#f.

[lottienats]

And this moment here, this moment is a moment that you never forget. The moment, when a Tribute becomes a Victor.

[moradadabeleza]

F.

невозможно...

[eseildomanifosseieri]

Ti ho dato l'ultimo bacio in stazione, davanti a un treno che da lì a dieci minuti sarebbe partito. Ti ho accarezzato il viso, con la barba poco folta che ti ostini a curare tantissimo; poi la testa, con i capelli rasati, e poi il collo, su cui avevi il tuo profumo buono da occasioni speciali. Quella era un'occasione speciale, era l'ultima volta, ma tu non lo sapevi ancora, ma chissà per quale motivo, avevi deciso di usare il profumo da occasioni speciali. Lo stesso profumo che ho immaginato, tante volte, di poter sentire entrando in una chiesa, vestita di bianco.

Ti ho baciato, prima piano, come ai nostri primi baci: timidi, morbidi, forse anche un po' brutti, ma nostri.

Ti ho baciato in modo passionale, un bacio di quelli che ti creano dentro una sana invidia a guardarli.

Ti ho baciato in modo profondo, perché avevo bisogno di sentire che sapore avessi, non perché non lo ricordassi, ma perché sapevo che sarebbe stata l'ultima volta che lo avrei fatto.

Poi m'hai guardata negli occhi, mi hai sorriso e mi hai detto: "È un bacio di addio, lo so riconoscere". Io non ti ho risposto, ho solo iniziato a piangere; mi hai accarezzato il viso come si fa con i bambini quando ammettono di aver fatto un errore e non puoi sgridarli, per aver detto la verità, perché sai che aver avuto il coraggio di dirtelo è già per loro una punizione, un'umiliazione, e allora li accarezzi e gli fai sapere che, nonostante tutto, sei fiero di loro.

Avrei voluto avere dentro me abbastanza amore da fermarti, da non farti partire, e invece ti ho seguito con gli occhi a cercare posto sul treno, e quando il treno è partito sono rimasta a fumarmi un paio di sigarette da sola.

Forse non saperlo, quando arriva un addio, è meglio.

Io lo sapevo che era un addio, ma come facevo a spiegarti che mi era rimasto incastrato nelle labbra il suo sapore, misto a una Winston Blu?

Dopo un'oretta sono andata a casa, con le mie mani che sapevano ancora del tuo profumo buono, quello da occasioni speciali, e te ne sarò per sempre grata.

-Eseildomanidosseieri.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

You'll never guess what happened next...

[devilselbowhq]

THE WILD & WONDERFUL APPALACHIA WELCOMES… alma jean perez as written by ash ( she / her ).

✱ affiliated with NEUTRAL ✱ working as BARTENDER ( THE SOUND FACTORY ) ✱ has taken up residence in BURNINGTON ✱ born on OCTOBER 8TH ( 29 ) ✱ identifying as CIS WOMAN ( SHE / HER ) ✱ known to be FLIRTATIOUS, SELF-ASSURED, CHARISMATIC, INTELLIGENT, SOCIABLE ✱ also know to be IMPULSIVE, UNPREDICTABLE, STUBBORN, MORBID, HOT-HEADED ✱ portrayed by CAMILA MORRONE

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

➥ younger brothers ➥ bandmates ➥ the man that taught her guitar

DIGGING DEEPER.

TW: death, hunting accidents, implied murder, implied addiction, violence

alma's family has lived in the region for generations. the same house, the same land, the same people doing the same thing over and over and over. her father died in a hunting accident when she was ten, shortly after her youngest brother was born. unfortunately, his death took part of her mother with him. after her dad passed, her mom was a shell of who she was before, oftentimes just physically present but mentally gone. alma, along with her twin brother, was forced to step up at a young age and learn how to run a household, or else her and the rest of the perez children would have starved. 

at fifteen, alma's twin brother died. he'd gone into the woods one evening after dinner, bottle in hand, and never returned. she found him the next day. the official story was that he had had too much to drink, stumbled, fell, and cracked his head open on a rock. they said he bled out there, alone. alma never believed that story. even all these years later, she remains convinced that someone else was there in the woods with her brother that night. 

after her brother died, all of the responsibilities fell onto her. she oftentimes found herself sitting on the front porch, alone in the dark, with a bottle. by the time she was eighteen, she began to succumb to the pressure. it all came to a head one night, erupting into an explosive argument with her mother, which ended with alma leaving the home. it's been nearly twelve years, and alma still has not spoken to her mother since that night. 

after leaving home, alma bounced around from job to job for a bit. she was alone, but for the first time in her life, she was free. she was happy. she took a job tending the bar at the sound factory. while there, she met a man who taught her to play the guitar, and she finally felt like the world made sense.

she eventually settled into the music scene, where she was finally felt a sense of belonging. now, she still works at the sound factory, and she loves it. being surrounded by music keeps her happy. when she isn't working, she can often be found playing some of her own. she finds that her particular sound is somewhere between rock, and the traditional bluegrass/country feel of the region.

EXTRAS.

personality type: enfp, chaotic neutral

Pinterest

[fatimamizher]

[nelyaaas]

i've been posting my studying logs since 2023 and my most popular post of all time is a shitpost about old man yaoi i made in 3 seconds