and here i am


Just translated the manga sample released on ffxv’s official Japanese twitter! Originally published as a bonus to Dengeki PlayStation Vol.641. Art by Hanten Sharou.

“Final Fantasy XV Official Comic Anthology” will be on sale on July 27.

FFXVJP’s twitter post

been growing out my hair for 3+ years but this is it, i made an appointment at a nicer hair salon for this afternoon and i am going back to the Bisexual Bob

pray for me. and also my stylist

anonymous asked:

heya new anon here! I saw your poetry recommendation on my dash a 1000 years ago and i can't find it. Can you please link it here? i love your approach towards poetry, and mythology. unique like you 🦄

oh! i have a tag that’s stacked full of poetry recommendations. the one you’re after might b my most formative poems from this year list. anyway the other recs in the tag cover books, poems, authors, poems about a specific thing and are also really excellent


we make meatless chicken sort-of-tikka for supper
—or, as we’re calling it, masaala not-quite-murgh—
because it’s too late to pretend it’s dinner,
and it’s not your mother’s recipe anyway
but it occurs to us that labels are irrelevant and imprecise;
this dish that is so uniquely of this land yet perfumed with another
and you make your changes to it the way you want
reforming, reaffirming, recreating as you go
—something i’m so proud of you for, though i can’t say so
without sounding like an idiot, because you don’t need my pat on the head
or my permission to express yourself—
so you have me mince the garlic and i watch your clever fingers
dip the knifepoint, pierce every fat green pod of cardamom
scrape out the thin grit of black gold
and slough the hoary skin off the ginger
like memories until you expose its fire-kissed flesh,
and the little narrow kitchen i hate so much
smells fresh and hot and spiced with possibilities
and the ancient radio i keep on the windowsill
—so old it’s made of Bakelite, but it belonged to my grandfather
and somehow made it back from the med—
crackles with static and strains to pick up sunrise radio,
but you’re still convinced we can sing along, if only so you can laugh
because my hindi stops short of conversational and my mouth
is not as smart as yours;
but we chop and squeeze and slice and scrape and mash
and the garlic pulp slicks the board, sharp crystals of salt
sticking to my fingers, mixed with the fibres of ginger
pale yellow, torn and ragged, and we make an amalgam
make a mess, make something hot and fierce and warm and new
and you promise that yes, this time you’ll tell the truth;
no more sleeping on my floor, stealing my nail polish
and telling your father we’ll be at your cousin’s house
instead of doing shots and sequins until four;
this time you’ll be yourself, you’ll be all that and more
and i suck the warm salted bitterness off my skin
and watch you cook up a storm that smells like home
and i love the fire—your fire—that spreads across my tongue
and tonight oh tonight, i truly think you could set the world alight.

- zia cole // fresh ginger and shashi

since i’m posting doodles i may as well post these too