision comes into focus, she eyes the list taped to the wall.

And she gets up.

She joins Rosen in the kitchen while throwing her uncombed hair into a ponytail, the laces of her gym shoes untied. As Rosen whirls around with a smile, Ari takes a seat at the kitchen table and leans over to take care of her shoes.

“How many eggs? Two or three?” Rosen asks. “Jacks always asks for bacon and eggs on Sundays. Pancakes are on Saturdays – sorry, you missed that one yesterday.”

“Oh.” Ari straightens. “I was just going to eat something small. Maybe a banana. I’m thinking of exploring the area a bit.”

“A banana? What are you, a monkey? That’s not enough,” Rosen counters.

Ari tries to hide her smile. “You sound like Grandma.”

“Well, she’s right. At least have one pancake.”

Ari sighs.

“And I was gonna take you around today. I’ll show you all the local digs – well, the ones that matter, anyway – and we can check out a couple of vendors for the wedding. If we have time, maybe we can go to Charleston so I can stock up the freezer.”  

“Charleston? Isn’t that an hour away?”

Rosen shrugs. “Forty minutes or so. Drive’s not too bad.”

“You drive forty minutes to do your grocery shopping? There’s nowhere close by?”

“There’s the Piggly Wiggly in town, but it’s small. Kroger’s in Charleston’s much better, I think. Don’t tell Jacks, though; he’s sensitive about that kind of stuff. Wants to inject into the Tillson City economy as much as we can. But I feel like I’ve been pretty generous to the local economy in planning the wedding so far, so I don’t mind taking my business elsewhere once in a while.” Rosen finishes whisking the eggs and turns back to the stove, where a pan sizzles with meat and grease. Over her shoulder, she asks, “How many strips of bacon did you say you wanted?”

“None,” Ari replies. More hesitantly, she adds, “I don’t eat meat anymore.”

If there was a record player in the room, now would be when the music came to a grinding halt. Rosen stops stirring and freezes, only her pupils moving as they dart toward Ari. “You don’t eat meat anymore? Like, all meat?”

“All meat.”

From Rosen’s throat bursts a laugh Ari’s never heard from her before: it’s short, harsh, guttural. “Since when?”

“Since three months ago.”

“What?”

A beat passes, and Ari calmly repeats, “Since three months ago.”

“So, like… not for that long.”

Ari shrugs. “I guess not.”

“So…” Rosen struggles to reason, “it’s not like it’s a long term thing.”

“I plan for it to be,” Ari says slowly, “if it goes well. So far, I like how I feel. I’d prefer not to eat meat.”

Once chatting eagerly about her plans for the day, Rosen now regards Ari across the kitchen with an arched brow of skepticism. Then she returns her gaze to the stove, using tongs to flip strips of bacon in the pan, as she mutters, “You didn’t tell us you didn’t eat meat.”

Jackson enters the kitchen in a pair of pajama pants and a rumpled white t-shirt, stopping mid-yawn to observe the exchange between the sisters. His dark hair sticks up in almost every direction, curling well past his ears and down the back of his neck, and Ari half expects Rosen to go after him again about cutting his hair to a reasonable length for the wedding. 

But she doesn’t – her stare is fixed on Ari.

“Sorry.” Ari avoids Jackson’s gaze as she finishes tying the knot on her shoe and lets it fall from the chair to the floor. “I didn’t think it would come up too often. I thought I’d mostly be making my own food.”

“You thought I’d make meals for me and Jacks, but not think about you?” Rosen’s face scrunches in disbelief.

“No, I just… you don’t cook,” Ari admits. Rosen exhales sharply, blinking as if she misheard, and Ari quickly adds, “At least as far as I remember. I thought I’d be doing my own thing most of the time.”

“Uh… okay.” Clearly upset, Rosen gestures to the bacon and eggs heating on the stove. “You’re right, I guess I don’t cook.”

“I didn’t know,” Ari says with a shrug. Her last memory of Rosen attempting to cook in their family home in Long Island, she burned the rice, confused hoisin with soy sauce, and severely undercooked the chicken. It was a miserable stir-fry to swallow and resulted in the Pate family fighting each other for access to the house’s two bathrooms to be sick with food poisoning throughout the night. After that, Rosen declared she was no good at cooking and would rather spend her time outside of the kitchen. “If you’re cooking more now, that’s great.”

“Well, if you won’t eat what I cook, then I guess I don’t cook so much anymore.” Rosen waves a hand through the air.

“I don’t mean for you to have to change anything,” Ari stresses with a huff. “Eat what you want. I’ll fend for myself.”

“We have a tiny enough kitchen as it is without three of us trying to make two separate meals.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done, obviously,” Ari fires back. “I’m not doing this to inconvenience you, Rosen, I—”

“It’s fine.” Jackson inserts himself into the discussion with a nod to Ari. He has a hand on Rosen’s forearm before she can raise it to point a finger. “Rosie. Hey. It’ll be fine, all right? We can all eat together; Ari just won’t eat the meat. We can cook everything separate. Not a big deal.”

Rosen fixes her stare on Ari for another couple of seconds before Jackson’s touch reminds her he’s there. She glances at him and dons a soft smile of gratitude. “Fine. Not a big deal.” Before she returns to the eggs and bacon, she mumbles under her breath with arched brows, “Just wish you’d told us, that’s all.”

.

Dear Ms. Ariana Pate, We regret to inform you that we are not able to offer you admission to the Master’s program in Biology at the University of Rochester. Each year, we receive a large number of applications for this program from highly qualified candidates. Based on a composite of information including your academic performance record, comments from referees, relevant professional activities, and proposed research statements, your application, considered as a whole, was not as strong as others we received. Though we regret delivering you an unfavorable response, we wish you—

“I said, do you want me to take you around the Hawley house? Ari!”

“What? Whoa!” Ari looks up from her phone to a churning flip in her stomach as Rosen takes a quick turn around the winding West Virginia road. She grabs onto the handle, abandoning the phone in her lap.

“It’s beautiful there – they’ve got a wraparound porch with white pillars, wooden boxes of impatiens on window ledges and everything. True Southern charm. We’re actually thinking of having the rehearsal dinner there. Well, we’re about ninety percent certain, it just seems a bit much to have the wedding reception next door in the barn, too.”

Ari gulps, her head rushing as the car whips around another curve. “What?”

“Jackson,” Rosen declares, ripping her eyes from the road to spare Ari a harsh look. “His family home here in Tillson City. I said: do you want to go?”

Ari shuts her eyes. The world keeps spinning. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Do you want to see it or not?”

“Uh… if you want me to, I guess.”

At her sister’s sigh of annoyance, Ari knows Rosen’s lost her patience with her. Ari’s been distant all day, ever since that final email came in from U of R. It was her last hope – and a long shot, at that – but the deflation she feels is proof that somewhere within her, perhaps just beneath her skin and ready to escape, there still existed some form of hope. Now that it’s gone, the numbness remains.

Everyone promised Ari the lush, rolling hills of West Virginia were the most breathtaking sight her eyes would ever behold. Breathe in the clean air, they said. Open your eyes to nature, they said. You’ll feel your mind and body heal instantly. Old gaping wounds will stitch back together. Aches and pains will dissolve like morning dew in the sun. You’ll stand taller. Raise your chin higher. Feel like a real, human person again. That’s what they said.

Well, they were fucking wrong. As Ari hunches over in her seat and bile rises in her throat, she bitterly thinks that no one bothered to mention the sharp, winding roads and the constant uphill-downhill travel. Rosen’s pointed out the quaint details of Tillson City as they’ve passed by during the day: a charming red farmhouse over here, hunter green woodlands over there, yellow deer crossing signs because they graze everywhere in the winter – but Ari couldn’t follow her gestures, and now she’s on the precipice of very real vomit spilling from her throat all over Rosen’s beige, ancient Honda she lovingly calls Old Man Earl.

“You don’t have an opinion?” says Rosen, unimpressed. “If you want to stop hanging out with me so badly, might as well just say it.”

After a full day of tagging along on Rosen’s errands, passively accompanying her to pick up Jackson’s blazers from the dry cleaner’s and meet a woman from Craigslist one county over to purchase secondhand lanterns to create do-it-yourself centerpieces for the wedding, Ari feels the kind of heaviness that only follows unproductivity; an exhaustion born from listlessness. The kind that sinks into her bones and drags her to the ground.

Staring straight ahead and not sparing her sister a glance, Ari calmly replies, “I’m just tired. But if you want to go to Jackson’s parents’ place, that’s fine.”

“I don’t need to,” Rosen stresses, “I just wanted to show it to you. But if you don’t want to—”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Ari sighs, long and deep. “Let’s go. I want to see it.”

Her enthusiasm is lackluster at best, but Ari thinks she’s being conciliatory until she catches Rosen’s expression out of the corner of her eye: solemn, pained.

“Sorry,” Ari offers. The word comes out in monotone even though she drummed up all the sympathy she had.

“You know, it wasn’t Mom or Dad who suggested you come out here to stay with me and Jacks until the wedding,” Rosen says.

“I know.”

“It was me.”

Eyes fixed on the flat stretch of road ahead, Ari nods.

“When Mom called me after your accident, I was so scared. She said you were fine, probably wouldn’t even need to stay in the hospital overnight, but I couldn’t stop sobbing. Jacks had to come in and take over the call for me; I couldn’t even talk. I knew things had been bad for a while, Ari, but that night it finally hit me… I realized I could lose you.”

The road whips by, fields of yellow and green. “Rosen…”

“I know we haven’t been close lately. Not since I met Jackson and you moved in with Lou and everything just got… busy. And I didn’t realize that I missed you until that night – until the night I learned I could have lost you forever. So I called Mom first thing the next morning and I told her, when Ari’s ready, I want her to come here. I want her to get away from all that shit in the city and all the people who fucked her over and just… start over. Reset. Tillson City’s not much, but it’s a good place for that.”

Running her tongue along her front teeth, Ari nods.

“It wasn’t just about you,” Rosen’s quick to add. “I wish I could say it was. I wish I could be that selfless, but I’m not. It was about me, too. I wanted you here with me. I wanted to get to know you again. I wanted to be close with you again, like when we were kids. When we had each other’s backs and we told each other everything.” As the car slows in front of a long driveway lined with a canopy of trees, Rosen turns on her blinker and pulls off to the side of the road. She glances at Ari. “I know you’ve been lonely. And, I mean, I’m getting used to a new town, to a new way of life… it’s nice to have someone familiar with me who knows where I’m from. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.” She shrugs, offering a soft smile as she pushes her side bangs behind her ear. “I think we’re supposed to be together right now. I think we need to help each other.”

Mustering a small grin, Ari reaches across the console to pat Rosen’s hand. “Okay,” she agrees. “We can try.”

Rosen’s eyes brighten, but she’s careful not to display too much emotion. She pokes her thumb in the direction of the driveway and says, “This is the Hawley place.”

Ari leans forward to examine the surroundings, though the house is covered by such thick forest it’s impossible to see beyond a bit of evergreen trim.

Sitting back in her seat, she says, “Looks pretty impressive. Let’s check it out.”

.

The Tillson City economy isn’t exactly booming. Originally a coal mining town, the population spiked following the first World War and then slowly trickled down beginning in the eighties as the country relied increasingly on alternate fuel sources. These days, a good portion of its residents – Jackson included – work outside of town.

“New businesses are pretty rare,” Rosen tells Ari as they wander downtown on a Wednesday morning, “and if one opens, it usually closes shop within six months.”

That’s why, she explains, she wants to scope out the newly established Kalene’s Garden, across the street from a business called Sherman’s that Rosen claims is Jackson’s friends’ ‘favourite piss-stained hole-in-the-wall dive bar.’

There are plenty of florists in Charleston, forty-five minutes down the road in Kanawha County, but Jackson wants the wedding arrangements to be local, both to benefit the rural economy and to eliminate stress and unpredictability. Kalene’s Garden, according to Rosen, opened only last year after the owner’s husband was dishonourably discharged from the U.S. army and fled the state, leaving her with two young kids and a mortgage.

“I figure she’ll need our money,” Rosen tells Ari with a smile, “so she’ll give me whatever I want for the wedding.”

A little bell jingles overhead as they enter the shop. If possible, it’s even more humid inside than out, but Rosen is the only one who complains. Ari’s immediately taken by the hanging plants in every corner, long vines spilling out from pots and tangling underneath, bright bouquets of lilies and bluebells crowding the counters, and the line of small potted trees leading to what Ari believes to be a greenhouse. In the air is a scent so fresh and sweet that Ari could bottle it. In fact, she finds the whole place charming and serene, even more so because they’re the shop’s only customers.

They’re directed to a small, cluttered office off to the side, where a petite woman in rounded glasses named Sherry presents them with a binder of wedding fodder. Rosen prattles off the details that Ari’s heard over group text or phone or in person a thousand times – the wedding is December sixteenth, to be held in Jackson’s family church, and the bridesmaids are wearing taupe – and she’s looking for the perfect wintry centerpieces to compliment her DIY lanterns and the perfect bridal bouquet, frosty yet soft.

When they get stuck on whether white roses are too bridal or not bridal enough is when they lose Ari completely. She removes herself from the room without either woman batting an eyelash in her direction. Then she roams the shop by herself and finds a small table of succulents that captures her attention longer than any bridal discussion ever could.

Tiny little succulents, unassuming shadows in the background, will outlive all of their floral counterparts. In the right soil, their roots flourish, widening and stretching to absorb the most amount of water in a flood. In a drought, the water storage in their roots is what helps them survive. Ari likes that about them, these smart little plants. They’re planners who take care of themselves, always stockpiled in the event of a waterless apocalypse. Dr. Sodhi kept one in her office, and Ari often stared at it when she went in there and was expected to speak. No matter how she fluctuated up and down, Dr. Sodhi’s succulent was always the same.

“Lookin’ for a friend?”

Ari gasps at the sudden voice, spinning around to face its owner. A woman in a sleeveless white blouse waters a ficus near the cash register. Her lips curl into a small smile, her tight black curls framing high cheekbones.

“Um… my sister’s in the office talking to Sherry about wedding bouquets,” Ari explains.

“What about you?”

“Just browsing.”

“Lookin’ for a friend?” the woman repeats.

Ari blinks. Does she really look that lost and lonely? Her eyes dart around the room before returning to the woman’s sharp face, and she replies tentatively, “Are you… offering?”

The woman laughs heartily, without mocking or scorn. She sets down her watering can and joins Ari at the circular table. “They are friends to us, you know,” she says, grazing her index finger across the top of thick succulent leaves. “Plants of all kinds, really, but succulents especially – they’re so versatile, so adaptable. People can rely on them. They fill a room with company even if a person lives alone.”

“Yeah,” Ari murmurs. Her eyes follow the woman’s long, nimble fingers as she spreads tiny pebbles in the soil surrounding the succulents. “So, um… how many friends do you have?”

The woman chuckles again, deep and warm in her throat. “Well, this is my shop,” she answers, “so I s’pose you could say I’m never without.”

While Rosen leaves the shop that day armed with several printouts and magazines to flip through, Ari pays $3.99 in change for a mini foxtail agave, leaves a brilliant green and opening like a flower. When she gets home, she finds it a nice, heated spot on her window ledge where it can bask in the humidity right under the sun. She spends a long time watching it there. It doesn’t grow, it doesn’t change, it doesn’t move. Maybe it feels that it’s stuck with her for good.

Either way, Ari gives it a couple of tablespoons of water to drink, gently touches its leaves, and mentally ticks off a box on the list above her light switch: Take care of a plant. 

.

A few days later, Rosen is abuzz with excitement because her wedding dress, shipped from Manhattan, is ready for its first fitting with a seamstress in Charleston. When Ari agrees to accompany her as Maid of Honour, Rosen decides they should make a day of it. She packs water bottles in the cup holders of Old Man Earl and loads snacks in her purse as if they’re on a true cross-country voyage instead of spending less time in the car than Ari has spent travelling six blocks in Midtown during rush hour.

But it’s nice that Rosen’s excited about it, and truthfully, Ari doesn’t have anything else to do. They cross a wide bridge to enter the city, and as Ari looks out the window and stares down to the water below, she feels it’s almost like re-entering New York. Almost.

She hasn’t lived in Tillson City for much more than a week, but already she feels overwhelmed by the amount of people outdoors and the number of cars on the road in Charleston. It’s a glamorous riverfront metropolis in comparison to the arid and mountainous Tillson City. It has a movie theatre and a mall and food trucks and an actual skyline – albeit a pathetic one. Adorable, not pathetic, Ari corrects herself.

The sisters wander through the Historic District, where Rosen points out the white-pillared colonial homes that seem to be the inspiration for the Hawley family home back in Tillson City. According to Rosen, she and Jackson aspire to build the same kind of home –“not until after we’ve had two kids, though, or at least not until I’m pregnant with our second”– and they ogle at the beauty of a downtown core embedded in an awning of leafy trees. Ari extends their walk several blocks, despite Rosen’s complaints, in order to log a full ten thousand steps for the day.

They drive to the only mall in town – in fact, the only mall Rosen knows of – and Ari picks out a new pair of yoga pants that are stretchy and cheap, but good enough to get the job done. Rosen finds two cushion covers in JC Penney that perfectly complement the living room set, so they both leave the mall in good spirits.

It’s as they sit on a patio along the waterfront, Ari with an ice water and Rosen with a white wine spritzer, that their pleasant outing turns sour. Ari is content to people-watch along the boardwalk, amused by the amount of people clothed in apparel from West Virginia University – “Take Me Home” and “Forever a Mountaineer” splashed across their chests and the WVU logo embroidered on their ball caps – but Rosen’s got wedding fever and has a hankering to discuss the design for the invitations.

“I don’t really get why wedding invitations are such a huge thing when I could just send out a mass email to all my guests and have their replies instantly,” Rosen muses, scrolling through samples on her phone. “But whatever, they’re pretty.”

“So if the designer gives you his final copy by Thursday and the invitations are printed by Labour Day weekend, when will you send them out?”

“Two months before the wedding,” Rosen answers robotically, having planned these details down to the minutiae. “The deadline to RSVP is two weeks from the wedding date to get the final numbers to the caterers. They’re upset that we’re pushing it that close, actually, since the kitchen at Jacks’ parents’ place is limited and they need to know in advance if they need to rent extra prep space.”

“Why not ask everyone to email you their reply rather than send it back through snail mail?”

“Well, Grandma doesn’t use email,” Rosen points out.

Ari rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure Mom and Dad would send along her RSVP.”

“This is the way wedding invitations are done.”

“Yeah, but people set up wedding websites these days to cut printing costs on RSVP cards and postage. Receiving replies by email would make it so much more efficient and environmentally friendly—”

“The invites are already pretty set in stone,” Rosen cuts her off, adding matter-of-factly, “so.”

Ari shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “All right.”

Rosen takes Ari’s recoil as invitation to lean forward, ensuring the space between them isn’t compromised by an inch. “What about my bachelorette?” she asks with a sly grin.

Eyes on a middle-aged woman lovingly feeding her partner a corn dog with all the high cholesterol fixings, Ari takes a large swig of water and then deigns Rosen a glance. “What about it?”

“What have you planned?”

“I thought it was a secret for the bride.”

“Yeah, but you eventually have to let me know the date, and what I should wear, and if I need to bring pajamas and a toothbrush…”

“Oh.” Ari takes another sip of water, knowing full well that her prolonged silence drives Rosen up the wall. “I’ll let you know, then. So far I’ve only seen that one bar in Tillson City – Sherman’s, I think? – so I don’t think it’ll be much of a surprise.”

Rosen’s spine stiffens as she straightens in her chair, brows turning downward. “Tillson City? My bachelorette is in Manhattan.”

“What?”

“I told you in April that when you plan my bachelorette, plan it in Manhattan.”

“But I thought the bachelorette party took place a week before the wedding.”

“It does.”

“And I thought, with you living here and all the guests travelling here, it might be less stressful to just… have it here.” Ari finishes slowly, the last few words quiet as the creases in Rosen’s forehead plateau into valleys.

“But all my friends are in New York…” Rosen trails.

“You said you had friends here.”

“Those are Jackson’s friends.”

“You said they were your friends, too.”

“Ari!” cries Rosen, her knee jerking into the table and causing two elderly women nearby to look over in shock. “Obviously I want the rest of my bridal party to be at my bachelorette, and the rest of my bridesmaids live in the city. And I want to go to a strip club, like I told you, and I want to do that bachelorette bingo game I sent you that just can’t do in a small town where everybody knows everybody.”

“What game?”

She huffs. “I sent it to you. It’s from Pinterest.”

“Oh.” Ari sips on her water even though her thirst is thoroughly quenched. “I haven’t had the time to look at it yet.”

“You haven’t had time.” Rosen repeats this in monotone, her voice dangerously low.

“No.”

Rosen smacks her lips together. “But you don’t do anything. How can you run out of time when literally nothing is on your schedule?”

Ari pales, but quickly gulps down the sting. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Nobody would understand! That makes no sense. Honestly, Ari, I gave you this responsibility, like, three months ago, and so far you haven’t done a single thing, which is like…”

Rosen trails off, too frustrated to continue. Ari shouldn’t prompt her, but she can’t help it. “What? It’s like what?”

When Rosen’s eyes lock with hers, they’re hardened and sad. “Do you even want to be a part of my wedding?”

The stare of the elderly ladies one table over fix on her again. Under the spotlight, all Ari can do is nibble on her lower lip.

“Everybody cares about you,” Rosen says, softer now. “I can’t have a conversation with Mom or Grandma without you coming up, even when it’s about my wedding. It’s all Ari’s acting like this or Ari’s off Zoloft again and we all brainstorm ways to help you. God, I even asked you to move out here with me! But you have to do something sometime, Ari. Sitting around waiting for something to happen to you – that’s stupid. Get a job, go on a date, plan my bachelorette! Whether it’s for yourself or for someone else, just do something.”

Ari doesn’t reply.

Dr. Sodhi once told her that in situations where she feels so misunderstood she doesn’t know where to begin, it’s sometimes best to let the yeller do the yelling and not say anything at all.

.

Ari’s alarm sounds at precisely 7:30 a.m. She spends five minutes listening to the gentle rustling in the house: footsteps up and down the stairs, the coffee grinder buzzing in the kitchen.

Must go on a hike. Hiking today. Today is about hiking.

Focused repeats of the day’s purpose help her throw off the covers and sit up. It’s easier to get out of bed this way. It’s easier than it used to be, anyway. Ari squeezes her eyes shut to forget the days she’d get out of bed at four in the afternoon, showering in just enough time before Louis got home to spare herself his groaning about how she’d done nothing since he’d left for work in the morning.

She uses a small spray bottle to spritz her succulent, just enough until its leaves are dewy and hydrated. It basks in the sun, and Ari imagines that if it had a face, that face would be smiling.

When she descends the stairs, Jackson is hopping into the car on his way to work with Rosen sending him off at the door. It’s enough time for Ari to slip around the corner unnoticed to pour a quart of water into her bottle from a pitcher in the fridge. She refills the pitcher with water from the faucet and is halfway through her water bottle when Rosen enters in her fluffy bathrobe, wisps of hair sticking out of her messy ponytail.

“How do you not get sick chugging that much water on an empty stomach?” she asks, upper lip curling in revulsion.

“It kickstarts my system,” Ari replies after a loud gulp. She stands with a hand on her hip. “Flushes out toxins. Improves blood flow to my brain, keeps me in a good mood.”

Standing stock still, Rosen uncurls her lip but says with a shrug, “Whatever.”

“You should try it.”

“Not interested.” She pointedly moves across the kitchen to the hot pot of coffee left for her by Jackson. “Two cups of Joe is what mama needs.”

Ari doesn’t bother arguing. She finishes the rest of her water bottle while Rosen pours herself a steaming mug of coffee, and then she turns her attention to the weather. It’s a beautiful summer day, eighty degrees and clear. Ari’s wandered the neighbourhood and figured out the roads close to home, but she hasn’t tried any of the woodland trails yet. She aches to be sheltered by a rooftop of trees, golden rays poking through the leaves.

Plenty of sunlight. That’s an item on her list, and she should start paying more attention to it while the August sun is still here.

“Do you want to hike with me?” she asks Rosen. “I think I’m gonna go through the forest at the end of the road. Jackson said it’s a nice walk.”

“Um…” Rosen trails, focused on pouring the milk, “what time?”

“Ten minutes? Fifteen?” Ari suggests.

“Oh. Then no.”

Ari’s shoulders slump. “We could go later this morning if you want.”

“I have those paint samples from Benjamin Moore to try on the bedroom walls,” Rosen replies with a cavalier shrug.

“This afternoon, then?”

“Well, hopefully I’ll be able to find a swatch that I like and then go back to the store to get them to mix it.” She looks to Ari with a gasp, stumbling upon a great idea. “You should come!”

“To Madison?”

“If they have the paint colour I want. Wanna come?”

Ari definitely didn’t coax herself out of bed this morning to sample paint chips. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What do you mean? What else are you doing?”

“Hiking.”

“You said you were gonna do that now.”

“I was trying to find a time we could go together!” Ari speaks through a laugh, though her lips don’t curve into a smile. “Sorry – backing up – are you interested in a hike or not?”

“Not,” Rosen says simply.

“Fine. That’s all you had to say.” Ari refills her water bottle from the pitcher in the fridge, adding on her way out, “See you later, then.”

.

Ari packs a couple of snacks for her hike and stays outdoors until early afternoon, when her quads ache in the most accomplished way from the uneven terrain on the hills. After she showers, Rosen has only just begun to swatch paint samples on the walls of the bedroom she shares with Jackson, so Ari lets herself out onto the back patio, barefoot, and finds herself dialling home. Nobody picks up.

It’s a couple of minutes before her cell rings, Home alight on the screen.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Ari, hi,” gushes Ana Pate. “I heard the phone ring but I was outside watering the plants. I forgot how long it takes!”

“That’s because I always do it for you.”

“I know. You do my weeding, too. I’m missing that.”

“That’s what you miss, huh?” Ari says dryly.

Ana chuckles. “Of course not. Miss everything about you. How are things going? Rosen says you’re developing a routine.”

“Yeah.” Ari stretches her legs in the sun and tries to ignore the icky feeling that Rosen’s been speaking to their mother about Ari’s schedule. “I’ve been doing okay. Keeping consistent, I guess. Which is good – for me, at least.”

“For anybody,” Ana insists. Ari’s not quite so sure.

“How are you and Dad?”

“Oh, fine. He’s out right now picking up a few things for dinner. I’m sure that man will come back with a steak even though I told him no red meat until the wedding. Do you know how much it costs?”

“Red meat or the wedding?”

“Both. We’re on a diet, both of us. At least until the cheque’s cleared.”

“Hmm, yeah. It’s all about Rosen’s wedding.” Ari cringes, instantly aware that her attempt to sound lighthearted has miserably failed.

“Well, it is exciting. And just remember: she’ll be excited for you, too, when the time comes.”

Ari clears her throat. She has to hear enough about the fucking wedding now that she’s living with Rosen full time.

“So, um… has any mail come for me?”

“Mail? You mean like a letter?”

“Yeah. Maybe yesterday or late last week?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe a credit card bill. Why?”

“Nothing,” Ari says quickly. To Ana’s expectant silence, she caves. “I was hoping to hear back from Fordham about that continuing education course.”

“Oh, honey. This late in the summer?”

“Yeah.” Ari casts her eyes down. “It was a long shot, I guess.”

“Well…” Ana sighs – a sigh Ari knows far too well. A sigh of sympathy, of sadness, of surrender. And Mom only uses it with her. “It’s probably for the best, don’t you think? You don’t want to be doing too much too soon. You should rest.”

“I can’t rest, Mom,” Ari says. “I can’t just do nothing anymore. I need to be busy; I need to keep my mind active.”

“You need to heal,” Ana says firmly. “You’ve been through a lot. Your mind needs a break.”

“I need to have purpose,” Ari insists. “Otherwise, I—I’ll sink into that dark place again.”

Another sigh. Then Ana says, “Well, I’m sure Rosen will keep you busy the next couple of months with the wedding. That should help.”

Ari rolls her eyes. “You might be shocked to learn that devoting my life to her wedding doesn’t exactly give me a lot of purpose.”

“Oh, Ari!” Ana snaps. “You have purpose, and you know that. That’s what you and Dr. Sodhi spent so long talking about. I’m sorry you didn’t get into a school this term, but I have to be honest, I really don’t think that’s what you should be focusing on right now. I don’t want you to get bogged down in an intensive program that you’re not as interested in as you thought you might be. If you go back to school, it should be because you have something in particular you want to study, not because you want to keep yourself busy. That’s running from your problems, honey. You know better than that.”

After a long pause, Ari gulps. “That’s not what you said to Rosen when she got into NYU Law.”

“Well, those were different circumstances. Rosen had a clear path for her future.”

“Was dropping out before the end of first term part of her clear path?”

“Don’t do that, Ari. Don’t be unfair. She followed her heart. Now she and Jackson are about to get married, so I think she’s happy with her decision.”

Ari says nothing.

“You know, you are doing something meaningful,” Ana adds softly. “You’re there for your little sister when she really needs you. She’s juggling planning a wedding and becoming a homeowner in a strange new town – she’s just as overwhelmed as you are.”

At this, Ari shuts down. The ‘just as [insert adjective here] as you are’ measure of relatability is, in fact, the opposite of relatable.

But it does remind her why she’s here, six hundred miles from home and cut off from everyone she’s ever known other than immediate family. It’s not just to get a grip on herself. It’s not just to help Rosen prepare for the wedding. It’s to give her parents a break. To let them pretend, for a few months, that their daughters are both happy, healthy, functioning adults who are making progress and being independent in the world.

The truth is that they only have one of those daughters, and she’s not Ari.

.

In the afternoon, Ari declines Rosen’s second invitation to join her in Madison to pick up a gallon of Palm Desert paint, which is “richer than Sepia but not as dark as Café Royal”, in favour of returning to the Tillson City downtown core. She takes Jackson’s bicycle, which is a little rickety and not adjusted to her height, but it carries her safely to town. She parks outside of Kalene’s Garden, where there is not a bike rack in sight. Ari  hopes against all New York City hope the bike has little chance of being stolen.

Inside, she runs across the same woman who helped Rosen with her wedding flowers.

“I remember you,” says the woman whose eyes peer over thick bifocals. “You were here for the Hawley wedding.”

“I remember you, too,” Ari says. “You’re Sherry.”

“That’s right.” The woman holds out her hand to shake over the cash register. “And what’s your name again, dear?”

“I’m Ari.”

Sherry pauses with a slight frown. “Ari? I remember Jackson Hawley’s fiancée having a floral sort of name…”

When the ladies in the Massapequa hair salon used to mix them up, Ari used to joke that she hoped they didn’t give her Rosen’s ridiculously-shaped bangs. Lightheartedness doesn’t come easily anymore, so she replies evenly, “That’s my sister, Rosen.”

“Oh, of course. Rosen! What a pretty name.”

Ari blinks. “Yeah.”

“Well, what can I do for you, dear?”

Ari slips her backpack off of her shoulders and begins to unzip it. “Actually, I was wondering if Kalene is here? I wanted to speak with her if possible. It won’t take long.”

“I’m sure she can spare a bit of time,” Sherry says with a smile. She leans over the register again to point down the aisle. “She’s just in the office. She won’t mind if you give a knock on the door.”

Ari thanks her, but still she approaches the office on light feet, wary of disturbing the peace. She doesn’t want to be a bother. She doesn’t want Kalene to think she’s entitled or overbearing. She should just go home. She should just save everyone the grief.

She knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

Knuckles white, Ari pushes open the door and sticks her head inside. When she spies Kalene at the desk, her hair tamed in a low bun and her ruffled military green blouse complimenting her skintone, she pastes a smile on her face. Even when she spots a toddler seated on the floor with building blocks surrounding him, Ari can’t hide her smile.

Kalene holds up her head, her impossibly long neck elegant and straight. “You’re back,” she says warmly.

“Yeah—yes,” Ari stammers. She clutches the papers in her hand, certainly creasing them but too nervous to care. “I can come back, though, if this is a bad time—”

“Come on in. Take a seat.”

Ari obeys, lightly closing the door behind her. The office is humid, a little box of a room stuffed with binders and papers, a computer, and potted plants on every surface: the desk, the bookshelf, the window ledge. There’s just enough room on the floor for the toddler – a little boy, no more than a year old – and his small lunchbox full of toys.

“This is Mekhi,” she says, gesturing to the boy, “my youngest.” She reaches out to pet the back of his head. “Sometimes he comes with me to work when his auntie falls through on babysitting – don’t you, Mekhi? Hmm?”

He stares up at his mother adoringly, wooden block in his mouth and molten brown eyes blown wide.

“He’s adorable,” Ari says with a laugh, “and very good at building blocks.”

“The civil engineer of the family,” Kalene jokes. “So,” she continues, closing the binder in front of her, “what brings you back?”

Ari sucks in a breath, and just as promptly exhales. “I just—um,” she starts, glancing down at the resume in her hands, “I have a—I wanted to ask if you…”

She shakes her head, inwardly cringing. With another short breath, she looks up.

“I was looking for a friend,” she blurts out, “the other day, when you asked. I’m looking for a lot of things, I think.”

She pauses, wincing at Kalene’s possible reaction, but the woman is straight-faced, listening intently, and scrutinizing Ari with a thoughtful expression.

So she goes on, “I make myself these roadmaps—lists, really—to help me get through each day, but they don’t mark with an X what I’m searching for, so I’m really going on nothing. I realize this is really not a convincing preamble, but I just wanted to tell you that… I really like it here. In your shop. It makes me feel, um… warm? Not physically, but, like, inside of me. I feel warm when I’m here, and I feel in good company, and… that means something to me.” She hesitates. Then, swallowing her fears, she finishes, “I know what it’s like to not feel anything at all, so when I do feel something – anything – I latch onto it. I don’t want to forget it. And, um… I want to work here. Volunteer, even. If you’ll let me, even for just a few hours every week. I just want to spend time, if that’s okay.”

When Ari takes a breath, Kalene is smiling again. Maybe it’s not the shop, but Kalene herself who emanates warmth.

That’s a new thought. Ari hasn’t felt warmth from another human since Louis, and that was long, long ago. It was the sort of warmth that dulled over time until one day, she convinced herself she’d imagined it was ever there in the first place.

“What’s your name?” Kalene asks.

“Oh. Sorry.” Ari thrusts her resume into Kalene’s hands. “I’m Ari Pate. Rosen’s sister. She’s marrying Jackson Hawley, if that means anything to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Kalene confirms. With a quick look at the very top of Ari’s resume, Kalene promptly hands it back to her. Ari’s heart sinks. “Ariana,” she reads.

“That’s my full name, yes. Um, I—I have a degree in Molecular Biology with a minor in Environmental Science, and I know that seems heavy, but I think if you look at my experience, you’ll agree that I—”

Kalene holds up her hand, effectively sealing Ari’s lips together. “Would you like to come back tomorrow, Ariana?”

“For an interview?” Once again, Ari offers her resume.

Kalene declines. “For a training session. An orientation, let’s call it.”

Ari’s breath comes out in a gust. The blood drains from her head in a moment of surrealism. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t want to see my resume?”

“If you want me to look at it, then I will. But we’re a small shop, as you can see, and this is our passion. So it bodes well, to me, that it gives you a good feeling to be here. Those are the people I want to work with – not the ones with the most impressive resumes. At the end of the day, all those words on paper mean nothing. It’s what you put forth in action that carries weight.”

Ari nods slowly, more in awe of this beautiful woman than ever. Is she going fucking crazy, or was that the smartest thing anyone’s ever said to her?

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Count on it,” says Ari, rising to her feet. She nudges a few stray blocks at Mekhi with the tip of her sole. He reaches for one particular block and looks up at Ari with a sloppy, saliva-coated grin.

“Ten o’clock,” says Kalene, opening her binder as Ari takes her leave. “We’ll put you to work.”

.

Ari volunteers at Kalene’s on Wednesday and Thursday, five hours each day. Her shoulder-length hair curls and frizzes in the humid shop, and for the first time, that’s the biggest of her concerns. Kalene shows her how to water the irises in the plant basket, and in return, Ari tells Kalene what she knows about the structural biology of roses.

By Thursday night, though her thighs hurt from crouching to tend to the plants, Ari feels satisfied to near delirium. She’s come home with two new succulents: a beautiful kiwi aeonium with deep pink, outlined leaves, and one called a jelly bean, whose leaves look like just that. She arranges them next to the foxtail on her window and admires them with pride. Pride – a swell in her chest she’s not felt since that A in organic chemistry in junior year, all those years ago.

When she finally leaves her room to steep a mug of sleepytime tea – for a better, more peaceful sleep, it promises – voices filter up the stairs. She descends slowly, wary of disturbing Rosen and Jackson in the living room but unable to boil water in the kitchen without passing them.

“He’s single right now; he’s probably looking for someone,” Rosen says.

“I think you’re confused. Luke doesn’t look for someone, he finds someone,” Jackson chuckles.

“So maybe he could find her.”

“It’s not a good match, Rosie.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. He’s a nice guy, he’s a longtime friend of yours, and I don’t see why it would be crazy to introduce him to Ari.”

Ari’s ears burn at the sound of her name. On high alert, she speeds her pace to the bottom of the stairs. Cuddled on the couch, Jackson and Rosen meet her eyes.

“Hey!” Rosen exclaims, using a hand on Jackson’s thigh to stabilize herself as she moves to the edge of the couch. “Great news: I ran into Jacks’ friend, Luke, in town and told him my sister was staying with me for a while. We chatted about you a bit. He seemed really interested.”

Blankly, Ari says, “Interested in what?”

“In you, of course. We thought it would be fun if you two met.”

Ari blinks. “What?”

“Tomorrow night. At Sherman’s – you know, that little dive bar downtown.”

“It’s not a dive bar,” Jackson interjects in offense.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s a local establishment.”

“It’s a dive bar.”

“No, it’s a neighbourhood pub,” he argues. “The owners keep it clean, and yeah, sometimes it can get rowdy in there, but in general folks go there for a drink after the game, to listen to some live music, to socialize.”

“I still think it’s a dive bar,” Rosen says with a shrug.

Jackson rubs a palm over his forehead. “People ‘round here don’t think of it that way, so you best watch how you speak of it in front of them.” Redirecting his attention to Ari, he adds, “It’s charming, don’t worry. It’s a lot of fun there.”

“I didn’t say it’s not fun, Jackson,” Rosen snaps. “I know it’s fun; I always have fun there.”

“You mean the one time you came with me?” he deadpans.

Rosen huffs in annoyance and promptly looks away from him, maintaining eye contact with Ari. “Luke’s really great,” she gushes. “He’s been working full-time at the DMV since high school and word has it he’s got a lot saved up. He wants to buy a plot of land and fix up a house right here in town to be close to family and friends. Oh, and he was on the football team in high school with Jacks. He’s really built.”

Jackson stares expressionlessly at the back of Rosen’s head.

Ari looks from Rosen to Jackson and back to Rosen again. Rosen might very well be holding her breath until Ari gives a definitive answer, so after prolonging the torture another few seconds, Ari slowly says, “He sounds… great.”

With a triumphant exhale, Rosen shoulders slump with a satisfied smile. She softens, tipping her head to the side in that telltale display of sympathy Ari knows far too well. “It might be good for you. You and Louis broke up, like, a year ago—”

“Six months ago.”

“—and I’m sure you’ve been lonely. I mean, I know you have, and that’s why you’re here. And you’re trying all this new stuff lately, like yoga and vegetarianism and whatever, so why not try a blind date? Honest, I think you’ll have fun.”

Ari groans internally. It’s times like these when having no one who cared for her would be easier to manage – there would be no one to disappoint, no one to have to humour. Even though Rosen’s arrangement sounds like absolute misery, Ari knows she’ll still end up doing it. For Rosen. And that’s a fucking kicker.

“Can’t he come here instead?” Ari asks. “That way there’s less pressure, especially if you guys are here to help if the conversation gets slow.”

Rosen scrunches her nose, repulsed. “You don’t invite someone to your house for a blind date,” she says, as if common blind date etiquette is written in stone. “How is that less pressure? You meet in a social setting so if they turn out to be a murderer, everyone hears your screams.”

“That is comforting,” Ari says dryly.

“Okay. Rosie, stop,” Jackson says, nudging Rosen in the back. He leans forward to take control of the conversation. “Luke’s a good guy. He’s not a murderer, for Christ’s sake. He’s the one who suggested meeting at Sherman’s, so it’s probably best to follow through with that. Besides, Rosie and I are out tomorrow night – it’s Sawyer’s birthday in Charleston.”

Rosen sags with the event reminder, seemingly not too thrilled to attend the birthday celebration of Jackson’s older brother, who lives and works as a corporate lawyer in Charleston.

“Oh!” Rosen cries. “But we can drop you off on our way there!”

It’s not quite the consolation prize Ari hoped for. Her eyes shake as she fights not to let them roll. “Great.”

“So you’ll go?”

Rosen’s lips form a pleading pout. Jackson sighs in defeat. As for Ari, well, she was doomed from the moment she walked down the stairs.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

Photo Credits: Anton Darius, Jesse Summers

#tls #my writing #fic #1dff #thank you for giving this a shot :)

[thefreshfinds]

BROOKLYN UNITY FEST:

There is strength in numbers and the Brooklyn Unity Fest went ahead to prove that theory in their 8th annual event. If someone were to question "Where Brooklyn at?" the proof would be front and center. Ultimately the Brooklyn Unity Fest gave back to its community in a major way!

Aside from its free giveaway on Summer Jam tickets, bikes and t-shirts — there was also a Fabolous Way 3 Point Contest and Stomp the Violence Dance Contest.

From the basketball courts, vendors, face painting, multiple stages and even a bouncy house — the festival made sure to bask in its pride.

Overall, everyone was very accepting. Once the performers went onstage their was a common ground shared between the younger and older generation.

Not only were their crowds of kids doing the Stanky Leg, but there was all smiles and a fascination towards the new age sound. Many of the artists recieved new fans but their main focus was giving their all in the name of hip-hop. The genre has taken them to new heights and for that matter they encourage others to follow their dreams. In a word, there was no other place that I wanted to be! The Brooklyn Unity Fest had great vibes. No wonder Brooklyn is the Most Thorough Borough! Their community is willing to give a lending hand if needed be.

Although I wasn't able to interview all of the performers, here are some phenomenal creatives (you read it right) that I had an opportunity to speak with:

1. JU-MO and E-MONEY TAGS: If you're wondering where the boosters at, you don't need to look any further. These two are willing to go the distance because they're asking the same thing! Originally from Brooklyn, NY — JU-MO's moniker stands for "Just Money" and his government. The MC even utilizes his creativity and goes as far as to create wristbands with all the currencies and his own clothing line thats displayed on a manequin! If that isn't cool enough then his music will heat things up, since that's its true purpose. Besides this, E-Money Tags is who he is. He's just happy and is living his best life. "They don't like us" and that's perfectly fine. JU-MO and E-Money Tags plan on spreading love, happiness and unity regardless. Go and stream “We the Boosters” now. It’s on all platforms. Music video coming soon.

INSTAGRAM: @its_just_money

2. AUDREY JACKSON: Humble, brave, dedicated and passionate Audrey Jackson has been singing since she was 2 and performed from 5th grade on up! However when she got to college and sung the national anthem for the Philadelphia 76ers thats when she started going full force with her career. Sultry by nature, Audrey Jackson heats things up with her vocal range and charisma. Before going onstage she talks to God and her grandma. She also asks them to be with her and wears something of her grandmas for more positive energy. One line that resonates with her is: Whenever someone push your back against the wall say I’m hear to stay. Her mixtape Misunderstood is coming soon and features Jahlil Beats. Instagram: @Iamaudreyjackson@Itsallmusicthemovement. Rel Carter director of A&R for Roc Nation. Her album called “ No Handouts” is available on every digital platform. Love triangle is available now on all digital platforms.

INSTAGRAM: @iamaudreyjackson

MUSIC LINK: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6yAL4ht3Igo

3. RICH CHINO and HOLLI TV: Rich Chino radiates love, not only in real life but also in his music because that’s what hip-hop means to him. Even when he’s taken a few L’s, Rich Chino would never wish harm upon those he cared for. He’d just rather not have them in his circle. A lot of people may say that Rich Chino has changed because he does his own thing but one thing is certain: He’ll always win. His track “Calling Mommy” is a dance song at most and makes one get up on that floor to show all the moves. His best friend Holli TV also did music and hops on a track from time to time but he’s mostly a comedian. A word of advice for inspiring creatives: Be yourself, be consistent and never let the hate affect you. Word on the block is that others respect the grind too, so how could they ever stop? Stay tuned for more content from Holli TV, go and stream “Calling Mommy” on SoundCloud.

INSTAGRAMS: @richchino + @hollitv

MUSIC LINK: https://m.soundcloud.com/user-171933865/richchino-calling-mommy

4. LIL POOKA: CEO and founder of VSF the label — Lil Pooka, defines himself as an entrepreneurial artist. Always two steps ahead, he invest into his future by thinking in the way of a business man. Even though things are just starting for him, Lil Pooka has been creating music since he was 12 years old. Hip-hop is life for the reinforcer and he says that it’s half of him. “Hip-hop is a great way of self-expression.” Lil Pooka adds. One who gets hyped off an all-around grind, Lil Pooka prays for good vibes and new beginnings. Lil Pooka will always look to be a big influencer. For the culture, Lil Pooka says to “never cap.” Always tell your truth, no matter what. Stay tuned for new music soon.

INSTAGRAM: @lipooka

MUSIC LINK: https://m.soundcloud.com/cashoutday

5. SELF MADE STREETS: Putting his ego to the side, Self Made Streets makes things happen with one movement at a time. From the jump, he keeps it real and leaps into a sound that’s meant to inspire. Yet it all derives from his personal upbringings. “I’m reinventing myself right before your eyes.” says Self Made Streets. Still, as he teaches the generation — Self Made Streets is also learning and progressing. It’s two of the things he takes with him on a daily basis. Aside from an MC, Self Made Streets is an entrepreneur who believes in the power of change. Stream his latest tape No Turning Back. It’s on all platforms.

INSTAGRAM: @selfmadestreets

6. KING BRAIZE: An intricate wordsmith who reps the Garden State, King Braize lives to tell a message. His motto “Inspire yourself” speaks volume and pushes one to keep going (with or without support). King Braize is the voice of his people and brings awareness to the inequality between African American’s and todays era. Along his journey he wants peace, patience and happiness. He lives to focus on love because what is a better way to celebrate those that you hold close to your heart? What’s more important to him is just trusting the process. Follow the #KrownMovement and listen to his music. It’s available on all streaming platforms.

INSTAGRAM: @kingbraize

MUSIC LINK: http://kingbraize.com/inspireyourself/

7. KHING JUS WURK: Khing Jus Wurk gives the music era something different. Instead of advocating drugs or sex — he uses his craft to enforce change and inspiration. He’d like for more kings to push kings because we have enough that are at war. For now though, Khing Jus Wurk will be the first to break the stigma(and to put in the overtime). If you haven’t grabbed a copy of XXL magazine, go and do so. Khing Jus Wurk made an appearance. Also make sure to stream his tape #3DayWeekend. It’s available on all platforms.

INSTAGRAM: @khingjuswurk

MUSIC LINK: https://tidal.com/browse/artist/10033147

8. TEMMY BRIDGES AND DANYOSONN: Two who had to go and get it — Temmy Bridges and Danyosonn have been grinding for years. Originally from Canada, Temmy Bridges now lives in Brooklyn. He started rapping 7 years ago, but took it seriously once he saw that people were catching a vibe from it. Ultimately, hip-hop is a freedom of speech for him and with that, comes a risk but Temmy Bridges faces it head on. He’s willing to switch up the tone at all cost. Secondly, Danyosonn’s moniker was passed down from the Great Sensai. And while he has the boom, ba and bam — Danyosonn doesn’t use his talent to brag. Instead he uses hip-hop to relay how he feels because when words can’t get the energy across, his music does. Danyosonn has been on a non-stop grind since he was 16 years old. For him, the journey because in his bedroom where he put together his own studio. Even when he moved to Virginia, Danyosonn stayed consistent and has ran with it since. Now Danyosonn is working on a project that’s set to be released on July 4th. Make sure to check out “Stuck” ft. Temmy Bridges when it releases too! While others try to rent a place in the rap game, the duo shows why they own it. In the words of Danyosonn, they’ve just been ballin’ out like every season.

INSTAGRAMS: @temmybridges + @danyosonn_mns

MUSIC LINKS:

A) TEMMY BRIDGES: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=AENtVG1md0M&feature=youtu.be

B) DANYOSONN: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=10cRHp3dGnQ&feature=youtu.be

#brooklynunityfest #bkuf2019 #soundcloud #freshfinds #music #musicblog #rap #listen #banger #musicians #hip hop #follow #unsignedhype #complexmagazine #thesource #hot97whosnext #hot97 #artistreviews #eventreviews #upnext #hiphopblogger #djmelo #vina

[leam1983]

Quarantine Musings, Part Deux

I went into Final Fantasy VII Remake expecting something akin to FFXII’s fun combat system and open world design, spiced up by the use of characters that predate the Tetsuya Nomura School of Design having turned stale and passionless. It’s pretty much what I got, so I spent a good chunk of time equivalent to the earlier-released demo just plain being happy.

Then I heard the game’s reprisal of Tifa’s theme, down in Sector 7 and, well... I needed a moment, let’s say. Fuck, man, the goosebumps.

So far, I’m liking the way they’ve opted to flesh out FF7 while staying as true-to-form as possible. The opening hour has you recognize screens from the ages-old PSOne release even if they’re being rendered in bleeding-edge visual fidelity, with most of the opening hours’ tedious X-pressing being relegated to basic passivity, seeing as we’ve gone from speech boops and text boxes to fully-voiced and animated cutscenes that regularly and seamlessly transition back into the gameworld. It’s not as tedious as the original game’s RNG-based encounters and for once, it entirely is possible to clean house before tackling the main boss, inside the Mako reactor. That reduces the grind and makes it difficult to cheese your way to higher levels of power, but it does follow the plot more closely. The end result is a leveling scale that’s fairly different from the standard release of the title, seeing as you’ll kick back at Seventh Heaven with a Cloud Strife that’s teetering on the verge of his fifteenth level, if you play your cards right. The balancing follows suit, thankfully, so there’s no danger of you wiping the floor with bottom-tier mooks - unless you play the game on Easy.

The biggest additions are largely diegetic, seeing as Square opted to give Midgar the lion’s share of this installment. We see more pedestrians, more signage; we catch more banter as it flies about and, crucially, we also have access to more involved side-quests. They, in turn, tie back to quest-givers both old and new, and add a few hours of extra meat on the adventure’s bones.

We also see more of Sephiroth in the early game. If you expected the narrative progression to be identical, you’ll probably be surprised. My best guess is that the scriptwriters opted to better flesh out and root the sources of Cloud’s trauma, therefore having our boy’s signature Nemesis crop up as components of overly-contrived hallucinations and flashbacks. It’s a tad clumsy, but it works.

That’s without mentioning the fact that Cloud himself is a bit more of a gab. He might still pass for aloof as far as video game protagonists are concerned, but banter that concerns him doesn’t simply remain one-sided, this time around. Our boy tries pathetically hard to play the Tsundere card, but still prods conversations along and reacts to jokes, jabs or bits of  worldbuilding pertinent to his professional docket or preoccupations of the moment. It does wonders to make Cloud come across as a resident of Midgar, someone with a professional stake in its operation, and not just as a spiky-haired wallflower that was unceremoniously dropped in to scowl at everyone and passive-aggressively shove Gil down his pockets.

Of course, the flipside of this involves Barrett. Mister Wallace is here so unabashedly, wholly and inescapably Black as to transcend Blackface, and has very little character development beyond being the loud and opinionated ghetto bruiser that essentially acts as Avalanche’s standard-bearer. If Biggs, Jessie or Wedge had anything close to a decent character arc, our band of eco-terrorists might have been able to couch its manifesto down over the opening hours. As it stands, what we get is a very dated relic from Greenpeace’s years of aggressively militant activism. Why lobby for policy changes in Midgar or reduced subsidies for Shinra and its dependencies when you can endanger civilians and paid employees by staging a raid on a power station?

I Messenger’d a few friends halfway through Sector 7 and snickered as we spitballed off of Avalanche’s agenda. “Remember, folks, Black Dynamite lost an arm and grafted a gatling gun to it for THA PLANET. Reduce, reuse and recycle, or he’ll Kung Fu you candy-ass motherfuckas into Bahamut’s plane of existence!”

Yeah. Barrett hasn’t aged well, let’s say. The ensemble cast either chews the scenery as effectively as Final Fantasy villains are expected to, or plays it all in a surprisingly subdued manner. I was afraid I’d find Aerith’s hopefulness jarring after so long, but she blends in with the other playable characters as effectively as before.

Then again, Squaresoft always did have trouble designing Black characters, didn’t they?

#final fantasy vii remake #first impressions #rant? #kinda? #barrett is so cringe

[nozomijoestar]

Review of Your Name (君の名は)

This review will contain spoilers so please do not read if you plan on going to see this movie and do not want any part of the experience ruined. 

I have three major gripes with this film that is otherwise excellently sound and worthy of all its praise (as are many Makoto Shinkai works). I’ll address these first then go on to the rest of the movie from sound design, to animation, to voice acting (please note I have only seen the English dub in theaters so this is the only performance I can draw from). I’d like to add that this is one of those films I highly recommend watching in a movie theater. The sense of atmosphere and scale is improved upon by the size of a theater’s capabilities. 

1. The Opening Sequence at the beginning should have been omitted entirely.

Not only was it rather jarring to see an OP in the style of an animated TV show in something like a feature film, it was also a giant guarantee that Mitsuha will survive the events of the comet that originally did kill her. Looking back on that sequence the longer one progresses through the movie, all the excellently mounting and central tension around whether or not Itomori and in turn Mitsuha can be saved is ruined by her adulthood appearance already being shown to the viewer within the first two to three minutes of the first shots. This drags down some of the enjoyability of trying to resolve the main conflict and makes Taki’s actions and the lengths he went to save her and everyone fall rather flat knowing from the get go that he will succeed. See, if this were a clearly not as ambitious title as one of my other favorite series Girls und Panzer- I would be willing to forgive this and enjoy the ride rather than most of the set up. However here in a film that both sells itself and thrives in setting serious, believable tone and atmosphere that is clearly trying to achieve more than placing some great set pieces and decently entertaining characters, I’m going to expect it to try harder to keep us on the edge of our seats and guessing. While this wasn’t a factor that killed the entire movie for me outright, it was definitely a damper and something I’m going to have to detract points from. 

2. Many of the insert songs (not the original composed pieces) were overused as to be annoying and forgettable with the exception of the final credits song

One of the other few things that bugged me constantly throughout the movie and which at times broke my immersion to focus more on that problem than a scene was the music placement. Instead of mostly using appropriate pieces to strengthen a scene (something Shinkai did better in his 2007 film 5 Centimeters Per Second), full length pop like music with matching lyrics was used; its vocals not only detracting from the built emotion scene by scene that was sufficient to stand on its own, but ruining some of that built tone by clashing it’s own different musical tone to instead work against a scene rather than help its impact. Thankfully, all four of these songs themselves at least are not repeated throughout the entirety of the film, but the moments where they are definitely make themselves noticeable. 

3. The explanation for why Mitsuha and Taki switch bodies while nicely implied on several occasions is never believably explained and can feel rather contrived 

This was definitely one of the aspects of the film where the writing team’s frustrations at making one of their key elements feel fleshed out was palpable. The way I understood it, you can take the explanation for why these two are able to take each others place three ways. Three ways that very heavily tie into each other as to feel like each one is supposed to cover the other ones ass if it falls short simply due to how similar in theme they are. Mitsuha and Taki can switch bodies because of the following:

Mitsuha’s family having the closest tie to the god who’s shrine they upkeep, therefore when she wished for a different life the deity indulged her especially accounting for how difficult her life had been and how victimized she was by her classmates

OR

The event of the comet was also tied to the god and divine forces in general, perhaps the work of a god who opposed the shrine god Mitsuha’s family served as the name of the comet Tiamat is the name of a god of primordial destruction in Mesopotamian lore. This god could have sent the meteor to Itomori to destroy it as an act against it’s own god- who then uses the switching of Mitsuha’s body with Taki three years in the future as a way to get someone to prevent Itomori’s destruction through the body of one of its shrine caretakers and also in turn bring fated lovers together (if this was all the case though the god could have simply counterattacked and prevented the meteor from falling outright thus canceling the whole movie though this can be argued against on reasonable grounds that the Itomori god is not strong enough to fight a greater god such as Tiamat as it only controls a town) 

OR

Because Mitsuha’s family is directly responsible for taking care of the town god and have been doing so for countless generations, they have simply been granted the ability to randomly switch bodies with someone they desire to for a limited period of time (likely until either they or the other person die as the link between Taki and Mitsuha is initially severed upon her death in the original timeline) and can pass this ability best if the mother of a child in their family is a Miyamizu (since both Mitsuha’s mother and grandmother have done this at earlier points in their lives), thus Mitsuha is just awakening her ability after wishing desperately to be someone else however it all happened to coincide with the Tiamat Comet though the two aren’t necessarily related

That all being said, again, these three things are only implied at best, and neither lead to a single compelling explanation and instead serve to pull the reasoning in more offshooting and conflicting directions than it helps to create a unifying believable cause (ironic given that one of the central themes of the story is the idea of unity which otherwise is wonderfully done) 

This concludes my main gripes

From here on out I’ll cover the film from a technical perspective

The sound design is excellent, accurate, and properly implemented and does wonders to increase immersion and bring the setting to life. The world feels familiar, vibrant and alive. Every train grinding on the tracks, every text bloop and bleep, every rustle of leaves and doors opening or shutting is as intense as it can be subtle. These audible cues combined with stunning, gorgeous, and masterful visuals combine to form a presentation that absolutely grabs hold of the viewers attention and refuses to let go in a delightful way. You’re in the countryside or in the heart of Tokyo and you stay there, something that also brilliantly highlights the differences and similarities to Taki and Mitsuha’s contrasting environments; while greatly strengthening how they react when thrown into these opposing types of setting. Expert use of various camera angles in addition to these factors further heightens the impact on the senses; doing an amazing job of displaying shifting senses of scale, character emotion, and aiding in location transitioning (such as the ever present shots of doors being opened from a floor level view that not only bring a sense of mystery to each transition in this manner but are aesthetically pleasing and contribute to setting a location’s tone for the following scene taking place in it by adding various degrees of urgency that is applied to how the door is opened). 

Setting is in fact a great segway into characters, as the almost otherworldly portrayal of the world with how crisp it is in addition to the fantastical/supernatural element of the plot serve to make the realistic and grounded characters stand out. The characters themselves, from our two protagonists to the minor players are all believable, carrying familiar human struggles, wants, and needs despite and in response to the impossible things that happen to them. I would actually wholly enjoy a spinoff feature with characters like Teshi and Saya or even Mitsuha’s dad or grandmother in her youth taking center stage after seeing how well they were put together in this film. Taki and Mitsuha’s curiosity and panic upon first switching immediately felt both relatable and entertaining (I’d touch my own dong to make sure it was actually real after suddenly waking up in a stranger’s body the same way I’d touch the titties if I were a man switching suddenly into a girl’s body too- my mom and I had many laughs over this one) They struggled not only with being thrust suddenly into alien environments but also in everything from how to use pronouns, to communicating with their opposite’s friends and family members, to adapting with what was given to them on such short notice (or even taking advantage of it in the way Mitsuha first abuses Taki’s paycheck to eat the sweets she never had at the first real cafe she’d ever seen). Their method of communicating with each other too progresses in a realistic way, going from rushed and sloppy scribbling on each others bodies as memos- to leaving thought out reports on their phones the longer they grow familiar with their situation. It’s this careful and lifelike handling of their back and forth conversations over the slightest action before they’ve even met that makes the bond they eventually form viable and tangible. It expertly builds and mounts the suspense the viewer holds in wanting them to finally meet face to face. And when they finally do, especially after the revelation of being two people at different points in time (something that also eliminates the solution of simply being able to call each other and something they both try to no avail because you can’t call someone three years apart from you) it’s a massive relief and honest joy. The rat race and desperate struggle Taki went through while using his memories as Mitsuha in order to save her; and her eager hope to find and impress the guy who in a way gave her the life she always wanted met head on and bleed through the full weight of their emotions not only for the people and experiences they’d had while switching and for themselves, but also each other. Their gradual friendship then love solidifies itself in the sacrifices and risks they are willing take for each other- having come as a result of making small talk via their reports, doing each other favors via interactions with the other characters who are unique to either of them, and resonating with the resulting thrill being someone else gave them. In switching places, they grew to have each others backs in daily life, which realistically built the trust between them that opens up and evolves into a truly believable and lasting connection between two people who understand each other and genuinely should be together (which is more and beyond what I can say for 99% of any romance or even friendship I’ve ever seen).

As I have only seen the English dub, this is one of the extremely rare dubs I’ve listened to where I feel the dubbed acting was solid, pleasant, and helped convey the character’s personalities and shifting emotions as much as I imagine its native language did. Of note, I believe Stephanie Sheh’s performance as Mitsuha was the best portrayal of her entire career to date that I’ve heard. None of the characters felt wildly off thanks to the charming and professional performances of their respective VAs, again even with the minor characters. 

In conclusion, I overall loved every possible aspect of Makoto Shinkai’s “Your Name”; even with things I found to be flaws. I was absolutely captivated and spellbound the entire time I watched. I didn’t even touch my candy or much of my water after the first seven minutes and onward. The one time I desperately had to pee I felt horrible for having to break away for even a moment out of the theater and away from watching the movie. I literally ran to and from the bathroom to miss as little as possible; and as the movie progressed I would even tap my mom in excitement and cheered for the protagonists in hushed whispers. My mom and I initially went in thinking we were going to get something akin to an anime version of Freaky Friday based on the plot premise. We were not only thoroughly shocked and impressed, but my mom considers it to be one of her favorite all time movies now- and for damn good reason.

“Your Name” gets a must watch recommendation from me. You’d be doing yourself a disservice not to see it just once even if you walk away not liking or falling in love with it. Especially given how accessible it currently is in US theaters, go see it before it completes its Stateside run!

#your name #what a wonderful experience from beginning to end

[hadesburns]

kana takeda, high priestess

7.

she stands on the cliffs with the winds at her back, the air tugging and pulling at her clothes like a begging lover, the uncharacteristically frayed robe and nightgown whipping at her body tightly, loud and wailing, the roar filling her ears despite the silence that infects her. the storm above her is some comfort at least, knowing that the sometimes the sky cries as well, knowing that sometimes the weight of water becomes too much even for mother nature, until eventually the dam cracks and rain must fall, tears must fall.

kana has been weeping for weeks straight now, the sorrow sinking in marrow-deep until it is all she knows, until it’s all she’s sure she’ll ever know; her hands empty, her life empty, the grey of the world whirling and surrounding her, infecting her. it hadn’t taken long after the absence of their son for her husband to lock himself into his study and only come out on an ambulance stretcher, pills filling his gut, freezer-burn covering his eyes, his fingers, the stench of death wafting off him like a curse. she closes watery eyes and listens to the ringing of her eardrums, listens to the pounding of her heart howling against her rib cage, listens to the tides beat themselves against the shoreline, rising up to meet the challenge of the moon, hidden behind thunder. rising up to meet the challenge of her own personal gravity, her own personal hell, hidden behind exhaustion.

when she exhales and falls from the rocks, her shoeless, coatless form cascading downwards into the drink like a curse, the cold winds kissing her limbs, wishing her farewell, she prays to the triune goddess, prays for death, prays for the crashing sounds of the sea to swallow her down, down, down, and the crashing sounds of mirrors breaking to crush her, deep, deep, deep, prays for just one more chance to see her son again.

and receives none of it.

1.

the mirror glistens cold in the midnight air and finally, finally, this she knows for certain: she is all storm and howling, she is all thunder and power, nothing delicate framed in the cut of her young cheekbones, in the dark of her eyes, in the way her reflection glares back into her like an abyss she no longer fears. her hair a maelstrom havoc from nightmares spent in drenches of sweat and stress, her nightgown torn askew, her soul torn asunder, a stain of red in her wake in the way all women burn scarlet at this particular age, and she decides white is no longer her color, no longer the bliss and innocence she will hide behind, no longer the shade of ribbons her nanny is allowed to tie into her long, black locks.

barely eleven years old, the witchling steps across the shards of the mirror her newly-awakened powers have shattered across her bedroom floor, and in the pieces strewn about, she glimpses her future, she watches her past, she opens the doors to ruin and inevitability, penning the course of her life without truly meaning to. divination shines through her chest and she likens it to a birth, begins screaming, begins breaking, the stars high above her shuddering in reverberating echoes and instinctively she knows: this is the last night of her childhood. from now on, she will adopt the vague apathy of her mother, the grey distance of her father, the frozen poison of her grandmother, and come next morning, she’ll learn why.

she’s sure it’ll have something to do with seven years bad luck.

2.

strong magic floods through her veins, a direct lineage to the ancient sorcerers of old, back when the world was half shadow, half spirit, back when human and dragon could be fused into one, and kana believes she is a dragon, believes she is half shadow, believes this is the only explanation as to why she burns deep within herself, why she enjoys selfish magic so much more than anything ivory. she grows in her abilities as she grows in age, surrounding herself with blackened tales, banned guides, abolished spells, memorizing what she can, lavishing in what she wants, her family’s wealth and prestige affording her access to whatever her heart may desire. she’s the singular daughter of one of japan’s forefront fashion and design brands, her parents inheriting a luxurious empire from her grandmother upon the old hag’s death, kana raised amidst these stages and diamonds, limousines and velvet carpets, her appearance and technical prowess in the business granting her plenty of attention herself.

3.

she’d assumed, wrongly of course, that somehow her accomplishments in both the fine arts of music and poetry, as well as the physical exertions of martial arts and combat training, would prove her independence enough as a woman capable of ruling alone, capable of reaching through the clouds and swallowing the stars themselves, capable of breaking the earth’s crust in the gravity of her heels, but not to her mother. nothing is ever enough for her mother. at eighteen years old, kana is given in an arranged marriage to a man eleven years her senior, the heir to an even bigger technological conglomerate, a man forever scented in cigar smoke and ink, a man with tired eyes and small burn scars on his knuckles.

she asks him one night across the stretch of silk sheets, the dimmed glow hovering around their bodies, where he’d gotten the scars, and he tells her that he used to own a pair of tiny dragons who’d scorch him all the time when he fed them. just like her. she snorts and looks away, but it’s the first moment she doesn’t outright despise him.

5.

she glows with promise in the heart of her coven, a star in her own right, a sun on the horizon of life, her mother-priestess and the high hand naming her the maiden archetype, granting her the possibility of tutelage, of eventually becoming a priestess herself. she impresses them with her hold over her own abilities, her potency, her knowledge, her skill, the way she masters the basic practices, the way she convinces the world that she is a hurricane made flesh, a dragon brought home in the center of her chest. she harnesses her craft through anger and clenched teeth, through red lipstick and curled knuckles, through the half-shadow she drags by its ankles, the curses she breathes and the fire she bleeds, and she can almost feel everything she’s ever wanted in her grasp, all the power a sharded young girl could ever need, could ever have been wrong about in the pieces of shattered reflections across her bedroom floor. she’d never had any reason to be so worried– it would all be fine.

mirror mirror on the wall….

6.

it is exactly the equinox of the spell, the midway point when she realizes she has been tricked, she has been fooled, she has made the gravest error of her life– or more specifically, she has failed in her trick of the others, the pin-needles all shifting suddenly towards her, the sharpened sting of betrayal and white-hot understanding flooding through her, icing her blood in a way entirely foreign to her. she’s been young before, been inexperienced before, been wandering and stretching and hungry before, but fear? fear is a monster heavy on her lungs in this moment, claws and jaws digging in and robbing her of breath, of sight, of atmosphere. fear is her reaction to being out of control, and in these two very separate thousand-year-moments, two beats that will forever define her and deform her from now on, she has never been more out of control.

the first moment is given to when they take the only thing she’s ever loved before away from her; the young toddler’s face seeping down into the immutability of stone, forever silenced and choked away from her, life shifting to earth; his tiny, reaching hands, his wide, teary eyes, everything melting down too quickly into permanent solidification, just before she can touch him.

the second is given to when she disappears into the maelstrom of hatred and boiling, tumultuous fury, when she lets her restraint finally, finally become swallowed up by the flames of her internal wraith; the darkness howling up from the unfathomable ocean of her soul, the likes of which had never been seen by her coven before. and would never be seen by them again, not after she’s grinded their bones into the earth they love so damn much.

betrayal tastes bitter, but not as bitter as the dirt and dust she crushes all the bones in their bodies into– all twelve of them writhing and gasping in simultaneous horror.

4.

when she bears a child, a boy, her firstborn, she comes to the belief that he is the truest form of the sun incarnate, the belief that he is all light and all laughter, tiny hands and toes and eyelashes even longer than hers, and he’s the first boy she’s ever loved quite so much in her entire life. she was raised from one nanny to the next, but she’ll be damned if she lets anyone else so much as touch him for any extended period of time, insisting on raising him herself, insisting on hoarding all his first giggles and first steps and first words, dazzling him with the magic she becomes more and more involved with.

he is every golden memory, every reason to fall in love with life itself, every belief in the cosmos she’d never truly had before. he’s perfect and she occasionally has a difficult time believing that he could have come from her.

8.

when the men are finally able to revive her, rouse her from her drenched, unconscious state, she sputters awake like the lifting of a curse from her skin, coughing and hacking up mouthfuls of salt water, wheezing air into her lungs as though they’ve never felt so free before, as though she’s never felt so released before, her arms and fingers reaching and grasping onto anything sturdy enough to hold her. she is as wet as a fish, having been mistaken for a mermaid by a fishing crew and hauled up on deck in an effort to save her life, dressed in almost nothing, floating adrift in the middle of the sea currents that separate two countries from each other. she blinks at the faces of the men surrounding her limp, shivering frame, the sky as grey as she remembers it, and before one of them can manage to fetch her a towel or a blanket, she asks what’s happened.

“we found you in the water. you stopped breathing, we thought you were dead.” the man, presumably the captain, bellows in korean– which is all kana needs to know about where she is and where she’s heading.

“are we near a port?” she asks in perfect korean, having been trained in up to five different languages, beaten into her skillset until perfection.

“busan.”

busan. that’s it then. the veil of the world is drawn back for her in that instant, clarity finally descending upon her like a beam of light, a calling she cannot and must not ignore or refuse. the goddesses have seen fit to spare her life for a purpose and she knows what she must do, what she owes not just simply to them but also to the world at large– blood for blood. she has a debt now, a payment she must make in life for what she’s taken from it, for the havoc she’s wreaked, for the evil she’s lathered across her palms, spread over her flesh like ointment. the goddesses won’t allow her peace until she’s fulfilled her role, until she’s given back in the amount that she’s taken. balance.

busan.

#bio | you keep what you kill