Last 20 stories seems a tad daunting especially since I’ve written so much random stuff- and @nobodys-baby-now sent me an “Ask” about 5 self-fic reqs so… I’m just gonna do 20 of my favorite little stories, <3. They may not be the most popular of my collection, but they’re definitely ones that I loved writing.
Tagging: I’ve seen this making it’s circles and, so as not to re-tag someone for the millionth time, just know I’d LOVE to see these if anyone decides to also do it… so pls tag me if this spurs you to create a little listing! :)
& Now to the good stuff, (under the cut), in no particular order…. LINKS to the fic itself is in bolded/Header title! :)
Included: ADA Rafael Barba, Nevada ‘Trujillo’ Ramirez, Jonas Nightingale, Philip Salon, Dr. Frederick Chilton, The EmCee, Robert “Bobby”.
Philip leans back on the couch, his phone
pressed to his ear. He hears Helen stirring in a bowl on the other end of the
line and he snorts, shaking his head. “I can’t believe Gabe is letting you make
“Letting, he says,” Helen groans, clicking
her tongue. “Gabe doesn’t let me do
“Right, right,” Philip says, grinning. “My
mistake.” He watches the snow fall outside the window, and he tries to remember
whether Lukas was dressed properly when he went out.
“I wanted peanut butter cookies,” Helen
says, drawing out the words. “And I wanted to try and do it myself.”
“I’m sure they’ll be….amazing,” Philip
“Is that sarcasm, Philip?”
“Oh no,” Philip says, shaking his head. “Of
‘I promise you won’t have to do anything more than just come with me.’ ‘But I don’t understand what you want from me.’ ‘I need a look at this Schell guy, and since I clearly have the wrong plumbing …’ he said. ‘How good are your improv skills?’
Digby marched up to the receptionist. ‘Hello. My girlfriend and I are going to have sex and we need to ask Dr Schell about birth control.’ I almost died. The look the receptionist gave us reminded me of when Grandma called her neighbor a dirty bird for peeing in the hydrangeas. Actually, the entire waiting room of women was giving us that look.
‘Well, there’s been a cancelation and I can squeeze you in for a fifteen-minute consultation. But only a consultation – no procedures,’ the receptionist said. ‘We won’t take long,’ Digby said. ‘We got the basics in Health. Just want to confirm some details with an expert … can’t believe everything on the interwebs, amiright?’ The receptionist frowned at me. Why me?
On this day in 1979, the cousin of Queen Elizabeth II, Louis Mountbatten, was killed by the IRA, aged seventy-nine. The bomb blast on Mountbatten’s boat, sailing near the border of Northern Ireland, also killed one of his grandsons and two others. The bombing followed the murder of Catholic civilians by loyalists in Ireland, and the separatist Irish Republican Army quickly claimed responsibility for the attack on Mountbatten, which they called an ‘execution’, stating that they targeted him to draw attention to the oppressive presence of British troops in Ireland. The murder of the Queen’s second cousin and Prince Philip’s uncle, who had been a prominent military officer and diplomat, prompted outrage throughout Britain and increased violence in Ireland. Thomas McMahon was arrested and convicted of the bombing, but was eventually released as a provision of the 1998 Good Friday Agreement between Britain and Northern Ireland. Only hours after the attack on Mountbatten, eighteen British soldiers in Northern Ireland were killed by two car bombs planted by the IRA. The Warrenpoint ambush, as it was known, was the deadliest attack on the British army during the Troubles. A memorial service for the victims, which included a civilian, was held in September. Mountbatten’s funeral, attended by the Queen and other members of the Royal Family, also took place in September at Westminster Abbey.
* Philip Hamilton × Reader
* 358: You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes
A/N: Yay for curing my writer’s block! I hadn’t written Philip again so I decided to do that. A few things though, it was common for women to faint when wearing corsets. Also, Jefferson did in fact have a son named Easton with a slave in his house. Anyways, enjoy!
To say Philip Hamilton was annoying was an understatement. Every one said he took after his father, who also had trouble holding his tounge. However, because your father was a Senator your family was close to the Hamiltons. Because of this you were practically required to go their social gatherings.
So you had to deal with frocks and dresses and of course Philip when the Hamiltons were holding a ball. Your mom pulled the strings to your corset tighter. You hated the tightness but women were supposed to be slim, so you had to wear the corset. Your hair was already pulled back and curled. All you had to do was slip your dress on and you and you parents would head to the Hamiton’s for the evening.
The dance was in full swing by the time you arrived. Your parents departed to go speak to Mr and Mrs Hamilton. That left you to wander aimlessly looking for someone to speak to.
“Ah Y/N L/N.” Came a voice from behind you. You turned to find Philip Hamilton. His curly hair was hanging down to his shoulders and framing his face. Freckles were scattered on his cheeks. He had on a new suit. If you didn’t know how annoying he was, you would say he was attractive. “Lovely to see you again. So nice of you to join us.” He had a smirk on his face.
“You know I had no choice in the matter Hamilton.” You gave him a glare but it only made me chuckle with amusement. Since you basically grew up alongside Philip, you were the only one who could put up with him all night. Girls would come up to speak to him but eventually he’d offend them or bore them.
He was attractive and a flirter but in the end, it was all talk. You don’t think he’d ever even had an interest in courting anyone. If he did he clearly wasn’t brave enough to ask yet.
“Y/N, would you mind honoring me with a dance?” Philip asked you. He held out a hand for you to take.
“I suppose I can suffer through a dance or two with you.” You joked. So you placed your hand in his and he led you to the dance floor. You spun and twirled and laughed. Philip may be annoying but he was still a friend and always ensured you had a good time.
Eventually Philip led you off the dance floor as you both needed a break. You were starting to hate your corset. It was getting hard to breathe with how tight it was. “Y/N are you alright?” Philip asked you.
“Not really. I’m a bit light headed.” You admitted.
“Do you need to lie down?” He asked, looking at you in concern. You tired to say no but instead you had to keep taking deep breaths. You needed to get your damn corset off. You placed a hand on his shoulder for support as the room started spinning. Philip was trying to talk to you but you couldn’t focus on his words. Dark spots were appearing in your vision. “Y/N!” You heard Philip shout before everything went black.
You groaned. You didn’t remember what really happened. You remember getting to the ball and that’s it. You forced your eyes open. You were laying down, most likely somewhere in the Hamiltons house as nothing in your vision looked familiar. You turned you head and saw Philip sitting beside you.
“Y/N! Your awake!” He said happily.
“What happened?” You asked pushing yourself up.
“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” He said with a smirk.
“Ha ha.” You said with no humor. “I suppose I should thank you for being there to catch me when I fainted though.”
“Yeah you should.” He responded.
“Thank you Philip.” You said sincerely. “I’m going to go and ask my parents if I can head home. I don’t feel much up to dancing or socializing.” You stood up from the fainting couch Philip had laid you on. He stood up and accompanied you back into the ballroom.
“Oh good you’re awake. Feeling better I hope?” You mom asked as you approached.
“A bit yeah. But I was wondering if I may go home. I don’t feel like staying.” You told her.
“Oh but I don’t want you walking back alone, especially at this hour.”
“I’ll escort her.” Philip offered.
“Oh we don’t want to inconvenience you.” You mother protested.
“Please it’s no trouble.” Philip countered. “I’d be honored. Besides, I’d hate for Y/N to have to stay if she isn’t feeling well.”
“Only of you’re sure.” Your mother told him.
“I’m absolutely sure.” He said with a nod. He turned to you. “I’m going to tell my father where I’m going alright? Then we’ll leave.” You nodded at him.
“Thank you Philip.” You told him. He smiled at you and headed to find his father.
“Well that’s awfully nice of him.” Your mom commented.
“He’s a good guy, that’s all.” You shrugged.
“Oh well I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” Your mom said.
You gave her a confused look. “What do you mean?” However, before your mom answered Philip was back.
“Alright. Shall we go?” He asked.
“Oh, of course.” He offered you his arm and you rolled you eyes but slipped you arm through his anyway.
As soon as you stepped outside you took an deep breath of fresh air. “There were way too many people in there.” You said.
“Well I could’ve been a result of dancing too. I really should have considered you and taken a break sooner.” Philip said.
“Philip, it’s fine. I was having fun.”
“You were?” He asked.
“Yes. I love dancing no matter how difficult it is with a corset.” You both fell into companionable silence. “Thank you again Philip.” You said after a beat.
“For what?” He asked.
“Oh just everything tonight. Catching me, staying with me while I was passed out, and now this. I’m sure I’ve ruined your night.”
“Oh no trust me you’ve improved it.” He told you.
“How? You’ve been inconvenienced by me so many times tonight.”
“Well I’d spending time with you, my only real friend, or any number of girls wanting a dance. Not too mention shaking hands with all the politicians my father invited. I’d rather be out of there.”
“Huh.” You said.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing it’s just I don’t really enjoy those parties either. So many people and politicians like you said. And then you’re the only person I actually know or would enjoy talking to.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He said.
“What do you mean by that?” You asked.
“You’ll see.” He said with a smile. “Well here we are.” He walked you up the steps to your door.
“Thank you again Philip.” You smiled and pulled him into a hug. He was startled before he relaxed and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Enjoy the rest of the ball.” You told him after you pulled out of the embrace.
“Ah please, I’ll probably just retire to my room. Say this walk exhausted me or something. Besides, my favorite guest is gone.” He said and playfully shoved your shoulder.
Life went on was usual and eventually your parents wanted to have a celebration. Who knows what they were celebrating, but hold parties is what wealthy people did. So you got a new dress and your mom was lacing it up as you started at your reflection in a floor length mirror.
“Your corset isn’t too tight this time I hope.” You mom said, looking at you in the mirror.
“No its fine. I feel like I can actually breath.”
“There perhaps its too lose.” She joked. You smiled and looked at your reflection again. You hair was in an elegant bun with a few curled strands framing your face. Your mother insisted on wearing a bit of makeup. You only put on enough to accent your features. Your mom finished with the laces and placed her hands on your shoulders and looked at your reflection. “You look beautiful.” She told you.
“Thank you.” You said.
“I’m serious. You get that from me you know.” She said jokingly, pulling a light laugh from you.
People were quickly filling your home and you were already bored. You had gotten many complements tonight and had a few offers to danced. In an effort to be ladylike you accepted them all but only danced a single dance with them. However one man wouldn’t let you be.
Easton Hemings. Easton was a child Jefferson had with a slave hand in his home. You don’t know how your parents managed to befriend both the Jeffersons and the Hamiltons but they did. You were more confused how the two managed to attend these gatherings without fighting.
“Please one more dance Y/N.” Easton was asking.
“Easton I apologize but I need a break. Last time I pushed my limits and fainted, I don’t wish to experience that again.”
“One more dance can’t hurt. Come on.” He pleaded.
“She said no, Hemings.” You heard a voice from behind you. You turned to find Philip standing there.
“I believe she can speak for herself, Hamilton.” Easton spat back. These men were just like their fathers.
“Well my answer is in fact no. Now if you’ll excuse me.” You said and turned from him and began walking away. Philip was trailing behind you. “When did you get here?” You asked.
“A while back but you know how it is. Hands to shake and people to talk to. I glanced over and saw Hemings bothering you.” He shrugged.
“Well thank you. I couldn’t get him to leave me alone.”
“Wanna make him mad?” He asked. You gave him a confused look. “He’ll probably leave you alone.” He added.
“What did you have in mind?” You asked. Philip just held a hand out in an invitation to dance. You laughed and placed you hand in his. Philip led you in the dance and purposefully danced in Easton’s line of sight. You stopped after two songs not wanting to risk fainting.
Philip led you off the dance floor with a smile. “Shall we get some fresh air?” He asked.
“That’d be nice.” You answered. You both walked out of the dance hall and over to a door to your back lawn. You threw the doors open and stepped out.
“Glad your still awake do far.” Philip joked before he added seriously, “You look beautiful.” You blushed and looked down at your feet. “So you don’t like dances, I figured I’d get an excuse for you to leave for a bit.”
“Thank you Philip.” You smiled.
And he continued doing just that. Every time you were both at a gathering he’d find a way for you to leave for awhile. That doesn’t mean he was any less annoying, but it was more bearable. In fact, you may even look forward to seeing him.
He tried being to events early so you weren’t stuck dancing with people you didn’t like. You were at another event and saw the Hamiltons come in but hadn’t seen Philip yet. He walked in with them but quickly walked off alone. You walked up to Eliza.
“Excuse me.” You said to get her attention. Eliza had become like an aunt to you.
“Oh hello Y/N. You look lovely tonight.” She said with a warm smile.
“Thank you.” You told her. “I was wondering if you knew where Philip wandered off to.”
“He said something about speaking with your father.” She answered.
“About what?” You asked.
“I’m not sure.” She replied. You thanked her and walked off looking for your father. You spotted him eventually and sure enough he was speaking to Philip. Philip was smiling happily while you father was also sporting a small smile. Your father grabbed Philip’s hand and shook it. You were going to walk up and talk to them before you were stopped.
“Y/N.” It was Easton yet again. “Can I bother you for a dance?”
“Not now Easton.” You shook him off, forgetting manners in your confusion.
“That was awfully rude to do.” He commented. You paused.
“So?” You asked.
“Well I’d hate for people to learn your parents raised such an improper and rude young women. It’d smudge their name and any ruin a few chances of marriage for you.” He smirked. “Of course there’d be a few more lies in there to add to the story but you know my father could pull off getting something like that in a paper.”
You stepped closer and glared at him. “Then you can explain to Jefferson that the reason he stopped receiving invitations to these parties was the fault of his bastard son.” You spat.
His face changed from one of smugness to anger. “You sure you don’t want to take that back?” He asked.
“Positive.” You said.
“My father can ruin you’re entire family in minutes.” He threatened.
“Then go run to your daddy.” Philip said coming up behind you. “Just remember, he’d be destroying the name of a famous Senator. And what would happen to him if it was found to all be lies? Nothing good, and all because you got shot down for a dance. Grow up Easton.”
Easton glared at the both of you before turning and walking off. “Thank you so much!” You told Philip.
“Y/N, may I speak to you? Privately I mean.” He asked nervously.
“Sure.” You said before you guys left the room and all the guests behind.
“Y/N I really don’t know how to go about this. I suppose I could have prepared something but I’m so nervous I would have forgotten it anyway.” He was rambling, something you’ve never seen a Hamilton do.
“Philip what do you want to say?” You asked.
“I want to say that I asked your father for permission and he was pleased and granted me the privilege to ask you if I’d be able to court you?”
You froze. Philip was your friend, your best and only true friend. However maybe he had slowly become more, so slowly you didn’t realize it. You enjoyed his presence and missed him when he was absent. You enjoyed dancing with him and look forward to the moment he would arrive to a gathering.
Philip was still looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him. “Philip, of course.” You asked.
He smiled and lunged forward to pull you into a hug. He pulled back and you felt the air around you two shift. He was staring at you and slowly leaned in. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips to yours. He pulled away, eyes still closed. It was as if all of a sudden he realized what had happened.
“Y/N I’m so sorry! That was extremely improper of me!” He said hastily.
“Philip, I’m not mad at all. It’s fine.” You said with a smile. He smile relieved that he hadn’t blown his chance already. You leaned closer and pressed a short kiss to his lips. “Now, shall we go dance?”
Summary: Dan has a stutter and he’s bullied at school for it making him seem cold and distant. Phil is a new student who is paired with Dan to learn his way around the school. Dan just wants to be left alone, but Phil is determined to make Dan’s life less of a living hell.
Author’s Notes: Seriously, MASSIVE thanks to Oli and MarieLou. Oli made the most incredible phanart ever–HE MADE A FREAKING GIF I JUST THOUGHT IT’D BE A PICTURE AND HE’S JUST LIKE ‘lol hope this is okay’. And MarieLou for going over the same crappy thing over and over again and again so that it’s beyond amazing and never once got tired of me :)
I also want to dedicate this to Chris, autumnlesterhowell’s friend who had a stutter and committed suicide due to the constant bullying. I wish his story could have ended like mine.
Watching my parents squabble after Dad moved out, it annoyed me that they couldn’t admit they missed each other. They fought about me, but really, I could’ve been a dog and the arguments would’ve been no different. Just kiss already, I used to think when I watched them. I thought the same thing watching Digby and Henry bickering on their way to the car. Just admit you’ve missed each other and kiss already. Sure, part of me wanted to go ride around town with them, but their bickering was seriously causing flashbacks. I’d heard enough bickering to last me a lifetime. Nothing could get me in that car. Inside the house, Mom yelled, thinking I was still in my room, ‘Zoe! Want to come to the Scrabble mixer with me?’ Except maybe that. ‘Sorry, Mom, my friends are here!’ I ran off the porch.
@fangirl4everyours inspired/requested this because she always has awesome fic ideas and how could i not do it
philkas au in which the boys cant sleep without each other
The first night away is the hardest. Philip has a single dorm room, and though it’s tiny, it’s far too empty. He doesn’t have much in the way of keepsakes, save a shoebox of pictures he has sitting on his desk. He plans on pinning them up on the wall at some point, but is too tired after a long day of finding his way around campus that he just leaves them for now.
It’s been 6 months since Lukas got shot, and everything ended. Since Kane was put away. Since Lukas woke up.
Since Lukas not-so-temporarily moved into the bottom bedroom at Helen and Gabe’s.
Bo was promoted, and seeing as his job needed him in the city more often, and that Lukas often woke up screaming if he wasn’t near Philip, he let Lukas move in on the terms that the boys would sleep in separate rooms.
Which, of course, wasn’t very well enforced. With everything that happened, Philip had trouble sleeping, too. When Helen and Gabe woke up to find the two curled up together in one of the bedrooms, they couldn’t bring themselves to keep them apart.
They chase each others demons away. They have since the very beginning. As someone who has demons of her own, Helen didn’t protest in the slightest. She had Gabe; it seemed right that Lukas could have Philip.
* Part 2 of Support
* Philip × Reader
* Requested by anonymous
* Request: Could you please do a part 2 to Support
A/N: ok I know I literally just got this request and I have others to fill but this one came to me in a flash so I needed to write it. It’s very choppy and has a sudden end but it’s what came to mind. Maybe I’ll write a part 3 someday but I would need time to come up with more ideas…
Word Count: 1, 573
After the dramatics of the burning, Alexander was allowed to stay at the house. It was mainly for public image. Alexander told you that you could leave now, that he’d be able to help. You refused. He suggested you think about how the public would view the situation. You suppressed a scoff and just told him you didn’t mind. Eliza vouched for you and said she invited you to stay. Alexander still wasn’t sure but didn’t want to start an argument with Eliza.
It was a day in late June. You went about checking on the kids once more. You caught a lucky break that the kids were either napping or playing nicely. Philip was even taking a fitful nap. He mentioned he’d been having trouble sleeping lately so you left him napping.
You wandered to the Hamiltons’ extensive library. You hadn’t gotten a chance to read any of their books yet. You grabbed a copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. You went to the window and threw it open, allowing a summer breeze to flutter the curtains and fill the room. You walked over to the chairs that faced the unused fireplace. You tucked your feet under you and started to read.
A Mwadi spirit was the incarnation of the King Kasongo Niembo, who died in 1933, Democratic Republic of the Congo, 1970s. Photo by Thomas Q. Reefe. Submitted by Mary Nooter Roberts.
When a Luba king died, his spirit was incarnated by a female spirit medium, whose title was Mwadi. Luba people say that only a woman’s body is strong enough to hold a spirit as powerful as that of a king, which is why sculpture dedicated to kingship is almost always female in gender. This Mwadi was the incarnation of King Kasongo Niembo, who died in 1931. She resided in the former royal village, acquired his titleholders and insignia and received gifts on a regular basis from the new king who established his residence in a different locale. The residences of the thirteen Luba kings thus became sites of memory and were called spirit capitals where the Mwadis ruled their “kingdoms of the dead.” Each Mwadi was succeeded at her own death by another woman in her lineage, thus ensuring the perpetuation of the king’s memory.
Most commonly known as Mwadi but Kifikwa by others. Luba kings and very powerful chiefs are considered to be semi-divine, with one foot in humanity and the other in the realm of bavidye. But once deceased, they join the pantheon of bavidye, and in the past it was documented that an ordinary woman would become possessed by his spirit and assume the title of Mwadi while she served as king incarnate. During the athour’s field research from 1987-1989 several Luba individuals explained that the reasons spirits take residence in the bodies of women is that only the body of a woman is strong enough to hold the spirit of a king. “The spirits responded above all to women: they were more ‘favourable’ to women”
Twins in African and Diaspora Cultures: Double Trouble, Twice Blessed By Philip M. Peek
It’s 101 Days of
Smiles and it’s time to talk yourself up, writers! Appreciate yourself
and your writing. Enjoy it and don’t be afraid to tag your fic. This is
all about self love, so have fun with it. Answer these questions about
your own fanfiction and reblog, tagging at least 5 of your friends!
So I was tagged by my good friend @swiftsnowmane
and thought this might be a fun and completely shameless (lol) way to
promote some of my fics for Bethyl shippers. So here goes:
Favorite fic you’ve written: Probably the one I am writing now, A World Above, a Hades and Persephone Bethyl AU.
It’s a Bethyl soulmates AU where they are living out their past life
as the Queen and King of the Undead world. It tells the story in two
verses, in the Underworld and in the world they live in above, a tiny
town aptly called “Olympic Falls”. It’s my fave so far of anything I
Least favorite fic you’ve written: Worth the Run.
ZA, canon-divergent. It’s a one shot and something I wrote directly
after Terminus. Basically it’s as if Daryl was the only one in the
train car and that’s where he found Beth. It gets smutty. ;)
Your most popular fic: And the Walls Came Tumbling Down,
ZA, canon-divergent. This fic is one that I consider my “Post-Alone”
canon divergent story, what I think could have happened if those walkers
hadn’t come and ruined everything. It’s just a sweet, adventurous
story with a few twists and turns and a happy ending for everyone.
Fic you wish more people would read: Carnivale,
I really lost my confidence in writing for it as it didn’t seem to get
as much traffic as my other fics and therefore I got discouraged and
quit writing. It’s pretty original I think, Daryl and Merle run a
traveling carnival and Daryl is the knife thrower. Beth stows away to
escape her troubled home life and well, the rest is history. ;)
Fic you most enjoyed writing: Vanilla Fields.
(ff.net only) It’s a Bethyl AU wherein Daryl is an ex-mercenary whom
Beth hires to fly her sister to safety from her abusive husband, Philip.
Trouble ensues and Daryl ends up having to take Beth to a safe house
at a remote coastal location. It seems to be one of my readers’ faves
and for a time over the Summer of Bethyl 2014, there was evidently a
book club about it on a well known spoiling website, so I thought that
was pretty cool.
Your funniest fic: Hmmm, a lot of
my fics are really emotional and have a lot of tension but I would have
to say the one with the most laughs is probably Prisoner of Love. It’s also pretty hot, if I do say so myself. It’s a Season 4 prison era fic and definitely rated E for explicit.
Your hottest fic: This is a tough call, because I know a lot of my readers come read A Shady Affair quite a bit because it’s pretty much loaded with smut but my other one that gets a lot of traffic is No Strings Attached.
The former is a romantic thriller while the second one Daryl and Beth
are basically friends with benefits and well, you know the rest.
Your saddest fic: Hands down, this would be Whiskey Lullaby.
I wrote this also in the Summer of Bethyl 2014 when my friend Beth
died. This is by far the saddest thing I have ever written for fandom
and it is not for everyone. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS and SUICIDE trigger
warnings are needed for this fic. Sad. Sad. Good god, I should
probably delete instead of rec to read.
The things(s) your fic contributed to fandom head canon:
Well, I am not sure how to answer this, but I am kind of known for
fluffy smut I guess? That’s what I probably feel like I am best at as
well. The emotional, but not too sappy, hot Bethyl sex. A good example
of this would probably be Come Undone,
A funeral home AU where Beth and Daryl continue that conversation and
what happens next. Rated M for mature. Maybe someone else could
answer this question for me? Lol This is why I suck at these list
Royal Divination and Twins (The children of the Moon) in Luba culture
Keuzi is a Luba female diviner who recounts a ritual that unfolds every month the night of the new moon in Luba towns and villages throughout the Katanga province in the Democratic Republic of Congo
During the evening, the singing begins with the focus on mesmerising “songs of twins” the songs sung in chorus is refrain are dedicated to bavidye, the tutelary spirits of Luba kingship, who are described as twins. The bavidye play critically important roles in maintain social equilibrium and in sanctifying royal authority and prerogative. The “rising of the new moon” is a time of rejuvenation and hope, recognition and rebirth, and twins are conduits for the aspirations of the community as they challenge the forces of darkness that precede the tiny silver of newly emergent light every lunar cycle.
Children of the Moon
One of the names assigned to Luba twins is “children of the moon” The moon is a complex metaphor for Luba, always ambivalent because appears and disappears, offers clarity and delivers obscurity. As Father Theodore Theuws write “The moon is ambiguous like life itself…To be and to become, to live and to die are but two faces of the same reality” The Luba have an expression for that which is unwanted, unaccustomed, or unusual and extraordinary: i bya malwa
Kapamba: The Mother of Twins
Kapamba is the name assigned to the wife of a diviner (only when the diviner is a man) The nae is an honorific and it is also associated with mothers of twins. The connection between the mother of twins and the diviner’s wife underscores the act the twins are considered spirits, both in ordinary life and in contexts of ritual and problem solving. During divination Kapamba is the one who calls the spirits through percussive rhythms and the songs for twins. She is also responsible for respecting the taboos taboos, translating the possessed diviner’s utterances and generally serving as the guardian of her husband’s spirits….In the context of the birth of twins the title Kapamba refers to a particular role. When it becomes that a pregnant coma will give birth to twins, a special wise woman is summoned. And it must be a woman who has already borne twins, and whose twins are still living. She is called by the title of Kapamba, just like the diviner’s wife.
The Reification of the Twin Spirits
The headrest is paired with female figures (may allude to the female spirit mediums who lived together at sacred sites to serve as intermediaries between humans and the twin tutelary spirits of Luba royal culture called bavidye.)
There are also many representation o double figures in corpus of Luba art that seem to be related to the importance of twins in Luba ontology. It s not uncommon to see two female figures arm in arm, side by side, back to back or entwined on the tops of staff of office and/or supporting the platform of stools and headrests.
Luba exegesis makes it clear that such depictions, though both females are embodiment of the bavidye, or twin spirits. Ngoi wa Nkulu the wife of a Luba titleholder in Kinkondia once explained that mothers and father of twins always wear strings of fiver diagonally across their chests. If one twin dies, then they remove one o the strings, leaving the other to drape diagonally across thr torso. It is very common to see members of the Mbudye association and other high Luba officials donning beaded bandoliers either crossed over their chest or diagonally across the torso. Where it is a literal reference to their being parents of twins or a symbolic allusion to the bavidye twin spirits of Luba kingship depends on the individual personal history.
Why would the twin spirits be depicted as women when in oral narratives they seem to be male/female pairs? Luba explains that bavidye reside in sacred locales such as lakes, grottoes, forest groves, and the foothills of mountains. In order to gain access to them female spirit mediums would intercede on behalf of human propitiate them. Oftentimes these mediums lived in pairs as celibate priestesses, single women who never married or bore children, but who had a special connection to the spirits. The practice of two women living together at a sacred site and serving as intermediaries with the bavidye twinned spirits is linked to the role of a particularity female medium, known as Mwadi in some locales and Kifikwa in others (read more about them)
The Luba believe that only a woman’s strong enough to hold the spirit of a King. “The spirits responded above all to women: they were more ‘favourable’ to women”. It is often said that a man’s body would not be spiritually string enough to support the spirit of Ilunga Mwila (a King). Only a woman’s body could endure it…Until the advent of the white man the Kifikwa’s influence counted largely in the appointment of a new chief, and her word was never gainsaid.
It is then logical that bavidye are mediated by women, who have more direct relationship to spirits. This applies in other situations, as when Luba explain that most diviners in the past were women because the women could embody the spirit directly without entering into a state of trance. Only in recent times has the profession become predominately male. Even now, when a Luba male diviner goes into trance, he must be assisted by his wife, Kapamba, who is responsible for calling the spirits by singing the songs of twins. It is through her intercession that he achieves altered consciousness and transformed identity.
A similar distinction is made in non royal form of divination called kashekesheke, in which a diviner and a client hold a sculpted wooden figure and the diviner analyses its movements as responses to questions posed to the spirit. Women kashekesheke diviners have no need for any special preparation to serve in this role, whereas male practitioners must undergo lusalo which involves the insertion of medicinal substances into the surface of the skin of the hand where the sculpted figure makes contacts.
Twins in African and Diaspora Cultures: Double Trouble, Twice Blessed By Philip M. Peek
I am a drug addict in recovery, so like any drug addict I know exactly how Hoffman felt when he “went back out”. In spite of his life seeming superficially great, in spite of all the praise and accolades, in spite of all the loving friends and family, there is a predominant voice in the mind of an addict that supersedes all reason and that voice wants you dead. This voice is the unrelenting echo of an unfulfillable void.
Addiction is a mental illness around which there is a great deal of confusion, which is hugely exacerbated by the laws that criminalise drug addicts.
The troubling message behind Philip Seymour Hoffman’s death, which we all feel without articulating, is that it was unnecessary and we know that something could be done. We also know what that something is and yet, for some traditional, prejudicial, stupid reason we don’t do it.