#this is like the first time in three years i've posted anything other than rain world stuff on this blog. huh.

[sagetheunwise-official]

this too is yuri

[so-called-yokai]

Okay, I know it's only 12:19 AM EST but I've been way too excited to post this fic so I'm doing it now! This is my offering for @desceros #TMNTSpringShellebration, please enjoy!

All characters depicted are adults

Rise Donnie, M/M, canon/OC, mild mentions of turtle anatomy, rated M

This is hardly the first season Donatello has had to suffer through. The damned thing is regular as clockwork, because obviously it is, and one would think that by now he would have invented some kind of solution to the problem. It's just simple biology! Base animal instincts! Surely his genius mind can come up with something to override these damnable urges.

But no. Here he sits, yet again, sequestered in his lab and trying desperately to find something, anything, to take his mind off the demanding ache between his legs and the restlessness that crawls under his skin like a living thing. He's already burned his fingers twice with the soldering iron, but he refuses to quit. You will not win, accursed unmutated turtle hindbrain! You haven't before and you won't now!

Except this year… there's a problem. This year, there's something niggling at the back of his mind, the edge of his senses. It takes Donnie a while to realize precisely what it is: a scent, but it's more than just that. He doesn't just smell it; he can practically taste it, can feel it settle over his skin in a way that both soothes his agitation and inflames him even further. It smells like petrichor and early spring, and before Donnie can even begin to figure out how that even makes sense, the door to his lab opens with a quiet hiss, and the scent becomes almost overwhelming, enough to make his mouth wet… and other areas too, which makes him curse and spin his chair around, ready to lay into whoever just barged in.

…Oh.

Eshra leans against the door jamb, arms folded across his feathery chest, digitigrade legs crossed at the ankle, and a knowing smirk on his raptor-like muzzle. The end of his tail, with its downright arrogant tuft of blue and green feathers, flicks back and forth as though keeping time with some invisible metronome. And still, still, with that intoxicating rain-and-spring scent. It's infuriating.

Donatello has never wanted anything more.

Scowling at his own weakness friend, Donnie tries to force back the deafening mantra of want, need, take and instead project it as sharp-tongued irritation. "I told you my lab is off limits," he snaps. "Especially this week. It's--" The turtle cuts himself off, unable to actually voice the mortifying words, because that will make it real, and he is not giving his animal instincts the satisfaction.

Annoyingly, Eshra doesn't seem cowed. He never does. Instead, his smile just spreads, and he pushes off the wall to move closer. His steps are a languid prowl, like a predator with cornered prey, and Donnie grips the arms of his chair until the leather creaks under his fingers. He's fighting every instinct in his stupid body that's telling him to pounce on this maddening, beautiful creature, to pin him to the floor and show him who the real predator is.

Eshra stops just out of arm's reach, and Donatello isn't sure why that pisses him off so bad. The yokai gives the turtle a long, slow onceover, his golden gaze snagging on the wetness slicking Donnie's thighs before flicking up to the mutant's face again. Finally he speaks.

"I know what it is." His voice is lower than usual, throatier, edged with something not quite a purr. Donnie has heard a lot of Eshra's noises -- happy trilling, excited chirps, contented churring, and once an eerie, rattling hiss when he was really angry -- but this is a new one, and suddenly he's desperate to find out what other sounds the yokai can make. For science, of course.

Before Donatello can deal with this new realization, however, Eshra is suddenly right up in his space, leaning over to plant his clawed, three-digited hands on Donnie's thighs and tuck his muzzle right into the turtle's throat. He inhales deeply, and Donnie's vision swims when he realizes Eshra is scenting him. The arms of his chair creak ominously again, and the softshell has to consciously force himself to ease his death grip before he snaps them right off.

"Wh-what are you doing?" His voice is rough and breathless even to his own ears.

"Helping," Eshra chirps, as though the answer is obvious.

"This is… not… helping," Donnie grates out through gritted teeth.

"Mmhm, tell me that again at the end of the week." His friend sounds maddeningly blase about the entire thing, and Donnie somehow finds the wherewithal to grab him, gently but firmly, by the shoulders and push him back a step or two. Eshra cocks his head, his crest lifted slightly in a silent question that Donatello learned to read years ago.

"I don't think you truly comprehend what I'm dealing with here." Donnie wrestles his hormone-soaked, instinct-addled brain into some form of coherency, for his sake and for Eshra's. The smell of rain on new grass is still filling his nose, making him desperate to bury his face against Eshra's neck -- or better yet, between his thighs -- and drown in it, and he viciously fights the urge back, because he needs to explain, needs to make his friend understand.

Friend. He's your friend. He's your friend that you're not going to throw over this workbench and-- goddammit.

"This is my mating season," he goes on. You can do this, Donatello. You're a scientist. You're just explaining simple scientific facts. It's fine. "I am currently suffering certain… biological urges… that are difficult for me to resist. If you insist on staying in close proximity, those urges may end up overriding my higher brain functions and--"

Eshra stops him with a gentle finger against his beak, and Donnie's eyes widen, quite sure he's never been shut down so neatly or so fast. They widen still further when Eshra gently says, "Dee, I know. I know exactly what I'm setting myself up for, which is why I made sure to carbo-load before I came in here." And just in case Donnie still isn't getting the hint, the yokai drops his hand from the turtle's face to between his legs, pressing dexterous fingers against his cloaca with such practiced ease that in that instant, Donatello knows what Eshra is hiding under those unreasonably tight athletic shorts he's so fond of.

That's all it takes for every base urge, every primal instinct that Donnie's been unsuccessfully throttling to come roaring back to the forefront, and this time he doesn't fight them. Before either of them is sure it's even happening, he's up out of his chair and has Eshra on his back on the workbench, looming over him and caging him in with one muscular arm on either side of the yokai's lithe torso, although he's still careful not trap or pull on any of his friend's tertiary feathers. Something dark and dominant stirs inside of him at the sight of Eshra stretched out underneath him, golden eyes wide but trusting, pulse fluttering in that slender white throat, and he hungrily runs his tongue over the edges of his teeth without really realizing it.

Beneath him, Eshra immediately relaxes and submits, as if on instinct, and something about the way he tips his chin up just so to bare his neck makes Donnie's blood sing. Is this what he's been missing all these seasons? Could he have been indulging in this for years and he's only just now realizing it? Jesus wept.

Now, finally, it's Donatello's turn to smirk, showing off fangs that are sharper than one might expect.

"All right. But remember, you literally asked for this."

Later – so, so much later – laying blissed out, drained dry, finally satisfied for the first season ever, and with a sleepy, thoroughly fucked yokai sprawled across his plastron, Donnie thinks that maybe his unmutated hindbrain had a point after all.

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 7: ATBT (all the truth that's in me)

Good evening! Tonight I've got All These Broken Things, with a brand new portion from the second draft. I'm really excited about how this fits into the fic because it really sets up the 'healing' character arc and the part it replaces wasn't nearly as interesting or character-driven.

I hope everyone is well and having a nice holiday period, whatever that looks like.

all the truth that's in me.

five years post-breaking dawn.

The notes start showing up late spring, in dirty and crumpled envelopes with the address written in unsteady letters. There is no pattern to their arrival - three might arrive one week, and then it might be months until another appears. All of them are addressed to him, and they have no return address with postmarks from all over the country. Several of them arrive postage-due, and it’s all very strange, but no one says anything.

They know who they’re from, and so does he. 

And it’s always a postcard-sized page torn from a sketchbook with a simple pencil drawing. No letters or signature. Just the drawing. 

(He’s not sure what they are supposed to mean, at first - a cloudy night sky framed in treetops; hand prints sunk into the mud. His face sketched smiling warmly at something off the page. They are oddly unsettling, and he’s not sure what to make of them, or why she’s sending them. But he keeps them in his desk drawer, away from prying eyes.)

They keep coming. A dead body with the neck snapped. Blood on thin hands. Jumping into the river and being dragged by the current. A dress that doesn’t quite fit. All sketched out, devoid of colour, but so vivid and detailed that it doesn’t matter. He can see it all as if it’s a still photograph; she’s talented even beyond the skills of a vampire. 

But he doesn’t know what Alice is trying to tell him. Is she showing him where she’s going? What she’s doing? It’s all disjointed and strange and he wishes he could ask her. 

(He doesn't care if she's stopped hunting animals. It's not going to shock or disgust him if she has. He hopes she knows that.)

The pile of pages keeps on growing and it takes more than a dozen for him to realise Alice never draws herself. He sees her hands and feet, but there are no drawings of her face. No real reassurance in the images that she’s okay.

It still doesn’t feel like the reason she’s sending them. 

(The rest of the family want to know exactly what she’s sending him, but they know better than to ask. Perhaps they are imagining short letters full of pleasantries that at least makes him feel confident in her path forward. Or marks on a map so that he knows where to find her. Both things that he would prefer so at least he knows that she’s not out there miserable and suffering - which is what he assumes is the truth. She never asked them for help before.)

He doesn’t understand.

The next four arrive in a row, one after the other from Tuesday to Friday. 

The first one is of a diner. People hunched over soup bowls and coffee, the checkerboard floors, the waitresses doling out coffee. 

He doesn’t recognize the place until the second card and it’s like being thrown back in time, into his most shameful memory. He knows that diner, he remembers that night and what he did there. It weighs as heavily on him as a lot of the things he did in the South. 

He feels sick looking at the drawing, at the rendering of his rain-soaked self walking through the door. He doesn’t need another card, he wants to tear this one up. He hates it, hates the fact that Alice saw this, hates the fact that she found a red pencil just for his eyes. And he hates that the next card that he gets will show him exactly what he’s capable of, damning evidence of one of the most terrible things he’s ever done. A page scrawled over in red, letting him know that she knows his past, knows what kind of man he chose to be. 

The shame is stifling, and it takes hours for him to calm down enough to venture out of his study. He’s confused and oddly hurt that she felt the need to send him this, even as the calmer, more rational voice in his head reminds him that she is most likely still upset and hurt by him and his actions in Forks. That if lashing out with the truth, with his truth, hurts so badly then that is his fault for being such a monster in the first place. 

Esme notices how unsettled he is, but she doesn’t ask. Of the whole family, she and Jasper are the two who took Alice’s departure the hardest. The rest of the family were confused and hurt - but Carlisle was very much the kind of person who believed that the door was always open to Alice as a daughter, a sister, or as a friend, and that sometimes paths divert. Rosalie and Edward saw it as a betrayal, that Alice had rejected their offering of family, and weren’t interested or invested in her return. Emmett just shrugged and said that he hoped she was doing better. And Bella just admitted that Alice had scared her when she was a human because of everything that happened with James. 

He doesn’t want to talk to Esme about the drawings. Alice addressed them to him and to him alone. And he’s still not sure what the message is, beyond the diner. He doesn’t want Esme speculating, inspecting them for clues. They’re his, and his alone, to riddle out for a reason. 

It’s less than a day before the next one arrives, and he practically snatches it from Esme’s hand, tension in every movement - obvious enough that Rosalie gives him a funny look but he doesn’t want to explain. 

He sits in his study with the door locked, and it still takes time to convince himself to open it, to see her beautiful rendering of the diner awash in the blood of twelve innocent people. A place he set fire to as soon as he could stand. It had been in all the papers, the gas-line explosion in Philadelphia that killed everyone inside. 

Jasper never returned to that city, and has refused to live there ever since. 

He finally opens the envelope and flips over the paper. 

It’s not… 

It’s wrong. It’s not what happened.

The page she has sent has him sitting in the window of the diner, across from her; the angle is such that her hands are reaching out to him, wearing gloves with tiny buttons. The closest thing he has to a drawing of her face is her fuzzy reflection in the rain-flecked glass. 

The look on his face in the drawing is unfamiliar. It’s suspicious and incredulous but so very tired. He’s forgotten how gaunt he looked in those days, the strain of everything written across his face. 

(He understands even less than he did before, but if she means it as some kind of comfort to him, he appreciates the clumsy attempt. He murdered twelve people that night, a hysterical panic attack that was over in less than twenty seconds, and left him shaking in the corner of the diner. Ten minutes after he walked in, the building was on fire, and he was half a city away.)

It still feels like he’s missing something about all of the cards. He could ask the others, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want his siblings to look at him like he’s crazy or a fool, and explain them so simply and obviously. He couldn’t stand it if they understood immediately and he hadn’t, when she entrusted them to him. 

And then the next one arrives, and he’s absolutely bewildered. No faces, just bodies, his hand hiking up her skirt with her legs wrapped around him, pressed against dark brickwork of an alley. Even with only a fragment of the scene, it’s abundantly obvious that this is what happened after the diner and he’s oddly ashamed that this version of him that she’s made up didn’t have the grace to get a room for the night. But he’s also the one that was fucking her in the woods, so maybe he’s a hypocrite. 

He’s also oddly relieved to see the return of the red pencil in the trim of her shift, and nothing else. 

And that’s it for months. No more grubby envelopes with his name written neater every single time. No more postmarks darting all over the country. No more picture-riddles that he doesn’t understand. And somehow, that makes it worse. He spreads them out on the floor of his study once, in order, and tries to figure them out. There are exactly forty-eight of them, and he wonders if that’s a coincidence. 

Emmett brings him the next one, nearly six months later. Marked from Washington State, and Jasper wonders with horror if she tried to go home again and they weren’t there. But it’s been years, surely… no, surely she was just passing through. She knows they aren’t there, because she sends mail to him. Just a coincidence. 

There’s more than one in the envelope this time. And they’ve all been destroyed; scrunched up and torn and scribbled through. It takes him over an hour to piece together what she’s sent, to try and erase the angry lines bisecting the drawing without erasing something important. 

And they’re beautiful. Vaguer and looser than the drawings before, scattered scenes across four pages of them. Her face is always obscured but the way she stands next to him, the way she’s portrayed beside him - always close, always touching - is so different to what he expected. It’s a kind of gentleness he never thought himself capable of. 

Before all of this, when he considered marriage, he figured he’d be exactly as he would have been as a human husband - polite, respectful, and protective. That he was incapable of that easy back-and-forth that Esme and Carlisle shared; or that relaxed affection and camaraderie of Rosalie and Emmett. Or even the absolute devotion that Bella and Edward held together. That invisible way anyone who walked into a room could tell that they were together and in love. No, he wouldn’t have that. If there was any hope for a partner for him, they would have to accept separate rooms and that polite but firm distance between them. He would take care of them to his full ability, but that kind of intimacy would never be part of any of his relationships. He accepted that a long time ago.  

And now he’s seeing that Alice, at least, believes he is capable of more. He sees that in the lines of his illustrated self, the way his body leans towards her and her to him. Touching her cheek, clasping her hand tightly, hands lacing or buttoning up a dress along a bony spine. The kind of affection and gentleness that feels alien to him, and he is bewildered and oddly frustrated and angry that Alice has imposed this possibility onto him. She’s delusional if this is what she hopes for, what she expects from him. She’s destined to be disappointed if that’s the kind of thing she wants specifically from him. 

Those postcards get tossed in the drawer out of order from the others, and his mood is foul for days. He’d rather she’d sent him a portrait of his kills than this fantasy.

He ignores the next two envelopes on his desk for two weeks before he opens them. The first one he wants to burn, because it’s just him again, facing her with a totally foreign expression on his face. His own face looks like a stranger to him in that picture. 

But the second one… 

It’s identical to the very first one she ever sent. The night sky framed in trees. Perhaps they’ve reached the end of her fairy tale, and he can be left in peace. 

The next ones take weeks to arrive, one every three days, and he’s not really sure why she’s still sending them until he opens the first one up and recoils. 

James’ face fills the frame, his smile too wide, and his eyes cold. The red pencil has returned in his irises, in the corners of his mouth, and a swipe at his hairline. In all the careful renderings of his own face, Jasper had wondered if Alice was even capable of drawing the violent, monstrous truth in people. But now… the pencil has dug into the paper, and some of the lines are unsteady. There is terror and hate in every stroke, and James in that picture is the most terrible thing that can be conceived. 

The rest of them are abstract, with no faces or details, but it doesn’t take much to decipher the violence and fear and misery in each one.

In the spirals within the internals of her severed wrist, the petrified flesh and muscle rippled like the rings in the stump of a tree.

In the portrait of rats, of squirrels, of scavenged meals so beneath her nature that he can see the shame in each line. In a collection of lines that he doesn’t do more than glimpse at, but the meaning and intent and occurrence are already burnt into his mind. 

This is how he tortured me, degraded me, raped me. He can hear her say it, in her soft, flat voice. 

And he wonders, again, why he is being shown this. Why she has gone to so much trouble, to draw and send him each page like this. 

The final one arrives in spring, more than three years after they started. They’ve stopped being a curiosity in the house; Esme very occasionally asks him how Alice is, and he’s noncommittal because he truly has no idea. He knows nothing more than when they started, honestly. 

There are over one hundred of them now, bound together in his desk, and he’s given up trying to understand Alice’s motive in sending them and is just compiling them for her. They are some kind of diary, and he is merely the archivist. He can do that. It makes them easier to handle, in many ways. 

He doesn’t even realise the last one is the end, honestly. He’s become numb to the horror of the most recent ones, looking at them briefly before adding them to the stack - in order, of course. The previous one had them running in the forest - the red of their eyes and of Victoria’s hair bright and eye-catching amongst the black of the pencil. The drawings have gotten looser, lazier, and he wonders if she’s losing interest in the project. 

The last one slides out of the envelope, and… it’s him. It’s him, in beautiful detail, the baseball bat mid-spin in his hand. He’s grinning at someone off-page, and she’s found a golden pencil for his eyes. There’s the gesture of Bella and Esme behind him, but he is the focus - soft and realistic and rendered so very carefully, right down to the scar next to his right eye. 

And in the bottom left corner, in tiny letters, there is a heart with ‘Alice’ carefully signed. That’s how he knows she’s done. And that’s how he knows that it’s taken him too long to understand and that he needs… he needs someone else to look at what she’s given him and explain to him how he’s supposed to put this all together.

[louis-ii-reyes-strand]

semicompleted saturday sunday

Rules: Share one scene or art that never made it into a/the finished piece and probably never will. (And if you want, share what it was supposed to be and why you left it out or never finished it.)

Thank you @heartstringsduet for the tag! Most of the stuff i've written ends up in the graveyard for one reason or another, which is why i've not posted anything yet. But I like the idea of some of it seeing the light of day.

So, this scene is the only thing i've ever written for this fic. The idea came to me very vividly and this scene in particular, but, as you will see, it's disjointed as hell and I couldn't find a way to make it work.

The premise is that TK and Carlos get into a fight years into their marriage and Carlos walks out to calm down. It's the middle of the night so he ends up sat on a bench in a small park. Then through the power of ✨magic✨ he is sent back in time to important moments in his and TK's relationship and realises how stupid he'd been.

---

Carlos blinked and he was at the honky-tonk, the first day that he and TK met. 

It had been years and there were countless other moments they had shared together, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday.

Michelle had been waiting for him outside when he arrived, feeling a little silly in his tight shirt, and a little apprehensive about being invited. But she hadn’t let him linger in those thoughts at all, had started talking to him before he was even next to her, and all but dragged him to the table she was sharing with Nancy and Tim. They greeted him politely, not quite friends but not distant acquaintances either, it wasn’t the first time Michelle had forced him to be sociable. 

Then Michelle had launched into her plan to haze Captain Strand. She liked him, Carlos could tell that much, but she was also Michelle and she was going to assert her dominance as Paramedic Captain to make sure the new captain was a good fit for their station. 

Carlos quickly made an excuse to get himself a beer while the other three were giggling about her plan. He didn’t want to get mixed up in their politics.

As he walked across the room to get to the bar, he noticed where the new look 126 had set up across a couple of tables.

He remembered feeling just as floored by TK’s everything as he had at the accident earlier in the night, if not more so without the rain to blur his vision. Everything had narrowed to where TK was laughing along with his new co-workers. 

Then he had spent so long by the bar, just watching him and how he interacted with the people around him that he finished his beer and Michelle came to find him. She followed his eyeline and then laughed. “You need to get laid.” 

Carlos had blushed and spluttered, but this time he didn’t.

It had been half he needed to get laid, and half so much more than that. He hadn’t known how meeting TK had shifted his entire world on its axis then, but some part of him knew that meeting TK was momentous. 

“Distract his Dad?” 

Michelle considered him for a moment but shrugged and went to drag Owen off to the dancefloor just as she had the first time this happened. 

Carlos remembered so clearly the nerves he had felt as he approached TK, not knowing if he was gay, not knowing if he would be into him even if he was. Now, his mind full of memories this body hadn’t yet had a chance to make, all he felt was love. 

“Hey,” He said as he came to stand by TK. He looked so much younger, so much more guarded too. 

TK glanced over to him, a smile forcing its way off his lips before it could even appear. He gave Carlos an obvious once over that set a fire in his gut just the way it had the first time, maybe even more so now that he knew what was waiting for him. “Hey” 

“We’re soulmates.”

TK looked so taken aback by how strong his words were, it made Carlos laugh. 

“We’re soulmates and it doesn’t matter that I’m saying it to you now because I'm pretty sure you’re a figment of my imagination sent to kick my ass. I’m going to tell you this now and when I wake up I’m going to drive home and tell you again.” He took a deep breath. “This moment right here changed my life, if you didn’t dance we me then drag me off to that bathroom so we could get each other off, I wouldn’t have reconnected with my family, I wouldn’t have friends that I care for like a second family, I wouldn’t be a detective, I wouldn’t have anything. I would’ve stayed trapped while I waited for my life to start, and I don’t tell you enough how much I love you. I think a part of me has always known that I love you since this moment. And I have loved you at every single moment since, even when you broke my heart and I thought it was going to end up alone forever. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that and I’m going to do better. I’m going to do so much better, baby.” 

The TK from the past was looking around for someone, probably his dad or anyone else he recognised, looking for a way out of this interaction. Carlos didn’t blame him, he’d just had a love confession from a guy that he’d met once. 

“I’m going, don’t worry.” He held his hands up with a smile and started backing away, unable to take his eyes off TK as he did so until he bumped into someone behind him and was forced to look where he was going. 

He ran outside the honky-tonky, looked up to the sky and shouted, “Okay! You win! I understand now, let me go home and tell my husband I love him.” 

He closed his eyes and waited.

i'm not gonna tag anyone because i have again missed the boat (i'm pulling seven sentence sunday together asap!) so if you see this: hi.

[el-ly-sha-give-no-f]

What about something like mr Ben Barnes and the reader get caught in the rain and have their first kiss? My idea was first kiss, but I just tossed something out there. 💕 I’d love anything you have. Please and thank you!

DANCING IN A RAIN

PAIR: Ben Barnes x reader

looks like Mr Bin Bons again, so here is it, thanks for your request, sorry for the delayed post! I got my Tumblr normal again! enjoy <3

words: a lot

It's Saturday, which means I'm off to work today. Ben and I are planning to go to our favourite cafe that we always go to. You know..... talk about life, work or maybe love life. I don't want to talk about the love life stuff actually, but that's the only interesting topic to talk about. Well, actually I had a crush on Ben since three years ago, Yeah three years ago, starting when we met at my friend's party and we get along.

I mean who doesn't have feelings for him? It's Ben Barnes...... and I know he will never love me back, how can I know? lately Ben has been talking about this mysterious girl. He refused to tell me about her, not even a little bit. She seems like a pretty and kindhearted person that makes everyone adores her. Maybe they are in love with each other? or perhaps they are already together but Ben doesn't tell me yet? I don't know shit about this.

Ben has a great personality that makes him suit her, unlike me. The loveliest thing I like about him is he would call me using pet names such as "darling, sweetheart, love" and many more, I can't even address it!!!, I know it's a typically British thing to do but I flatter every time I hear him calling me those names from his pretty mouth.

Sadly, my "thinking about Ben" section is interrupted by my phone ringing. Speaking about the person itself, Ben is the one who calls me... probably wants to talk about today's plan. "Hello?" I greet first, "Hello,, Y/N! where are you? I'm in front of your house right now, I've been ringing your doorbell and standing in front of your house for the whole of my life," he said, "bro what?" "yes what indeed".

I run to my window, and there he is the most revising man I've ever met in my whole life, except my father of course. "Hello? you there darling?". Interrupted by Ben's voice, "Yeah, yeah I'm coming in 10 minutes", "come on, I know it's not gonna be 10 minutes" he stated to me while laughing. "No no, I promise it's 10 minutes"."okay, your ten minutes starting from now" SHIT, I immediately ended the call.

Im not even ready yet, everytime we both go hang out, this guy will never ever gonna tell me when he will gonna come to pick me up. I fucking hate it.

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

10 minutes later

"well, you took 9 minutes 55 seconds, You did great sweetheart," he said while he stopped his stopwatch on his wrist. "yeah, yeah, let's go before someone takes our favourite spot," I said while opening his car door. ". Now we both in his car. Suddenly he asks "what's up with the grumpy voice? Is it your time of the month?" I turn to look at him while I gasp and I smack his arm "ouch! that hurt" he yelps, "Good, im not grumpy, and no, it's not my time of the month" I stated. "okay okay, sorry" he mumbles and he starts his car engine.

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

It's hard for us to find a parking lot around the cafe, it's packed with many people today its usually doesn't, but I guess it's because of Saturday. It takes us about 20 minutes to find a perfect parking spot but our parking spot is far away from the cafe that we always go to. "let's go, we need to walk a little bit. Are you okay with that? or do you need me to carry you?" ben teased, but I just glare at him and open his car door, I heard him mumble "no? okay, alright" and step out of his car.

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

Damn, it's really far than I thought, delighted that im not wearing my heels, just sneakers, cause im a casual and simple person, but maybe I need to accept Ben's offers earlier, Ew no! It'll be weird. Come on y/n don't be that obvious. "y/n", back to reality and I look at him, "we're here darling" and I nod.

We enter the cafe, the first thing I look for is our favourite spot, guess whattttttttt!!!!?? no one sits there yet, well I'll take the"Yet". As I walk to the table, I heard Ben calling for me, so I turn to look at him (and said johnny don't hit me you said you loved me forever LMAO NO)

"order?" he mouthed while pointing his index finger at the menu. "as usual" I mouthed back, and he show me thumbs up. So I continue walking to the table and sit down on the wooden chair. I zoned out of the window while thinking about the "mysterious" girl that Ben talking about, to focus on zoning out till I didn't realize Ben sit down in front of me. "it's my turn to pay right?" I nod but still watch people walking by the streets of London.

"y/f/n y/m/n y/l/n...look at me" he calls me with his strong tone

oh oh.....

I do as he said, I turn to look at him.

"I don't know how many times I've already ask you this question, but I can tell something is wrong, please answer me this time, are you okay and is something wrong?" he asks. I can tell he's getting annoyed right now.

"and I don't know how many times I answer your dumb question, im okay and nothing wrong!" I whisper-shout, not to get anyone in the cafe's attention or distract them cause of my voice. If he wants to know how much eager I am wants to ask about the girl.

"it is something wrong with you y/n, cmon, hey, I knew you for 3 years and you know your bullshit thingy doesn't work for me"

God help me, I swear this guy, the urge to just throw him out of the window, but I can't refuse to look at his beautiful eyes.

''it's nothing wrong Ben trust me, just tell me about you"

"about me? girl, you know me for 3 years, isn't it enough for you to know everything about me?"

"no, I mean, what's new, cmon we do this every week," I said

"Okay okay, im joking, nothing new, I brought a new book and some stuff I brought from oversees just came in front of my doorstep yesterday and about the girl that I told you, boring boring boring."

bro, it suddenly makes me excited, finally! he mentions the girl, and oh, here it comes.

"what's up with the girl?" I ask him, trying to not sound so desperate

"nyeh, nothing much, she so annoying sometimes and grumpy for no reason but I love it, she looks so cute" he replied

I didn't hear him talking, all I can do is staring at him, and the way he just talked about her made me shiver and how the feeling of jealousy I can't even describe, and it was time to ask myself.

"why not me?"

didn't even realize how stupid I am, I mumble it but enough for him to hear.

"why not you what darling?" he asks me confusedly.

I quickly shake my head" nothing, must be you that misheard it" trying to cover it up.

"maybe"

he continues to rumble about the girl, all I can do is nothing but just nod my head.

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

The amount of time I waited for him to talk about the girl, only God knew it.

"darling we gotta go seems like the sky is turning grey and we parked away from this cafe so we don't have time to run, let's go let's go" I turn my head up to look out from the window, indeed true.

we quickly stand up, he collects all of his stuff on the table and we run out of the cafe door, ignoring people's stares, but guess what.

IT'S RAINING!

Ben is behind me, as we continue running I heard his step become slower, I turn my body to look at him and see him just standing still. What the hell does this man think his doing?!

"WOI! what the frick are you doing Ben?!" I yelled.

"COME HERE Y/N!"

"NO! I DON'T WANT TO!!" not gonna lie, I conquer our voice will be gone tomorrow.

"just, come 'ere darling" his voice becomes slower

I groan and run to him, carefully.

"if i catch a cold you we're the one who going to take care of me, im not joking Ben, im serious" I warn him

"yeah I can see that, well no problem boss"

we just stare at each other

"let's dance?" suddenly he asks, are this guy serious?

"I can't, I don't know how to dance, all I can do is step on your feet," I said while we both laughed.

He nods, "I know, just follow me" no need to object, I just nod

He snakes his right arm on my waist, and my right hand lock with his left fingers while my other hand wrap around his neck.

we start to sway back and forth, and he twists me around, we laugh and do the same thing again and again until this one time we look at each other eyes.

"People will see ask Ben, especially the paps" I remind him

"Let them be, I want to show off my beautiful girl to this entire world, the girl that I can't stop thinking and talking about this lately, the girl whose smile is just magnificent, her laugh enough to drive me crazy, the girl that I've been falling in love and waiting for three years, the girl in front of me right now is the one who I've been waiting for, it's you y/n, it's you" he confesses.

I start to tear up and speechlessness washing over me, don't know if it's real or not, I don't know how to reply to his confession. But instead , he adds.

"y/n, I like you! I just wasted my three years confessing my feeling for you, three years y/n" he sounds regretful.

I shake my head " no it's okay Ben, it's okay, we both wasting our time, I like you too ben, I'm just afraid to confess that I like you. I thought the girl you talk about lately is a girl from your works or something, but no im so stupid to reali-" my rumble got cut off by Ben's soft lips on my lips.

Sadly we have to pull away because of our breath.

"hey" he cupped my cheek "as long as we are together, is enough," he said sweetly.

"of course" I nod and kiss him again, softly.

"Finally, you are mine and I am yours" he hugs me tightly

"quite romantic doesn't it?" im joking

we both laugh

the number of kisses we share on the streets of London and on a rainy day I can't address it.

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

oh ma gadddd yeayyy!! finish let me know what you guys think, I love you guys thank you for reading stay safe and much, love <3

[thatonesoso]

Owl House Finale Rambles 🦉

Now that the episode is finally posted and I've finished it, I'd like to ramble about it and how much of the show I appreciated and loved for what it did💖

Spoilers below:

•Everything about this finale was perfect. From beginning to end, it left me on a rollercoaster of emotions.

Oh so we're starting Luke that huh--

We still got to see the guilt that Luz and the others had from their experiences from the collector, belos still manipulating him and using him for his own plans.

It's actually sweet that we get to see Luz show the collector her own stories with eda and king to give him a more humane point of view than what he thinks about playing his games. It's nice to be reminded that the collector is just a kid who was abandoned by his siblings. It was really sad seeing what happened to him and everything wasn't even his fault in the first place.

RAINE MY BABY NOOOOOO--

I fricking knew Belos would go for the literal heart of the titan. What else does the bastard need to control.

DRAGON?????????

EVERYONE IS PUPPETS HOLY S- oh wait amity is still moving

God damn Belos is not holding back on anything jESUS--

Oh no they're gonna hit them oh-

OH MY FRICKING GOD L U Z-

NO DON'T DO THIS TO ME-

OH THE COLLECTOR IS BEING SO SAD ABOUT IT NOOO-

EDA AND KING FULL FERAL MODE SCREAMS

Oh wait she lives-

Wait-

IS THAT KINGS DAD-

WE GET MAGIC POWER UP???

COLLECTOR IS BEING SO SAD HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO🖐️😭🖐️

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT-

HOLY FRICK LUZ--

Hhfhghgdhhh the gang back at the castle *anxiety rising*

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

Luz is so pretty like that fr like GET HIS GOOPY @$$

AIM FOR THE HEARTTT

Omg Raine is safe thank god-

ANIME FIGHT SCENE AND ANIMATION AAAAAA

EAT THIS SUCKA

Ok Belos is gone from the heart and everything is growing back are we just gonna ignore that the arm reaches space almost-

GET SQUISHED MF

"I loaf you" best quote of the year no competition

Everyone is back to normal hhegegrhgrhrghhghhh💖✨💖💖

ALADOR AND EVERYONE ELSE OH IM SOBBING😭

HUNTER GETS TO RAMBLE ABOUT WOLVES TO HIS FATHER FIGURE AUGHGHHH🖐️😭🖐️

King telling the collector "I hope to see you again" like, bro they're friends now your honor 🥺

AUGDHDHHJSVJGH TIMESKIP- VEE'S HAIR- LUZ IS GOING TO COLLEGE- THE AISLES AREN'T CUT OFF- WILLOW AND HUNTER- FLAPJACK- MAGIC UNIVERSITY- AMITY IS SO PRETTY- GAY ALL AROUND- KING-CENERA- KING IS BIG BOI NOW- THE COLLECTORS LIGHT SHOW- ASUSHSGHGHHHGHH--

And then the ending,

A goodbye to the viewer.

•God this show is such a wonder that I got to see through for three years now. For me and my friend, it pretty much got us through tough times, especially when we had a long distance friendship. The ideas and world of the show inspired me for my own stories and every character and work put in just made me love the show with every episode. There wasn't a cartoon that had put me on the edge of each big moment like The Owl House. Thank you, Dana and the crew, for a show I wouldn't have thought I would ever experience from all the other shows I've watched.💖

And f*ck Disney for what they did.

[silverfoxstole]

Happy New Year, everyone! 🍾 🥂

Many thanks for all the follows, likes, reblogs, comments and chats over the last twelve months! ❤️ ❤️

(And to @amalthea9 for introducing me to Santiano; I’ve spent half my time listening to them this year! 🥰)

As I’ve not really been in the mood for drawing the last few days I thought I'd post a little piece I've written for Despatches this week. It's G-rated and set in my LKU, though I'm not entirely sure where.

Now We Shall Have The Turn Of The Year

The thirty-first of December isn't the best time to be stranded ashore, but Archie and Bush find a way to mark the date.

“Well, it could be worse,” Archie observed. “At least it’s not raining.”

Bush snorted, and poked their driftwood fire with the point of his sword. “No, that’s true. We’re completely stranded and virtually defenceless but at least the weather’s fair.”

“Sometimes, William, I swear you are an overcast day in human form.” Archie huffed as the cold wind chose that moment to remind him of its presence and he turned up his collar, scooting a little closer to the blaze. “Do you ever look on the bright side?”

He received a raised eyebrow in reply. “And which bright side would that be, pray?” Bush enquired. “It’s the middle of the night in December, we’ve no shelter and so far no one has acknowledged our signals. Add to that the fact that the admiral will probably be apoplectic when he finds out the ship is without three senior officers and I confess I fail to see any ‘bright side’ whatsoever. We’ll be lucky not to be court-martialled if we ever get back aboard.”

Archie reached into his waistcoat pocket to retrieve his watch and squinted at the dial in the light from the fire. “It’s not the middle of the night, it’s barely... well, would you look at that!” The minute hand had just ticked over the hour; the sight of this and sudden recollection of the date brought a smile to his face and he presented the timepiece to his colleague, who just peered at it.

“It’s midnight,” Bush confirmed, handing it back. “That’s hardly cause for celebration.”

“It is where I come from. Oh, just think for a moment,” Archie begged when he was given a blank look. “A minute ago it was the thirty-first of December, so now it must be..?”

“Oh.” Bush digested that information, and said flatly, “Happy New Year.”

“Thank you, Mr Bush.” It was all Archie could do not to roll his eyes. “Could you not perhaps summon a little more enthusiasm? It is Hogmanay, after all.”

“What difference does the date make? We’re still stuck on a beach in the dark, whether it’s this year or last. And what the hell is Hogmanay?” Bush demanded. “Something you’ve just dreamed up?”

Archie shot him a lofty glare. “I should be insulted by that. For your information, Hogmanay is a very important Scottish festival which welcomes the New Year. It’s actually more important to us than Christmas. Shid ald akwentans bee firgot, an nivr brocht te mind? Shid ald akwentans bee firgot, an ald lang syn?” he quoted in a rolling Scottish accent he’d picked up from his father’s head ghillie, grinning when Bush stared at him as though he’d grown another head. “What’s the matter? Don’t you agree?”

“I might if I understood what you were saying,” his friend replied, eyes narrowing in suspicion that he was being teased. “What was all that? I’ve heard more sense from Styles when he’s in his cups.”

“It’s Scots, you philistine! The land of my forefathers! Honestly, William, have you ever thought of learning a language other than your own?”

Bush shrugged. “Why should I need to?”

“Well, if you knew some French you might have been able to work out what Major Cotard was saying about you,” Archie muttered, adding quickly, “If you must know, to quote Rabbie Burns - ”

“Who?”

“A poet.” Archie sighed in frustration. Cultural conversations with Bush were impossible; the man never seemed to read anything but nautical textbooks despite Archie’s best efforts. “The poet, the one who wrote the words. I thought your sister might have heard of him, at least.”

The brow lifted again. “Maybe she has, but she doesn’t share such discoveries with me.”

“I wonder why? I said: Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?” Archie repeated without the exaggeration he’d used before. Unfortunately, even with greater clarity of word Bush still seemed baffled.

“And what exactly does that mean?” he asked, forehead furrowing.

Archie considered. “I’ve always taken it that the bard is asking whether old times should be forgotten. When we sing it tonight we’re seeing out the old year and welcoming the new one, and we shouldn’t forget what’s gone before.”

“’Sing’? Someone has actually put that nonsense to music?”

“Indeed they have.” Archie started to do just that: “And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup! And surely I’ll be mine! And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne!”

Bush looked amused. “And the translation of that is..?”

“Basically, if you’ll buy me a pint, I’ll buy one for you,” Archie told him with a grin.

Chuckling, the older man shivered and huddled further into his coat. “I confess, I wouldn’t say no to one just now.” He glanced into the darkness beyond the fire. “I wonder where Horatio’s got to?”

“Oh, you know what he’s like. He can’t just sit still and wait; he’ll be prowling between those beacons he lit, trying to spot any reaction.” Archie threw another stick on the fire. “He’ll be back when he gets bored. Or cold.”

“Hmm.” Bush sighed. After a minute or two of silence he announced, “Well, I suppose you’d better teach me this song of yours.”

Archie blinked in surprise. “You actually want to learn? I thought just now it was nonsense?”

“And so it is, but we’ve nothing else to do. It’ll help to pass the time.”

“That’s true,” Archie mused. “And if we sing loudly enough it may even attract some attention.”

“Yes, but would it be the right sort? We don’t want to bring the French down on us, Mr Kennedy,” Bush warned, but the corner of his mouth was twitching.

Archie bit back his own smile. “No, sir, of course not.”

“Quietly, then. Now remind me: how does it go?”

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot - ” Archie began to sing in a low voice, only to be interrupted by a frown and a shake of the head. “What’s wrong?”

“In Scots,” Bush said, adding when Archie raised his eyebrows, “I thought you wanted me to learn another language?”

“To be fair, it’s more of a dialect, but are you sure? The English isn’t that much different, and - ”

Bush huffed impatiently. “Just get on with it.”

Archie did, and to his credit Bush tried; he didn’t have a bad ear for music and mastered the tune quickly but it soon became clear that the ability to manage an accent of any kind was beyond him and both of them dissolved into laughter as he mangled the words on his tongue, his initial embarrassment buckling in the face of Archie’s mirth. Despite this they soldiered on, though the song became more and more incomprehensible the closer to the end they got.

“No, William, it’s An there’s a han, my trusty feer! Now I know why you only speak English!” Archie exclaimed. “An gees a han o’ thyne! An we’ll tak a richt gude-willie-waucht - ”

“Don’t you dare call me Willie,” Bush told him in a dangerous tone, reaching for his sword. “Not if you want to live. And what the devil do geese have to do with it?”

Archie just shook his head, breathless as fresh laughter bubbled up, and collapsed back onto the sand. “Ach, Willie, gees a han here!” he said, waving one in the direction of his friend and explaining when Bush just gave him a hard stare, “A gude-willie-waucht is a good-will draught. A drink, you fool!”

“Is it really?” a familiar voice asked from somewhere nearby before Bush could respond. “I’ve never heard it called that before.”

Archie struggled onto his elbows and peered into the shadows to spot a vague shape a few feet away. “’Ratio! You’re back! Any luck?”

“No.” He could virtually hear Horatio’s frown. “And I hardly think this is appropriate behaviour for two of His Majesty’s officers, do you? Anyone would think you’d spent the evening in the tap room!”

“We’re just trying to amuse ourselves,” Archie replied, pre-empting the apology he knew would be on Bush’s lips. “I was teaching William a little ditty we Scots like to sing at this time of year.”

Horatio tutted and came forwards. “You sounded like a couple of dying cats. I’m surprised you haven’t drawn the enemy straight to us with all that noise.”

“We weren’t making that much noise - ”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was my idea,” Bush said, predictably, cutting off Archie’s protestations. He got to his feet, crossing to his captain’s side. “We should have changed the watch by now; shall I take a turn along the perimeter?”

After a moment’s contemplation Horatio shook his head. “No, sit down, Mr Bush. There’s nothing to be seen; I fear we’re stuck here until the morning.”

Nodding, Bush started to return to the fire but Archie held out a hand. “William, don’t move!” he ordered before the other man could take another step. “You too, ‘Ratio.”

“Archie, what on earth is the matter?” Horatio demanded as Bush opened his mouth to do the same. “What are you doing?”

“Just wait a moment.” Having reached for one of the sticks of driftwood they’d collected earlier, Archie scrambled a couple of feet towards them and as his friends watched, puzzled, used it to carefully draw a line in the sand between himself and the spot on which they stood. Once it was done he sat back on his heels. “All right; now you can come closer, but ‘Ratio, you go first and make sure you step over the line.”

He knew without seeing it that Horatio’s eyes had rolled heavenward so hard they were probably in danger of falling out. “Oh, for goodness’s sake, Archie - ”

“Over the line!” Archie commanded sternly. “And William, keep behind him.”

Despite looking as though they thought he was being utterly ridiculous they did as they were told, Bush hanging back so that his captain could cross first. Horatio grumbled under his breath as he joined Archie at the fire, holding out his hands to the flames before rubbing his arms briskly in an attempt to generate some warmth in the rest of his body. “Satisfied?” he enquired archly.

“Perfectly. We’ll have good luck now for the year ahead.”

Bush’s brow flicked as he stepped over the line. “Is this another strange Scottish custom?”

“It is: first footing. The first person to cross the threshold brings the luck for the year. I know that technically this isn’t a house and we don’t have a threshold, but it’s the closest we can get,” Archie said. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You should really be carrying coal or whisky, ‘Ratio. Or black buns. I don’t suppose you have any?”

Horatio made a show of checking his pockets. “Strangely enough, no. How remiss of me; I knew I forgot something when I got dressed this morning.”

“Coins?”

“I don’t bring money on shore raids, Archie. What would I need it for?”

“To pay an innkeeper if we’re stuck here for much longer?” Archie suggested. “I don’t intend to spend more than one night on this beach.”

Bush snorted. “Something to remember for next year, perhaps, sir.”

“Indeed.” Horatio’s forehead creased briefly, in either curiosity or confusion. “Why did I have to be the first over the threshold? Surely it wouldn’t have mattered which of us was the one to enter.”

“It most certainly would!” Archie retorted. “If you knew anything about such things you’d be aware that tall, dark-haired men are the preferred first foot; they’re the luckiest of all.”

“I’ve got dark hair,” Bush pointed out, sitting down. “Am I not lucky?”

“You might have dark hair, but you’re not tall, are you?” Archie countered and Horatio hid a smile when Bush looked disgruntled. “Horatio’s got at least four inches on you and that makes all the difference tonight.”

Despite his amusement Horatio still appeared to be faintly baffled as he took a seat on the sand between them. “But why tonight?” he asked. “What’s so special about tonight? Other than it being a complete disaster, that is.”

It was quite typical of him to have failed to mark the date; customs and festivals never had meant all that much in his case, and it was sometimes difficult to keep track of time passing when at sea. “It’s January the first,” Archie told him, and watched as realisation slowly dawned.

“Good grief, so it is. I hadn’t really thought about it.” Horatio’s expression darkened. “All the more reason for us to be back aboard; the hands will probably drink themselves into a stupor in our absence.”

“Not without your approval. Matthews knows better than that; he won’t authorise any extra rum without your express command. When we return we’ll find a crew who are the very picture of sobriety, I’m sure.”

“He’s right, sir, though they’ll probably be none too pleased about it,” Bush said. “Especially Styles.” Then the corner of his mouth curled upwards and with somewhat more enthusiasm than he had summoned earlier he offered, “Happy New Year, sir.”

Horatio ducked his head, and when he raised it again there was a smile in place of the scowl that had descended a few moments before. “Thank you, William. Let’s hope we have a better one ahead of us.”

“With you to bring us luck, sir, how could we not? I’d raise a glass to that, had I one.” Bush glanced at Archie. “But as I don’t... how does the song end, Kennedy?”

Archie hesitated. “In Scots?”

At the mere mention of singing Horatio grimaced and Bush shook his head. “I think for the sake of our captain here English might be better.”

“You just don’t understand the words,” Archie teased, and grinned when he just received a flat stare in return. “All right. But you can join in with the chorus.”

Relenting, Bush chuckled. “Very well, if I must.”

Horatio didn’t look any less pained but Archie raised his voice nonetheless: “And there’s a hand my trusty friend, And give me a hand o’ thine! And we’ll take a right good-will draught, For auld lang syne! For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, For auld lang syne!”

And, as if summoned by the music and to Horatio’s obvious relief, from somewhere in the distance came the sound of oars.

[drjohndisco]

9 for the voice asks with August? (-@frankmillerturnonyourlocation)

@frankmillerturnonyourlocation

9: Discuss how I feel about my f/o(s)’s family or friends. Or enemies, if the case may be…

(Captions under the cut! Also, I was recording in the lounge (as well as having to majorly compress the audio), so I apologise for the echo. I'm also not sure this actually answers the question - it ended up being more of a family tree diagram, rather than anything else. It's also more repetitive than I realised. Sorry!!)

CC: [Quietly] Hello, you asked, um, 9 for the voice asks. Um, specifically with August, which is like a whole thing. So, I hope you don't mind..like a lore dump.

So, it's like [pause] because there's Rain [Cassidy/Booth]. They've got, um, Archie and Geppetto -- they're both like weird father figures/like kind of father in-laws -- and then, I guess technically Blue? Although she's not their biological mother.

(I don't think, I don't know, I haven't actually worked that out yet in the canon. You'd have thought I'd have figured that out in canon by now, since it's been like..two or three years? But, I have not. Anyway! I don't like her...)

Like...Archie, they're (Rain) pretty much always, like over there [at Archie's house], always talking. Always, consistent. It's consistent. Particular with Lila and Rory [my August/Rain fankids]. So, they're always there.

August, obviously is like, he's probably got a better relationship with the pair of them to [compared to his dynamic with Blue], which is good. And then, through Archie, they're connected to my other insert Beetle.

Beetle's Archie's adopted, um, daughter. Sort of. Daughter's not the right word [re: my trans-ness], I'm just thinking in terms of like curse-terms. I guess, like, they were put together because they were both bugs? I don't know, maybe. 'Cause they, like, canonically would not have interacted, like, pre-curse because of how the timeline worked out and the fact that they were a beetle for, like...the..time when the curse hit. I mean, I don't know.

Probably like if they got sent back in series 3 they definitely go and seek him out at some point, but it didn't work due to where he is. 'Cause he's like nowhere [sighs] near where they end up.

Um, connecting Beetle to Ruby like, canon-verse it's Ruby and the her grandmother and then, like Ruby and Dorothy. 'Cause there's like a little [pause] a little set. And then, non canon-verse, it's like connecting her to Belle and then to like, Gideon. Although I think I made him her adopted son in that au.

I wrote that down in the google doc, but i haven't decided whether, if that's like [pause] actually--I haven't knocked things out yet. Because, again, I'm still only at season two in terms of the writing an planning and stuff. So, I've got like a season and a half to plan out, but I haven't like actually sat down and done it. What I've got is complex. The time-line post is somewhere, I'm sure. (If it's not, I'll post it and send it so that you know what I'm talking about.) So, yeah! I kinda yoinked Gideon from that. Which is a little weird, I guess? But it makes sense in my brain -- since he's not biologically Belle's kid.

Point is, [Rain has] extra sons!! He [Gideon] definitley hangs out with, um, I feel like he probably hangs out more with Lila than he does with Rory. But, they [Gideon and Rory, that is] they get on well. He's just not usually around, 'cause of whatever Ruby's doing. Also, there's sort of, like, an age gap [between Gideon and Rory] since they would have been very small, I think. He's closer in age to Lila. 'Cause there's a five year age gap between Lila and Rory -- by the end of canon Lila's 25 and Rory's 18.

I mean, I guess, canonically if you like, connect Gideon back to Rumple, there's a whole thing..[pause] Rumple's like, kinda, the person who cursed Beetle, like, in the first place because of...[pause] that whole thing...[pause] they went to him to help their parents, and then like, they stole a spellbook and that's what turned them into a beetle. So, they hate his guts.

Rain, fucking [unintelligible] Zelena. For like, both of them [Rain and Beetle, that is] there's literally like, she's my least favourite character in the show. If I could like, kill her I, like, physically would. I want Rain to-- and I like--[unitelligible] I mean, I need to, I just need to write a crack 'fic where Rain murders her and just goes to prison for their crimes. She just--I, uh, it sucks.

I am keeping like-- [cuts self off] and then there's Neal. They're [Rain], is like, also connected to Rumple through Neal. Which, like, should have been the more obvious connection that I should have said first, but I got thrown off because I got mixed up quite a lot. That's canonical to, like, literally all of the versions. He's kind of, like, a weird, like [pause] Neal's like a brother-in-law, kind of? Not literally, there's no actual like, familial, connection there. Just in terms of like, vibes. [pause] Because Rain was like, looking after him when he was small, before all of the, like, the, [pause] before he went to Neverland. One o his, like, first um [pause] his first...what's the word? Fairy guardian? Protectory kinda thing? Like what Blue was like with August, without the weird motherly vibe.

Yeah, there's a lot of technicalities in here. It's messed up - if you add all of the main [Emma-related] stuff. I will probably, like, make this into a diagram at some point. Because. It makes more sense like, physically.

[Exhales] Point is....there's like, Neal and Rumple - canonically - and then to Gideon. And then non-canonically Rain to Archie, to Beetle, and then to Ruby and to Belle. But, canonically, it's just to Beetle -- there's like a weird thing where like not [cuts myself off] I guess that makes them like siblings-in law? Like, technically? Which is weird, since August isn't Archie's kid. But, he kinda, I guess he kind of sees himself as his, like, 30-something year old son anyway? 'Cause that's kind of how it works with Geppetto. [Pause] I..don't know. Point is, they have a complicated relationship.

I also like to think that August actually starts going to therapy at some point, during like seasons 5 or 6. That's what he's doing, just off-screen. He's just, like, hanging around....because he doesn't have a house? Like, I don't think--I think by the end of the show he would have like, lived with Geppetto. Him and Rain do, like, have a--They, they do, like by the end of the show/post canon they do have a house. 'Cause they're a couple [and they have two kids. They need space, was what I was getting at here.] It makes more sense.

Honestly? They wish realm version of-- [the canon] is more straight forward. It's literally just, like, Rain and then August and then The Blue Fairy and the literally just like, well, I guess Geppetto and Archie? I don't know what Archie's actually doing [in the wish realm]. [Pause] ..We don't actually see him in that universe, do we? But he's probably still, like, still around. He'd have to be.

That canon also connects with like, a couple of my other tumblr mutual's and--which that makes--it...counting Nic's canon [@me-myself-and-my-fos]. Nic's with Archie, and then you've got her kids. That...[laughs] that makes it so...[pause] The point is if we're including my, like, my friends' canons, then that's more of a mess than it needs to be because it..[pause] there's like fan-kids and stuff, so..It's uh, it's a whole thing.

Yeah. I will definitely have to make a diagram at some point, because this doesn't make any sense and everyone's age are, like to [pause] to like convoluted. I don't know... I feel like I didn't make any sense, I'm sorry.

Point is, it's like Rain and then Beetle. Then Beetle's parents, like, a mother who I have not named, and then during the curse Archie like adopted her.. [Beetle's mother wasn't taken by the curse.] Their biological dad is just gone. I don't know what happened, maybe he got eaten/killed in the war?

And then, like [sighs] Beetle's parents to Beetle. They don't have any siblings. But then, like during the curse their adopted dad is Archie, which connects them to Archie which connects them to [pause] to Rain. Which connects them to August, which connects them to The Blue Fairy which connects them to Neal, which connects them to Rumple and Belle. Which connects them to Gideon. So, Gideon's like their kind of [confused noise] their...cousin? I guess? That's how that works.

But then with Beetle, you've got Beetle and the Ruby and Dorothy and/or Belle. Depending on the continuity. Also, Mulan's probably somewhere in there, I haven't really thought about her. I was just thinking about that [as a concept] the other day. I haven't decided whether I'll actually commit to it or not.

So! It's actually less complicated when you think about it like that.

Then there's, like, Rain's kids. But like, Lila's only Rain's kid on August's side - because Rain's not her mother. [silence] So, it's--Lila's Rain's adopted kid, on August's side. Rain...they adopted her, but she's biologically August's kid. Because of...pre Storybrooke stuff.

And then...I don't think they have any connection to..[cuts self off] although I was tempted for a Lila/Ivy crack-ship. Which then connects her back to Henry. [Laughs] That connects her back to Henry [pause] I didn't--I don't think I had/have anything...I actually think that's not a bad idea? I am very tempted to make that canon. I'm so tempted--because put that with, like, that'd throw an extra wrench in things. I don't know. I'm just playing around with Lila and some ideas.

Because that connect her to, like, um [lip sounds] to...to Ivy and to Anastasia and Drizella. To..uh what's her mum's name? I don't know, I want to say Catherine. I don't think that's right. [pause] Her cursed name is Catherine!

To Catherine. Who is a Rapunzel. Rapunzel, which connects her to..to,uh, um, Ella's dad [Marcus]. So, technically, like...wait what does that make Henry to Rain? [Confused Laughter] I don't know what that makes Henry to Rain! I am not figuring that out. But, like, oh man.... I guess connecting.. No! Because if you literally connect Ella to Henry and then to Lucy, and then back to Rory.

Which. Platonic, they're not..there's to much of an age gap there. That's be real weird, since she's literally a baby when he's like 16. That's not what I meant. [Groan] That's not what I meant by that.

Literally, like, you connect him to Lucy and then back to Henry, and then you connect Henry to Emma. Then Emma to Killian, or not, depending on - again - what canon continuity/whose ships you're taking into account. (I was referencing @hyperionshipping's canon here.) Or whatever. Point is, it's just--

And then Emma to..no, uh, Henry to Regina and Regina to..to her parents and then her parents to.. [pause] Point is, if you factor in Ivy, that means eventually you'd have to factor in Henry. Which means, technically, all of the main characters in once upon a time are connected to Rain - and also Beetle, by extension.

(But they're more prominently connected to Rain. Even though August is like a side character and he doesn't really interact with anybody.)

...It's so [pause] I don't know what it is, but it's like, it's so confusing. I made it worse!! I literally made ocs and I made it worse (affectionate). I made it so much worse.

(Note: this last part isn't relevant to the question, I'm just complaining.)

Anyway!! Yeah...no, I-I need--I do need to write that Zelena 'fic where Rain runs her over with their car. I need Rain to run her over with her car. Because HOLY FUCK she's so...I hate her. I hate her so much!!! [Groans] She literally should have stayed dead, that's all I'm saying. She should not have been bought back. To be fair, I also think that statement applies to Rumplestiltskin, as by the time you get to season four. I--he should have just..stayed kicked out of Storybrooke. And if he had to come back, I don't think he should have gotten back with Belle.

Do I think she should have been with Will? No. I don't think she should have been with Will. That doesn't make sense because he already has a wife, and they were cute. I like them together. I like the spin-off. Don't know who I would have paired Belle with (again, probably Ruby - had she been on the show and not..whatever they did with her.) The point is, that's fine. just keep her away from Rumple. That's--is that mostly why I made the au? Yes. Because it [rum.belle] is bad.

Point is, I'm just gonna like, I'm not going to kill him off, I will bring him back - but I haven't decided what I'm actually going to do with him. Sorry, this isn't related at all....

If you want all of this lore typed out, or put into like..well I think I've already got it typed up..point is, is you want this lore actually put into a diagram I will attempt to do that.

Because I'm also going to do that with my St.argate stuff, because I'm--

My brain's just like: 'Hey you know what this [canon] needs? a really complicated poycule!!' That's what the shows are. literally, you give me like an ensemble cast of like 5+ people and I'll just make it into a really really complicated polycule. [Laughs]

That's what this comes down to...I think that's what I've discovered, because my Gr.imm ships and my Sta.rgate ships, and my On.ce Up.on a Tim.e ships.. Literally it's just like, two sets of like, everything that could technically be a really really weird polycule if you think about it to long.

Not like, obviously not with their parents and stuff included. I just meant--like--by a technicality. The On.ce Up.on a Ti.me family tress is definitely the messiest. The St.argate one is actually pretty straightforward, it just looks real weird on paper. Not that I've actually..

Sorry!! This isn't relevant again. Anyway, I hope this, like, actually kind of answered your question? I don't know, I was talking for literally 12 minutes. I don't know if any of this made sense. When I type it up, I guess we'll see.

(Spoiler alert: it did not.)

Thanks for your time!!

[s10127470]

The New Kingdom Hearts Trios AU: Part 1

This is a little AU I've had in my mind for a long ass time.

We all know of the iconic trio of Sora, Donald and Goofy.

But a few years ago, I thought to myself.....what if all the other KH-original characters gotten their own trios consisting of themselves and two other Disney characters?

And since I haven't seen anyone else do something like this before, I basically went....

Anyway, here's two that I came up with

The Keyblade Master Trio (Riku, Mickey, and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit):

Their dynamic would be pretty complicated....to say the least.

I'd imagine that in the Kingdom Hearts, Oswald would not only be Mickey's older brother, but also a Keyblade Master.

Not only that, but our of the three, he would be the strongest, due to him to being the oldest and most experienced.

I'd imagine that Mickey and Oswald used to be very close, but they probably had a falling out a long time ago over......I don't know, light and dark?

(Yeah, I haven't exactly thought his backstory all the way out)

As you would probably expect, Mickey and Oswald are constantly at each other's throats due to their less than stellar history, with Riku acting as the peacekeeper between them.

Oswald himself has the ability to manipulate both light and darkness, making him something of a Ying-yang of Mickey and Riku, and wields two Keyblades.

Their team attacks include.....

.Double Duel (between Riku and Mickey)

.Reassemble Riot (an attack between Riku and Oswald, where the latter disassembles his arms, with a Keyblade in each hand, one coated in darkness, one coated in light, and sends them flying towards surrounding enemies. Riku does the same thing as well, except for the whole arm removal thing)

.True End (the attack between all three of them).

The Princess Trio (Kairi, Ariel and Jasmine):

Kairi and Ariel immediately became friends when they first met and are now partners in mischief. As for Jasmine, while she does like to have fun, she serve as the voice of reason for the trio and often has to keep an eye on Kairi and Ariel, making sure they don't do anything stupid.

Ariel fights with a magical trident that once belong to her late mother Athena, allowing her cast powerful elemental spells including Watera, Thundara, Aerora and Blizzara.

Jasmine fights with her acrobatic skills, martial arts, and a long wooden staff.

Their team attacks include....

.Mermaid Whirlpool (the attack between Kairi and Ariel, where the two combine their magic to unleash a massive whirlpool on enemies).

.Spiral Staff (the attack between Kairi and Jasmine, where the former wraps her legs around the end of the latter's staff while holding out her Keyblade, which is then followed by Jasmine spinning her staff around).

.Princess Power (the attack between the entire trio, where they all jump into the air and raise their respective weapons to form a giant heart of light, which then rains upon on enemies).

That's all for right now! This was a short post, but that's because I'm planning to explore this idea by specific groups for each post.

You know: one post for the Sea Salt Trio, one post for the Wayfinder Trio, etc.

This one was more or less dedicated to the Destiny Islands Trio, minus Sora for obvious reasons.

Let me know what you guys think! And if you have any ideas for a trio involving the other KH-original characters, let me know!

[minutiaewriter]

I posted 309 times in 2022

That's 309 more posts than 2021!

128 posts created (41%)

181 posts reblogged (59%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@minutiaewriter

@elizaellwrites

@makaylajade-author

@encrucijada

@toribookworm22

I tagged 197 of my posts in 2022

Only 36% of my posts had no tags

#writers on tumblr - 172 posts

#writers of tumblr - 172 posts

#writerblr - 169 posts

#writing community - 112 posts

#writing - 65 posts

#hera: to catch a star - 64 posts

#books - 60 posts

#hera trilogy - 50 posts

#writer - 34 posts

#authors of tumblr - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 113 characters

#i know i said everything would apply to my novel but it applies to me and don’t i have some relevance to my book?

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I swear the stack of "To Read" books that I have is, like, 3 feet tall

25 notes - Posted December 11, 2022

#4

Ok But What Is Hera: To Catch a Star Even About?

Hera: To Catch a Star -- releasing in early 2023

I'm going to try to share as much as I can without spoiling the story...

The Plot

Rynn Hera discovers he is the forbidden offspring of a celestial goddess and a mortal. As a result of this, he is in great danger and is pursued throughout the galaxy, for his blood makes him more powerful than he realizes. The first two novels chronicle Rynn’s travels with a brooding stranger, a kind but determined celestial priestess, and a witty space pirate/outlaw who is quite literally wanted by basically everyone in the galaxy.

The Characters

I haven’t really introduced any of my characters on here yet because I plan on doing so closer to the release of TCAS (To Catch a Star) but the main character is:

Rynn Hera. He’s a literal child. Lives in a cottage in the woods with his grandfather. Loves anything covered in sugar (three words: honey glazed rolls). Is he a cinnamon roll? A downright crybaby? I’ll let you decide for yourself.

The Trilogy

There are three novels in the Hera trilogy: To Catch a Star being the first.

As the series progresses, the plot gradually becomes more complex and weaves more characters and subplots into the main story, which is Rynn’s journey (both literally and emotionally) as the forbidden celestial child, son of a goddess and a mortal. In the end, a massive war birthed from religious and political conflicts is on the brink of breaking out, complicated by the existence of the celestial child and his powerful blood.

The Aesthetic/Mood

This is just a little sample of the moods across the trilogy, so it’ll vary based on novel.

See the full post

33 notes - Posted December 9, 2022

#3

Hello there~ and welcome to my Writerblr!

I’m a fantasy/fiction author debuting my first novel in the Hera trilogy in 2023. Here’s a bit about me!

• You can call me Min/Minnie (short for minutiae)

•I was placed on this earth for two purposes: to write & to read (and share recommendations of the books I love)

•I am a writer because I was a reader first (and still am).

-I've read so many books over the years and hardly get an excuse to talk about any of them so don't hesitate to reach out if you want to rant with me!

-I’ve been writing for around a decade but this is the first time I’m releasing something that will be available to anyone & everyone, so I’m excited!

•Some of my favorite words include: minutiae, hiatus, myriad, tête-à-tête

•I am on my way to being bilingual

•I am not a minor

•I love tea & coffee

•I am a chaotic mix of both an early bird and a night owl (which now that I think about it probably has something to do with drinking both tea and coffee…)

•I have 3 cats, a dog, and a frog (***also a proud plant parent)

•I love books, plants, music, poetry, art, favorite colors are indigo and green, rain, the sky… I love learning about other cultures/languages/peoples… I love chocolate & gummy candy

See the full post

52 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

#2

Writers!!! Someone you’ve never met and you don’t know is cheering you on, is proud of your progress and loves you!!

153 notes - Posted December 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Writers!!! Please interact with this post because I love having friends in the writing community and I want to hype up/support you and your work! I love handing out notes! Let’s follow each other and be each others’ fan boys/girls/folks!!

Literally down for meeting writers in pretty much any genre, I’m so experimental and eclectic these days. Just thought I’d announce this because it’s totally one of my reasons for being on here besides promoting my Hera trilogy , the first book of which is Hera: To Catch a Star (do check out my intro for more details on that, I’m super excited for its release very soon!) <3

479 notes - Posted December 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[cryingevanafton]

Rorris - Pt 1

Hey, guys!

I'mma start posting this story on here too, It's also on Wattpad and Quotev!

It's MorrisDelancey/Romeo

And I know, I know! A Newsie? With a Delancey?

It might seem dumb now, but I think I've got a good storyline goin'.

Lemme know what you think!

Trigger Warnings (For whole story)

-Abuse (both mentioned and done)

-Swearing (lots of it)

-Panic attacks (happen and mentioned)

-Slurs (starred out but still there)

Morris’s skin prickled with goose bumps and his breath came out in small, visible, clouds of air. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to warm himself up even just a little, even though he knew it wasn’t going to do any good. It was around midnight in fall, about 20 degrees at the most and Morris Delancey was sitting outside of a shop begging for money and food like the very kids he once bullied and beat up. He shivered again and brought his legs up to his chest. The moon shone brightly in the sky and reflected off the small puddles around the streets from the rain the night before. Not many people walk by at this time of night, but once in a while, about two to three people or less per hour do. An average-height man with a fancy, expensive-looking coat walks by. Morris stumbled to his knees and caught the man’s attention. 

“Excuse me, sir?” He asked. “Do you have any money or food? Anything you can spare?” But the man took nearly no notice to Morris and just simply walked by. Morris sat back down against the wall of the shop and sighed. 

Why did this have to happen? He shouldn’t have risked it like he did. He should've just hidden it. At least he’d still have money, clean clothes, food and shelter. Telling Oscar that he likes boys had been something Morris had been considering for a while and a few nights ago, he finally made the decision to do it. Little did he know what would happen because of it.

Oscar, Morris’s own brother, kicked him out of their house and onto the streets. Oscar even beat Morris up before throwing him out. Morris had been trying to survive on the streets for six days now, desperately (and rather successfully) trying to avoid the Newsies by hiding in different alleyways and shops. 

Right after Oscar threw him out, Morris had cried for the first time in years and years. Many had walked by him, on the ground, having a breakdown, bleeding, beat up, and none took any notice. 

Morris found tears welling up in his eyes again, but tried to blink them away, knowing that tears would not do good things to his skin right now, due to the temperature. He eventually got up and limped his way over to a dumpster and found an old sweater he could use as a blanket and started looking for a good alleyway to try to fall asleep in that was remotely safe; Or at least as safe as sleeping in the streets and alleyways can get. He put the sweatshirt down in the corner of an alleyway a couple blocks away from the Newsies lodging house; Which was risky in terms of the Newsies finding him, but it was safer than most other places. He was just about to try to settle down when he heard a voice he both missed but never really wanted to hear again. 

“Hey, Morris.” Morris quickly turned around to see Oscar staring him down with a smirk from the front of the alleyway. Fear filled Morris’s head as his heartbeat sped up rapidly in his chest.

“W-What do you w-want?” Morris asked.

“Just taking an… Evening stroll.” Oscar answered rather mischievously. “What about you, you f****t? What do you want?” The slur stung, but Morris ignored it and turned his back on Oscar, which Morris soon realized wasn't a good idea when he got a big blow to the back with what felt like (and probably was) a chain. 

“Don’t turn your back on me when I’m talking to you!” Oscar yelled fiercely, loving the fact that Morris was cowering to him. 

“D-Don’t you think y-you’ve hurt me e-enough?” Morris asked. “G-Go the f-fuck away.”

“Didn’t anyone teach you to respect those above you?” 

“Just because I like boys doesn't mean you’re above me.”

“Hmmm… I think it does.” Oscar smirked. “Nice try.” 

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“Get up.”

“No.”

“I told you to get up.”

“And I don’t have to listen to you.” Morris snapped back, but immediately regretted it when Oscar punched him hard in the face, then kicked him in the crotch, resulting in Morris falling weakly to the ground.

“Weakling.” Oscar laughed. “Such a f****t weakling. Just like the News-” But he never had time to finish, due to someone punching him hard in the face, then the crotch.

“The fuck?!” Oscar yelled, recoiling, but not falling completely to the ground. 

“A taste of you’s own medicine.” Romeo said, standing in front of Oscar, holding his fists out. “Strike him again, I dare you.” Oscar growled under his breath, then turned on his heels and walked away. Romeo turned to Morris, who was still on the ground. 

“You okay?” He asked and Morris nodded, but was obviously lying. Romeo decided to sit down next to Morris, leaning back against the wall of the alley. 

“Why’d you help me?” Morris asked suddenly, looking down at the ground and fidgeting with a small rock next to him on the ground.

“What d’you mean?”

“I’ve bullied and teased you and your friends for so long and you see me here and just decide to help me?”

“No one deserves to be treated da way Oscar was treating you’s.” Romeo responded. “Besides, I’s can tell that you’s ‘av changed.” 

Silence followed Romeo’s words. Morris wasn’t quite sure what to say next; He just felt at ease in Romeo’s presence and he had a good idea why but didn’t wanna admit it to himself. 

“Th-Thanks anyway.” Morris said finally.

“Yeah, no problem.” Romeo glanced at Morris’s dirty clothes that were now covered in blood in a few places. “Hey, did Oscar hit you’s with.. A chain or something? That's what that wound looks like.”

“I… I don’t know. I wasn’t looking when he hit me last.” Morris answered. “It’s been hard to pay attention to anything. I’ve gotten barely any sleep and haven't eaten in days.”

“When was the last time you had some water?”

“I-I don’t know.” Morris struggled to remember when he had had any liquids last. “Maybe y-yesterday morning or s-something.” 

“You need some water and food.”

“I’m fine.” Morris now ran the rock over the skin on his arm, drawing some blood.

“Hey, don’t do that.” Romeo says, placing his hand on Morris’s that was holding the rock. “Gimme the rock.” Morris obeyed, handing the rock over to Romeo. “Geez, you’re practically frozen. Let’s get you to the lodging house.”

“NO!” Morris answered quickly. “None of the Newsies want me there.”

“I’s’ll explain to them what happened.” Romeo said. “They’s’ll all understand.”

“I don’t wanna be a problem...” 

“You’s aint gonna be one.” Romeo ensured, then stood up. “C’mon.” He extended a hand to Morris, who hesitated at first, but then took it and the two of them walked to the lodging house hand-in-hand.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

[theeverlastingshade]

Pitchfork Music Festival 2022 Recap

For whatever reason I never got around to posting my Pitchfork Music Festival 2022 recap piece at any point last year. Since I'll be returning to the festival this upcoming weekend for my 3rd experience there, I decided to post a haphazard version of what that piece could have been, refracted through my hazy memories of the experience almost exactly a year removed from when I was actually there. It seemed like a fitting, if indulgent exercise in reminiscing on a wonderful weekend of music in preparation for this next one.

Due to some highway accidents we weren't able to make it in time for Spirit of the Beehive, but thankfully we arrived just in time for Tierra Whack's set. Tierra and her DJ had infectious chemistry, and kept things lively even when Tierra wasn't satisfied with the level of crowd participation. There was a steady stream of rain that didn't exactly bolster crowd engagement (nor did it make for the best stage to be running and jumping on), but Tierra made the best of it with her boisterous energy and slick flows. She ripped through many of the highlights from her great 2018 album, Whack World, and a plethora of the strong one offs that she released in its wake. While the weather proved to be a hurdle through it all, Whack's set seemed indicative that she'll remain a festival staple for the foreseeable future.

Immediately following Whack's set was a Parquet Courts set, and their set proved to be the highlight of that day (Spiritualized was a very close second). The five piece, armed with dual synth setups in addition to the standard guitar, bass, drums configuration, played a raucous set that showed their dance-leaning last few records in a striking new light. They played plenty of their best and most beloved music, including "Stoned and Starving" and "Black and White", which aren't just live staples of theirs but have practically become indie standards, while also slotting in their more divisive, dance-leaning latter work like "Application/Apparatus" and "Walking at a Downtown Pace" into the context of their chaotic, high-wire live show with aplomb. There were guitar freakouts, lengthy droning segments, danceable breaks, and moments of disarming, tender introspection. Parquet Courts have been one of the most consistently great indie rock bands of the last decade on record, and their P4K 2022 set (the first time that I've had the pleasure of seeing them live) extended their status to the stage as well.

Spiritualized began their set shortly after Parquet Courts finished. The band consisted of frontman Jason Pierce performing guitar and vocals alongside two other guitarists, a bassist, a drummer, a keyboard/synth player, and a three piece gospel choir. Pierce certainly showed his age with his slightly weathered voice (as well as his dignified choice to sit the entire time), but he and the band were in excellent form as they tore through songs from the band's latest LP, Everything Was Beautiful, and highlights from throughout their career. The gospel choir provided the perfect melodic bent that helped elevate these great songs to the heights they necessitated. It was a rousing, rollicking, deeply cathartic twilight set that proved to be the day's 2nd highlight for me, and it perfectly set the stage for The National's headlining slot.

The National were as professional and melodramatic as anyone whose spent anytime with any of their records would suspect. It was a perfectly fine performance, but a little more tepid than the last two performances of theirs that I've seen (which both also happened to be festival headlining sets). Unsurprisingly, the songs from their latest record were the most lackluster offerings from their set, showcasing little by way of dynamics, melody, groove or anything that makes live music exciting. The cuts that they played from Trouble Will Find Me and High Violet, naturally, presented the band at their most dynamic and immediately appealing, and should have immediately dispelled any lingering beliefs that their recent records are just as strong as anything they've ever released. You can do a hell of a lot worse than seeing The National live, but we're getting further and further away from them being the sort of band that necessitates going to a festival for.

Jeff Parker kicked things off on Saturday with a full-band set that had the aura of a homecoming performance. His band, The New Breed, had a keyboard/trumpet player, a saxophonist, the idiosyncratic bandleader Makaya McCraven on drums, and a bassist rounding out Parker's guitar playing, and he was quickly joined on stage by a trio of vocalists including his daughter, Ruby Parker, and Macie Stewart (who also played violin). The band played through a great deal of his best work, including highlights from his opus, Suite for Max Brown, like "Build a Nest" and an extended version of "Gnarciss", and the title track from The New Breed. Parker and company probably had the strongest chemistry of any band I saw thay weekend, and the sheer joy of playing with one another was palpable. Even through the more understated moments their intensity never wavered, and their set was easily one of the highlights of the whole weekend.

CupcakKe performed right on the heels of Parker's band, and she commanded the stage with unparalleled charisma. She had the crowd in her palm chanting her gleefully raunchy raps back at her without the slighest sense of reservation. Her set felt a little one-note, which can lend itself to cohesion within the context of an album but led to some of the songs dragging or feeling a little tossed off. However, her energy was infectious, and the majority of her set exuded an unabashedly provcative allure that was hard not to appreciate.

The Armed began their set shortly after CupCakke, and they were absolutely batshit wild in the best way possible. The Detroit collective brought even more heat to Union Oark with their chaotic blend of arty, melodic hardcore. It was an unrelentingly full-throttle set that rarely let up the momentum for a moment to catch one's breath. As an added bonus, they repped their hometown with every element of yheir aesthetic, from juggalo face paint, to Wolf Eyes merch, to 2-liters of Faygo that were sprayed into the crowd with reckless abandon. The only real shortcoming is that the mixing left quite a bit to be desired, with certain moments sounding like indiciperable sonic sludge, but that was fairly understandable given the plethora of instruments and vocals happening at any given point in time. Mixing aside, The Armed played one of the festivals strongest sets, and one of the most memorable sets that I've seen in years. In an indie landscape that seems to prioritize tepid "vibes" and "tasteful" reservation above all else, The Armed broke from the norm in the most refreshing way imaginable.

Yeule performed solo, singing along to her backing tracks while performing slow methodical dance moves and eventually playing guitar for a few songs. There was nothing particularly egregious about her set, but it was perhaps the most underwhelming set of the entire weekend. The smoldering intensity of Glitch Princess, which is a great record in its own right, was nowhere to be found on stage. The performances were generally serviceable at best, with the exception of GP highlight "Don't Be So Hard On Your Own Beauty", which featured her guitar playing, and brought forth a welcome sense of urgency. I could see yeule's set faring far better within the context of a club or an art gallery late at night, but it wasn't particularly well-suited to the mid afternoon slot of a festival.

Iceage are always excellent live (this was my 2nd time seeing them; I caught them shortly after this set, and they were, once more, excellent), regardless of the specific setting, and this set was no exception. Despite being far better suited to dingy nightclubs late into the night than a mid-afternoon festival slot, they played with an enthralling tenacity that worked just as well in this context. It also doesn't hurt that their music has gotten brighter, prettier, and more melodic with each subsequent record. Regardless of the fact thay they didnt have strings or the Lisboa Gospel Choir to augment the highlights from their latest record, Seek Shelter, on stage with them, the band (which is now a 5 piece with the fairly recent inclusion of guitarist Casper Morilla) were at the peak of their powers. Most of the songs sounded even nastier and livelier than they do on record, and frontman Elias Bender Ronnefelt conveyed a brooding sense of showmanship somewhere between Nick Cave and Mick Jagger. Their versatility and ability to reimagine their songs in fresh ways live only reinforces why they're the best post-punk band of the 21st century so far.

Lucy Dacus took the stage shortly after Iceage wrapped up, and her band consisted of a standard set up of a guitarist, bassist, drummer, and keyboardist supporting her on vocals and guitar. She primarily ripped theough highlights from her lastest solo LP, Home Video, as well as a few scattered highlights from her discography including "Night Shift" which is perhaps her most iconic and beloved song to date. It was a pretty solid set; not one of the highlights of the festival, but far from one of its weakest sets. She has great stage presence, and, despite presenting as a solo artist on record, had very strong chemistry with her bandmates. As much as I'd like to see her play a true solo set sometime, most of these songs necessitate the full-band treatment, and she did them justice more often than not.

Karate began their set shortly after Lucy ended hers, and the band consisted of the classic guitar/vocals, bass, and drums setup (and were eventually augmented by an additional guitarists). Despite having gone on a hiatus that spanned from 2004-2021, the cult classic 90s indie rock luminaries played with the sort of vigor and precision that belies an absence for that kind of length. They were tight, but with a seemingly effortless kind of nonchalance that seems inherently at odds with the technically of their music. They're probably one of the harder sells for people engaged primarily with the new music of today, which only heightened just how refreshing it felt to watch a band from their era, and so far removed from this era's sensibilities, locking in and firing on all cylinders.

Low kicked their set off right as night fell, which couldn't possibly have been any more fitting. The band, consisting of guitarist vocalist Alan Sparhawk and vocalist/drummer Mimi Parker (augemented by the addition of bassist Liz Draper for this set), played a spellbinding set that covered most of their astonishing 2021 swan song, Hey What. HW is a classic for many reasons, one of which is the remarkable array of effects utilized to render Sparhawk's guitar with a sonic signature that sounds nothing like anything else happening in music, let alone guitar-based music. He was able to basically replicate those heavily-textured, extremely detailed guitar sounds live, which lent a heightened gravitas to their laments of societal decay. And hearing Sparhawk and Parker deliver those ethereal harmonies just sent the proceedings over the top. Their live renditions were pitch perfect, and actually transcended the recorded material in some ways. With the news of Parker's passing last year, their P4K performance naturally took on a heightened significance in my mind, and would likely take on a very special place in the canon of my life experiences even they didn't absolutely kill it. But they did, and it's certainly a show that I'll never forget. Now on to one I struggled to recall much of less than a year later.

Mitski was Saturday's headliner, and not unlike The National's set the night prior, it couldnt help but fail to live up to the strength of her albums. Mitski spent her set singing and dancing alongside two keyboardists, a guitarist, a bassist, and a drummer. Her performance was surprising lackluster, exuding the tepid disposition of her underwhelming latest record Laurel Hell even through the best songs that she performed. She had the crowd eating out her palm after every high kick or dance move, but there wasn't a single song that she played that matched the visceral thrill of the recorded take. It probably would have fared better in some sort of small to mid-size indoor venue than as a festival headling set, but I still get the impression that the songs from LH just wouldn't land live in any context much in the same way they just don't land on the album. Hopefully Mitski's next album brings back the ingenuity of the handful of records preceding LH, but it's hard to say if her live show will ever live up to potency of those records.

Pink Siifu started Sunday off on a deliriously high note. His set brought forth a welcome communal feel by virtue of having multiple hype people onstage in addition to his DJ, and the camaraderie was just unrelenting. He played a handful of his best songs, which included Gumbo! highlights "Roscoe'!", and "lng hair dnt care", in addition to a few earlier gems, and his magnetism was on full display throughout it all. Not every song completely landed, but he imbued them all with the same rousing temperament, which made his set a thoroughly joyous affair even through some of his more harrowing bars.

L’Rain kicked off her set right after Pink Siifu wrapped up, and they brought forth a welcome avant-garde pop edge to the proceedings that felt somewhat lacking throughout the preceding few days. Her band (she being Taja Cheek) consisted of a drummer, bassist, 2 keyboardist/synth players, and someone working a mixer while she held it down with a sampler, guitar, and vocals. Their set retained the surreal glow of her forward-thinking records (most notably from her latest and strongest LP, Fatigue), while bringing a welcome visceral edge to the proceedings that she didn't quite capture as thoroughly on record. Her voice sounded just as strong live, and her band did her songs justice while giving them their own distinct identity apart from their studio counterparts. They were easily one of Sunday's highlights.

BADBADNOTGOOD was initially supposed to perform a few hours after L'Rain, but they unfortunately had to back out, and were replaced by Chicacgo underground legends Natural Information Society last minute. NIS featured bass clarinet, gambry, corniet, two saxophones, a keyboardist, and a drummer on deck, and their set was an immersive, somewhat spiritual experience. As soon as they began their set they didnt actually stop until it was finished, which gave the impression thay they played one nearly hour long song, although there could have been subtle transitions that differentiated the compositions like a full band DJ set. Whatever the case was, the performance was loose, sprawling, and enthralling; truly a best case scenario for filling in for a last minute cancellation.

Noname kicked her set off right after NIS wrapped up, and it was another set that exuded a warm, communal, homecoming feel comparable to Jeff Parker's set, but with guests in the form of friends and family members who were brought on at various intervals. She was the only MC (other than Black Thought) to perform alongside a full band instead of a DJ, and the band delivered pitch perfect renditions of highlights from her stellar LP, Room 25, and stellar mixtape, Telefone (her bass player in particular was a monster, and one of the few bassists I caught that weekend who gave Sean Yeaton from Parquet Courts a run for his money). Noname sounded just as tight live as on record, whether rapping or singing, and her giddy energy was just infectious from start to finish. Her set brought her thoughtful raps to life in the most immediate fashion imaginable, and one that continues to make the wait for LP2 that much more tantalizing.

Right after Noname wrapped up the rain began to pick up, and Earl Sweatshirt took the stage. I've caught Earl on tour during each of his album cycles, and he's gotten increasingly more assured and low-key for each subsequent performance. There aren't any frills, embellishments, or surprises with an Earl Sweatshirt show; it's just bars on bars on bars with brief pauses here and there with snippets of banter between him and his DJ, Black Noise, while he catches his breath, but it completely eschews the sort of hype-seeking showboat performance that most rappers as established as he is tend to aspire to. I can understand that being frustrating and underwhelming for onlookers or fans of varying degrees who haven't seen him live before, but I appreciate Earl's disinterest in spectacle, and the quality of his music speaks for itself. He tore through highlights from his latest LP, Sick! and his magnum opus, Some Rap Songs, with the nonchalance of someone who couldn't possibly be concerned with reminding the audience that he's one of the greatest to ever do it. Earl's candor and integrity are just a few of his gifts that keep on giving.

Toro y Moi played his set right on the heels of Earl's set wrapping up, and he brought forth the sort synth streaked, full-band dance party that also felt like a refreshing change of pace to the proceedings of the last few days. Toro y Moi's band consisted of two keyboardists, a guitarist, and someone working a sampler, in addition to the boy himself (Chaz Bear) prowling around the stage singing. Their set naturally leaned heaviest on songs from the handful of their underwhelming most recent records, but thankfully the band brought these songs to life with more vigor than they come off on their respective albums. And they also snuck in a few gems from their magnum opus, Anything in Return, including "Say That" and "Grown Up Calls". They sadly didn't perform anything from their halycon chillwave era, but everything popped with a funky exuberance that, more often than not, felt like a welcome variation on a more tepid studio recording. Toro's set also amplified the momentum leading into the last and finest show of the entire festival perfectly.

Within short order of Toro y Moi's set wrapping up The Roots hit the main stage. The Roots have been a mainstream cultural force since becoming the house band of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon in 2014 (and arguably as early as them becoming Fallon's house band while was still hosting Late Night with Jimmy Fallon in 2009), and they've been touring and releasing great records since the mid 90s, but nothing could have really prepared you for the heat they brought unless you had seen them live before. Their performance mixed the technicality of a symphonic orchestra with the raucous energy of a block party, and it was completely unlike anything that I've ever experienced before or sense. Questlove played with a nimble dexterity that never let up, and Black Thought kept rapid-fire stanzas flying with immaculate poise. They showcased the talents of each member of the band with various showstopping solos, but the momentum was unwavering and they seamlessly slid back into each song with remarkable precision. The Roots are an idiosyncratic, multi-faceted force on record, but their live show is a different beast altogether, and one that I can't recommend to literally anyone enough. It's hard to imagine that any act that I catch at the festival this year will reach those heights, but the unsurprisingly sublime curation suggests that it'll still be one for the books all the same.

[motherthreat]

first post

at the suggestion of one of my therapists, i am journaling again. internet journals are easier and more enjoyable for me to maintain, and it's been a while since i've had a void to push my thoughts and feelings into. this will likely be better for me and my emotional healing journey whatever that i'm on than ignoring feelings until i break down crying at the safeway pharmacy. something my other therapist said to me today was that me ignoring or refusing to acknowledge negative feelings and instead being numb/empty/tired all day very day is potentially one of the things fueling my eating disorder. if i am used to having negative feelings and anxiety around food, and don't allow myself to feel sad or angry or whatever in other areas of my life, naturally it comes very easy for my brain to shove all those feelings into my experiences with food. makes sense to me.

today is the fourth of july and while i am not a fan of fireworks or parades or patriotism, i did find myself feeling sad while i was on instagram (shocker) watching the stories of my friends and former friends and strangers. everyone at the pool or the beach or a backyard or somewhere with their own friends. i am sad that i don't have my own group of friends, haven't since i moved to washington three years ago. i feel like i am wasting my summer, whatever that means, and that i'm not doing anything to change that. sometimes i go to the park and read a book, which is nice. i spent $200 on hiking boots last month and haven't even started to break them in, haven't been on a single hike or even walk in years i think. somehow i will be physically and mentally able to complete a three-day solo hiking and camping trip for my birthday in less than six weeks, though.

my sister went out with her boyfriend and friends tonight. they invited me to go but i said no because 1. i didn't feel like being around drunk people 2. hadn't had dinner yet and needed to do that before anything else and 3. could see myself showing up, immediately feeling anxious and wanting to leave, and embarrassing myself and maybe my sister, although she'd probably never admit that to me.

i want to feel better, i want to eat food regularly, i want to make friends and keep friends and spend time with people. i want to make art and be good at something and start writing again and not have to work in the service industry forever because as my dietitian said this morning, it's not helping me at this stage in my recovery. but the money is good when i can bother to show up to work.

i know things will get better. i am annoyed though, because living in washington i feel the looming threat of the rain and the worsening of my depression that comes with it in the fall. i know i can't put a time limit on recovery, and that it's beautiful outside now and i'm still depressed, but still. i want to feel good most days, and i don't remember the last time that was the case.

but i do know i will get better.

[naomi-in-japan]

5月29日- Shibuya/Harajuku | Meiji Shrine

Today was our second full day in the program and my third full day in Japan. By this time, I've adjusted to Japan's timezone difference compared to the US. Similarly, I have begun to get the hang of the train system and the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. Our class has also started to swing into the flow of things with quizzes, readings, and blog posts galore. 

•••

Shibuya 🚸🚥

The first stop of today was to the famous Shibuya. Not only was I able to take a picture with the famous Hachiko Statue, but we could also cross the famous Shibuya Crossing! The thought then dawned on me as we spent some time in Shibuya—the walkability of Tokyo. It truly is a walker's paradise and not for the faint-hearted. Even as I glance at my smartwatch while typing this blog post, I realize that at least during our time in Tokyo, walking at least 5 miles a day will be the norm. I also bought a couple of things from 109 Shibuya, a notable department store containing a plethora of chic and fashionable shops. It took everything in me not to shop til I dropped (especially since I would have had to carry all of it a couple of miles in the rain). Those who know me would know how much of a challenge that was. Overall I definitely would like to return to Shibuya again sometime to explore it in its full glory. 

Harajuku 🏬🛍️

After spending some time in Shibuya, we walked over to Harajuku and explored Takeshita Street. Harajuku was another spot I visited before 2019, and it was exactly how I remembered it, only WAY busier. Though I didn't buy anything in Harajuku, it is essential to note its significant influence on fashion and innovation in Japan and internationally. One thing that caught me off guard on Takeshita Street, though (slightly off-topic), was that Mcdonald's in Japan (or at least in Tokyo) offers matcha frappes. I am one to be very critical of the quality of McDonald's’ products as well as matcha in general, so I won't share my thoughts on what I think of that (especially since I haven't tried it), but it certainly was the most surprising thing I'd seen today. 

Meiji Shrine ⛩️🌳

The last stop of the day was the Meiji Shrine. This was another place I had visited prior, but there was something special about returning here (I almost felt nostalgic). The nature within the confines of the shrine is absolutely serene and beautiful. The fact that the Meiji Shrine is so lush in fauna and nature in the middle of the bustling urban megacity of Tokyo is absolutely remarkable. It truly goes to show the significance and value that Emperor Meiji has on Japan.

•••

Today really was a day that allowed me to not only admire the modernity of Tokyo but also to analyze the growth and development of Tokyo from 2019 all the way four years later to what it is today in 2023. The longer I am in Tokyo, the more I realize there is much to explore and learn about the city. Though I am not native or spent a long time residing here, I feel a sense of home in Tokyo. Even after only three days, I feel confident that my return to this city is an assured guarantee.

————————-

📚 Academic Reflection 📚

The first reading we had was Christine Yano's "Wink on Pink," which discussed the cultural, global, and financial impact of Hello Kitty. Hello Kitty's kawaii, particularly cute branding, greatly influences Harajuku fashion and culture. In our visit to Harajuku today, the dominant nature of Hello Kitty, other Sanrio characters, and the concept of kawaii were very apparent at each and every turn, particularly on Takeshita Street. The kawaii-esque style was everywhere–from clothing items, bags, souvenirs, and themed cafes–-even from an article written all the way back around 2008. Hello Kitty's influence is more powerful than ever.

The other reading we had was "A Brief History of Japanese Civilization," which went into the breakdown of the issues, reforms, and ultimately transition from the Tokugawa period into the Meiji period. Just by visiting the Meiji Shrine in its pristine glory, you can see the extent of how revered and impactful Emperor Meiji was as not only a leader but a symbol of transition into modernity and prosperity for Japan. As I mentioned earlier in my writing, the preservation and size of the shrine in the middle of a massive city like Tokyo really showcase that reality. 

[anasticep]

Why Julie and the Phantoms is a masterpiece of a show. Part 1 of 3

· NOTE: if somehow you happen to like my gifs, please, feel free to use them. But, please, don’t crop or change.

· NOTE 2: This meta has been flourishing in my mind for quite a long time, but it was @catty-words meta on Perfect Harmony that inspired me to actually put it all on paper

· NOTE 3: I planned two parts of this, but ended up with far more gifs than a post allows. I dunno. Not sure if anyone will actually be interested in this rumbling. Probably it won’t even be a new and outstanding thinking. I’ll see how it goes.

What sets a good show apart? I’ll tell you exactly this: the pilot and the finale.

Whether it’s a season finale or a grand finale, it doesn’t matter for a scenario. People tend to forget the middle, that’s why all we remember about LOST is this weird full of dead people church that simply left the fans heartbroken. But frankly speaking, LOST ended so much better then most modern shows. And honestly I get why it’s so hard to keep track on things after 6 years and such a long row of characters. That’s why making a season in one take is so much better, when writers do not depend on what the fans think or like or ship. They simply do their job.

Do I need to say that our brain clearly remembers everything we throw at it? We think we forget, but that’s not quite true. That’s also the reason how we distinguish what we like and dislike – we remember all the small things and foreshadowing. Also that’s why we keep re-watching the shows we love: we simply acknowledge what our brain already knows. We simply find that thread that links everything together.

And they can be simple things. But first on what made this script a masterpiece for me: first and last scenes in the studio (+some things from 0102 band circle scene of 0109).

1. The Studio Intro

In 0101 Julie hesitates to go in the garage. She was reluctant to go in the first place. It signifies everything she’s lost: mother, music, voice. She inhales deeply, steadying herself. She can do this.

In 0109 it’s quite the opposite. She wanted to go there even though she knew the guys had already crossed over. Now this place signifies everything she gained back and more: music, voice, friends and, of course, a way back to her mother. She did it.

And this is a perfect visual explanation of the line “It’s not what you lost, it’s what you gain raising your voice to the rain”

2. The Band Intro

Can you see it the way I see it? It’s not a coincidence, it’s been done on purpose. Julie is mortified both times but for completely different reasons. In 0101 she is scared OF them. In 0109 she is scared FOR them. It’s so heartbreakingly beautiful it even hurts.

3. Personal space

In 0101 Julie and Luke are both scared of each other. See that extra step she did to push him away? Or the way he acts as if Julie is really a witch that could curse him? And who needs any personal space in 0109? These scenes show their journey in the best way possible.

4. You have to leave

In 0101 after accepting the fact that she was sane enough and these three ghosts really existed Julie is simply annoyed. She orders them to leave. She doesn’t what them to exist in her life. She has no time to deal with these dead cute boys. She wants them gone.

In 0109 after acknowledging that their plan has failed she also wants them gone. She orders them to leave again. But she wants to save them and for now that’s the only way she can think of. It’s better than not existing at all, even if it means not existing in her life.

And just look at the directing. The shots are almost twins! Julie mimics the scene from 0101 almost entirely, although it hits on a different level. I don't exactly know why it makes me so excited, probably I'm just very tired of mediocre scripts.

5. Maybe she’s a witch

I’m sure she is at least to some extent. It’s such a wonderful foreshadowing. I hope in season 2 we'll find out more but I think the perception on this in "Feels like I’ve opened my eyes again" by @pink-flame is very close if not almost entirely accurate to what I thought about season 2 and all this magic thing. Such a masterpiece of a fanfiction btw, I wish I found the show sooner and was reading it chapter by chapter. One of the best things I've read so far in any fandom.

6. Attached to our souls & 7. She's warming up to us

Do I need to say much? That’s the magic Julie has: her love for these boys. They are attached to her soul.

8. We had nowhere else to go

To think about it, they didn’t need Julie’s permission to stay in the first place. Like… How on earth would she even get rid of them? But that’s what defined these friendship from the start. They asked for permission in 0101 and in 0109 Luke’s words are almost apologetic that they ended up in her garage again.

9. I'm sorry we came into your life

Again, look at how both episodes have been shot. 0101 they stand apart, not knowing anything about each other yet. They both are not very comfortable with the whole situation and Luke voices what Julie might be thinking: why me? In 0109 Julie answers her past self that it was a blessing and a miracle. They are the closest they've ever got to be and the most sincere.

10. I have space for only one more gif and I'm simply fond of this parallel. We need a Witch!Julie AU)))))

________________________

Due to the pics limit I have to stop here. But there is so much more to say. So stay tuned to see Parts two and three if you liked this one. God, I hope you did

[sanzusbestie]

AHHH God I'm obsessed with this page and I saw that I think you have open orders AKJSJAJS AND I WAS ANALYZING MY ORDER and those of tenjiku and mikey for love ah God (separately) they leave with a reader who comes from a famous family and they begin to receive harassment by the press

How would they react if they like the attention? Oh, they cut the reader for harassment?

If there are strange words it is because I use a translator; <

HARASSED FOR DATING A DELINQUENT ! (Part 1)

❁ Characters : Izana & princess!reader

❁ Genre : Angst, a little bit of fluff

❁ Warnings : Bullying

❁ A/n : Thank you for your kind words ❤️ As promised in dms, I'll write your request in parts. Thank you for requesting and have a nice day !

Kurokawa Izana

Sipping his poor excuse for a tea, that he always pretended to like for your sake - always drinking it until there was no drop left - Izana looked up when the bell of the door rang. There you were, appearing in all your splendor, entering the coffee shop, your coffee shop. Cheeks and the tip of the nose red from the cold, an angel's smile, a laughter still as melodic as before, even after all these years. He grinned a little ; he always loved seeing you happy. He couldn't help but wonder "What's so funny ?" Was it the fact that you were completely drenched to the skin ? Was it because you had to run to find a warm place ? Was it the smooth jazz piece that added to your already joyful nature ?

Or perhaps, was it because of the man by your side ?

He was folding his jacket that he used to, unsuccessfully, shelter you both from the rain. Why did you bring him there ? You had no right ! Izana never brought any of his partners there, it was your special place and it will always be. But maybe you just didn't care anymore.

He thought it was pretty ironic : it was pouring too the first time you and Izana found this coffee shop. He tried their citrus tea, a total atrocity for the palate. But when you beamed, glowing eyes, smiling from ear to ear and said "This is the best hot chocolate I've ever had !", he didn't say anything about his insipid drink. He only smirked and teased, "Better than the one I make ?"

Before, he was naive enough to think your couple would last even if you were a royal family member. It was nice at first, you kept your relationship very secret. But as some time passed, you started to relax more, and the problems started. Your name would be on every headlines, such as "L/n Y/n dating a delinquent ?!" and it didn't stop there. They didn't say any reasonable things in these articles. They were almost insulting. People on the internet thought wouldn't think twice before posting nothing but hate to you. "Whore", "slut", "a fucking shame for the royal family", "kill yourself"... you've had it all. By being in love with Izana, you even earned death threats from your so supposed fans, and you suspected your own family too.

However, the harassment wasn't the worst, your boyfriend's lies were.

Of course you knew he was the leader of Tenjiku, everybody did. And you didn't care about that. And you also knew that he did bad things, but you thought it'd be things like provoking and picking fights with other. But it was so much more. You found out when everything appeared in the press and it made you realized that he always lied about about his whereabouts.

You brought this relationship to an end, it almost lasted two years. He cried that day. As someone said, who bathes his hands in blood will have to wash them with tears.

Taking another sip or his tasteless tea, his eyes met yours, still muffled in your scarf. There were those two or three seconds during which time froze. Those two or three seconds of grace during which you were both 18 again. During which you smiled at each other. During which Izana never killed anyone. During which you weren't a princess. During which the press didn't exist. Those two or three seconds during which life was still full of promises.

He shivered and averted his gaze. Quick, something to keep him warm. He took the paper cup of his hot drink between both of his hands. As he had settled next to the windowsill, your favourite spot, he looked through the glass at a city under the flood ; maybe Noah would save them with his ark.

Izana looked up at the wall clock, worried about the seconds that were falling off so fast. So, it was already over ? What had he seen with you ? Not much at all. He thought of the countries he wanted to visit with you, the house where he wanted to live with you, the ring you were currently wearing ; he wasn't the one that put it on your finger.

He put his coat on, took his paper cup and left. He let his umbrella behind, maybe it would be useful for someone. Maybe that someone was you, even if he had doubts about it.

Outside, some heads turned his way : he gave off an image of solidity and elegance, but his strange gaze - pale lavender eyes - was veiled by melancholy.

He brought the cup to his lips but stopped himself midway and walked to the nearest bin.

Just like his eyes, just like his life, this tea was too dull.

And for the first time in his life, Izana threw his cup of citrus tea, that was still half-full, away.

Taglist : @eriskaitto (just ask to be added <3)