#the moment i read this (earlier today) i knew i had to tl it. my friend and i have 4 hours' worth of messages of us just screaming about it
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[Tetora Nagumo] What I Like 4☆ — The Back of a Man Among Men
Writer: Nishioka Maiko || Season: Winter
Character appearances: Tetora, Arashi
"What about you, Tetora-kun? Have you found anything you like yet?"
Translation under the cut
Tetora: Hmhmhmm…♪ I’m back~
Arashi: Oh? Tetora-kun, welcome back.
Arashi: Are you done with work already? You're back surprisingly early. Didn't you say you might be late? I thought for sure that you wouldn’t be back until late at night.
Tetora: Ossu. That's what I thought, too, but I got done earlier than I expected~
Arashi: I see. Well, I'm glad you got done without any troub—
Arashi: Kyaah!
Tetora: Woah!? Wh-what's wrong? You startled me just yelling all of a sudden, y'know?
Arashi: Tetora-kun, this is bad! Your ear! Your earlobe!
Tetora: Huh?
Arashi: Your earlobe is bleeding!
Tetora: Hm…?
Tetora: Ah, it really is. My piercing hasn't healed all the way yet, so I guess it might be bleeding because my earring got caught on my clothes or something.
Arashi: Uh-uh. You can't just wipe it off so casually like that! What if it gets infected!?
Arashi: Okay. Come here. I'll give you a hot soak.
Tetora: H-'hot soak'…? What's that? It sounds kinda like 'hot soup' in English, so I guess it's something yummy?
Arashi: Nope. A hot soak is when you use warm salt water on the affected area to help it heal better.
Arashi: Piercings are delicate, so you can't use regular disinfectants.
Arashi: Don't worry, this won't hurt. Come on, come here and sit still.
Tetora: Ossu. I'll take you up on that, then.
Arashi: Dab, dab…And, there.
Arashi: Oh? This earring…It's not the one you usually wear, is it?
Tetora: Ah, yeah. Today's work was kinda formal, so I wore this clear one that isn't really visible from a distance.
Tetora: I wonder if this piercing is even worth it for me if it’ll keep getting caught in my clothes~. It probably started bleeding because it got caught on something in a weird way.
Arashi: Hmm, that is strange. I wonder if it keeps getting caught on things because you’re not used to it yet.
Arashi: You can’t take the earring out until it heals up, though, or the hole will close up…
Arashi: I know. How about we go shopping for new ones the next time we’re free? I’ve been meaning to look for some small ones for myself, too.
Arashi: I can recommend you a shop, but would you be okay with that?
Tetora: Oh. Can I? If it’s one you recommend, I wanna go, too!
Arashi: That’s decided, then ♪ Let’s go out the next time we’re free.
Arashi: Kyaah ♪ All of them are so cute. With this many choices, I’ll never be able to decide.
Arashi: Oh, well~. Even though there are so many cute things, I want to save money this month…They’re all so tempting.
Arashi: Ah, I can’t get distracted and have fun on my own like this. I’m not here to shop for myself today.
Arashi: What about you, Tetora-kun? Have you found anything you like yet?
Tetora: U~myu. Let me think…Ah, these are nice and simple.
Tetora: I like this kinda thing, but I don’t know how fashionable they are…
Tetora: I don’t really have much of a fashion sense. That’s why I wanna hear your opinion. What do you think of these?
Arashi: Hey. You don’t need to worry about every little thing like that. After all, the most important part of fashion is wearing what you like!
Arashi: Besides, it’s not like you don’t have a good fashion sense. These earrings are nice, aren’t they? I think they’ll suit you.
Tetora: You think so? If they have your seal of approval, I’ll get them~♪ That said, which ones do you like, Narukami-senpai?
Arashi: Me? Well—
Arashi: I like these, and earrings like these are nice, too…Ah, these! I like these ones. Mmm, it’s too bad I can’t buy them. I’ll have to come back when I have some more money.
Arashi: Oh, well, that’s okay. Our main goal today was to get you some earrings. We did achieve that.
Tetora: Ossu. I’ll go pay for these, then!
Arashi: Okaaay, see you in a bit. I’ll go look around that clothing store over there. Please do call out to me once you’re done.
Arashi: I’m so glad you could find something you like.
Tetora: Ossu! It’s just as I’d expect from a store you like. All the accessories there were designed really well. It was really neat.
Tetora: I wanna go there again. Thank you so much!
Arashi: Hehe. Just hearing you say that makes it feel worth recommending it to you.
Tetora: —Also, here.
Arashi: Huh? What’s this package?
Tetora: It’s thanks for today. I’m sorry it’s so small.
Arashi: Huh!? You don’t need to thank me, though!
Arashi: But…thank you. I’m glad. Is it okay if I open it?
Tetora: Of course!
Arashi: —Oh, my! These are the earrings I liked from that store! When did you…
Tetora: Heheh. I’m not great at giving presents, so I wasn’t sure what would be good enough as thanks, but…
Tetora: Obviously, you’d want to give anyone something they’d like, right? That’s why I didn’t buy anything beforehand. I just quietly did my research and bought these earlier.
Arashi: …You’re amazing, Tetora-kun.
Tetora: Huh? Did you say something, Narukami-senpai?
Tetora: Ah! Are these not good enough as a thank you!?
Arashi: Nope. Not at all. I’m really happy with these. Thank you so much. I’ll treasure them ♪
Tetora: I’m really glad you like them! Let’s go home, then.
Arashi: (Mm~…And I thought you were still just a cute junior. I really look forward to what the future holds for you…♪)
Tetora: ? Narukami-senpai, what’s wrong~? You almost got left behind, y’know~?
Arashi: Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, Tetora-kun!
#so can we talk about the tetonaru dynamic#and more importantly about the name of the story vs the end with arashi looking at tetora's back#the symbolism of it all. expect a ramble on my other blog tomorrow#the moment i read this (earlier today) i knew i had to tl it. my friend and i have 4 hours' worth of messages of us just screaming about it#i had to pace around my room from all the emotions this made me feel#<- most normal tetora fans#enstars#ensemble stars#tetora nagumo#arashi narukami#enstars translation#an's translation
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distractions aren't working so
(yelling into the void to get this out of my system but seriously tread carefully if you're sensitive to topics of abuse/ c/sa /mental health crap)
i'd be looking for a therapist but am not exactly in the headspace to do so. my old one was overall great and i'd be contacting her but she was basically useless when it came to this topic. think she was more confused and conflicted at the idea of a child being the abuser than me. which. that's not gonna help. and by the time i'd trust myself to see through that ordeal idk. i could probably use it anyway but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
could use it right now. i've been crying on and off for like 3-4 hours, while teetering on the edge of another breakdown
took me what, 10?? years before i felt ok using the word trauma in reference to being bullied for years. even after i kinda knew how fucked it all was. only after a health professional was like 'yeah, that's trauma you've got going on' after hearing the tl;dr of my life i felt i was allowed to. (she then proceeded to recommend therapy lmao). bc it wasn't so bad. boy i'm good at rationalizing all that away. other people always have it worse! and it's not like there was obvious violence, so obviously it doesn't count.
same fucking thing when i got diagnosed with depression and anxiety. i was passively suicidal & heading into worse direction and i was only willing to admit that i was sad & anxious. probably. surely not anything that would warrant treatment.
and now this thing i've filed away under 'miscellaneous shit that was not ideal probably, but surely it wasn't' That Bad, other people have it Worse':
yesterday i checked out this vr interview stream dealing with abuse right before i had to go sleep (the best idea ever. clearly) and at the point i started watching the discussion made basically no sense so i figure i go to the start and watch from there. and the interviewee describes the abuse, and i'm fine until a particular detail comes up and then it kinda unraveled from there. i had to pause just to get a breather. i watched maybe a few minutes more idk.
i've looked into child psychology and sexual development before bc ever since i bumped into the term child-on-child sa i've been stuck with the whole 'but does it count if x y z' (mostly: can someone so young even be an abuser, bc obviously if he didnt' intentionally & maliciously do it, i am not allowed to feel upset), even earlier that same damn day! but nothing unequivocally said yes or no. so of course i'm going with the safe answer of no, i'm not allowed to call it abuse.
but after that Moment i looked at some more stuff and found a couple of videos, one from a therapist knowledgeable on the topic, and one first-hand account, read some comments to boot, and then i'm having the sort of crying episode that leaves me feeling physically sick for a full day at least
at work today I was distracted the second i was not properly busy, then i managed to keep it together for a bit when i got home and now here we are. fuck i'm glad i'll have multiple days off now. on the long run this is good to process. but def not feeling it right now lol. at least i'm not stuck in a corner of fandom where loaded buzzwords get thrown around like they mean nothing, i knew that fucked with my head even back during the vl/d heyday and i was just getting around to the 'ok that Happened and maybe it was messed up, but Not abuse' stage of denial
good news i might be done crying rn so i guess that helped
i guess this was gonna be happening sooner or later bc i've been somewhat actively thinking about all that for months but rip it came out of nowhere
(and gonna throw it in here just in case; i'd rather not have 'i'm sorry' messages or similar, 9 times out of 10 i just feel awkward as shit. more neutral (not sure what's the best word?) is fine)
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&New (Sashea) - Chae
summary: shea is a famous model, sasha is a famous designer. they *attempt* to have a nice, low-key, friendly date. a paparazzi has other plans.
a/n: i just posted this finished product to ao3 and thought why not bless the tl (wait is this even considered a tl.. well anyways) with some Sashea aka my favorite ship ever– whilst also proving i am not dead! also the lil marked line is where the smut starts i really said “cute… but also porn”
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913066?show_comments=true&view_full_work=true#main
“What are you thinking about?”
“Hm?” Sasha looked at Shea from behind her coffee mug, taking a sip of the scalding beverage and carefully wiping around her red lipstick. “Nothing, really.”
“You sure?” Shea raised an eyebrow. If Shea knew one thing, if there was one motto she lived by, it would be that ‘Sasha is always over-analyzing something.’ Today, it could be her coffee at best, or her entire relationship with Shea at worst.
“I swear!” Sasha laughed, her eyes crinkling up in that adorable way they did, her mouth turning into a little scarlet-colored heart. If Shea knew two things, if there was a second motto she lived by, it would be that she could watch and listen to Sasha laugh forever and ever.
“What are you thinking about, Miss Coulee?”
“You,” the model answered honestly. There probably wasn’t a day Shea didn’t think about Sasha. No, fuck a day, a minute. They were ‘friends,’ sure, but both of them knew it was much more than friendship.
Unfortunately, the entire general public suspected the same thing.
Yes, Sasha was famous, but Shea was mainstream. Everyone knew about her, the newest model-Instagram-star-actress-songstress-activist-pole-dancing diva on the scene. And everyone caught on when Shea and the popular designer she’d walked for during fashion week were spotted in public together on numerous occasions. Straight social media played it off as business-partners and friends, but any fan with a brain—especially Shea’s young, very queer fanbase— would spot the gay energy from miles away.
And just like Shea’s sexuality, their relationship was undefined.
“Me?” The coy question was followed by the clack of Sasha’s teeth against the silver fork that held a pastry, which she placed delicately in her mouth.
“I said that,” Shea affirmed, her expression reading serious, yet her eyes gazing at the blonde with adoration.
“Why are you thinking about me?”
Shea scoffed. “Why am I not thinking about you?”
“You are a busy woman.”
“Not busy enough for you to leave my head.”
Sasha’s pale cheeks reddened. It was common for them to flirt, she should have been used to it. But every time Shea said something nice to her, she couldn’t help herself. God herself could have been complimenting Sasha and it wouldn’t compare to what Shea Coulee had to say. That was to say God wasn’t Shea Coulee.
Shea loved it when Sasha stared at her. When her piercing blue eyes bore into her soul like she was solving an unsolvable equation. It was funny how the petite woman considered Shea a goddess (she knew she did), when the only thing Shea wanted to worship was Sasha. Everything about her: her kind smile, her perfectly and uniquely beautiful face, her analytical shenanigans, her voice that sounded like how honey felt sliding down your throat. Almost a year of friendship, and every moment with her felt brand new.
All of a sudden, Sasha’s eyes snapped to somewhere behind Shea’s head, and her face fell. Shea had a feeling she knew what she was looking at, turning around to see a familiar camera nearing the coffee shop. Her heart dropped to her stomach, not wanting this paparazzi bitch to ruin the amazing day she’d planned for the two of them.
“Let’s go,” Sasha said hushedly, picking up her bag and completely ignoring her unfinished food and coffee mug.
Shea nodded, doing the same, a plastic cup filled with her frappuccino in one hand and Sasha’s own hand in the other. They’d held hands a few times, sure, but nothing beat the rush of interlacing her fingers with the shorter woman’s. She hadn’t really held her before, hadn’t cuddled or snuggled her often, but when she had Sasha’s dainty hand in hers it almost made up for every time she wanted to hug the breath out of her.
They raced down the street laughing, the entire situation almost comical. They looked like two crazy women, walking so fast it might have been classified as a jog and cackling like schoolgirls. But it felt right. As cheesy as that might sound, there wasn’t a better word for it. Familiar. Comfortable. Right.
Again, that was implying that everything didn’t feel right when Shea was with Sasha.
Shea led the other girl a few streets down, ducking behind a mahogany door and checking if the coast was clear. The pair found themselves in a small thrift shop—well, small was an understatement. It was a pretty big thrift shop. But it was quaint, and very artsy, very post-vintage. Very Sasha.
The designer, wearing her sunglasses to hopefully conceal her identity (some face mask, especially next to Shea, who forgot hers at home), looked at the shop in awe.
“Shea… where—”
“The internet,” the taller woman replied smugly.
“You went out of your way to find this for me?”
“It’s the least I can do,” she chuckled. “I wanted today to be fun for us.”
Sasha smirked. “With the camera creep on our tails?”
“More fun for us. Keeping you on your toes.”
The blonde laughed, a soft and knowing giggle. She perused the racks of clothing, feeling the fabric of every sleeve, every pant leg, tracing her fingers along the leather of heeled boots. Shea anticipated the well-dressed woman to pick up a garment multiple times, but she never did, not even the ones she thought were cute. Which left them for Shea, of course, but it also left her wondering what kept her from purchasing them. The designer was known to purchase both expensive and average priced clothes, Sasha caring more about the fit, the cut, the style more than who made it. But she was being extra picky today.
“Something on your mind?” Shea asked.
“No. Just… none of these are speaking to me.”
“Suit yourself,” the model clutched a fur jacket and a PVC skirt in her hands, ready to snag the cute plastic earrings at the cashier before checking out.
“Are you at least getting some inspo?” she asked again.
“Yes! I think. I don’t know. If it’s from this. I’m inspired, though. I’ve been inspired,” Sasha played with a lock of her curly blonde hair.
“By…”
“You.”
Shea smiled. “Me?” she mimicked Sasha’s earlier response.
“Shea,” the russian rolled her eyes. “Stop making fun of me when I confess my undying love,”
“Is that what we’re doing now?” Shea feigned surprise. “In the middle of the store?”
“Let’s buy you some lesbian earrings, I don’t think I’m going to get anything. Today,” she added.
It was when they were at the cash register when they simultaneously spotted the paparazzi—again. The same one. Across the street. Coming closer. Fuck.
Sasha bit her lip, not wanting to abandon the clothing Shea seemed so excited about. She didn’t have much time to think, so she mustered a “could you put these on hold? We’ll be back eventually,” before sliding the worker a twenty for their hassle. Whether or not they accepted that offer was yet to be found out, as Sasha and Shea were already out the door.
Their rush to escape the prying eyes of the cameraman took them to the metro, into a subway car, breathlessly plopping down in the only two open seats. Would either of their management teams let something like this occur? No.
Well. Too late. They were off, hopefully away from the paparazzi for good this time.
The pair kept their heads down in order to attempt to conceal their identities, as if that would do much on a crowded subway. But attempt was the key word in this situation. It didn’t stop them from stealing glances at each other the entire ride, smiling stupidly at absolutely nothing.
“So, Shea,” Sasha started.
“So, Sasha.”
“Where are we going?”
“Dummy, you’ll see, that’s the whole point.”
“You did not just call me a dummy.”
“What if I did, blondie?”
“Perpetuating not only female stereotypes, but hair color stereotypes? Tsk tsk,” Sasha shoved the taller woman’s arm lightly. Shea giggled in that full, sexy way that her voice always sounded, her voice trailing off into nothing, the pair falling into comfortable silence for a few moments.
“What?” Sasha asked, her voice laced with a joking tone.
“Nothing, I just like your face,” Shea replied with a wink.
“Oh my god, I swear I’m going to kill you one of these days,” Sasha rolled her eyes playfully, her cheeks flushing pink.
The train stopped, Shea perked up.
“This is us,” she said, her pearly white teeth peeking out from a satisfied smile.
Once again their hands interlaced in a gentle display of affection, Shea more familiar with public transport (despite a couple years of not using it) than Sasha, leading her through the complicated catacombs of the metro station.
They emerged in a park, and a smile immediately found itself creeping onto Sasha’s face. Reluctantly, they severed their skin-to-skin contact at the sight of the crowded lawn, Sasha dubitifully following Shea’s path.
Their altitude heightened and the amount of people decreased, and the sun shone bright on the two girls as the hill they climbed steepened.
Shea stopped, smiling at the sight of a familiar footpath.
“It’s still here!” She pointed out, mainly to herself, almost jogging through an overhang of trees.
Sasha scurried after her, the sun disappearing briefly behind the leaves before reappearing even brighter than before in a small, protected, deserted clearing, overlooking the entire city.
Shea stood at the edge, looking like nothing short of a painting with a slight breeze ruffling her long black hair, set against the picturesque landscape.
Sasha appeared behind her, the sunlight bringing out her rosy cheeks and freckles.
In that moment they were joined together in the same work of art.
“Shea, this is so beautiful,” was all Sasha could say.
“I came here to think when I was younger, after school. I kind of hated my friends. And then I met new ones, and then we came here at night and we drank and we smoked. And then, you’ll never guess,” Shea explained excitedly. Sasha hung onto her every word like it was gospel, wanting to retain every single slice of the taller girl’s life.
“I think I have some idea,” Sasha laughed.
“I had my first kiss here, too. Only good memories. I haven’t been back for a while, but I guess I just never found the need to.”
“We’re coming back, Shea. When we get chased by paparazzi, we’ll go here,” Sasha said, her eyes darting from the city to Shea and back again, not quite sure which sight was more beautiful.
They found themselves laying in the grass, side by side, staring up at the clouds. Cliche, but so, so wonderful.
“I’m just glad we ditched that creep,” Shea mused.
“I just— what does he want? What does he want out of seeing us together?” Sasha pursed her lips.
“I think you know just as well as I do.”
“Yeah, the fans get even more fuel for their shipping fire.”
“We are always together… “
“Of course, but we’re not together together.”
Pause.
Shea turned her head to Sasha, who was already looking at her.
“What if I wanted… to be together. Together,” the words weren’t exactly unplanned, but they still sounded alien to Shea’s lips.
“Shea—”
“No, it’s fine if you don’t. I just thought, natural progression.”
“Shea, oh my god, I think I love you,” Sasha’s warm hands were on Shea’s cheeks.
“Wh-” and the word was cut off by the most magical, euphoric, shiny sparkly fiery kiss that Shea had ever experienced in her life. The first thing she registered was the taste of coffee and vanilla still on Sasha’s lips. The second was each time their tongues found their way into the others mouth it an entire fireworks show exploded. The third was her arms snaking around the pale girl’s small waist and her own arms tracing up and down Shea’s side.
“I love you,” Sasha repeated against Shea’s lips, catching them between her own red-stained mouth.
“I love you, too, Sasha Velour. That’s what I wanted to say today. Thank you for making it easier,” Shea kissed the other girl’s nose.
“You put together this whole day for us, for it to get ruined, for you to bring me here?”
“We were coming here no matter what. Only good things happen here. Sasha, you’re the best thing yet.”
Sasha blushed, unabashedly now, then pressed another kiss onto Shea’s lips. She traced the side of the raven-haired woman’s face, Shea sighed into her mouth.
“Would you like to be my girlfriend?” she asked, Sasha laughing at the obvious question.
“Nothing would make me happier. Really.”
The gaydar of the world was correct, it seemed, in picking soulmates in the two girls.
Under the light of the sun, in the grass, with the breeze sliding over their faces, they were Living & New.
——
The door clicked shut.
And Sasha’s pale, slender hand dropped from the handle. She turned around, eyes scanning the woman taking off her jacket.
Shea looked back with a smirk, finding it hilariously sexy when Sasha tried to give ‘the look.’
“There’s no need for bedroom eyes, we’re already in your bedroom.”
“Really? I would have never guessed,” the blonde teased as she took their coats and shoes and placed them by the door. They’d come in so excitedly that they headed straight for Sasha’s room without thinking.
“But it’s okay,” the taller woman padded over to Sasha, lifting her chin up to face her. “I like it here.”
“You’d better, especially since you’ll be here so often” Sasha leaned in close, her voice a playful whisper.
“Will I, now?”
“Hmm,” was the Russian’s response, as her lips were already interlocked with Shea’s.
Their lips moved together familiarly, the feel and taste of each other’s mouths still fresh in their memories. Almost immediately Shea’s hands reached for the hem of Sasha’s turtleneck, beckoning her to remove it, and Sasha smirked as she pushed Shea back onto the bed. The woman was silhouetted against the nighttime cityscape behind the bed — similarly to earlier that day at the park.
Sasha broke the kiss with a soft bite on Shea’s lip, wiggling out of the taller girl’s grasp. Shea made a noise in protest, but the blonde shushed her. She walked to the other side of the bed, so now her back was to the giant plexiglass window.
“You want my shirt off?” she teased, watching Shea scan over her quizzically.
The model nodded.
Sasha chuckled softly while slowly stripping off the cotton top. Her bra was lacy and white and pushed her breasts up slightly in a way that drove Shea mad. Shea crawled over the bed, beginning to unzip her own dress frantically.
“No, babe, wait,” Sasha smiled. “I thought you’d like a show.”
Shea’s eyes widened. “No way.”
“Yes way.”
“You spoil me,” she brought her hands to her heart. “This is so fucking sexy.”
The slight growl in the model’s voice sent a shock from the back of Sasha’s neck to her core. She fumbled with the zipper of her pencil skirt, trying her best to remove the stiff fabric in a provocative manner. Of course, the designer could fall flat on her face and Shea would still find it sexy, but Sasha was nothing if not a pleaser.
To Shea’s surprise and delight, Sasha was hiding a pair of matching white garters underneath the long skirt. All day. Just for her.
“Holy shit.”
“Like what you see?”
“Fuck, Sasha,” Shea raised a hand to beckon the shorter girl over. Her palms hovered over Sasha’s hips as she took the girl in entirely. “Can I—”
“Always,” Sasha bit her lip, brushing a finger through Shea’s dark hair.
Shea guided Sasha onto her lap, the motion causing her minidress to ride up as she pressed her lips onto Sasha’s once again. Kissing Shea was an experience that could only be described as heaven on Earth, her lips encapsulating the entirety of Sasha’s psyche, the way her tongue intertwined with hers intoxicating and addicting and beckoning to push deeper into the kiss. Her hands threaded their way through Shea’s long black hair while Shea’s roamed Sasha’s small frame, feeling every bit of soft exposed skin and every inch of scratchy lace.
Sasha felt Shea’s lithe fingers unclasp her bra, and hummed softly in affirmation as she let the other woman slide it off. Shea’s pillowy lips latched onto the crook of Sasha’s neck, tracing short and gentle kisses, sucks, licks, and bites down her clavicle. She looked up at Sasha to see her blue eyes blown out and dark, a pale finger swiping over her cheek and a smile creeping onto her stained-red lips. Shea smiled back mishieviously, taking the girl’s nipple in her mouth and swirled around the bud, her other hand cupping the other breast. Sasha let out a moan at the sensitive contact, greedily pushing the back of Shea’s head closer. Shea nibbled playfully in response and let out a muffled laugh into Sasha’s chest.
“You’re so needy!” she smiled. She pulled back and continued to knead the other woman’s breasts.
“Shea, I made a mistake,” Sasha bit her lip. Shea confusedly paused, worry glazing her expression.
“Baby, are you okay?”
Sasha couldn’t stop herself from grinning foxily. “I shouldn’t have got you so worked up, now I have to wait for you to fuck me.”
Shea snort-laughed, her hands instinctively reaching out and touching Sasha’s arms. “You little shit! Get on your back already!”
Sasha contentedly obliged, getting comfortable at the head of the bed. Shea took off her dress in the meantime, crawling in between Sasha’s legs.
“Is this better, my fair lady?” Shea asked sarcastically.
“Yes… but….”
“But….”
“Your mouth is up here, and not down there!”
“I hate you.”
“I love you!”
Shea smirked and crashed her lips on Sasha’s once again, her hands gripping at the hem of the pale girl’s underwear and shimmying it lower. She disconnected the kiss and stripped the rest of Sasha’s garters off, taking a moment to admire the woman laid before her. Sasha was thin, with toned arms from her hours of drawing and sewing, broad shoulders and smaller breasts and a tiny waist. Her skin was airbrush-smooth, and freckles dusted her collarbone and shoulders and thighs. Shea wanted to kiss every little spot on her body.
“You are so beautiful,” Shea breathed.
“I’m beautiful for a mere mortal, but that’s nothing next to a goddess like you.”
Shea’s cheeks grew warm, the praise making her heady. “If I’m Aphrodite, you’re nothing short of Athena.”
“The lesbian love story the Greeks didn’t deserve,” Sasha laughed. Her hands were kneading at the sheets under her, and although Shea could tell she was trying to be intelligent in the moment, she was obviously growing impatient. Shea looked down and could see the wetness coating Sasha’s pussy and had to hold back a chuckle at how well the girl was holding herself back.
Conversation ceased as Shea leaned down, fulfilling her self-promise and kissing up Sasha’s milky thighs, nearing closer to where Sasha wanted her the most. Shea avoided it, kissing around her pelvis and nipping where the skin was soft. Again, her mouth drew nearer and Sasha whimpered.
“What do you want, baby?”
“Shea…”
The model looked up with a glint in her eyes.
“It’s okay, Sasha, you’re with me. You don’t have to be so uptight, especially not now.” She kissed right on top of her clit. Sasha whined.
“What do you want me to do, baby?”
“Just—just… you know, just—”
“I don’t know,” Shea smirked.
“Goddamnit, just eat me out already!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”
And Shea was licking languidly down Sasha’s folds, savoring the way she tasted and going back for more. She probed around her entrance, the soft sounds Sasha was making before gradually growing into prolonged moans. The designer’s voice wasn’t high pitched naturally, so it translated into musical and full sounds under Shea’s touch and Shea couldn’t get her unique moaning out of her brain. She flattened her tongue against her clit and immediately a strangled ‘mmph’ sounded above and two small hands found themselves buried in Shea’s hair.
Shea licked, pressing harder with each pass as Sasha got more and more worked up. Her voice was breathy and her hips were bucking off of the mattress and her head was turned to the side, and she just looked so pretty with the sheen of sweat coating her forehead and her hair around her head in a curly halo.
Sasha’s hands roamed to her own breasts, the motion being impossible to hold back as she kneaded them in time with Shea’s mouth. The taller woman hoisted Sasha’s thighs upwards and continued to lick, sucking over and over again at her clit, now at a better angle.
Sasha’s thighs were trembling as the pressure in her lower abdomen increased, her calves spasming as the sensations became too much to handle. She couldn’t stop herself—even if she wanted to— from letting obscene, low, drawn out sounds escape her throat. Shea’s mouth felt too good to suppress it, and Sasha was willing to let it go for once. If not for her own good, for Shea.
Sasha tried to catch her bottom lip in between her teeth, but as soon as she bit it another shock of Shea’s tongue brought out another moan and her head was knocked back and her lips open.
It was when Shea heard her name being yelped over and over that she knew Sasha was close, and registered that she herself was probably dripping wet. If the nonverbal sounds turned Shea on, her own name almost sent her over the edge.
Shea brought her hand up to gently hover around Sasha’s entrance, continuing her assault on her clit.
“S-sh-oh my god, oh my fuck-” was something along the lines of what Sasha rambled on about, gasping for air as her orgasm reached it’s very climax. Shea felt her tense briefly, before her entire body relaxed and Sasha was muttering softly and finally breathing regularly again.
Shea’s mouth was swollen, her tongue sore, her body tired. She fell beside Sasha on the pillows, turning and watching as the blonde regained her senses. She was a vision, wrapped up in the sheets with her makeup smudges and her eyes half shut and tired. Suddenly, she seemingly remembered something and turned to Shea.
“Do you need me to, now?”
“What, fuck me?” Shea smiled. Sasha nodded.
Shea looked down at herself. She was wet, that fact was undeniable. She was also tired, but as her arm tingled at Sasha’s feather-light touch, her energy inconspicuously returned.
Shea kissed Sasha softly, all lips and no teeth, as Sasha’s hand made its way lower and lower. Sasha cherished Shea as if she was a goddess — well, to her, she was. She wanted to feel every part of her warm skin, register it’s softness and make sure it was real and that the beautiful woman lying beside her was, in fact, tangible. Sasha caressed her thigh and moved inward, trying to fit her dainty hand in between Shea’s thighs.
Shea’s breath hitched when Sasha’s fingers hovered over her clit, and she gave the other woman more space so her hand would slip lower. Sasha gently slid her hand through Shea’s already-slick folds, and a little whimper drew itself from Shea’s throat.
“You sound so pretty, Shea,” Sasha’s voice was soft.
“I-” Shea was interrupted by her own whine as Sasha pressed against her clit. “Not as g-good as—fuck—you, I bet.”
“I beg to differ,” Sasha replied with a smirk and a breathy tone, massaging small circles now. Their faces were nearly touching, but Shea threw her head back now, mouth stuck in an ‘o.’
“Aah—agree to disagree-ohh-” Shea looked back with wide eyes. “Right there, fuck, that feels so good,” her hips were doing their best to grind forward, knocking into Sasha’s pelvis a little.
Sasha had an idea, then.
“Darling, prop yourself up,” she smiled, planting a quick kiss on her forehead. Shea only had it in her to follow Sasha’s orders without a word.
With some maneuvering, Sasha managed to hook a leg over Shea’s and entangle herself in the other woman so that she could feel the heat from her sex on her own. Shea understood the scenario exactly, a giddy smile plastered on her face.
“Sash, you know me too well.”
With a considerable amount of effort, Sasha managed to bring their genitals into contact, and the sounds that escaped both women’s lips could have come straight out of a porno.
As they grinded in time, rubbing their pussies together, feeling probably the best they’d ever had ever and completely disregarding a need for lube because they were already wet anyway, they wondered why the hell they hadn’t thought of scissoring before.
“Holy shit, Sasha, if I’d had known, fuck,” Shea tried to get out, but the pressure or Sasha against her clit just drowned out the words.
Sasha was basically post-verbal at this point— quite an achievement for someone such as herself— and she grabbed into Shea’s thigh in a vain attempt to ground herself. A feeling like this made her feel so high she wasn’t sure she’d come back down.
And so their cunts rubbed together, the only sound in the entire large three-story house the almost-hypersexual moans of the pair as those grew louder and closer to screams than anything.
“Shea, Shea, Shea, I-I think, oh god I’m going to—” Sasha frantically jerked her hips and yelled her relief as her second orgasm tore through her. The rush of fluid onto Shea’s pussy was enough to get her throbbing, and it wasn’t long before she finally got her release, shouting Sasha’s name.
The next few moments were a blur, the two women beyond spent, muscles sore and heads light. Apparently they both managed to hobble to the bathroom and tidy themselves up a bit, because the next thing Sasha fully registered was cuddling into Shea’s side. Shea didn’t even get that far, the moment her head touched her pillow, she was fast asleep.
Moonlight mixed with the lights of the city, basking the entire room in a periwinkle afterglow. It was entirely possible someone in one of the high-rise apartments across the street saw their whole ordeal, and the thought made Sasha laugh. If they’d known who they were, if they’d known what Sasha and Shea were doing, their lives would be over. The only thing that meant more to Sasha than Shea herself was Sasha’s work, her designs. To have that taken away was impossible, and she knew Shea felt the same about walking a runway.
Sasha squeezed Shea. In the privacy of her home, she could get used to this. In the light of the stars there was nobody to stop them from loving each other. No prying eyes and paparazzi stalkers. It was Sasha and Shea. And during the day, they could both have what they loved.
It was give and take. It was upsetting. But it was life, and the comfort of seeing each other after a hard days work made it all worth it, somehow,
Living in the sunlight, Loving in the moonlight.
#rpdr fanfiction#sasha velour#shea coulee#sashea#song fic#lesbian au#fluff#smut#model x designer au#chae#submission
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• We’ll Figure It Out • ➥ h. hotel
[ Husk / Reader ]
I made this on a whim because why the fuck not. First story published, not first time writing. GLHF, never written for Husk before but it’s an adventure we can experience together. Also, yes, this was based off of “The Stray” comic by Disteal.
— TL;DR : Some soft Husk shit. The server is a sin. Not really used to writing Husk sorry. Based off of “The Stray”
Pre-Warnings: Just some slight angst with some fluff in it ; a tiny smidge of self-loathing ; more of a platonic thing but if you squint you can see the intimacy
God damn was it fucking freezing. Who knew that Hell would have such blistering winters, then again, it was hell so what the fuck did you expect? The weather here was nothing short of imperfection, choosing to be either sweltering hot or a blistering cold. Even if there were good days, they were short in stock as this place did its best to live up to its name.
Tonight, as you’ve noticed by your numb hands and probably already frozen face, it was freezing tonight, and it just so happened that you were walking home. Today was your birthday, and you had just spent the entire day out alone drinking away your sorrows and passing out at the docks of Lake Wendigo. It wasn’t your brightest idea to go outside in this weather, especially with such a thin sweater on, but it also wasn’t the worst thing you’ve done.
You walked on, staring down at your phone as you message Rosie on what your next job would be for tomorrow. All week you’ve had nothing assigned for you to do and you were tired of sitting around. It made you anxious and adding that on top of the growing pile of depression of your birthday just made you feel all the worse.
Hey mother
When’s the haul coming in?
Read
You frowned at the ‘read’ underneath your message. A cloud of white left your lips when you sighed in frustration. Why hasn’t she replied yet? You’re sure you’ve taught her enough on how to use a phone, that and she was a fast learner, so there was no way she’d have trouble texting you back. A frown settled onto your face as you looked up to see the hotel.
This place was the bane of your existence, ever since Rosie sent you off to help Radio-bitch out to repay a favor. That was a month ago, and you were dreading every single second of it. The group of people that helped run this place or participated in the project behind it were complete morons. They were all so neurotic with their actions. It all made you feel awkward and out of place, so much so that you paused when you made it to the door, not moving an inch to reach out and grasp the handle to open it.
You stared holes into the brass piece, taking a glance behind you and questioning on whether you wanted to leave while you still could. It seemed so enticing to leave, go back to Rosie and forget like this place ever existed, back to your regular, daily, miserable life. You stared out down the walkway, going to take a step forward. That was until the doors opened to reveal a tall, skinny bitch.
“Well, look who decided to show up!” Alastor chirped from the doorway, smile ever present, “Come on in, my dear, tonight is a deathly cold night and you must be freezing!” He stepped forward, putting a hand to your back as he pushed you inside and closed the door. The warm air instantly met your skin, and it was only then that you realized just how cold you were.
“Ah, yeah..” You mumbled out, shoving your phone and hands inside your sweater’s pockets to help warm them up. You followed Alastor into the dining area to find everyone already gathered around the table. The atmosphere surrounding them was filled with a warmness that had you pausing in the doorway as Alastor walked back into the kitchen. Almost everyone had a smile on their face, seeming so casual and enjoying each other’s presence while you stood afar. You watched them all move with such up-beat energy that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Charlie shot up out of her seat and called out to you with a wide grin on her face.
“You’re late!” She exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the chair next to hers.
“Sorry, work kept me late.” You explained weakly, falling into your seat when Charlie pushed you to sit with a bit of force behind her action that had you lose your breath.
“That’s fine, Alastor just finished cooking anyway!” Charlie exclaimed, sitting down and smiling eagerly at you with an almost childlike glow to it, “He made your favorite!”
“Y-yeah… I see that.” You smiled awkwardly, looking away and watching as Niffty zoomed out of the kitchen with a large plate of food, one that you recognized so easily as the one your mother used to make when you were but a child. You watched as everyone reached out and started to serve themselves while Niffty kept zooming back and forth between the dining room and kitchen.
You stared out over the crowd, noticing that Vaggie and Angel were having their usual spat, yelling at each other about god knows what this time. Crymini had her feet on the table, leaning back in her chair as she stared down at her lap at the phone in her hand. She occasionally looked up to laugh at Razzle and Dazzle’s antics, who were currently messing with Baxter and getting such easy entertainment off his easy reactions (which involved a lot of screeching). Husk sat across from you, nursing from a bottle of tequila as he watched Vaggie get more heated by the second from Angel’s nonchalance. You briefly wondered if Charlie was ever going to step in, but it seemed that tonight she could care less as she involved herself in a deep conversation with Mimzy.
Upon all this chaos, you slowly dropped the smile on your face, a scowl replacing it as you stared down at the plate before you. You grimaced, the alcohol from earlier making your stomach twist at the thought of food. You shook your head, making it ache from the sudden movement as you moved your chair back to stand up. You moved to walk around the table, heading towards the door and tuning out the loud banter in the room. No one but Mimzy noticed, and when she called out to you, everyone stopped what they were doing for a short moment to look at you.
“Hey! Where you going? You just got here and you’re leaving already?” She questioned, crossing her arms.
You paused in the doorway, glancing back at them, “I’m just gonna make a quick call. I’ll be back in a jiffy, don’t worry.” You explained, turning around and jumping back a bit when you almost ran into Alastor. You looked up at him, noticing the way he tilted his head in confusion down at you as he held another plate of your favorite meal. You said nothing other than an apology, moving your gaze to the ground as you stepped aside and continued your stroll to the exit. Not once did you ever notice the pair of eyes watching you.
You stepped back out into the cold, immediately feeling the cold hit your face. Your whole body shivered in response to the chill air of the night. It had you crossing your arms subconsciously in an attempt to save what little body heat you had. You looked around at your surroundings, checking to see if there were any unwanted presence around you. Last time you hadn’t checked the surrounding area of the hotel, a zeppelin blowed a hole into the entrance.
Shivering at the memory of bitch mc-gee’s show of power, you turned and began strolling around the building. You stared up at it and took in all its glory, every crevice, every detail. The place looked like it went through three hurricanes and back, or like dog shit. In simpler words, it looked run-down and awful, but you were sure that the twizzler would get it back up and running. If Rosie taught you anything, it was that when it came to Alastor, he could do some damn impressive things in his achieving ‘entertainment’ in his own means.
You scoffed at the thought. Never will you understand the fondness your dear Rosie had for the maniac. You rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the aching in your head, but it proved to be fruitless. Groaning in discomfort, you decided to focus ahead of you and where you were heading. The tall shadows casted by the hotel left little to see, but it was no issue to you when you finally reached the back alley.
The back of the hotel was your favorite hot spot and hide away to get away from everyone. It was your haven from the loud sounds of laughter and yelling provided from the patrons in there. Out here, you had the freedom to do whatever you wanted away from the scrutinizing eye of others. It was also a place to get your smoke on without having radio shack yell at you. Now that you think about it, having a quick smoke before heading back inside didn’t sound so bad, so without second thought you reached into your back pocket and pulled out the box of cigars you had along with your lighter.
You walked up to the brick wall of the hotel, leaning against it next to the back-exit while you pulled out a stick and lit the end of it. When it started smoking, you took a long drag out of it before pulling back and blowing a white cloud of smoke into the air. You watched it swirl and dance around for a moment, almost memorized by the way the cloud moved. It was only when the cloud of white disappeared that you allowed yourself to pull your phone out, opening messages and instantly tapping on Rosie’s name.
You huffed in annoyance as you noticed she had yet to message you back, “God fucking dammit…” You cursed under your breath, letting yourself fall ass-first to the ground in frustration. You leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes and breathing deeply to control your anger before you ended up punching a hole into the brick wall. You sat up again, pulling your phone up and starting to type a message to once more ask Rosie what she had wanted you to do. Not once did you notice the door open, nor the heavy footsteps coming closer to you until they called out to you.
“Hey, kid.” A deep and husky voice spoke.
You nearly jumped out of your skin, letting a few curses slip out as you almost dropped your phone. You snapped your head up, ready to cuss whoever decided to startle you out, but instead surprise replaced your anger as you saw the last person you’d expect to see out here. “Husk? What are you doing out here? Head back inside man, I’ll be done in a sec.”
He shrugged, bringing the bottle of tequila up to his lips, “Just getting some air.” Is all he said before taking a swig, throwing his head back and downing almost half the bottle in an instant.
“Oh.” Is all you said as you watched him drink before turning back to stare down at your screen.
Husk pulled the bottle back down, glancing down at you. He furrowed his brows at the look on your face as you typed out a message to whoever it was you were so focused on texting. He looked away to the bottle in his hand, taking small glances between you and his drink, wondering if whether he should even offer you a sip. He glanced back down to you, watching you smash your fingers onto the bright screen in frustration. He let out a sigh, taking a few steps towards you before plopping down adjacent to you.
You looked up, narrowing your eyes in suspicion of his actions, a small hint of confusion bubbled in the back of your mind. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him off, but he beat you to it by raising the bottle of tequila in offering to you, ��Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.” He spoke.
You stared at him in surprise. It was known around the hotel staff that if there was one thing Husk would not separate from, it was his liquor. So, of course it was a shocker when he offered you that bottle. You closed your mouth, not saying anything or even daring to move, and that seemed to make him anxious. Husk thought he’d maybe made the wrong move, seeing as how you didn’t move or reply. He had half the mind to take back what he said, swallowing a pool of saliva in nervousness and opening his mouth to prepare to fix the awkward situation before it got worse. However, there was no need as you raised your hand and grasped the bottle, taking it from him.
“Thanks…” you replied, staring down at the bottle before taking a small sip and handing it back over to him. You tensed when your fingers brushed, feeling a pit of anxiety settle in your gut. You ignored it, however, and continued to stare down at your phone to read through what you’ve already typed down. A scowl formed on your face as you scrolled up to read through previous messages Rosie had sent your over the past month. Whether it was her telling you to listen to Alastor or to be good or to just wait for her instructions, it all had you huffing in anger.
A cold breeze passed through, making you shiver and hug yourself to savor body heat. You let out a sigh, leaning your head back to close your eyes again. The ambience of the area around the hotel filled your ears along with the occasional sound of liquid being jostled around inside a glass bottle. It was then that you realized the cat was still here. You furrowed your brows, suddenly not liking the silence that filled the air between you and Husk. It was thick with awkwardness, and it left you anxious in its wake.
“…it—” you started, glancing up at the cat demon next to you, “It’s just a bit too loud inside… and weird… I’m not really used to such a lively atmosphere, so…” You trailed off, turning your head away from him to avoid meeting his gaze, not that he cared. He didn’t even bother to look down at you, all he did was take a couple more swigs from his bottle while staring up at the dim pentagram in the dark red sky before speaking, “It’s okay, kid. You don’t have to explain yourself to me… I understand.”
Your face twisted in a slight grimace, “Yeah, it’s just really not my thing…”
Husk sighed in slight annoyance but dared not to say anything. Instead, he only shrugged as he looked down at the bottle in his hand. “I get it.” He replied, swirling the alcohol around in boredom.
You frowned, brows furrowing in frustration as you stared at the ground in irritation. A beat of silence settled between the both of you before you squared your shoulders, sitting straight and looking up at the cat in irritation. “See, I don’t think you do. I don’t think we’re really on the same page here.” You spat. You stood up, moving away from him and glaring out around the surrounding area. You took deep breaths in an attempt to control your anger. But it proved to be futile as when you turned around to glare at him, the look on his face that told you he could care less had your blood boiling.
“You all just go on doing all this stupid, kumbaya shit without a care in the world of the consequences.” You started, “You all have this sense of freedom within the hotel, a place that you all seem to call home with no trouble in doing so.” Your teeth were grit in disgust, the anger was building on your shoulders and you tried to keep it contained, but the bucket was overflowing, and it all spilled out and came undone.
“You all have it so easy, don’t you?! You get to walk around here without feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders! Well, I ain’t ever had that shit Husk! People like ME in my situation, in MY line of work are on a one-way conveyor belt to being screwed over and being complete fuck-ups!”
Your hands hurt from how tightly they were clenched. You could feel your claws digging into your flesh and spilling your blood in them. Anger and frustration were coursing through your veins as you had finally cracked under the pressure and stress of the month. The drawer was open, and you could do nothing but release all this pent-up stress by yelling at him. You didn’t know why you were doing it, especially to him out of all people, but all you wanted to do in that moment was to just be angry. And you wanted him to be angry back at you. You wanted him to fight, to yell, to scream at you and smash the bottle over your damn head for even having the gall to say such things in his face. But all he did was just look up at you with this disinterested look that pissed you off even more.
“We don’t GET big, happy, family stuff man! All we do is get moved around until our owners have an excuse to shoot us down!” You cried out in rancor, feeling tears starting to blur your vision as the water works finally unleashed themselves. You raised a hand, making sloppy work of trying to wipe them away. “All this, and you all just— fuckin— wanna make that all better and fix it like it’ll all go away…”
Your hand dropped, the cold air numbing your face even more as the hot tears continued to pour. You clenched your hands tightly and stared down into the ground with a look of distaste, “Don’t patronize me…” You mumbled out tiredly, “I’m not stupid, y’know. I know what cards I got dealt…” You crossed your arms, hugging yourself tightly, “…I know exactly how this will all play out in the end…”
Nothing was said when you finished, your rant was met with nothing but silence. You scowled, keeping your gaze on the ground and dared not to look up. If only you did, you would have seen Husk stare up at you in disbelief at the end of your spiel. Not once did he think that you'd crack under any of their presence, especially with him, and especially with how collected you always appeared to be. Your words were harsh, and to be honest it kind of pissed him off on how much you assumed that they all had better lives. True, here at the hotel everyone had a chance to let loose and be themselves just a bit more than they could out there. But despite that, he didn't let your assumptions or outburst get to him. All he did was huff in in nonchalance, moving to stand while taking another swig of his drink.
You said nothing, only listening patiently to what Husk would do next. When he finally started moving, you flinched as you heard his heavy footfalls, each step had you dreading what would come next. You were almost afraid of him, your whole-body trembling when you noticed that he stopped just short of you. Not once did you dare look up at him, not wanting to see the look on his face after you just practically screeched him out. So, imagine your surprise when he lowered the bottle from his mouth, not to strike you with, but to speak words that had you tearing up again in an instant.
“I know exactly how you feel, kid.” He started slowly, “I mean, was just like you when I was younger.” You snapped your head up, staring up at him with an incredulous look on your face.. You opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.
“I get it, y’know? I get that it seems like the world is out to trip you at every step. I get the anger when some random, unfair bullshit puts you back at square one.” He takes a quick gulp of his drink, staring up at the sky when he brought the bottle down, “I know how it feels when you think you gotta turn your back on the world, the thought that it can’t hurt you if you push it away.”
He turned his gaze down to you, a look in his eye that made you want to do nothing but cry right there and then for the rest of the night. He furrowed his brows at the tears rolling down your cheeks, “I also know you’re too young to survive that. Fighting the universe will kill you before it kills itself.”
He reached up a hand, going to wipe away a tear before you snapped your head away from his touch. You crossed your arms again as you glared daggers into the ground. “Why are you telling me this, man?!” You cried out in exasperation.
Husk huffed, shaking his head before turning back to you, “’Cause the worlds a shithole.” He started, “It’s hard and I can’t do anything to change that.” He raised his hand again, cupping your cheek and making you look up at him as he wiped away a tear. “But believe me when I say it’s harder when you’re fighting alone.”
He dropped his hand, turning around to face the door as if he were about to walk away, “You want me to leave, kid? I’ll leave. But I’m here offering you a hand…” He glanced back, “You give me the word, let me know you’re not ready to give up on us yet…”
“Do that, and you never have to be alone again.”
You said nothing, only staring at him and drowning in those warm pools that made up his eyes. There was something about them that just had you tearing up again. You couldn’t pull away, seeming in a trance and lost in the comfort they provided you. Your chest ached, and your heart throbbed at the way he seemed to look at you at that moment, and it wasn’t until you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket that you looked away.
You pulled out your phone, opening it up and watching the three dots float up onto the bottom of the screen, indicating that Rosie was finally replying to you.
May I need to remind you that you
are not needed tomorrow either?
You are such a busy bee.
Take some time for yourself.
Her messages had you deflate a bit. You almost threw your phone down in anger if it wasn’t for the next one she sent. You stared at your screen, watching the white text bubble pop up at the bottom of the screen.
Also, happy birthday love <3
A choked sob left your mouth. The tears by now were waterfalls and were spilling down onto the screen of your phone and even down to the pavement below. You tried to wipe them away, having a hard time to see what was in front of you, but it proved futile as they only continued to pour. By now, you were a crying mess, the sorrow enveloping your mind along with the tears in your eyes making you blind to Husk’s movement. He walked over to you, stopping when he reached your side. He wasn’t sure what to do, raising his hand and lowering it multiple times while you sobbed an ugly mess. Husk only made a move when you finally collapsed to the ground knees first.
He rubbed the back of his neck, moving to kneel next to you. He opened a wing and wrapped it around you before pulling you close. You immediately caved into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and burrowing your mess of a face into his shoulder. He was startled at how easily you latched onto him and allowed your defenses to lower. You always had your walls up, never letting them down around others save for Rosie. But even then, it was rare you’d ever lose your composure. You were this stone-faced demon, almost relentless towards others, but in this very moment you were nothing but a young, small, feeble creature who was just as scared as the others in this damned place.
Husk couldn’t help but feel something nudge against his heart strings. He had this unrelenting force build up inside of him, something that wanted to keep you safe from all the bad things this world had to offer. He didn’t know why he felt that or what came over him, all he knew was that he never wanted to see you so distraught, so broken, ever again. It was that thought that had him wrapping an arm around you, giving you a few pats on your back and wincing when it seemed to make you cry harder.
He felt so uncomfortable in doing that, as if it had been decades since he had last comforted a crying person (which it had), but he made an effort to drown those feelings of discomfort and let you sob into his shoulder. You both stayed like that, your arms around his neck with your face buried into the surprisingly soft fur of his shoulder. His arms and wings wrapped around you in some form of comfort along with some protection against the cold. It was a while before you finally calmed down, enough to mumble out three simple words that would change your life.
“…I need help…” you mumbled out.
Husk huffed, tightening his hold on you in some form of comfort as if letting you know that he’s there, and that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“Don’t worry, kid… we’ll figure it out… together.”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin husk#hazbin hotel husk#husk#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel husk x reader#hazbin husk x reader#husk x reader#x reader
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oh, oh geez-
i should have stated it more clearly, oh god- i mentioned in the tags of a post i made earlier today that i managed to get back home-
thank you so much. all of what you said is REALLY good advice, and pretty much what was going on in my head when i was there-
(i ended up writing a LONG vent about the hospital, so i'm gonna put a read more here, sorry)
[[MORE]]
i spent a bit over 24 hours there (thankfully only that long). the first few hours, i was panicked- i could barely breathe and the smoke stang my eyes, i had a migraine and no water to swallow painkillers, on top of that i was on period and with no easy bathroom access (it was in the "actual" psych ward down the corridor, meaning i had to be let out of my current room (which was locked at all times), led to the ward entrance (locked too), let in, let to go to the bathroom, and then repeat the same procedure to go back, which sucked)- i was close to attempting escape. like at some point i almost fully decided that the moment someone opens the door to check in on us, i'm fucking running. the only thing that stopped me was that if they ended up catching me, i'd be labeled a nutcase and given even less opportunity to escape. that, and it was below zero degrees outside, i don't know where i'd wait for mom to pick me up. so i decided to wait. stay by the door, where there was a small gap under it, so there was a bit of fresh air, and wait.
i was taken there involuntarily- mom and i had an argument that, as usual, triggered an episode for me, and i ended up cutting both my inner arms (usually i only do the left one, and avoid the inner side). mom decided that she's calling the ambulance on me (two days prior i received an asylum referral that was supposed to be up to my decision), which just left me a bit of time to pack my stuff. the ambulance came, the paramedics were angry that they were called despite me "having barely scratched myself" (thanks, i'll try harder next time), but ended up taking me. i was supposed to go to a respectable asylum in the city (which i currently live 30km away from, but it's the capital of the voivodeship), but it turned out to be closed due to having a covid case, so i was taken to a shithole hospital in a town closer to my house. terrible idea. it was a normal hospital with a psych ward in it, instead of full-on mental hospital, which y'know, tends to go with how they're treating you. so i was put there, without my consent, locked into a small room with two grown men and an older woman, all of them smoking.
the roommates were really anxiety-inducing, honestly. like to the point where i was scared to fall asleep (ending up putting my phone and wallet under my pillow every time). the men were both drunks, and the woman seemed to be too. on top of that, the woman was an ACTUAL nutcase. no idea what was up with her, honestly, but it was nerve-wracking. she didn't know what town she was in, didn't know why she was here, seemed to have some point of memory loss, as she asked me for cigs multiple times, and was suprised when i responded that i don't smoke literally everytime, would talk to herself constantly, at some point started yelling "MOOOM. MAMAA!" out of nowhere- she wasn't aggressive or anything, but it's honestly really scary to be locked with someone you don't understand nor can predict. i felt sorry for her. the men spoke mostly in swear words (the famous "kurwa"s), stared at me weirdly, mostly walked around and smoked. no nurse would listen to me when i tried to explain that 1) i'm scared 2) i can't fucking breathe, why the fuck is noone doing anything about them smoking indoors.
i was shortly talked with by doctors a total of two times- the first one was on the day i was put there, she interviewed me shortly and proceeded to give me sedatives because i was shaking and stress-stimming. in consequence i passed out and slept for three hours, then was really unsure on my feet for the rest of the day. noone listened when i tried to mention that i seem to have reacted badly to the meds. which is to be expected, but y'know. sucks when you have to constantly hold onto something when walking/standing and everyone is pretending it's fine, because they just don't care.
i did my best to keep a calm demeanor through all the time i was there, so i would have bigger chances of being let out- and apparently succeeded, as in the "doctor's description" in the document they gave me upon leaving, i was described as "calm, level-headed and aware". which is nice, as they kept questioning me to check if i'm a nutcase or not ("what year is it? do you know where you are? why are you here? what's your name?"), which was real fucking annoying. i also kept insisting in all the minor check-ins that i should be let out. in my second doctor visit, in the morning of my second day there, i was finally asked "if i think staying would be beneficial for me", and i said fuck no (in the calmest and most level-headed way possible). they asked me a few more times, and when my response didn't change over the course of a few hours, they finally agreed to discharge me, and i called mom to pick me up.
mom was the one who put me there, but when i vented to her about the conditions, she agreed that i have to do anything to be discharged, and she'll pick me up. dad knew too, but he doesn't have a car, so he couldn't really do anything. that, and i'm legally an adult (even if they didn't treat me as such), so i can't really depend on my parents in situations like this. so i was kinda alone in the struggle.
the physical conditions were obviously horrible. it was cold (snowing outside), the room was dirty, i had no privacy or way to hide from the men, so i ended up just not changing. the only food i was given was dry bread with green-ish ham and a small apple (supper) and dry bread with cheese that smelled highly suspicious and a one (1) inch wide piece of bell pepper. so i ended up eating dry bread and the fruit/vegetables. they gave us plastic cups, and there was a sink, so at least i had a way to drink. the water left sediment in my mouth, but it was still something.
the bathroom situation was fucking ridiculous. on top of having to be let out to go there, there was obviously no toilet paper, cause what did i expect. when i was woken up in the morning to go to the other doctor, i practically begged to be allowed to go to the bathroom first. they denied, so i asserted my dominance by bleeding on the therapist chair (and ruining a pair of pants).
so yeah, tl;dr: mental hospitals suck, especially when they're in underfounded shitholes.
(bonus: pictures of my room to illustrate my points: )
#sorry for the long rant/vent#but the moment i tried to form a comprehensive sentence about the hospital it just came pouring out y'know?#long post#ask#personal#vent#mental hospital tw#asylum tw#abuse tw#(i guess)#period ment tw#self harm mention#blood mention#mental illness mention#there are probably a lot more tws i should put here but i don't know what#my pics
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A Pantser writes a Book 2. - Ragna-what?
Hey there, travelers!
It's Wednesday again, so I once again immersed myself into my newest book baby (really early in gestation), called After The Gods (at least for now). I just realized you can't read Wattpad without registering (it should have been obvious, I'm really sorry) so I decided to put the finished texts up onto the blog as well, so you can all read it and I'll make sure to include links in these posts as well. You can find the first chapter here: Chapter 1
If you're unfamiliar with the project or this series, I'll leave a link to last week's introduction here: link But for those who'd skip it, here's a tl;dr version:
I decided to write a WIP and document my progress from the inception till the finishing moments of the first draft. Since I'm a proud pantser, this is as much a discovery for me than it is for you, and I thought I'll let you inside my mind to see how I shape a story. What I knew so far was that this WIP would be a fantasy based on norse mythology, set in a post-apocalyptic (or to be more precise and fancy, post-ragnarok) world. Last week I introduced my main character called Asgeir, althought at that point neither you, nor me knew much about the boy.
So, what was today's progress?
Well, first and foremost I re-read the first segment and I found crippling mistakes in both style and grammar. Did I rush to fix them? Of course not, that is not the pantser way. I've seen a lot of writers struggle with finishing their first draft, and I think constantly repairing and fixing your writing is a serious contributor to getting stuck. SInce the aim of a first draft (especially if you're doing pantser-style, but plotters too) is to get down a story from start to finish, I'm not bothered by mistakes for now. I've decided to keep on writing, and when I typed the last full stop of the last sentence, I'll digest the WIP from the beginning and fix those pesky word repetitions and typos.
Art by Einar Martinsen
The new segment shows Asgeir walking into the Nook with a really fancy spear on his shoulders, as well as the ruckus he creates by doing just that. My aim for this scene was to show two things, the spirit of the age (which is gloomy at best and suicidal at worst) following ragnarök, and the consequences of showing up with a unique feat of strength.
And immediately, I had to make some choices. Originally the Edda states the the sea swallows the world well before the new god arrives and the remaining aesir gather, and by that point only a single pair of humans survive who then proceed to repopulate the world, but that's not what I want to show in my story. I want a really harsh world, but with a spark of life so my characters could hope for a turn for the better. I've decided to part with the exact myth, change some details to better fit the WIP. After all, this is not a retelling of the relevant Edda verses, this is a fantasy story inspired by ancient norse mythology.
To show a bit of dark, I based the Nook on the first settlement in Path of Exile, a mishmash gathering of hovels and huts made from junk and the jaded survivors that call it home. The name I think is quite fitting, it immediately gives of an aura of desperation, a last resort of sorts, an unpleasant place one would rather not venture to.
As for the second thing, the consequences I used some characters to show this. I think one of my weak points as a writer is that you can immediately tell who's an important character and who isn't, because the less relevant people are less deep. I always felt after re-reading my earlier works that the side-actors felt unrealistic, vague and cartboardish, so this time I went in trying to not decide immediately who will become important in the future and who won't. Doing that, even I was surprised how Fenris turned out, and I'm quite pleased with the end result.
That's it for this week. I hope you like it so far and you found some interesting tidbits in my commentary, or even learn a thing or two. See you next time, travelers!
Cheers,
Dar
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Voltron aside, want to start placing bets on how bad the last episode of the last season of Game of Thrones is going to be? Have a hunch the backlash is going to be massive. The fanbases petition to redo S8 has gotten a million signatures. Maybe the writers from got and the eps of Voltron can go on a lunch date. They'll have somethings in common very soon.
I want to preface this with - I don’t watch GoT. I started on the first episode, got to one point, and went, “Yeeaaaaah, not my cup of tea,” and promptly stopped.
But I follow a lot of professional creators on Twitter, and I’ve read more complaints about the petition than actual critique of GoT. It bothers me quite a bit because creators are generally saying, “You can critique my work but only these ways. You shouldn’t make a petition saying you didn’t like how I wrote the story.”
…which people will and do and did. That’s just life. And petitions are a mature form of complaint. It’s essentially saying, “I didn’t like how you did this, so let me sign my name on this to tell you that.”
Just under a million people didn’t bombard the creators with annoying tweets. They signed a freakin’ document. And more than 17.5 million people watched the episode. I think creators need to put everything into perspective.
I reblogged a post earlier today about how creators have taken an adversarial approach to a certain segment of their fans, and sure. There were always be those fans who take it too far, who do things they shouldn’t, and that shouldn’t be condoned. At all.
However, there’s a recent push to “shock” the audience, giving them a storyline they didn’t expect, which isn’t a satisfying story. @headspacedad did a great post about plot twists and how they aren’t satisfying when you create a strong story foundation and then don’t execute events that build upon that foundation to provide a satisfying resolution.
And that’s the gist of all these complaints - Voltron, GoT, even HIMYM. They have that strong foundation, but the execution is lacking because the creators serve viewers a twist ending they didn’t build. They just want to shock their audience, which isn’t satisfying. It’s actually cruel - to show a story going a certain way, to get expectations up, and then pull the rug out of underneath their fans.
Think Charlie Brown, Lucy, and the football. And we’re all Charlie Brown. The creators are Lucy, and the show is the football.
And that brings me to Avengers Endgame.
Avengers Endgame has A LOT of issues. Between Black Widow and the Soul Stone, the blink-and-you-miss LGBTQIA+ character played by one of the Russos, the blink-and-you-miss Captain Marvel, Captain America going back in time (but I’m glad that Sam has the shield) - there were aspects of the movie I didn’t like.
BUT I LOVED ENDGAME.
And why?
BECAUSE IT DELIVERED ON ITS PROMISE.
The people who were lost in Infinity War came back in Endgame. You had that one moment where you sigh in relief as Sam calls Cap and then T’challa and Shuri and Okoye arrive. On top of that, you have that moment of glee where Steve gets the hammer and Thor yells, “I knew it!” (We all felt that way, Thor.) You have Tony hugging Peter and just tearing up. You have Steve finishing that “Avengers assemble” he started in AoU. You have Thor reclaiming his hammer and being worthy while battling depression. You had kick-ass Nebula kicking ass. You have Nebula and Gamora being sisters. You have Carol being so confident and strong in the first few scenes. I love her.
And dudes - everyone lost in Infinity War came back.
Endgame didn’t pull a Voltron where they lose. Voltron actually loses - well, the Avengers did lose in Infinity War. But our heroes won in Avengers Endgame. You have moments of happiness - not just blinding moments of agony, which Voltron served its audience.
Oh, and how much did the movie make? Are we over $3 billion yet?
What does this say? Deliver on your promises, and yeah - the audience responds favorably.
But Avengers Endgame is Disney. Not DreamWorks. Not HBO. It’s Disney. “Good times” are their branding. You’re supposed to have a good experience at their movies, at their theme parks, at their stores.
…however, if Disney really just hired the GoT creators/EPs to run the next part of the Star Wars saga, then I suggest reading the reviews before seeing the next Star Wars films.
TL;DR: Plot is important for a reason. It delivers a satisfying story. Don’t ignore it.
#Voltron#voltron critical#got#himym#avengers#Avengers endgame#spoilers#answered#lotorsgloriousempire
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A Treatise on Charm, Snowy
(TL;DR warning: This post is kinda long. The quick version is that I’m gonna make music now! Next post will be one of said musics. The rest of this post goes over the story of why I’m doing it. Also I use a meme twice and link some rad music three times.)
The year: 2017. October. I was given the name “Snowy Charm” as a fun pony name to facilitate a secret santa exchange online. Even though I’d been a fan of these little horses since ~2012 I’d never delved into the world of having one to call my own. I was more than satisfied bearing witness to the growing cast of canon characters - and of course my hot and heavy courting with the cast of Fallout: Equestria. (Side note to anyone who may be reading this: FoE is pretty dope, but it is also the essence of grimdark. Read at your own risk!)
Suddenly at odds with this new OC acquisition, I quickly came up with a fast and loose backstory! He was a crystal pony from the wintery crystal kingdom (”Snowy”) and was probably an artificer or craftsman of some kind (”Charm”). I joked that the reason behind my name is that I live in a snowy climate (read: the tropics) and I was quite charming (the jury is still out on that one).
The following year was my first ever convention: BronyCon 2018! An artist friend of mine graciously designed my OC with little to no input on my part and came up with a design that I instantly fell in love with.
(Pictured here subtly in front of a rack-mounted EQ I have never used, but is appropriate for an upcoming revelation.)
Isn’t he ADORABLE?! I will forever wear that badge because it is awesome. The cutie mark has been redone a little since then, and no other artist has remembered his beard yet, but I digress; this story isn’t actually about him.
Of course, BronyCon was a blast! This became my impetus to be more than simply an observer in the fandom, but to be present and belonging with others through our communal enjoyment of My Little Pony. My friends, in general, had a disinterest of the show - which, you know what? That’s fair. I don’t particularly care for Game of Thrones, Desperate Housewives, or the DCU, and it would be hard for me to feign a genuine interest in the developments thereof - but as of BronyCon I was able to play on an even field with others who shared my same passion for these candy colored equines!
Now, another thing to note of me, which will be important in a moment: I’m slightly musical. Not amazingly talented or anything, just.. slightly musical. I was REALLY into marching band (and won the John Philip Sousa award my senior year!!), but stopped refining my craft during college and onwards. Turns out playing a $5000 instrument puts a damper on your ability to own one. (Here’s a second video, and a third; I freakin love marimba.) I picked up the Ukulele for the the occasional “BUT YOU LIKE TO MAKE MUSIC” urges, but more or less ignored actually honing my abilities.
But now that I found myself surrounded by the magic of friendship combined with the magic of ponies, I wanted to CREATE. I suddenly realized that Snowy Charm was to be a MUSIC PONE. I would make FANDOM HITS that nopony had ever HEARD BEFORE (or after - I didn’t/don’t expect to be horse famous [or really even horse known (triple parenthetical asides are super cool, by the way)]).
Aaaaand promptly realized I had the better part of a decade’s worth of rust hanging onto my high-school-level skills. Not to mention that I still didn’t own the only thing I was good at playing.
F
“Okay, okay, it’s fine. Don’t hyperventilate, self. We’ll just make this into a project about growth in music instead.”
- Me to myself circa the realization I can only really play a single instrument, and not even well.
I decided to make the project about my journey in the music field instead of pumping out dope jams. The goal was to lay out where I was musically and pick a song each week. I’d then practice that song all week and post a recording of my warbly self performing it by week’s end. Pick up a new instrument here, learn a new software there. Maybe I’d do originals now and again, but likely I’d just scream into the void and wait for it to call me back.
Of course, the dope jams would (hopefully) come, but as Jake says:
Long story short on that one: I didn’t.
Be it procrastination or a busy schedule, I can’t really defend my past self’s choice at this point. I made all the social media accounts and sturdied myself to make the first bellow into the abyss --- but then silence rung out. (Of note, I got my twitter anniversary notice today, so it has been exactly a year from my first tentative steps.)
Flash forward a couple months - October once more. My little festive community starts up again! More fun names are given out and lore starts being woven together about these new OCs! The stories start coming quick: There’s a stallion who HATES CRANBERRIES and one who makes bomb smoothies! A diamond dog who wants to celebrate Hearth’s Warming but is the target of seemingly the entire diamond dog population’s scorn! There’s a whole school filled with students, teachers, and a will-they-won’t-they janitor/counselor combo! Snowy now owns a potion shop specializing in musical applications, not to mention somehow he’s now the ambassador to those diamond dogs! But then, unexpectedly, on the day she was supposed to return from the hospital, my mother passed away.
I had recently lost my job and moved into my folk’s home out of town. Unemployed, isolated from friends, and yeeted into the throes of grief; I did all I really could: I picked up my dumb noise stick and sang about life, love, death, and colorful talking horses.
I made my first honest-to-goodness song - Drink In - during that period. It’s about that on-again-off-again pair I introduced earlier, but it was also about my grief and healing. I’ll share some of the lyrics here that, after I wrote them, spoke to me as if I didn’t pen them my damn self:
Take a deep breath
Exhale regret
Drink in sunsets
The best is what’s left
It may not hit you the same way as it did me, music is often subjective, but it was an imperative reminder to let go of the stress I was compounding inside of me. I needed to hear that message badly - and put a pin in that, I’ll loop back to it in a moment.
I started working to better my craft again. I helped mix/master the album that my little festive family put together. I borrowed a bass guitar from a friend and started learning a little. I even got employed to do live mixing at the church I attend! Little by little I was getting better.
But let’s fast forward again, shall we? This time to August of this year, BronyCon 2019! One of the best times I’ve ever had, but that’s not the point (maybe I’ll go into it in a later post?). I came home invigorated and ready to face the world again after being exhausted for almost five months straight. I felt free from burdens and there was something on my mind that hadn’t been there for a long time: I was ready to CREATE.
If you were at the con, or if you’ve been on twitter recently, this next refrain may strike you as familiar:
(Patch done by @sew-adorkable)
I knew I had to make a song about it, but I had to make it good enough to be heard by folk. It had to be perfect before I could release it and have guitars and electronic music stuff and all the bells and/or whistles. I have a launchpad, unused, from last year - so I plugged it in with Ableton Live so I could make them funky horse beatz (with a z of course, because that’s 20% cooler).
Aaaaand promptly realized I was way out of my depth.
I’ve recorded live performances (and myself) with Reaper and Audition before, and I feel like I know at least some of the basics with them. I can put a vocal into compression, mix the instruments okay together, do some EQing, etc. But I was now adrift trying to get the computer to make sounds that I wasn’t able to do myself.
I couldn’t figure out how to put anything other than the default synth into reaper and I opened Ableton because that’s better for electronic music I hear and I want to learn how to do that and they don’t even have a timeline and use clips and what are clips and how do you make them and what are samples and how do you get them and how do I even record a voice in this thing and there’s not a TIMELINE and when you stop the noise the session isn’t stopped and the launchpad won’t work and I went back to reaper and they have a drum sampler and how do you get a sample and how do you install things and is this my personal hell and I understand this is a run on sentence - I was frustrated and I quit.
Remember the pin I told you to put in earlier? Refresh that into memory, here’s where it’s relevant.
About two weeks after this whole debacle I was listening to shuffle all on my phone and Drink In happened to come on. I remembered how the completely unintentional message of my own song really struck me a year prior. This stupid song about a pair of pony OCs with terribly played ukulele and shitty bargain bin percussion recorded with a mic not suited to record anything except vocals... and despite all that, despite all of the technical barriers that were in the way, despite clipping during recording ukulele and hearing the distortion every time I listen to the track, it helped me restore tranquility when my inner world was naught but a maelstrom of grief and tumult.
...I guess it didn’t have to be perfect to reach folks. Who knew?
And that right there is the moral I’m learning today. I struggle with it a lot, but there’s a problem with perfection: allow yourself only to produce perfection and you’ll produce nothing. I mean it’s a well known quote, right? Nobody’s perfect.
So, I apologize in advance to all people with ears, but it is now my intention to bring (hopefully) pleasant noises to the grandiose cacophony that is the internet. They won’t be perfect, but I’ll work on it.
Anyway, come to TrotCon.
(Art by Witchtaunter, Flitterfel, and Mentita Kirby)
P.S. Holy bananas you actually read this monster of a post? Give yourself a pat on the back! Future posts likely won’t be as herculean of a read, but no promises. Next time I’ll actually upload “Drink In” so you can hear this song I’ve referenced so much - and then I’ll talk about where I’m at mechanically and the goals I have by doing this whole thing. Oh, and don’t expect all the neat art to happen every post! I went a little YCH/commission crazy after I got back from BronyCon, but I’m also not made out money so it won’t last forever. I don’t expect really anybody to read a huge post ostensibly about someone’s OC, and even the lifetime of this project I expect less or equal to about 10 people, but I hope you find a sense of belonging and participation here! Hello to all 10 of you!
See y’all next time!
#I don't know how to tag things#MLP#Probably MLP#Horse Music?#Snowy Charm#long read#I'msosorry#I met Wootmaster at BronyCon last year#I sang the Halo theme at him#It was pretty cool#notice me senpai
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Being Nice
So my wife has this...thing...where she does/says something unintelligent, I laugh and tease her about it, and the same question always comes out her mouth. It's always something along the lines of:
"Why can't you ever be nice?"
"Why is it so hard for you to be nice?"
Well let me fucking tell you why it's so fucking hard for me to be nice.
Earlier today, Wife was playing Assasin's Creed: Odyssey. She likes to kill the people, I like to kill the big scary animals. So I had done a couple animal quests not too long along. I learned some shit by following the prompts and reading the "loading screen" messages. She doesn't usually read those things because she has like ADD or ADHD (I don't know the difference).
Well. She had started this little sparring dance with whoever-the-fuck and I was trying to help her by calmly explaining some shit. I snickered a couple times because Ms. Whoever-the-fuck was kicking her ass all over that sparring circle (lol). Well. After she "desynchronized," THIS BITCH CAME UNGLUED! She started yelling at me to "stop telling her how to play her game" because she "knew what she was doing!" I told her, "I didn't know you knew! Geezuz fuck." She kept yelling at me because (and this is me just really knowing how Wife gets when she plays video games) she was pissed that I snickered at her bad combat skills, and then she died.
So after she threw her little tittybaby tantrum, I was like, Ok. You know what. Fuck you. I'm goin in the art room. Went in there, painted a little bit, played a game on my phone...and haven't said a word to her since. That was at 6 o'clock this morning.
"Why is it so hard for you to be nice?"
☝🏻THAT. ALL OF THAT.
Because when I try to be nice, stuff like that always fucking happens and it's a lot easier on me, myself, and I to just...not 🤷🏻♀️🖕🏻
P.S. She texted me her apology but I didn't respond to that either. It's a fucking video game. There was absolutely no reason to explode the way she did. Also? I try not to respond to messages in the heat if the moment because I have been known to be quite...malicious...using words as weapons and not giving a shit about feelings. Because every time I try to be nice, it never works. So why even try anymore?
TL;DR: My wife wonders why I'm so mean all the time, then cut-scenes into the perfect scenario as to why I am. Wife gets mad at video game, yells at me for trying to help, and so the Silent Treatment continues (as of the writing of this post 5:18 PM).
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How to Convince Game Devs to Hire You
TL;DR Video Version
This past week I virtually attended GameSoundCon and had the opportunity to speak to many wonderful people at various points in their careers. A common question I heard asked repeatedly was, “How do I convince game developers to hire me?” It’s something that I think mystifies a lot of people when they are trying to break into the industry, myself included. It can sort of loom ominously over everything we do, and affect our decision making more than we might even realize. But I’m here to tell you today that really, it’s not as complex and difficult as it might sound. In fact, the answer is pretty easy: you don’t. That’s all there is to it, thanks for coming to my TED Talk.
In all seriousness though, I have found that for me, and friends I’ve spoken with, this way of thinking does more harm than good. Even if we are doing our best to make genuine connections, and be a lovely person, it can create this subconscious itch that affects some of the choices we might make. People also are extremely good at detecting when someone wants something from them, and even if you have the best of intentions, that can be off putting. This question just gets in the way, and frankly isn’t a necessary line of thinking.
When I was looking to get my first experience working on a game, I did lots of research on getting into the industry. Watching videos, checking out interviews, reading blog posts, I did it all. I had heard the same standard advice about networking time and time again. The best thing you can do is go out and meet people, make real connections, etc. So, I thankfully didn’t make a TOTAL fool out of myself at my first industry event. Yet, even though I knew what not to do, I was unintentionally sabotaging myself. Even in trying to make genuine connections with people, my hunger was getting in the way of me making a good first impression. It wasn’t until I had attended a number of events before I finally realized how much I was sabotaging myself, and how something had to change.
I’m sure it’s advice you’ve heard a billion times before in one form or another, but for good reason. Don’t waste your energy on something that you can’t control, only focus on what you can. Until we make a bit more progress in mind control technologies, you can’t convince someone to hire you. No matter what you do, that decision is always going to be up to them. Some things you CAN control are the positions you put yourself in, the ways you present yourself, and the skills you have to offer. Rather than trying to force opportunities to materialize, focus on being ready for when they do. Spend your energy making sure you can be ready to not only say yes when your moment comes, but be able to notice it happening at all. Networking isn’t about creating opportunities for yourself, it’s about putting yourself in a position to be able to develop them.
Even before the previous failed games events I mentioned earlier, I actually missed an opportunity that still hurts me a bit when I think about it. At the time, my plan was to go down an entirely different career path, but I had this little inkling of a thought that it would be cool to work on games. I knew literally nothing about what that entailed. I didn’t have any resources or know a single person I could talk to. I wound up reaching out to a family member, who had a friend, who knew a friend, who knew a friend, who eventually led me to a contact working in game audio at a major studio. Then, when I finally found someone, I was so inexperienced that I didn’t even know what to ask. I just went with a general “How do I get into making music for games?”, and was given an answer similar to the standard networking advice I mentioned previously. I said thank you, and that could have been it. I already missed an opportunity to make a stronger connection with this person. However, they very graciously told me they knew of an upcoming project that was looking for a composer, and asked if I could send demos of my music. This was it, my first opportunity at maybe pitching for a job, and I wasn’t prepared. I unfortunately had to decline because I didn’t have a reel, I literally didn't have anything to show them. While it’s a real bummer to think about now, it at least is an experience I can look back on and learn from.
All of this isn’t to say don’t try. In fact, the best thing you can do is to focus on what you CAN control. Do everything in your power to put yourself in these positions. Follow all those tips about networking, about going to conventions, doing game jams, being active on social media. Make cool things to put out into the world, hone your craft, write clickbaity content on how to get work as a freelancer in games. Anything that gets yourself out there. Anything that puts you in a position where you are more likely to find these opportunities in the first place. While I ultimately wasn’t ready for it, I never would have gotten to the point of him asking for my music if I hadn’t spent time reaching out to people in the first place.
This also doesn’t mean that you can’t go for specific jobs. Have a dream team you want to be a part of? A game you think would be amazing to work on? Go for it! But rather than getting caught up in trying to figure out how you are going to get them to hire you, ask yourself, “How can I be the right person for this job?” Both in terms of skill set, and being in the right place to help out when they need it. This slight mindset change goes from focusing your energy into things that are beyond your reach, to ones that only you have control over. You still very much need to be prepared to fail, or not reach your goals, but by even just preparing yourself, you never know what other opportunities you might come across.
In all of the projects I’ve ever worked on, I don’t think I’ve gotten a single one through trying to convince them to hire me. They have all come from persistence, constantly doing everything I can to better myself, and being present in the industry. I also do very much understand that I come from a massively privileged position compared to others, and there are certainly hurdles that I have never had to deal with. But I still very much believe that no matter where you are starting from and what you have to contend with, little shifts in mindset like these can go a long way.
Really, this whole long thing has just been to say, something as small as changing the question you are asking yourself can make all the difference. You can’t convince people to hire you, but you can make yourself the one that they want to hire.
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The News Byte, July 23
The News Byte, Vol. 6
Welcome to the News Byte, a smaller piece of the News Beat that lets us hone in on one single important story about the internet. This week...
Athletes and Anti-Black Racism Online
Hey everyone, my name is Xavier and I (with lots of help) put together the News Beat each week. You know all the times you've read a bad pun in this newsletter and thought "who writes this nonsense?" It me. I write this nonsense.
By now you know the News Beat premise — every week I choose 8 tech stories that I think you should know. And every once in a while I highlight one single story in our News Byte. I know we just did a Byte but there's a trend gaining traction that deserves more attention: the anti-Black racism toward athletes on social media.
You've probably heard most of what's happened. England's Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho and Bukayo Saka have been on the receiving end of a tidal wave of racist comments after England's soccer team lost in this year's Euros. Racists were out in force against the three Black players, online and off. Rashford's mural was de-faced. The same Rashford who's helped feed millions.
Saka called for better social platform moderation so others don't ever have to endure a flood of monkey emoji. Saka is literally a teenager. It doesn’t stop there. More recently, there's the abuse on social media toward Lewis Hamilton, Formula 1 driver and winner of this year's British Grand Prix. Like Rashford, Sacho and Saka, his mentions were filled with tiny monkey emoji. Win or lose, someone always has something to say.
We can't ignore the positive comments athletes like Naomi Osaka and Sha'Carri Richardson have received from fans for sparking conversations about mental health and banned substances. We also can't ignore the negative comments athletes like Hamilton or England's Black footballers have received which, when we tweet in the heat of the moment, can often be more revealing.
The TL;DR — Racists gonna racist. My UK coworkers echoed Saka's sentiments — that they knew instantly the kind of hate the players would receive once they'd missed those penalty shots. We'll never know if social platforms had the same inkling. We can only hope they put measures in place in advance of the next time monkey emoji flood a teen athlete's inbox.
Orgs To Learn More About:
This isn't an exhaustive list, but if you're interested in getting involved here's a starting point:
Black Lives Matter — Surely you've heard the phrase. BLM is international, with chapters in the U.S., U.K. and Canada and seeks to eradicate white supremacy. Learn more about them here.
Glitch — When it comes to U.K. specific, online abuse specific charities, Glitch comes to mind. The group works to spotlight and combat online abuse targeted at women and marginalized groups. You can find more about them here.
Know Your Rights Camp — When you see your favorite footballers take a knee to remind you there’s no room for racism, you can thank Colin Kaepernick for kicking off that trend. In 2016 he founded Know Your Rights Camp. According to their site, the program centers around the advancement of Black and brown youth through education and empowerment. Get involved here.
Media Justice — Media Justice is fighting to address many of the issues we often talk about in the News Beat — abuse of facial recognition tech, keeping the internet affordable and holding the big tech companies accountable. The group has a number of campaigns that you can support, check them out here.
Show Racism The Red Card — First established in 1996, Show Racism The Red Card helped get its start thanks to goalkeeper Shaka Hislop. You can get involved here.
#EndChildFoodPoverty — We mentioned this earlier. As some have put it, "Marcus Rashford again steps in where the state will not." Do Rashford proud and help feed hungry children. Here's how you can get involved.
Mozilla is a non-profit organization — so our campaigns for your privacy and security online, and to keep the web open, healthy and accessible to all as a global public resource ... depend on contributions from subscribers like you. If you haven't already contributed this year, could you please chip in a small donation today? Thanks!
The News Byte
Written By Xavier Harding
Edited By Ashley Boyd
Social By Xavier Harding
Art Direction Nancy Tran
Email Production Alexander Zimmerman
Want more? See stories that just missed making the News Beat on our Pocket
Thanks for reading!
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Tried to give shitty neighbour a taste of his own medicine. Ended up getting him some hefty fines.
My initial plan should have resulted in an @petty-revenge-stories worthy post, but I inadvertently ended up going a lot further. (long story: tl;dr at the end)
Some background:
My neighbour, let's call him Dave, is a twat. Literally everyone on the street hates him. The previous owners of our house left because of him: we gave them a lowball offer on the house which they accepted straight away because Dave drove them crazy. We initially didn't pay much mind because, for 10/12 years that we've lived here he's been pretty courteous, even very helpful. His attitude changed over the past 2 years. He's started complaining about the volume of my guitar playing even though his dog is yapping away 24/7 - bear in mind this is a dog which he doesn't even let out of the house. He forced us to reposition our CCTV cameras so they didn't look into his gardens, then put up his own which look into ours claiming it's his property so he can do what he wants. Some craftsmen came to do work on our roof, and he complained about them to the council on a small technicality with their scaffolding, causing them to get fined.
But the problem at hand here is about parking. Dave works for a local utility so he has a big pickup truck supplied by his work that he parks in such a way that half of it takes up space in front of our house. You see, for a long time, we had a old banger Toyota as the family car, and his parking was not an issue as we only had the one car in the driveway. Dave also loved to take the piss out of this car. He was the kind of guy who would buy a 4x4 in the winter then sell it in the summer for a convertible. Two years ago, the banger was complemented with a shiny new Toyota, and that too for me. Not only did he not have anything witty to say about our new car, his much cherished truck's parking space was at threat. So, he buys a van, parks it in front of his house, then parks the entirety of his pickup truck in front of our house, so much so that his truck's trailer hitch would be over the exit to our driveway. Unfortunately, as much of a dick move as this is, he's perfectly entitled to do that as it's a public road. Any requests to ask him to move and he'd say that he'd been parking there since before we moved, and that he needs to keep his driveway clear wide to get his other cars out as the people opposite park a car outside their house. When I pointed out that we have the same issue, he said I "need the practice cause I'm a new driver". Thankfully the people on our other side and across the road (both having a long standing hatred of Dave) suggested we park my dad's car outside their houses if there was space - mine lived in the drive for insurance reasons.
Luckily for Dave, my dad got a new job abroad so he had to sell the banger, and I got an internship at a big company halfway across the country so my car wouldn't be there. However, my dad purchased another shiny new Toyota for my mum as she'd have to drive herself around (and his new job was a pretty big promotion). This is the situation until last Sunday.
Now starts the real bullshit. Because of Eid, so I took a week off work to spend it with my mum. When I arrived home after the long journey, I was in luck: Dave was still at work and his other van wasn't there. I guess he'd sold it now that he didn't need an excuse to occupy the front of our house. Thus, I parked squarely in front of our house, with about a metre between the front of my car and the imaginary line between our house and Dave's. Later that night, I go out to throw the trash and I see that this fucker has parked his truck under 2 inches away from my car. This is an issue for me because we're on a hill, and I drive a manual so there's a good chance of my car rolling into his trailer hitch unless I'm really careful. The next day, I actually saw him park in the same way. From my window it looked like he'd actually hit my car so I decided to go out and have a look. As I kneeled down to check the front bumper he goes "what do you think you're looking at?". I said "Oh, it seemed to me you've parked really close, I was just checking to see if you've it my car". His reply was "I've got parking sensors so get the hell back inside".
Now, I read @petty-revenge-stories a bit so I thought I'd give Dave a taste of his own medicine. After a day out with the mates, I saw that he was at work, so I decided to park outside his house, being very considerate, following the Highway Code and leaving a wide berth for the car in the driveway to exit. I just thought I'd fuck with him a little, piss him off and then move the car after a few hours just to see how quickly he runs out to park his truck in the usual spot again. What I didn't expect was that he'd be a stubborn cunt.
Dave flips his shit as soon as he arrives. He parks inches away from my car with the bay of his truck over our driveway, throws the gate open right into the bumper of my mum's car and nearly bangs the door off its hinges. He demands that I move my car "right fucking now". The lovely Irish guy opposite us, Mick (not actually being racist, that's his real name), saw him open the gate into my mum's car and takes this moment to come and tell us what Dave did. I take a look while Dave keeps shoving me and shouting at me: he's left a dent and scratched the paint. My mum goes ballistic at this point. Seeing as all 5'1" of her is about to deck Dave at this point, I tell him, calmly, that I'm perfectly entitled to park where I currently am, and that I'd very much appreciate it if he would pay for the repair to my mum's car and go park his truck somewhere else in the meantime. He blatantly refuses and says he wont pay shit, calling us pakis, terrorists, ungrateful cunts, and all kinds of lovely compliments before storming back inside, telling us he'd like to see what we can do.
So, I hit up the non-emergency police hotline, with some traffic cops coming over about an hour later. Remember the CCTV cameras he had us reposition? They captured a lovely 1080p/60fps rendition of the gate bouncing off my mum's car and Dave shoving me. Unfortunately there was no sound, but Mick and the family to our other side basically told the traffic cops what was said to me and my mum. As luck would have it, Dave had gone out for the night with his girlfriend. Because they couldn't contact him, his blocking of our driveway, and me and my mum saying we needed to go out that night, the cops had his truck towed. Along with the fine and collection information which they posted through his door, they also left a note saying possible charges could be pressed for assault, anti-social behaviour, hate speech and vandalism.
The police called earlier today to say that his workplace had left them with insurance information for a claim for the repairs. Off the record, they said that, although the company would foot the bill for the tow, the fine and the repairs, Dave would be paying those out of his own pocket and would be penalised even more heavily for his conduct and making the company look bad.
No fully happy ending though: now I'm afraid he might do some shit to my mum while I'm away for work... I'll take what I can get for now...
TL;DR - Neighbour parks like a twat. I give him a taste of his own medicine to troll him. End up getting his work truck towed.
Edit: I might as well add some more context here.
Re. the family on our other side: he's wolfwhistled at their underage daughter, and fought hard against their new extension claiming some bullshit - the council overturned his objections on account of there being a whole house (i.e. ours) between Dave and the other neighbours.
Re. the pensioners (Mick and his wife) opposite: he's been a general cunt to them for about 20 years, apparently. I'm pretty sure he's shot their windows with a BB gun - bragged about his air rifle when we complained to him about the neighbourhood cats shitting in our garden. Hell, one of the families even came up to us and asked us if we knew who injured their cat. Unfortunately we were still on good terms with Dave then so we didn't want to throw accusations around without being sure.
One of my aunties is a social worker who deals with a family on our street who adopts a lot of kids. Apparently the family and the kids all complained about Dave to her.
Edit2: well quite a lot of interest in this story. Just had a quick skin through the comments, so here's what's going on:
pressing charges fully: according to the police, the utility company is looking to compensate us for all the shit Dave pulled, and should be contacting us soon. As this incident involves their vehicle and their employee, they'd rather it not get taken to court. We have some relatives who are lawyers and they suggest also taking an offer from the company, especially as bringing hate speech accusations against someone without sufficient proof is dangerous: other people's testimony is probably not enough. Our family members are all over the place, and we're all far too busy with work at the moment.
we must have pissed Dave off for him to change after 10 years: Yes we did, by repeatedly asking him to park his truck in such a way that he doesn't have his truck almost across our driveway while most of the front of his house remains clean.
Edit3: Anticlimactic ending to the story. He just knocked and apologized. Said he got a bollocking at work and regrets saying all that stuff to me and my mum. Also did he didn't actually think we'd call the police, and that if we did nothing would have happened. Still, we're staying vigilant, but I guess it's a happy ish ending?
(source) (story by deleted)
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Ship Hate Rant
So earlier today, on DeviantArt, I saw a post of someone that was about "My Top Ten Hated Pairings", where they explained why they hate each one of these pairings, and in that post there were ships that I hate as well. I really loved that post, so I wanted to share my own opinions of why I hate these ships as well in the comments. Now, there was this one ship, that I hate with all my being, that I just couldn't shut up about. I explained exactly why hate it, why it's wrong, why it couldn't be, and I got really passionate about it. Suddenly I've realized how much this means to me. How it affects me. How good it feels to let all of my hate out. Even though they're just animated characters. I got REALLY into it.
I thought about sharing what I wrote there right here on Tumblr, since I'd put so much thought into it and it took me time to write. But then I remembered that I could get hate, all of the ship wars are happening right here. I got scared. Someone might read it and be offended, someone might get angry with me, and I'll regret everything.
But it just felt so good to let it all out, and if I could, if I knew no one would get mad, then I'd spill all of that right here. But I'm too afraid. I don't want to get hurt, I don't want to hurt anyone, I don't want to get involved in a ship war.
I remember this one blog, one of those "anti-Elsanna" kind of blogs, that would just post about how much they hate Elsanna, how wrong it is and how sick we shippers are for shipping it. That was all they ever posted about. It got me so mad, I literally felt so angry, that I just had to say something. No one from my fandom even noticed, of course, but I still felt like I have to shut this person up. After all, the Elsanna ship means so much to me, for many reasons.
For a moment, I imagined myself posting that comment about my hated ship right here, because like I've said; it was so fun to write, so freeing, and I put a lot of thought into it! And I realized... that I would be exactly like that one hate-blog, posting about what I hate, judging people for making "wrong" decisions. What about the equality? That everyone can ship whatever the hell they want? Who am I to judge other people? Why should I hurt others just because I don't agree with them? Why should I let them hurt me in return?
But I do get it. I really do. You want to let your anger out, you let your inner demons take over, you have fun with it, you want to share how you feel, let others know that they’re wrong. But one of the things that makes humans so special, is our ability to choose right from wrong. I KNOW it is wrong to spread hatred, judge people over stupid things like this. So I CHOOSE not to. You can do the same.
Right now my words of anger are safe and secure on DeviantArt, so I don't think it would cause any trouble here, since I believe HERE is the place where ship wars occur. And probably no one will even read it.
I must add that I have NOTHING against the shippers themselves, it is the SHIP ITSELF that I hate, but I know people can still get mad and probably hurt me. And if you wish to know what is the ship that makes me wanna rip my hair out, all I can say is that it has one of Frozen's main beloved characters shipped with a character from an entirely different universe.
tl;dr - blah blah blah, don't hate, blah blah, I'm rambling.
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Since nobody asked for it, and since today is the most Undertale-y of all days, I figured it’s no better time to share the story of how I got into the wild world of Undertale. I was inspired to do this by @misty-sparkles, who shared her Undertale story earlier today, but unlike hers, mine is a lot less sappy and a whole lot more “you ended up HERE from THERE!?”
Rewind to two years ago today. Undertale releases. I see it all over my dash for the next few weeks but I don’t even bat an eye at it. “I’ll probably never get into this” I often think to myself.
Fast forward to October of last year. Undertale had just celebrated its first anniversary a month prior, but for the most part the rush had died down.
At the time, I was in my last year of college and I was taking a philosophy/science class on the ethics of global warming and animal rights and stuff like that. Our teacher was out for the week at a conference and he had assigned online homework. Said homework was to watch PETA’s “Meet Your Meat” video and take a subsequent quiz on what was shown.
(We’ll get to Undertale in a second, don’t worry)
Me, being the sensitive person that I am, didn’t want to watch this video of animal torture, but I still needed the quiz grade. How could I “watch” the video without watching the video?
I thought, maybe if I just listened to the audio from the PETA video by pressing play and then minimizing the window, and then immediately playing another, happier (muted of course) video in its place, then maybe it’d be easier to digest. But I didn’t want to just watch any old favorite video of mine, because from there on out I’d forever associate said video with PETA. I needed to watch something that I wasn’t obsessed with, something that I would never be obsessed with...
and, at that moment, for a reason I can’t explain, Undertale crossed my mind.
I was just about to look up a playthrough and go through with this when I realized...the PETA video had subtitles and I could just minimize the window to where I could only see them and just read them to answer the quiz. So that’s what I did.
But the thought of Undertale still lingered in my mind. I was curious...so I looked up Ross and Barry’s Steam Train playthrough of the game. I pressed play on part 1 and started watching. Before I knew it I was 5 parts in. I said out loud, word for word: “You know what, I think I actually like this game.”
I finished watching their playthrough. And then I watched another. And another. And then I bought the full game and played it myself. And the rest is history.
I’ll have to write my thoughts on the actual game itself at a later date (but seriously, what can I say about Undertale that hasn’t already been said?) but either way that’s my weird and wild story about how I got into Undertale. I’m actually kinda glad I joined the fandom late, it may not have been the rush it had when it released, but I like it better when it’s nice and calm.
Happy two years, you crazy wonderful game. Here’s to many more.
TL;DR: If the assholes at PETA did one thing right it’s that they inadvertently got me into Undertale through a video I didn’t want to watch.
#sorry for the wall of text but i had to tell this story sooner or later#a tale from the underground
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Before the Fall (Pt 1)
Destiny fic. A Dead Orbit scavenger is resurrected as a Guardian hundreds of cycles after her death but can remember everything from her old life. While she struggles to understand why another new Guardian brings back memories of a time Zavala wishes he could forget.
Set in two time periods: during the events of Destiny pre-Red Legion and just before the Battle of Six Fronts.
Drama/romance | slow burn | sexytimes at some point | Andara probably swears a lot | if you’re just meeting me hi this story will have a lot of Zavala | Shaxx, Ikora, Saladin and Osiris and Lyssa the Lighthearted feature too
Author’s Note
Bear with me, I know this first chapter and author’s note are long. Future installments will be pithier.
This is a companion story to After the Fall but can be read as a standalone. It features my OCs Andara, an Awoken Voidwalker Warlock, and Piax, a human Sunbreaker Titan. It’s primarily Andara’s story but will feature chapters in Piax’s POV (point of view) exploring her early days of being a Guardian and why she’s so devoted to Zavala. It will also explore a lot of Zavala’s back story through his POV, including his romantic history. Because I’m allergic to stories without kissing.
OK, so, the lore. This is probably the longest Author’s Note I’ve ever written! Thanks Destiny for your confusing, vague lore XD For those interested, I’ll set out what we know that’s relevant to this story as well as the assumptions I’ve made.
You can totally skip this and start the story if you prefer. I’ll explain things in the story as I go along.
This fic is set during what I’ll call the Early City Age, just before the Battle of Six Fronts, and the Late City Age, just before the Red Legion Attack in D2. Six Fronts was the first big battle to defend the Last City and marked a turning point in the way the City was run. (In Zavala’s Origins trailer it’s the battle he, Shaxx and Saladin are street-fighting in.)
At the time of the Battle of Six Fronts, the Last City was at the mercy of the Faction Wars, there was no Consensus and it seems the Vanguard didn’t exist as it did today. The Wall had been built by the Titans. The Iron Lords were probably already dead so there was a power vacuum in the Last City.
One assumption I’m making is that the Exo Titan Saint-14 and Lord Saladin worked with the Speaker to govern the Last City, but in some sort of unofficial capacity. Saint-14 must have been in an important leadership role because after Six Fronts he vouches for the Warlock Osiris’s elevation to Vanguard Leader.
Another assumption is that because Saladin mentored Zavala and Shaxx and the early days of the Last City were kind of YAY TITANS, Saladin brought his boys into important discussions and decisions. This is long before the rift between Saladin and Shaxx, which happened after Twilight Gap.
The Crucible was founded after Twilight Gap but as Guardians love to fight each other I’ve made up a thing called Skirmishes. Shaxx runs these and they function in a similar but scaled down way to the Crucible.
Thank you to @littleshebear for letting me use her Zavala/Lyssa the Lighthearted relationship headcanons, and for all our endless discussions about lore and the Vanguard and Guardians. Lyssa is a real character in the grimoire, a Sunsinger Warlock like Osiris.
Tl;dr?
Early City Age = the City has a Wall and the Guardians are just starting to venture out beyond it
Late City Age = the setting of Destiny the game
Chapter One
Master Rahool, Late City Age
The little silver Ghost lay silently on the table where the Cryptarch had left it. A Hunter had brought it in a few hours earlier along with a stack of engrams that she’d found on Mercury.
Couldn’t revive it. Looked like it had been there for years, almost buried by a broken Vex gateway. Think you can fix it?
Now he had a few minutes to spare Rahool picked up the Ghost and examined it. Could he? Sometimes he performed maintenance on Ghosts that had received knocks on the battlefield, but they were more cosmetic adjustments. This Ghost could be beyond help, drained of Light and unable to seek out the Guardian it had once belonged to. He or she could be long dead, or perhaps the Ghost had never even found them.
There was a lot of gunk in its seams and Rahool worked at them with a thin silver tool. The Ghost was starting to look clean, but still very dead, when suddenly it lit up and made a whirring noise.
‘Ah, so you’re not dead. How long have you been sleeping?’
The Ghost began spinning urgently and a moment later shot out of his hands. Rahool watched it zoom across the courtyard and then over the Tower railings and out of sight.
He laid down his silver tool and smiled to himself. ‘Goodbye, Little Light. Looks like you’ve got someplace to be.’
Zavala, Early City Age
Twilight was descending and the gates were being readied for closure. The Wall cast its long shadow over the Last City, a sprawling thing of low stone buildings and wooden huts. The Traveler hung in the sky, bright white and silent.
Zavala remembered when the Last City was merely a motley collection of tents and had no Wall to protect it. That they’d managed to cling on in those early days was a miracle. With the Wall to protect them and new Guardians arriving in the City almost every day they could only grow stronger. There was hard work ahead of them and there was hope, and he found himself welcoming both equally.
A pulse rifle in his hands and a stack of other weapons on a trestle table before him, Zavala watched the thin stream of Guardians returning from the Cosmodrome. Two Titans, laughing loudly with their helmets under their arms, greeted Zavala before heading for the Guardians’ Hall behind him.
He’d be out there himself tomorrow but today he had duties for Saint-14, attending to the stockpile of new weapons that the Faction scavengers had traded with them. In the last few years they’d begun venturing outside the Wall, the Guardians clearing out enclaves of Fallen while the Factions looked for supplies.
A slight figure in black armour streaked past Zavala, pulled one of the Titans round and punched him in the face. He reeled, and blood began pouring down his chin. The scavenger started screaming at both of them.
‘How could you? Do you even understand what you’ve done? We’ll never be able to replace the tech that you –’
The bigger Titan, the one who hadn’t been punched, narrowed his eyes and reached for his gun.
Zavala threw down the pulse rifle he was holding and lunged for the Guardian’s arm. He didn’t recognise this woman but she wore a Dead Orbit insignia on her chest plate. If they shot her she would stay fatally, permanently dead. There were already enough tensions between the Factions and the Guardians and the last thing the Speaker needed was a murdered scavenger.
‘Hey. Hey. That’s enough,’ he called, trying to be heard over her screaming. But she wasn’t listening to him and a crowd was gathering.
Turning to the bigger Titan he said, ‘Go and report in to Saint-14. Both of you. Now.’ The Titan with the bloodied lip needed some persuading but finally the two of them headed into the hall.
The woman tried to follow them, still shouting, but Zavala hooked an arm about her waist and pulled her back. ‘No you don’t. I want a word with you.’
She was like him, an Awoken, with knotted purple hair and dusty black armour. A bag was slung over her shoulders and inside he could see it was stuffed with Golden Age tech. Good tech. Things the City needed. There was an auto-rifle holstered on her back and a knife at her hip, though even in anger she hadn’t drawn them. She didn’t want to fight, she wanted to be heard.
‘Want to tell me what that was about?’ Over his shoulder he could sense onlookers, but ignored them.
The Awoken finally seemed to realise he was there and spoke in a tight voice, her fists clenching. ‘I spent two hours clearing all the Fallen off a Warsat and those … those knuckleheads jumped in and destroyed it. I want to fucking kill them.’
A Warsat. They were precious to Dead Orbit and their mission to get a fleet off the ground. The Guardians needed them too if they were ever to reconnect a communications network. At the moment they were living blind and that was dangerous.
‘It’s a terrible waste. But things happen in the field –’
‘They destroyed it on purpose.’
Zavala pressed his lips together. They wouldn’t have. Would they? ‘If that’s true then it’s unforgivable. I’m sorry.’
‘It is true.’
Then I’m going to need to talk to Saint-14 and Saladin about this. The chain of command between the Speaker and the Factions and Guardians was blurred with all groups feeling like they knew what was best for the City, but if Titans had screwed up then it was clear what needed to be done.
He reached for his datapad. ‘One of the Hunters came back to the City with a suspected Warsat sighting yesterday. I know it won’t make up for the time you spent on the other one, but it’s something.’
It was quite a lot, actually. They could have swapped this intel with the factions for more weapons or tech.
She examined the coordinates, her expression tight but mollified. ‘I know the place. Thank you.’
‘Be careful. That place is infested with Fallen.’
But the young woman was already striding away, her hand tight around her bag strap. ‘I can handle myself. You handle those numb-nuts.’
Zavala grimaced. Something to look forward to. If he had his way he’d send the two Titans who’d destroyed the Warsat with the scavenger to help her get the new one, but Saint-14 was wary of getting too involved with the Factions. They do their thing and we do ours, and keep our people strictly separate lest we start bleeding Guardians to their causes.
It was true that the Factions’ aims were vastly different theirs, and each others, but they had to think in terms of the next few hundred cycles. Pushing back the Fallen from the Cosmodrome, getting airborne again and protecting this City was going to take everyone’s efforts, no matter their loyalties.
He turned back to the pile of weapons and saw that the cluster of onlookers had dispersed except for an exceptionally large Titan and a Warlock in canary yellow robes. Shaxx and Lyssa the Lighthearted. Lyssa was looking at Zavala with the smallest of smiles on her lips.
Shaxx watched the scavenger disappear into a side street on the far side of the square. ‘That was a good punch she threw. Shame she’s fallen in with those scrounging bastards.’
Traveler’s light, he was getting sick of this sort of talk. ‘We need Dead Orbit. The supplies they bring in are helping the City get off the ground. We don’t have time to scavenge ourselves.’ And if the scavengers were willing to risk their one life in the Cosmodrome they deserved respect for that, at the very least.
‘Not far enough off the ground for them though, is it?’ Shaxx grunted. ‘You handled her well.’
‘I didn’t handle her. I just did what needed to be done.’ Zavala turned his attention back to the weapons. He’d finish up here and go and talk to Saint. No, he’d talk to Saladin first. His mentor always had something sensible to say. He wished the Iron Lord would lead the Titans instead of the Exo, but Saladin had said many times that he was an old wolf and didn’t have it in him. Not anymore.
‘I’m going to get something to eat if either of you need a break,’ Lyssa announced.
Zavala pushed the pile of weapons to one side, sorting through them. Only two auto rifles, and in terrible condition. Later tonight he’d strip them back and see whether he could fix them.
‘Zavala.’
There was an edge to Shaxx’s voice and he looked up. ‘What? Oh, goodbye Lyssa.’
The Sunsinger headed for the hall with a flick of her yellow robes, and Shaxx sighed. ‘You are an ass sometimes.’
Three pulse rifles. Five sidearms. ‘Am I?’
‘Lyssa. She wants to get to know you better.’
He’d heard that before. Guardians wanted to get to know him into order to grill him about his fighting techniques. Or at least that’s what it felt like. ‘She’s already bested me in the Skirmishes.’
The look of shock on the Titan’s face was comical. ‘She did? When?’
It had been about a year ago, and the Sunsinger had burned through him like he was nothing. When he finally felled her she’d leapt up again before he’d got his breath back and knocked his legs out from beneath him. Aiming an empty sidearm at his head she’d whispered ‘pew, pew,’ and he couldn’t help but grin up at her.
‘It didn’t show on the tally. She was out of bullets.’ But they knew, and ever since when she overheard him talking about the Skirmishes he thought he saw a secretive, pleased smile on her lips. But she hadn’t told anyone, so neither had he. ‘Shaxx, move. I want to get this finished.’
The larger Titan folded his arms and looked at his friend. ‘I wasn’t talking about the Skirmishes. Why is everything about fighting with you?’
‘That’s rich,’ Zavala murmured at his datapad.
Shaxx grinned. ‘I know how to have fun. And Lyssa wasn’t thinking about besting you. Not in the Skirmishes at least.’
Zavala finally looked up. ‘Then why did she …’ But the knowing grin on Shaxx’s face made him trail off. Oh, like that.
‘Bald, blue and apparently pretty thick. I don’t know why she’s interested either, but I’ve never wasted much energy trying to understand women.’ Shaxx clouted him on the shoulder and said as he walked away, ‘Go and talk to her.’
Finally distracted from the pile of weapons Zavala looked toward the hall. Was he hungry?
He could eat.
He was just putting down his datapad when Osiris appeared across the square, the Warlock’s long, thin figure upright and haughty. He walked past Zavala and entered the hall.
A cloud passed over Zavala’s good mood and he suddenly remembered why he didn’t see much of Lyssa. Everywhere she went her mentor seemed to be, crooning at her like she was a pet. Something about the man got Zavala’s hackles up and he turned back to the weapons with a frown, finding that he wasn’t hungry after all.
You made it to the end, thank you! I hope you’re enjoying it so far. Leave me a comments and let me know what you think. Huge thanks to @littleshebear for beta-ing and checking my lore.
#destiny fanfiction#destiny the game#destiny 2#commander zavala#lord shaxx#oc: piax#oc: andara#commander zavala x female Guardian#before the fall
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Meeting Toshihiko Seki - Part 4
I had this finished a month ago but once again like usual, real life gets in the way of me editing it. But it’s time to finish like I swore I would, even if it took me this long. So here it is, the final day of meeting Toshihiko Seki & perhaps the most important day with lessons to be learned & a total fangirl confession...oh my!
Again, as a disclaimer, what’s written is entirely my personal opinion, although I’ve striven to the best of my ability to recall as much as possible purely from memory. All my questions are Saiyuki related. It’s a long read, so TL-DRs beware, and I meant it when I say it’s long. Otherwise thank you for stopping by and enjoy!
Sunday, August 7th: The Third Autograph and the Last Q&A
The time change was probably throwing me slightly off (Vancouver is two hours behind Houston time). Nonetheless, it felt great to wake up a little “earlier” than usual when in fact I was sleeping my longer usual hours on the weekend! Besides, Saturday’s events had left me tired to say the least. I decided to take my time that morning prior to going to the last autograph session & go on a short ride through Vancouver’s SkyTrain high speed rail and take a few pictures for my family.
But! By roughly around noon I was back at the Vancouver Convention Centre for one last autograph from Seki-san. My final CD choice for today would be Sanzo’s Character CD from 2013. Still, a part of me kept regretting not having brought back up items to be signed (I had intended to bring one Minekura wall-scroll but ultimately forgot to grab it from my room).
The Autograph Tables with Romi Park (from the AniRevo Closing Ceremonies Video)
Same as the previous days, I lined up in the VIP line with my CD in hand. Tara was already there in line and we started talking while we waited for the autographs to begin. I took a look to the side and spotted Seki-san along with Shiori & other helpers walking by to the wall far to our right. Nothing stood out other than them eventually coming back around to behind the dividing curtain behind the autograph tables.
I can’t remember how soon it happened after that, but as I continued to talk with Tara & another fan about wanting to find some other item to get signed, suddenly the loudspeaker came on: it was Seki-san speaking in English!
What a random, out of nowhere moment, and I only wish I could remember exactly what he said! All I can recall is him coming on the loudspeaker with a really warm voice saying “Hey! This is Toshihiko Seki from…” and I believed mentioned a few of the series he worked in, along with something how much fun he was having being here. The atmosphere had certainly changed since Friday when he first met up with fans and seemed much more reserved. I noticed this too when I met Suwabe Junichi at AX, but I’ll go into analyzing that some other time. What I am saying is, there’s certainly an effect and a period of guest seiyuus “warming up” to meeting international fans and I’m happy that Seki-san had felt so welcomed and warmed up to us.
Not much later after Seki-san spoke on the loudspeaker, he and Shiori stepped out from behind the curtain and walked to the autograph table. Like on Saturday, we’d let some of the regulars go first, since after all we had at least one signed item already. Before I knew it, my turn to get my autograph came. The next thing I knew, I was wishing I’d kept my “flowermiko” name card I had saved from AX and regretting I couldn’t find it because the moment I got to the table Shiori tells me “today we got more time, so he can sign the album with a dedication to you.”
. . . . . .
Needless to say, I was scrambling to find in my bag pen & paper so I could scribble down “FLOWERMIKO” for Seki-san he could copy & autograph my CD. Oh, but getting it signed with my name wasn’t going to be the kicker at all.
As Seki-san is signing my Sanzo Character CD, he suddenly asks me (and Shiori translates) about the meaning behind “flowermiko”. Precisely he asks “Is it a nickname of some sort?”.
You know, one thing is over the years of being a Saiyuki fan coming up with an Original Character/self-insert/you-get-the-drill thing like most fangirls do because you want to romance a guy in the series cause you ain’t into BL either and who cares if in my own private RPs I get to confess & romance Sanzo. But…having to more or less CONFESS to otherwise Sanzo-sama (or Seki-san anyways as the voice of Sanzo) that “flowermiko” is a “code name” for my own original character for Saiyuki is something that would have NEVER -EVER- CROSSED MY MIND that it would happen!
With a thousand thoughts scrambling through my mind & starting to feel a tinge of embarrassment, I try to put together as much of a mildly simple & generic explanation as possible. For the curious, “flowermiko” stands for “cherry blossom miko priestess” which is the code name for my OC “Tenjou Sakura”.
But thoughts pulled together and what felt like taking an inner deep breath, I tell Seki-san “’flowermiko’ is a character inspired by Saiyuki as a ‘companion’ character to Sanzo more or less.” Simple enough answer, right? However, to my sheer embarrassment and Seki-san’s amusement, he appears to see right through my answer as he looks at me rather very amused and says -very- assured of himself “Ah…I see” (and I still hear this in my mind as “naru hodo” just as he said it).
Honestly, I don’t know if he was more amused at my silly answer, or the fact that I was so flustered about confessing that, or that to him it was pretty obvious the precise kind of Sanzo fangirl that I am. I’m sure my friends would’ve had a field day seeing me in the moment, hah hah (or even better, how much I was flailing my arms and legs in bed later back at my hotel that night thinking back all that actually happened). But I recall back on it fondly. I’m sure it wasn’t anything new to Seki-san to hear how much fans like Sanzo, but I stand by what I’ve been saying since I began writing this: if it wasn’t for how Seki-san has voiced Sanzo and for so long, I don’t think I’d be half as much into him. Minekura-sensei of course created the character, but it’s all Seki-san that truly brings him to life. What can I say? I love Sanzo <3
And after all of that, Seki-san hands me my now autographed CD with a “To flowermiko (from) Seki-san”. I smile and thank him for signing it and we shake hands one last time before I exit the autograph area.
Score! Got Sanzo’s Character CD autographed with my nickname.
As I walked out of the autograph area, I had this lingering feeling that I really wished I could have gotten something else autographed by Seki-san, but what could I? Silly me had left back up items to be signed at home. But I figured for all I knew perhaps in the albeit small dealer’s room, I could find something Saiyuki I could get him to sign. So, I made a quick round around the dealer’s room but found absolutely nothing.
Feeling a little disappointed, I went back to the autograph area to see how Tara & the others were doing. Tara was already lining up to get some more things signed for friends back home. When I tell her how I couldn’t find anything else to get signed, she suggests “Why don’t you get your bag signed?” At first I blinked at her thinking the idea was odd but it quickly began to sink in, well why not?! I was a bit hesitant at first thinking that I didn’t have any fabric markers or anything but Tara told me Seki-san had plenty of different markers at the table.
No room for argument there, so it was decided: I would get my old but beloved baggy autographed. As we talked with the same girl from earlier (she’d lined up again as well to get her badge autographed) I had a sudden idea: I recalled from multiple Saiyuki books that I bought that quite often when an interview with Seki-san was included or some sort of autograph, he would often sign it as “3ZO” (because by now we all agree he IS Sanzo, right?). Most of you probably know it, but the number three in Japanese is pronounced “San” which is also the first kanji of Sanzo’s name is “三” from “三蔵” (San-zo). So, if I could just be this little bit greedy, I wanted to ask him if he could sign my bag exactly like that.
Without hesitation, the moment I get to the table I tell Shiori I would like to have my bag autographed, as well as if she could ask Seki-san if he could sign it as “Sanzo”. I wasn’t sure at first if he’d do it or not, but the writing on my bag spoke for itself: as soon as Seki-san switched out to a better marker that he liked, he wrote “三ZO” followed by his actual autograph.
And like they say, pictures or it didn’t happen, hah hah.
~*~
A close up of Seki-san’s “三ZO” autograph.
I can’t remember how many times I’d seen his “三ZO” autograph through different Saiyuki books, anime guides, shikishi, etc., so between ever getting to meet Seki-san & getting his autograph, getting his Sanzo autograph was the cherry on top of the cake! One more time, because I’d never get tired of saying “thank you” to someone so special to me, I thanked Seki-san and stepped away from the autograph area as things began to wrap up. I ran into Tara & our other friend and showed off my now autographed baggy. I’m so glad she put the idea on my head and convinced me to get it signed—if I hadn’t I think right now I’d instead be kicking myself for it instead of writing about it!
With the last autograph session over, I went wondering about the convention for about an hour while waiting out the time to line up for the last panel. And before I knew it the hour flew by and I was back to the area where everyone lined up for panels. I noticed that the same Japanese girls from the previous day were there once again. I waved hi to them, though I still felt like kicking myself I didn’t even know how to say a thing in Japanese. Honestly, I worry about silly things like “omg, what are they going to think of the big plus sized girl…” not that things like that should matter, right? It’s like I have this incorrect thinking that in Japan there is a stigma against pochacco (“plus size” and there is), because am plus size, I would come off as an unapproachable person. As it turns out, by the end of my time at the convention, I’d learn how completely wrong I was about that.
Perhaps because I had my Saiyuki ita bag with me, it sent off the right signal I am just another fangirl. So, the next thing is I’m suddenly approached by the duo with one of them holding her phone in her hand. Even if we were unable to talk because of the language barrier, she had “Google Translate” open on her phone to try to ask me if anyone had asked Seki-san about the “Saiyuki Reload Blast” anime. I didn’t think about anything else other than I had to somehow reciprocate the effort and try to answer back! I had to think a bit to figure out Google Translate’s garbled version of the question (which came out something like either Saiyuki Blast Bombs or Saiyuki Explosions…), but once I did, it was funny to hear myself pronounce “Sa-i-yu-ki Re-ro-do Bu-ra-su-to” but at least it was clear I understood. So, I type in on my own phone’s Google Translate to reply that none had asked about the new anime but that they certainly were more than welcome to get up and ask during the panel.
A small back and forth starts between the two girls, as if trying to convince one or the other to go up and ask Seki-san about the new Saiyuki anime project. One of the girls is not able to convince her friend to ask, but rather convinces her to say something to me, so she’s tells me in English “I’m shy”, then both look at me with probably the same idea, heh heh. Not that I had any excuses to not ask since I’d gone up to mic before, but I felt that everyone should have a chance to ask Seki-san something and I’d already asked four questions by then (not even counting the Meet & Greet ones!). But well, as I like to say in these situations... “if we must we must.” Besides, it was true none had asked anything specifically about the Saiyuki anime and I was just as curious to know what Seki-san had to say about it. As we made our way towards the panel as the line moved, I started thinking how exactly to word my question. I had every intention now of lining up right away to the mic the moment Shiori called for it, and if this was the only question I got to ask in the panel, I had to make it count!
I’m glad I got thinking that way, because in contrast to the autograph session being less busy, the final Q & A was a full house! No sooner that Shiori ran through the house rules for one last time & called people to the mic, several members of the audience got up. Considering I was right at the front, I ended up being about 5th or 7th in line! The line itself this time was VERY LONG, so there was a high chance not everyone would get to ask a question and certainly no chances for lining up again, so yes, I had to make it count!
As agreed with my new friends, after ten minutes or so in line, my turn comes & I run the question in my mind one last time before turning to the mic. I turn to Seki-san and ask “If you’re allowed to share anything at all, what can you tell us about the upcoming ‘Saiyuki Reload Blast’ anime and/or what can we look forward to from it or from your role as Sanzo?”
As soon as he finished sharing his answer & Shiori jotting her notes, we learned that Seki-san as well as the other seiyuu did not even expect Saiyuki would even get another anime at this point in time— they were all very surprised. I quickly chimed into the mic “yes, even we as fans were all surprised” although I had always hoped this would happen sooner or later. Seki-san added that, at the same time, it makes him a little sad to think this will be the “end” of Saiyuki (Minekura has stated this is the final arc of the series), but like all things, everything has to have an end & has to come to an end. Nonetheless, his intention is to make the end a good one. In addition, Seki-san didn’t know (as of the time when I met him at AniRevo) what the anime project would be (TV anime or otherwise) but that he personally hopes it will be a movie.
Of course, by now we know from Saiyuki FESTA 2017’s announcements that the Reload Blast project will be a TV anime. Nonetheless, I was more than grateful to hear what he had to say about the upcoming anime. If anything, it increased my hopes for the series as a whole to be revitalized along with its fandom. Yet, there was ONE more thing I knew I had to say and what I felt was my mission all along and my one chance to get it accomplished.
I spoke up again, first, once again thanking Seki-san for all the hard work he’s put into this series and for sticking with it for so long. Next, came my final message:
“On behalf of the entire International Saiyuki Community, please tell Minekura-sensei for us that we are rooting for her, Hoshi-san, Hirata-san, Ishida-san & Seki-san and wish them the best— that even though Minekura-sensei’s health has been so bad, we will be with her & the Saiyuki boys until the very end of the journey.”
I might never find out if Minekura-sensei will ever get it, but I trust Seki-san will without a doubt let her know. My hope is that she’ll know she has so many international fans that support her all the way, even if we’re spread all over the world.
But if anything seems to signal that Seki-san will tell Minekura-sensei my message, it was that he seemed really impressed with my statement once Shiori translated it to him. Before I realized it, I was hearing Seki-san speak as Sanzo one last time...
“ARE YOU READY, BASTARDS?!” our “Sanzo” spoke out loud and clear. I am ready. No: We’ve been ready for this for a long time.
I made a small bow as the audience clapped for Seki-san and walk over to my seat. That felt like a wonderful parting gift if I can call it that. I came in to the first panel thinking at most I’d get to hear Seki-san only say ONE line as Sanzo. Turns out, I was beyond spoiled.
And so many others went by until time ran out and only one more question could be asked. But before said last question, Seki-san first begins saying he never knows what’s going to happen on these fan panels because heck—we even made him sing the previous day! Just as the last question is about to be asked, he suddenly shouts “NOI’MNOTGONNASINGAGAIN!!” Shiori translates and everyone in the audience bursts out laughing.
I don’t recall the exact last question but I believe it was Gundam related. But it was more painful to realize it was now over. Shiori gave the go for Seki-san to share his last few words. Seki-san thanks everyone for coming and says he has really enjoyed himself these past three days and that he’d now also be rooting for the Canadian Olympic team as he really had a great time in Canada (the Olympics were currently taking place at that time). Shiori then calls the panel to a close and everyone claps as she and Seki-san leave the stage. Several of us wave at him (myself included) wishing him farewell and a safe trip back to Japan. So many mixed emotions between happiness & sadness. My dream had come true. After so many years, it finally came true.
Once Shiori & Seki-san went behind the enclosed area out of sight from the rest, me & Tara walk up to each other, hug and say goodbye to each other wishing safe travels. Next I turn to my two Japanese friends. I give them the “thumbs up” –mission accomplished. They both come up to me and give me a hug!! I was just too happy and elated ,I asked them for a fangirl group hug. I think the moment of Saiyuki fandom love was going all around for so many of us.
We were ushered out of the room as it had to be readied for next panel, so me and the girls step outside to an open corner. Then, my friends started showing me pictures from Seki-san’s different performances in stage plays. I commented in one of them he really really looked like an old man (lol, I did actually say “jii-san” hah hah). I really wish I would have been able to say something more, but still we were able to communicate and exchanged twitter accounts and followed each other. They asked if I was going to the closing ceremony but I explained I had to go and get ready for my return home. We hugged again and I waved goodbye as I walked out of the convention center.
Lesson learned: When it comes to things you love, not even language barriers will stop fangirls from helping and reaching out to each other, especially us Saiyuki fans. Having learned that makes me really happy.
As I thought about that while walking down the boardwalk away from the convention center, I happen to run into Shiori. I stopped to thank her for all her wonderful translations and interpreting, asking for her name so I could remember her. We shook hands and I thanked her again for all her incredible work interpreting for Seki-san.
The Victory Round: All Three Autographed CDs
What a weekend that had been. All the feels settled in back at the hotel, at the end of the journey. I felt so happy because I got to meet Seki-san but so sad I already had to say good bye to him. But what’s a lifetime experience if you don’t get all the feels and write about it, right? Writing all of this has taken such a ridiculous amount of time, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It gives me a chance to travel back and when I think it all seemed so surreal or wonder if it was all a dream, I know it wasn’t: it did happen.
~*~
Closing Remarks
Bringing back Seki-san’s pic…because he IS SANZO.
The road was long & so was the delay writing this, but from the bottom of my heart, to anyone reading this, if you read through every one of my posts, really, a big THANK YOU. I know it was a ton to read, but thank you for taking the time to read through this and for letting me share with you my experience of making one of my biggest dreams & fangirl moments of my life come true. Truly, I am grateful.
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