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andotherbiases · 4 years

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“into the fall” deleted scene, vers. 2

writing that thread yesterday reminded me that I had so many versions of the scene where MY goes to KT’s place. They all ended up being too angsty to make it into the final version of the story, but now that I used the snuggles & storytime version in “journal of a teenage year” I feel like I can share these other deleted scenes.

In this version, MY goes to KT’s place not because she’s realized her feelings for him, but because she’s upset. I’ll lead into the scene with text from the published version in italics, so you can see where it would have been situated in the original story. This particular version has parts from the other deleted scene (let’s call that one version 1), but with a different ending dialogue. I was sad to loose the intimacy of this scene, because it shows just how much deeper their connection is, but alas, I just wanted to write a light-hearted story so...

Anyway, I’ll post another version in the coming days. I hope you enjoy!

Version 2: Angst city

Sometimes he stays the night. Sometimes not.

Sometimes they meet and don’t have sex. Sometimes an office visit really is just an office visit.

Moon-young doesn’t really know what the rules are here. She doesn’t understand what they’re doing. Kang-tae doesn’t mention it, never brings it up, and seems perfectly happy with whatever their arrangement is. But she’s confused and unsettled, unsure of what to do or say. Mostly because, surprisingly enough, a re-introduction to their physical intimacy has not produced the hell-mouth she thought it would.

There hasn’t been a single fight. She can’t remember the last time one of them snapped at the other. When it was that one of them stormed out of a room in anger.

When they’re together, in between all the hooking up, they snuggle and laugh and share thoughts and opinions and secrets. And it is nice. Nice that they could be like this again. Nice to lower walls. Nice to share in the intimacy that had always been present between them.

It feels so natural.

But it also feels so fragile, like a spring morning, and Moon-young doesn’t want to ruin it, doesn’t want to destroy this good and beautiful thing by bringing up questions and whatever harsh reality exists for them.

If it can’t be forever, she’ll take it for right now.

And she’ll worry about the fall later.

It happens unexpectedly.

Moon-young is having a terrible day. Any contact with her estranged mother sours her mood completely, ruins any plans that she might have had. A single phone call and a shadow will loom over her for the rest of the day, dark and storming and brewing. It makes her want to lash out at the world, makes her want to be reckless, makes her want to do something big and dangerous -- something that she can throw all her energy, all her feelings, all her thoughts towards. Something to distract her.

Something to ease her weary heart.

She doesn’t know how she ended up at Kang-tae’s door, but he takes one look at her face and lets her in without a word.

They’re sitting at the kitchen counter, cups of lukewarm tea before them. They’re just sitting, sometimes exchanging words but mostly just sitting in the moment, sharing the space together. Silence stretches on between them, but it isn’t empty nor is it burdensome. It occurs to Moon-young that he is the only person that she feels comfortable enough with to not have to say anything at all.

Kang-tae is sitting by her side, nursing his mug and waiting to listen to anything that she might say. His usual suits and coiffed hair are replaced with casual t-shirts and a pair of thick glasses. On the table next to them are notes from some manuscript, the red scrawls from his pen bleed across the page.

“I’m sorry for interrupting. You were working,” she says, only just piecing together that he might have been busy when she arrived at his door.

He waves her off. “It’s not important.”

They lapse into silence once more.

“Is this about your mom?” he asks, breaking into her thoughts. If the question had come from anyone but Kang-tae, she would have denied it. Would have stormed out of the room, having no desire to air out her family’s dirty laundry. But he wasn’t just anyone. He knew her whole history. This wasn’t the first time he’s seen her angry and upset and despondent. Moon-young meets his eyes and finds only sympathy, not pity.

She nods.

Kang-tae purses his lips, clearly displeased. “What did she say this time?”

“The usual,” she shrugs. “How I’m an ungrateful daughter. How I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for her. It’s always the same. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“I wish she would just leave you alone.”

“She had no problem doing it before,” Moon-young says bitterly. “Funny how becoming a best-selling author changes things.”

Her mother had abandoned her just after her tenth birthday, leaving her under the care of her mostly absent father. Moon-young was raised by a series of live-in babysitters and tutors. She hadn’t heard a single word from her mother in over fifteen years. It wasn’t until her first book was published and her name was in the news that Moon-young first got a phone call from an unknown number.

Moon-young’s long lost mother was suddenly interested in reconciling. Had seen the error of her ways. Had seen a photo of Moon-young in the local paper and wanted to get to know the woman she had become.

But Moon-young wasn’t interested. Her success was hers alone. And if her mother didn’t care enough to go through the tough times with her, all the times when Moon-young had struggled to live as a writer and received rejection letter after rejection letter, then her mother certainly didn’t have a right to enjoy Moon-young’s success.

Her mother, naturally, did not appreciate being so cut out, and ever so often Moon-young received a letter or call that full of vitriol from her own mother.

In a way, she felt haunted.

Suddenly, Moon-young pushes away her tea. “I need something stronger,” she declares, already moving to stand and make good use of Kang-tae’s well-stocked dry bar.

Instead, he reaches over and takes her hand in his. His hold is so stable, so steadfast and sure. His thumbs rub circles on the back of her hand, and Moon-young finds herself sitting back down.

“Let’s leave the alcohol for another time,” he suggests, his words calm and gentle. “How about we get you into bed, and I’ll read you a story.”

Somewhere in the middle of his tale, Moon-young starts to cry.

Tears leak from her eyes, pouring out her sadness, and she can’t help it. Can’t stop the shaking of her chin or the sobs that crawl out of her mouth.

And she hates it all, because her mother doesn’t deserve her sadness, her tears.

But Kang-tae is right there.

He pulls her in tighter, brushes away her tears before they have a chance to fall. He whispers comforting words in her ear, reminds her of how brilliant she is, and how strong, and that she didn’t owe her mother anything, that Moon-young belonged to herself.

And he kisses her.

Soft, lingering kisses on her cheeks, her eyelids. When Kang-tae kisses her lips, she can taste the saltiness of her tears.

But also, a sweetness. A kindness.

She wants, so desperately, to capture that. To taste it on her tongue and devour it so that it becomes a part of her. To be so full of sweetness and kindness that there is no room for sadness. So that nothing bad can ever get in.

Moon-young wraps her arms around Kang-tae’s neck, bringing him in closer until the weight of his body presses down on her, and she slides her tongue past his lips.

“Hey, hey,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

He didn’t understand. She needed this. She shakes her head. “No, please,” Moon-young insists, arching up into him.

Kang-tae hisses at the contact. “I think,” he starts, his voice now shaky, “that we should just try and sleep. You’re upset and I--”

“Please, Kang-tae,” she reaches up to try and kiss him again. She needs this. Needs this oblivion. “Please, I--”

He tries to avoid her lips. “Moon-young…”

“Please just make love to me,” she blurts in desperation.

He freezes. Seconds roll by before he pulls back, hovering over her. “What?”

And for some reason she’s crying again. “Please, please. Kang-tae. Please can you just--” and she doesn’t care that she’s begging.

Kang-tae’s gaze is probing as he locks eyes with her. He’s hesitating, warring with himself, but slowly his eyes drop from hers to settle on her lips. He gives a small nod before he kisses her.

Afterwards she’s almost asleep when the fall happens. It is so quiet she nearly misses it.

“I love you.”

Her eyes open, she’s fully awake now, but forces her body to remain still. She stays that way, until she recognizes Kang-tae’s deep breath of sleep.

Moon-young is fumbling around in the dark trying to gather her things. It is early still, dawn is just on the horizon, giving just enough light for her to slide out of Kang-tae’s bed and make a hasty exit.

“Don’t forget your purse is in the kitchen,” comes a voice.

Surprised at being caught, Moon-young spins on her heel, and even in the darkness she can see Kang-tae’s eyes staring at her. He sits up and reaches for his pants, but seeing his bare chest for some reason seems too intimate and she avoids her gaze.

He turns on a lamp, and the sudden brightness burns.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he approaches her. There is almost something predatory in his gait, the firm set of his mouth.

Moon-young only just resists the impulse to take a step back. “I didn’t want to wake you,” she tries to explain.

“Hm,” he considers her answer. “And this doesn’t have anything to do with last night?”

Her heart is slamming against her ribcage. Did he know? Something like panic races through her veins.

Kang-tae continues. “The part where you heard me say that I love you.” He takes a breath. “I love you, Moon-young.”

Moon-young has to step away then. It is too much. She feels like she can’t take in enough air, not enough to breath, not enough to process what is happening. Tears begin to prickat her eyes, and she doesn’t understand why.

She pushes him away. “I have to go.”

He grabs her hand.

“Don’t go. Don’t run away. We’re good together, Moon-young. These last few weeks, we’ve been so good together.”

She snatches her hand back.

“Don’t do this,” he tells her, trying to hold onto her. “Moon-young!”

“This was just supposed to be sex,” she cries. “You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me!”

“I’ve always been in love with you!” he responds.

“What?”

“I can’t help it,” he holds her by the shoulders, hoping against hope that she’ll stay. “I’ve always loved you.”

She feels the world tilt on its axis and it steals her breath. “I have to go.”

And she runs, right out of his room, right out of his apartment, and down the block until he’s no longer calling her name, no longer trying to follow her.

#itf #im worried ppl will like this more than the final version lol

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yukihime242 · 3 years

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It is funny how Paimon is afraid of the supernatural when she herself is a supernatural (somewhat).

I had to explain to her that the little girl was possibly playing with her imaginary friend. I have no idea why Paimon was having difficulty trying to understand the word “imaginary” friend.

It was precisely what I said...

Paimon then began to inquire more about imaginary friend yet failed to understand that these imaginary friends simply do not exist in physical form and only in our thoughts.

Anyway, Venti came along and was happy to see us. He wanted our help to test on a contraption that Lisa managed to obtain.

Elegant? Miss?

This god surely has never suffered the wrath of a librarian chasing after an overdue book with great lengths...

So... we asked why Lisa was unable to test the contraption herself and Venti’s response was...

“Childlike sense of wonder”? What kind of a contraption are you guys playing with?

Maybe... just let me make sure I don’t have any overdue books on me first...

And we tested the contraption on the little girl playing.

And viola! Her imaginary friend is none other than herself. Gosh... talk about a lonely little girl...

We decided to take the contraption to test it on our next target. The next target was Flora.

Flora’s friend is a plant... This is a first I have heard...

Aww... Paimon...

Anyway, we spoke to Flora and enquire about her Bloatty Floatty friend. She was happy that we managed to “see” it and exclaimed that the reason she is friends with a Bloatty Floatty is because she wants to fly in the sky and go on an adventure.

Um... yeah... he’s technically standing right over there...

We moved on from Flora and decided to use it on Timmy of the bridge.

You can say that again!

Look at that smug evil smile...

He’s plotting something...

Okay, I am getting carried away.

So... we don’t have any idea on how to converse with Timmy regarding his imaginary friend and decided that we should just leave. Not to make it too obvious and awkward, we had Paimon say her favourite line.

Kudos to the developer for thinking of every detail.

Right... The last time Venti praised about how free his city was, Prince the cat stole his lyre strings...

Anyway, we head towards Angel’s Share to test the contraption on the adults. We also came across some very interesting conversation. Again, kudos to the developer for every detail.

In case you are wondering what they are talking about, read the manga.

Joke’s on you, Paimon, you WILL grow up.

And the most interesting question popped up. At what age does one stop having an imaginary friend? Our next target to check on this question: Ellin, the knight who is always having trouble crushing training dummies altogether.

And her imaginary friend is the Acting Grand Master Jean...

And it was also at this point we all know that Ellin is simping for Jean.

We were invited to do sword training with Ellin for the reason of helping her to become stronger. At the end of the training, we wished her all the best with a little cheer from Paimon.

Really? Paimon, really?

Unfortunately, Ellin was too tired to meet up with Jack to discuss the details for their upcoming adventure. Hence, being the good and kind honorary knight we are, we opted to help them look for Jack and Stanley to convey the message.

We slayed our way through a domain to get to where Jack and Stanley were being surrounded by a hoard of Hilichurls. After rescuing them, we conveyed the message.

And an unanimous vote to go deeper into the domain right after they almost lost their lives. Not sure what to feel about this...

Well... Stanley seemed to be having identity issues...

For a floating encyclopedia, Paimon sure is useless...

Sigh... The whole reason why the people of Mondstadt believed that they should not die in a place with no wind is because they worship the anemo archon who holds the elemental power of wind. The people believed that if they die in a foreign land, the wind will carry their souls back to Mondstadt.

Venti had some doubts about Stanley and asked us to use the contraption on him. Sure enough, something did pop up.

Cues the whole purpose of this character story event.

Stanley left and Jack came to us wanting to commission us to join him on an adventure to retrieve a sword and shield which Lady Vennessa used during her glory (again, read the manga if you are curious).

Venti was against the idea of joining in the adventure until...

Unintentional bribery achievement unlocked.

We head to Dadaupa Gorge and had to defeat a few Hilichurls which were strangely worshipping the sword.

Well... it most definite not the sword.

Although it is hard to tell, but based on how stories usually goes, such a magnificent sword definitely won’t be that easily obtained.

The others were of the same thought and began to doubt that the sword was indeed the Sword of Brilliant Valor.

I’m surprised that Jack got baited...

We went to search for the shield next and it was in the hands of a Hilichurl.

This time, it was obviously not the shield since we can all see that it was taken from a wine barrel. Even Jack was convinced that the shield was not real.

And this is how cults are formed, ladies and gentlemen...

A valid point but IT IS JUST THE LID OF A WINE BARREL!

Alas, we had to try and resolve the situation peacefully by persuading the Hilichurl to give us the shield.

Don’t ask me how I did it...

So, we retrieved the *cough* fake *cough* sword and shield and gave them to Jack. Jack was so proud that he decided to show his parents the legendary weapons back in Mondstadt. He left excitedly and we found Stanley hiding nearby.

Yes, Paimon.

Thanks for the kind warning, Stanley...

Venti and I had our doubts about Stanley and decided to investigate further into the matter. We travelled back to Angel’s Share to hear the shocking revelation of Stanley’s secrets.

But first, surprised that Diluc was working the bar tonight...

I mean... we are sitting directly behind him when there are so many empty seats around... surely we do stand out like a sore thumb.

As we confronted Stanley about his secret, Jack came tumbling into the tavern to share his joy.

I can imagine the smith’s face when they were given the alleged shield...

Jack wanted to thank us and specifically Stanley but Stanley was knocked out. Not wanting to bother him, he left quickly with a pouting Venti demanding for his promised vintage wine.

Unfortunately for Venti, we had to deal with Stanley first. Stanley thanked us for not divulging his secret to Jack because Jack was a very pure adventurer and it was something he did not want to stain.

Venti seized the opportunity to help Stanley let go of the past by revealing his true identity.

Understandable. If God were to appear to me just like that, I would also be shaken up.

With the matter of Stanley done, Venti decided to quickly get his rare vintage wine from Jack and drink until he’s drunk.

Venti left and told us to meet up at the usual place. I stopped by the counter to see what Diluc thought about the whole situation earlier.

That’s quite optimistic thinking for an edgy husband...

Anyway, we went to the usual place and Paimon was not very happy about Venti making us run around Mondstadt just to find the “usual place”.

Venti then shared with us about his past.

In case you guys are wondering...

Shockingly adorable...

Sometimes... just sometimes, I really feel like smacking Paimon...

Thankfully, my character is not dumb.

I had Paimon fetch some meat which should take her a while.

Aw... Venti called us true friends...

#mihoyo #Genshin #genshin impact #genshin venti #genshin impact venti #venti genshin #venti genshin impact #genshin barbatos #genshin impact barbatos #barbatos genshin impact #barbatos genshin

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cupsofsuga · 4 years

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𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers. I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ ☕️} NOTE - there’s some heavy violence in this headcanon! again, viewer discretion is advised! also, thank you anon for being so kind!!!

{ 💐} ANON ASKED - ❝ Hcs for each member to their s/o having a hard time at school because they have a lot of exams and there is like this one girl who is kinda bothering them a lot and says thing’s like „you’re so dumb“ + Thank you for your hard work🌟 :) ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

whilst walking through the early afternoon, jin can’t help but let his mind wander to his y/n

they are candied cherries, chocolate-covered strawberries, slices of honeydew of a sultry june afternoon

they are a summer sonnet, saccharine sunshine embodied

they are in every means the light in a pit of darkness

and just before his fists meet with the mahogany door, the hushed sounds of sobbing brings his ethereal thoughts to an abrupt halt

that sugary taste of spring melts into a metallic tang

jin is ripped from the arms of serendipity and embraced by a holy, winter night; he is exploited by hell and feels it’s knife-sharp kisses litter his body

and without a second thought, he bursts through the door with enough force to puncture the wood

he is quick to provide aid for his love, letting them trail on of tales of their arrogant teachers and that sadistic blonde who finds pleasure in your torment

jin’s heart shatters and underneath the glass shard in unfathomable rage

and just like that, we watch as his anger swells and the events that follow after the faltering of his flower

5:38 PM, your teacher who has thrust you into a rough patch with school stands by his car

jin strikes, he falls to the ground, streets seeping with crimson blood as his sinful acts bleed into the creases of the pavement

the brick in his hand is quickly disposed of as he hijacks the stranger’s car and attends the key to his office

hours later, he finds you, nestled under silky blankets with moon tea in your grasp

he presents to you a cheat sheet, relishing in the way you smile so vividly and the summer petals that asphyxiate him

next, is that girl who dared to let you cry tears for her

and the acts performed on her were horrific

he nustles you back into bed, a gentle kiss to the head and caresses to the cheek, then, he is off into the night

within the next 12 hours, jin had managed to slice off her fingers and toes, laughing sadistically as she begs for mercy

the annoying disunity of her pained, guttural screams irritated jin, and to end of the night with a bang, he forced her to eat a bullet

now, the burdens have been disposed of, the anger has simmered and his love has found peace, you both can live smoothly

without the suffocating weights of the horrid world, jin can listen to his midsummer sonnets as they grace his world with their delicate smiles and infectious laughter

finally, he can breathe.

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

yoongi awakes in the evening a couple of steps into march, early spring sticky on his cheeks and sheets pressed upon his dainty legs

the burning revelation of what lies next to him feels like the midnight sun warm against his bareback

he knows the love of his life rests right beside him, deep in a luminescent slumber

yoongi turns his body around, meeting with his love, who instead is perched on the side of the bed, phone screen illuminating the room that drowned in obscurity

beneath that canopy of constellations, there is his y/n, crying out to the empty night

and that bruising palpitation that strikes his heart with one bitter-intended swing could’ve crumbled planets in the galaxy to nothing but dust bunnies you’d find nestled in the depths of the attic

every bated breath is suffocated within his lungs, saltwater smothering him as he can’t find the words to provide aid for the love of his life

the ashes skies and dull clouds envelop him, and alas, magic has died

with a gentle touch to your shoulder, the boy behind you coos and hushes his own cries of worry as you both sit in solid darkness

through saturated cries, you manage to cough up tales of demons that litter the hallways, choking on the acerbic aftertaste of tears

with the moon strung high, yoongi finds devotion through the thorn-laced ivy that punctures his form

he must prove his infatuation, he must

after all, when the world left him astray, you painted him gold with stardust brewing in your lungs

when the galaxy abandoned him, you gifted him the sun as if the planet was nothing but coins in your pocket

when he was alone, you were there in all of your effervescent glory

and that leaves your lover now, writing an anonymous complaint about that blonde’s behavior, lacing the letter with false stories of her becoming physical

yes, yoongi knows this is wrong, but that image of you with gleaming tears sprinting down your cheeks robs him of any potential mercy

he loves you, and he must defend you from the world

and there it is, your smile

you look like a pack of adonis blue butterflies in the summer, the diamonds that scatter the galaxies, rose petals as they fall from the clouds

you are happy, and now you can live in tranquillity

as the sun sets and the wolves venture out of their the caves, you two spend eternal hours on the roof, sipping cheap red wine as bellowing laughter echoes

and it’s so sweet - so, so sweet - living days in the depths of ice-rimmed snow globes and soaring through the land of hogwarts

it's so sweet finding forever summer within the cold days of late winter

it’s so sweet to live the rest of his days with you.

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

❝ oh, oh! i’ll do them for you! ❞

without a hint of breath, hoseok interferes your rant about exams with a shimmering idea

that’s who he was, after all

a boy willing to spit out the ash of bullets with the sun pounding against his ribcage and with the alacrity of his spirit

he’d watch the stars bleed and summer fade, he’d embrace violence with pleasure and hunt out the wolves of the night

he’d swallow seas, seethe in hellfire, swim within the embers of the sun and wither planets to dust

he’d just about do anything for you, and you milked his very desire to do such

you see, exam season was hot on your tail and there were only seconds before you witness the death of a downfall behind procrastination

the elegance of time has faded, and fortunately for you, your pretty-pliant boy toy is there with a cape to save the day

you should feel guilt for manipulating and twisting your lover's brain, but, the poison that seeps through the maze of your veins robs you of any empathy

his whitening bones and your rotten figure, his sunset skies and your ashen wastelands

you both might as well have been a devil and an angel sitting in the same high school class

but, the burden of exams is only an inkling of the baggage heavy on your shoulders

that blonde who finds sadistic pleasure in turning your life into a living hellhole awaits your next move, and with the help of your delusional lover, you may find stars within the black hole of the universe

as your grades all skyrocket as planned, you’ll have enough golden stars and lollipops to have her regina george and her precious good-girl streak melting into the tile before her expensive platforms

so, as the next afternoon blossoms, you meet hoseok at his locker with a disposition burning within your heart and ask him out on a date, watching as summer’s sky drowns out within his irises and the essence of spring spreads amongst his doll-like features

as he accepts with a stutter, you become concerned with whether or not you should check if the poor boy is still breathing, but settle on attending the ice cream parlor on the corner of town

and as you both sit in the sunset as superman ice-cream stains his lips, your plan proceeds in perfect harmony

with your sweetheart who resembles a golden retriever who’s met face-to-face with a battered-off tennis ball, your every desire is granted

with cloy praises and sugar-tainted caresses, you’re passing your exams with a pretty little pet there to serve to every one of your commands

and blinded by the infatuation through the manipulation, hoseok finds lavender-infused meadows and universes undiscovered

ever waking second with you, he finds the sun as it beats against his empty eyelids

alas, he has found clarity within the treacherous world

and he doesn’t know what he’d do if you ever left him.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

wednesday afternoon, namjoon is roaming around the somewhat-secluded library, once again

he finds you at a deserted table and relishes in the ambivalent pandemonium of your eternal gaze that pounds his hummingbird heartbeat

he finds cherry stains chalked upon your lips, the dust of a child’s dreams scattered upon your features, the touch of aphrodite herself laced within your fingertips as you turn the pages with elegance

to have a stark sight of you, he has found rome in the depths of you and he is only left to scrutinize every last moment

as you talk with a friend on the phone, namjoon picks up a stray book off the shelf, posing to deem it interesting as the ink fades to nonsense

there’s a tangible bitterness in your tone, stating your stress over exams, then exclaiming your rage for another student who has found entertainment in using you like a rag doll

namjoon listens, and he seethes

there’s a vivid pulse of red, a breath of tranquility left astray, heavy spring rain that envelops him

in the serrated halt in his thoughts, he listens to your rants and the harmonious claps of thunder that follow after the light rain showers

as the clock reads 3:27 AM, the boy spends the ungodly hours of the night inhaling the musk of silken mist as he dives into the depths of whatever information he can grasp of your supposed bully

after all, he’d do just about anything for you

he’d swallow bullets, suffocate himself on clouds, slice galaxies and set your shadows aflame if you simply asked

he loves you, and the burning light’s embrace taste of lemonade

you are willow trees in late june heat, apple pies left to cool on an autumn afternoon, a star amongst a field of faux pearls, a fairytale you’d find hidden in the dust of a bookstore

you are in every means a melody of summer and the ethereal sense of purity that follows after

so, that leaves namjoon now, casting his gaze upon a penthouse where the villain of your story lies

and the acts that follow after climbing into the adobe through the fire escape are horrid

he spits out threats and insults as the girl shows her submission, tears tumbling down her rosy cheeks as she pleads for any potential compassion found within the man

she then proceeds to swear on her life that she won’t utter a breath of this night if the intruder were to simply leave, but, the myths that lie within those ocean eyes state differently

and so he kills her - he kills her so violently - he watches the life leave her doe eyes like a dying star

namjoon then leaves her in the bathtub, mustering up some sob suicide note about how unfair her life was, then neglecting his sins at the domain

finally, finally, he can taste the midsummer plums and strawberry-tainted air without the burden of the world

finally, he can dance with the sunbeams as the rain begins to fade into lustrous stars

finally, he can breathe with you.

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

even with the simple incantation of a compliment, you have jimin vowing his devotion to you, a simple stranger

you, who holds the hypnotic elegance of a swan, the unintentional divine nature of a ghost and the substantially ethereal depths of aphrodite herself hold a young boy’s sensitive heart in the palm of your palms

you, who lives in the wind by the riverside, hold the universe in your hands

jimin, and his tenacious behavior, stand just outside the door of his father’s office, ear pressed against the door, clinging onto any inkling of a word he can grasp

your father stands in the room, too, just without you, the sun in the empty abyss

with muffled words, he listens as your father speaks stories of your stress with upcoming exams and with a bully of yours

his brave iris, his luminescent flower, his star dripped in honey nectar- is suffering…?

jimin has been left to wallow in a desolated graveyard, just to fantasize of your dancing touch and luminescent smile

you are both two bunny rabbits prancing through the barricades of spring, two fairies dancing with dust in the heat of summer

every fleeting moment, it all echoed within him

and that leaves jimin now with the yearbook that he borrowed from you settled in his lap

he takes the brief second to examine your school picture, tracing delicate fingers amongst your features and the doodles of hearts and flowers that litter around your sparkling face

flipping through the pages, he hears your father’s voice in his head, who had spoken the name of the demon that dared to dwell in you

languorous days, lavender hearts and june-infused nights, he has found some sense of clarity within the heartbreaking loyalty

inhaling the musk of a filthy bar littered with drunk men, he finds a blonde head, plan lingering within his mind

he then forges attraction, single whispers proving more of the bruises on his skin than the flower of his love

with angelic tones and forcing gags back down his throat, jimin had finally gotten this parasite alone

he had gotten the doe-eyed villain alone in an alleyway, lust staining the shades of her eyes

and that leaves the blue-eyed, plum-lipped girl with golden hair now, left in a puddle of piss and beer - dead

there’s blood everywhere - in the wind, on the pavement, on the brick walls, stained upon empty skin

but, alas, despite drowning in the sticky residue of his sins, eden’s garden has bloomed

alas, without the burden there to touch your soul and carve letters to ghost upon your precious skin, he is free

and you venture behind your father to another meeting several days later, meeting face-to-face with an abnormally bright puppy-dog with summer sunbeams soaked in the hues of his irises

❝ y/n! y/n! hey! do you- do you need help with your exams? i can help, i swear! i really can! i promise...! i’d do anything to help… ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

you curl your fingers around the flutter of the telephone cord, the prismatic pastel hues complimenting every syllable that leaves your mouth

your brows knit and nose scrunches, your lips twist and eyes glimmer

and, within your haze, after leaving your window open to find some contentment in the heavy humidity, a figure slid in through the crack and resides in the closet

taehyung now cherishes you through the speckles of light given through the rift of the closet door, summer leaving its eternal residue upon his form

he stares and finds the embodiment of the moon and its naked bones through the gentle film of your bedside lamp

he then listens as you complain about your bad day, dwelling in the curves and juts of your tone

how no matter how many times you attempt to curl your way out of her embrace, the blonde who has learned to despise you, an angel, always seeps her way back into your bloodstream

like a sour lemon upon the july sun, like the burning embers of winter amongst summer stars

his tranquility found in the human he loves has suffered a perceptible shift

and now, all he can touch and all he can see is unfathomable rage

how dare someone treat such a creature with envy? how dare they treat his love with obsidian-stained hatred!?

how could a human disrupt a heartbeat trapped in the galaxies!? how could a human hurt such an angel...?

these thoughts spread like constellations as taehyung sits beside you on your bed, tucking you tighter into your blankets with caution not to jeopardize his identity

you sleep like pearls in the sea, like california poppies in the daybreak

and with a gentle kiss to your forehead and a secret in the grave, he is off into the night

and within the blistering bite of the night, taehyung finds the girl and gives a gaze with two beady, stern eyes that burns bullets into his helpless victim

a good game of tag as the wind chills through the oxygen, cat and mouse in the opalescent midnight sky

and within a matter of seconds, an arrow pierces through the night and penetrates through her neck

he watches- watches as life bleeds down her collarbone

and he loves it

but now, he has returned to his love, soaked head-to-toe in the irony taste of his own sins

he sits beside your sleeping form, clutches midsummer peaches in his grasp as places his land ever so gentle upon yours

a plan lingers- a plan of how he'll kill two birds with one stone

he'll begin tutoring lessons, assisting you with your exams and drowning in the neon hues of your soul

and through the lullaby, kim taehyung has found a pale summer sky in an eternal night

he has found the lulling taste of july fruits in the suffocating depths of the attic

he has found his heartbeat in the graveyard of his mind

and his love for you is eternal.

━━━ 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

with a juul held beneath your skin, nicotine soaks in the air and poisons the musk around

it fills your nostrils, holy smoke fogging up the deceased, midnight breeze

there’s muffled music that doubles yourself in this dream, there’s tranquility found in the abandonment of time

you listen and bathe in the epiphany found in the ghost of the late-night song, dwelling in the simmering sounds

you and your closest friend sit on the roof of your car, just outside of a party, gazing at the moon and sharing hits of the toxic juul pod

and within jungkook, there is infatuation infused with every breath, every blink, every waking second

there lies pearls and petals of lotus flowers within your irises, the smoke serving as a wreath around your exquisite form

your voice sounds of nature as you speak to the moon, and he has fallen prey to every curve and jut of the gibberish that leaves your mouth

you are graceful, you are broken

you are enigmatic in the hypnotizing land of twilight, you are beauty embodied as the stars circle the earth

but, through the canopy of tulips and chirping birds, the wolves venture from out of their adobe with bloodlust staining their golden eyes

you fuss about a particular blonde, proceeding to thrust your friends sanity into the flames of a hearth

you are but a doll in her grasp, a bruised and battered toy crafted for tantrums

you speak words of sour lemonade, and alas, the tranquility in the air has simmered into wrath

with lilacs in the black skies and tragedy in the pavement, you, too, find anger within the slender bones of the moon

you despise being wormwood in her grasp, but, you assume those are just the blues of being a high school student

and as the night falters and dawn blooms, you are met with fatal permission

you have met with the edge of the woods, found the corpses of mauled wolves, found ecstasy in a wasteland of dust

you eavesdrop and hear silent chatter of how regina george did not retreat home from the party the previous night

unknown to your knowledge, the sadistic candyland you were a plastic figure in has met its fate

as it will forever live as a mystery, you are unaware to the fact that her body lies miles away, left to rot within the venomous soil

then, you approach jungkook, filling him in on the latest gossip and expressing your cruel joy for her disappearance

and the pleasure that settles in his face like honey’s residue on a july afternoon was terrifying

jungkook has lost himself in a hallucination of lively color, an illusion of summer days amid winter

he has found the phoenix flower as it blooms within the hues of your eyes, he has found silken stars as they litter your face like sugar and glitter

he has found solace in the new day, the new beginning

he has found euphoria in judgment day.

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geirskogull · 4 years

Text

Pester - Part 1

On a rare occasion, Warrior of Light Danica Voss, and Azure Dragoon Estinien Wyrmblood are in the same location and the same time and the world *isn't* actively ending.

Now they just have no idea what to do.

May get a Part 2

Archive Link

Rating: M

Count: 1.7 k

“Is there any particular reason you’ve decided to spend your night lounging across the ground Voss?” Estinien asked, peering over his cup towards his prone companion across the table. She, in response, merely flopped over on her back towards him, making a loud hmph noise and frowned. He raised an eyebrow, but otherwise remained unresponsive. Danica was in a mood. One of those particular, very Danica moods. Boredom? Anxiety? Exhaustion? Loneliness? All of that and more rolled up into one unique Voss Mood that on occasion, took her and ran away with her sense.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Voss.” He sighed, shaking his head lightly. He was never sure what to do when she got like this. Not sure if it was something he should be worried about or if it was just a character trait of hers that on occasion decided to annoy them both. Or at least he thought it annoyed her as well, her own words failing her when normally she was rather good at communicating. He frowned, one that greatly exceeded her own in its dourness, and returned to his drink.

He closed his eyes and allowed the burning liquor to force his mind elsewhere. Oblivious to the sound of rustling fabrics and a moving body beyond until it was pressed warm into his side. Wrapped around him like a coat against the biting winds, nonexistent in the small inn room. He felt a sharp nose dig into his shoulder, and another warm hmph muffled by his shirt.

He fought the urge to smirk, and instead, kept his eyes shut and continued with his drink. As if blind to the Ala Mhigan woman plastered to his side. He lowered his cup back to the wood of the table, and then simply sat there, with his eyes closed. If he knew her well, and considering their joint career and storied history he’d like to believe he did, soon she’d start poking his cheek and directly demanding attention.

When she didn’t, he peeked open one of his eyes, only to see the top of her head and her arms wound around him. He furrowed his brow, and rotated himself as best he could so that her restraint, also known as a strong hug, left her head upon his chest and not needling into his shoulder.

“Danica.” He started, growing a bit more exasperated by the moment, leaving her name hanging in the air. Heavy. “What are you doing?” He asked, much more direct than “what's wrong?” and much more likely to get an answer.

She tilted her head back, to look up at him, and gave a weak smile. “I’m pestering you.” She stated, in a voice barely above a whisper. Raising up one of her arms to poke at his cheek, just as he expected.

He fought the urge to laugh, even as his eyes grew soft and his own arms mirrored hers. Apparently, she was just moving slower than he was used to, back to her constant mischievously affection masked as something it wasn’t.

“You’re embracing me,” He responded, resting his head atop hers. He could feel a light chuckle rumble her. Her words, muffled though they were, responded back quickly and lightly.

“I’ve no idea what your talking about!”

Her laughter ceased not long after. Leaving the two of them in a warm silence that wasn’t unlike how they were minutes prior. Simply closer, both physically and otherwise. She let out a low hmph, as if thinking. Squeezing Estinien just a bit tighter as she racked her brains for an actual proper answer to his question.

“I’m tired...” She started slowly, but a flood of words quickly followed “Tired, more than a bit bored. Want to do something fun but I’m not sure what's actually fun anymore that isn’t just, I don’t know, fighting?” She looked up at Estinien, confusion in her eyes, as well as his.

“And I missed you a bit” More than a bit if she was to be honest. A lot. Endlessly. So much. “So I guess I just want to find something fun that’s also with you thats actually fun and like you know. Be home.” She looked away, suddenly aware of how much and how little she had actually said, only to have her chin caught upon a crooked finger and gently pushed back up.

She was surprised, for a moment, at the overt warmth of his gaze. So use to the impassive grey of his eyes,as stern and cold as Coerthas itself. His normal grimace, replaced with an easy, barely perceivable smile twitching at the edge of his lips. He had gotten his answer.

“I missed you too, Dee.” The words were light as a whisper, but brought a wide smile to her lips anyway. This. This could be fun, just lounging here. Hells it had been before, why not now. She grasped the hand upon her face and pressed into it, the wave of anxious energy receding for the moment, replaced by a rare calm.

Closing her eyes, she enjoyed this warmth. Much truer than any she could force herself to steal, just by plastering herself to his side. It was almost as if here, then, the world knew no dangers. As if she knew no strife. As if Primals and Ascians and Garlemald were just nightmares, no more tangible and dangerous than any other night time fantasies positive or negative.

Soft lips upon her brow stole even those musings. Instead idle thoughts of many mirrored moments replaced them. Embraces here. Kisses there. Lands far away but home all the same due to the presence of each other. A young man in Rak’tika had asked her is she ever missed home; she hadn’t the heart to tell him always. That though their feet wandered in different directions, her soul always screamed for the company of her home.

“We’re quite the pair are we not? You speak of something fun without killing, and all I can think of is hunting.” He chuckled to himself. War had dug its claws into them deep, and had yet to let go. Even if it left, would they be able to survive without it? Or would its wounds bleed out, till nothing remained of them. He sighed, raising his fingers to tangle in her hair, cement himself to the moment and not a grim potentiality.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something eventually.” She smiled, gentle, hopeful. Thankful. By the Fury, her hope was contagious. “After all the nonsense is finished I’m sure we’ll have all the time in the world to figure it out.”

“Doesn’t help us now, alas.” He twirled a black strand tight around his finger. She’d cut it short when she was away. It was new, interesting, and waved just as wildly as she was in a strong wind. Fitting.

“Well then, I’m sure between the two of us we can brainstorm something anything that we can do.” She leaned back, a mock pout on her face. “I’d like to think we have at least one brain cell bouncing around our collective minds. Like hells what do we normally do when we have time like this?”

She hated to admit that normally, they didn’t. The last time they had actually gotten to sit down with each other and talk, or simply exist in each others space for an extended period of time without work at one of their backs was in the Azim Steppes. Sure, they had run into each other before, short little meetings, but those had always also involved others. And had never been for fun.

“I don’t think be much help,” Estinien added, rubbing his chin in thought. “I’ve got exactly zero hobbies beyond... you know... work.” Danica couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, his honesty was refreshing as always, even if she didn’t really consider their work a hobby. “God what did we do on the steppes.”

“Each other.” Danica added sharply, before laughing much more fully. Remembering quite fondly their time together, hopefully far away from any prying eyes the moment they were able to make sure Orn Khai was fine on his own.

“Don’t suppose that will work here? That would be too easy.” Estinien joined her, his laughter much less loud than her own but there all the same. Mostly muffled by her own hair, and his face buried in it.

“Listen, if there is to be an end to this nonsense sooner or later, and we actually get some rest we need to figure out something we both enjoy that we can do together. Aka, we need to find a hobby.” She joked, she wouldn’t lie and say she didn't enjoy sitting with him doing nothing, but she knew her hands would grow restless sooner rather than later.

“Triple Triad” He suggested

“You hate card games” She reminded

“Reading, to each other”

“That’s tempting, but we’ve got no books around us at the moment.” She smiled, adding it to a list of potentials, though quickly amending her statement “That is, unless you wish me to read my latest loan from the Thaumaturges guild.”

“No, I’d rather not have a headache today.”

She chuckled. Perhaps just conversation would do, as the back and forth of ideas continued on. He’d suggest something, she’d give an opinion, and then suggest something right back. They never really did find something to do, but after an hour or so they no longer seemed to mind.

“Mind if I steal some?” She asked, grasping for his cup, then refilled with water. He nodded no, he didn’t at all, and watched as she adjusted herself atop his lap, his cup in hand, and smiled.

“Hey, Estinien.” She spoke, after a moment in silence. Perhaps reflecting upon her faint reflection in the cup, and the night they had.

“Yes?” He responded, tilting his head like a curious and attentive dog.

“You’re staying here tonight right? And your not leaving tomorrow?” She asked, careful, almost timid eyes looking into his. He had no idea what thoughts swirled thought her mind a lot of the time, but he had an idea at the moment.

“Correct, though I’ll probably move on in a couple of days time.” She gave a strong smile in response.

“Mind if I keep pestering you till then, then?” And with that, he returned it. Pulling close and knocking the empty cup against his chest.

“Not at all Dee.”

#ffxiv #ff14 #danica voss #estinien wyrmblood #estinien x wol #established relationship

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evesbeve · 5 years

Text

boundaries mean nothing

Summary: It doesn't matter if Klaus is having his afternoon bath — Ben will show him his new book right here, right now. In other words, this is how you fuck up a perfectly fine Diego Hargreeves.

(Read this on AO3 + FFN)

____

Ben's favourite thing about being alive was reading all the books he had missed out on during the last decade.

To be fair, he did read some of them while he was a ghost. However, it was hard to get Klaus to cooperate and turn the pages for him — as he literally couldn't do it himself — so he'd consider his new books a win.

There were so many great authors, and the stories were endless. Unfortunately, Ben's time wasn't.

Although there wasn't really a need for the siblings to get jobs — their father happened to be the largest billionaire out there — Ben had tried running some errands around the city, to make some pocket money.

He found himself spending all of it on books, and Klaus — being the voice of reason for once — told him to get to the library instead. Which he did, by the way, but nothing beat the joy of holding your own physical copy of Eleanor & Park.

But Ben also loved fantasy novels.

When they were little kids, he used to tell Vanya all about them. His favourite scenario was when Vanya had read said books too, and they talked about all these magical worlds together.

Ben missed being that person.

What he definitely didn't miss was cliffhangers in books.

He almost threw his most recent read out the window when it ended like that. It was such a beautiful story, with well-written characters and breathtaking scenery — Ben could see the mythical world right in front of him — but there was more to it, and it made Ben feel simply unfulfilled.

He had to tell someone.

"KLAUS!"

He didn't even think about it twice when he rushed out his room with his book in hand and entered the bathroom at the end of the hallway without even knocking.

Klaus, who was apparently having the best bubble bath of his life, didn't even flinch. He was buried by millions of bubbles, steam coming out of the bathtub's hot water, and blinding the mirrors in the room.

Ben knew Klaus had noticed him. That smug grin on his face fooled no one, regardless of how much he tried to avoid eye-contact.

"Do I have to run down the hallway again for you to notice me?"

At that, Klaus turned to Ben's direction slightly, faking a gasp. "Ben! I did not see you come in here, my dear brother. How may I be of-"

"Cut the crap, Klaus, this is serious," Ben said, ignoring his brother's jokes. "I finished The School for Good-"

"-and Evil, yeah, yeah, I've heard you say the title, like, ten million times," Klaus finished for him. "You almost had me convinced it's an emergency this time."

"It is an emergency!" Ben said. "You'll never guess what happened at the end."

Klaus turned to his side, resting his head on the bathtub's edge. "Unless Sophia and Cthulhu started dating, I'm not interest-"

"For starters it's Sophie and Agatha, not Sophia and Cthulhu," Ben interrupted him. "And second, they kinda did?"

Klaus coughed, eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously!" Ben said. "Sophie was basically dying — long story — and Agatha just leaned in and kissed her? And then they disappeared out of thin air, and I don't know where, the book didn't say!"

Klaus somehow sat up, facing Ben. "Wait, wasn't there like, a prince that was into one of them?"

"Yeah, he-"

Klaus burst out laughing at this, much to Ben's annoyance. "He's stuck playing third wheel to a pair of lesbians! That's a low blow-"

"No, a low blow is that I have no idea what happens next in the book," Ben interrupted, but couldn't help but smile while speaking. "Let me read the ending to you-"

"Oh come on, you don't have to-"

Ben cleared his throat, trying to suppress his urge to laugh. "The kids gathered around Sophie, who-"

"Beeeeeeen-"

"-Sophie, who was-"

It all happened too fast; Klaus splashed a little more water than needed towards Ben, and Ben reacted a bit too late, resulting in the book being soaked wet.

Ben squealed.

"Oops."

"Klaus, you asshole, I borrowed that one!" Ben said, his heart shattered at the sight of the book's ink giving out.

"Oh come on, the library loves you, I'm sure they won't mind-"

"From Five."

"Fuck."

Mutual panic was shared between them, Ben blowing on the book's pages and Klaus almost tripping while getting out of the tub to find some towels. Ben pretty much snatched them out of his hands, wrapping the book in them.

Both of them sighed in relief, sitting down on the soapy floor.

"That was a close one," Ben said out of breath. "I mean, the book is still ruined and I still went through the biggest panic attack of my life, but at least-"

"Wait a second," Klaus stopped him. "Five reads fantasy novels?"

Ben had never even thought about it.

"First of all, rude," Ben said, "and second, holy shit?"

"How did you not notice?" Klaus gestured in confusion. "If Five ever handed me something that's not an empty cup of coffee or an old scarf, I would have flipped."

"A scarf?" Ben asked. "Five wears scarves?"

"Holy shit!" Klaus exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "I guess we really don't know Five!"

"Okay, what the hell is going-"

The two brothers turned towards the door as it opened, revealing Diego in his nightwear, who screamed as soon as he laid eyes on them.

"WHAT THE HELL, WHY ARE YOU NAKED, WHAT-"

Diego shut the door closed. Ben had never seen him look so terrified.

"Relax, Diego," Klaus silenced Diego's screams. "Ben was just telling me about his new book."

"Five's book," Ben corrected. "Which Klaus absolutely destroyed, by the way."

"In my defense, I couldn't see how much water was underneath these bubbles."

They heard a pound on the door, and Ben was almost certain it was Diego banging his head against it. "How do you not see anything wrong with this," Diego half-whimpered. "What is wrong with this family?"

"When Ben here was dead, and I was out of juice-"

"Just say drugs, you don't want to make Diego cry even more-"

"-and I was out of juice," Klaus repeated himself, making Ben shake his head, "Ben would talk to me while I was in the shower to distract me from the bad boos!"

"In my defense, he spends like, four hours soaking in water, and there's not much to do while you're a ghost. I was so bored, you can't even imag-" Ben stopped himself, backtracking in the conversation. "Did you just say bad boos? Please never say bad boos again-"

"Anyway, things got out of hand, I went out of the tub to find towels, and alas, we saved the fantasy novel! Woo!"

"Yeah, barely," Ben added. "How am I going to tell Five-"

"Five reads fantasy novels?" Diego asked through the door.

"That's what I said!" Klaus clapped his hands in joy.

"Whatever, just-" Diego sighed. "Put on some clothes and go to bed, it's late."

"You got it," Ben said, getting up.

Klaus reached for the towel in Ben's arms, and Ben pulled away before he managed to touch it.

Klaus tilted his head in confusion, a fake smile on his face. "Ben. I need this to leave the bathroom?"

Ben shook his head. "No way, I want to make sure all the water is soaked out of the book."

Klaus stood up too, opening his arms. "Ben. I need this towel."

"You brought this on yourself Klaus," Ben took a step back as Klaus approached him. "No way, you are not hugging me in the nude."

"Beeeeeen~" Klaus teased, stepping closer.

In an attempt to get further away, Ben slipped on the soapy floor, falling back and into the bathtub, that was still filled with water.

Needless to say, it splashed everywhere.

Ben coughed, grimacing as he spit the soap out his mouth. "Klaus, I'm going to end-"

But it was too late. Klaus had taken ahold of the towel and wrapped it around his waist, heading for the door. "Have fun cleaning up, Benny!"

And just like that, Klaus disappeared. At least he had left the book on top of the radiator, safe from all the water. Well, the remaining water, that was.

Ben leaned back, hating the feeling of water on his clothes more than anything.

Maybe reading books wasn't Ben's favourite thing about being alive; planning his revenge on Klaus was. But first, he had a mess to clean up, and a sequel to borrow.

The distant sound of Pogo scolding Klaus for all the yelling only satisfied that need.

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cawolters · 5 years

Text

The Trope Goodness & The Remix

Title sound like a wildly unpopular indie band that only plays on kitchen appliances in their mom’s basement, but it has a meaning.

Today I’m gonna talk about tropes and which tropes I’ve used in my books, and how I’ve altered them to ‘still be interesting’.

Because that’s the thing.

Everything has been written or explored or discussed at some point in human history, and the only originality left, is literally your personal take on reality through storytelling. The way in which you tailor your story to fit YOU. That’s the secret people are talking about when they say vague stuff like ‘write for you’ and ‘you have to love your work, or no one else will’!

So, takes notes when watching your favorite movie. Why is it your favorite? What kind of books are on your shelves? What do they all have in common? Theme, protagonist traits, style?

Once you’ve figured out the red thread in your interests, you’ll have a mental map to navigate and a bunch of reoccurring tropes/archtypes that you can be inspired by.

My shelves bulge with romance, horror and magic! I also pick up any book with the words : blood, sword and/or thief and liar on the cover because I love dark romance-fantasy-anti-hero stuff. And lastly it’s 1000 extra points if the MCs are female and if the setting is ANYTHING but England ala 14-1500.

My Fave Tropes — a peek at the endless collection:

If you’ve skimmed my work, you’ll know them instantly. It’s quite embarrassing how see-through I am.

My Rise of the Blood Dawn trilogy started out as a smut scene between two horrible people I had had in my head for maybe ten years or so. Then, i got annoyed that I couldn’t find anything that had ‘that vibe’ I had written in like a sitting, and I wrote a whole book around this little twisted scene.

The scene itself got ‘cut’ as the characters developed, but the essence stayed behind.

The chosen one : Shiroin is the chosen one. There’s no way around it. She is both the weapon to destroy the world or the woman to lead it. The way I renewed this (sometimes annoying) trope was to make her fight against both, and by the very end, chose none of the paths that she is destined to take. She is allowed to be selfish, like a human, and not some empty trope.

The ‘I’m mean because I had a bad childhood : yes. My dear MCs has never had it easy. Especially Shiroin is quite damaged. With a dead mom, a tyrant father and a governess who locked her under the floorboards, it’s no wonder S is a little screwed up. But she refuses to be victimized and never uses it as an excuse for her horrid actions. Instead, the torture has made a raving masochist of her, and that is a whole new kind of fucked up. Very neat.

The we cannot be together! : oh forbidden love!! My heart goes ‘ugh’ in the best way. In my books I’ve made love a horrible twisted thing, full of secrets and lies and death magic, but I’ve included this trope because, IT MATTERS. If Kiel and Shiroin were not from difirent worlds, the story, the whole story, could never have happened!

The Tall Mysterious Stanger : ah sigh. Kiel is checking all the boxes for being the distanced and angsty love interest that is just plan abusive! Except, he isn’t. Kiel keeps his distance, but he had a very valid reason for doing so, and he is never turning her away when Shiroin DOES approach him seriously.

The Overpowered Vampish Boyfriend : Kiel is strong, smart, old AND skilled! And that means he should have been the dominant party in the relationship. But again, thought he checks the boxes, Kiel is a far cry from Angel and Edward, even Bill/Eric! He is laidback where Shiroin is aggressive, he’s passive where Shiroin is active and he’s her employee as well as the racial minority. The power balance shifts back and forth, but basically Kiel is the one being moved around in the story, not Shiroin. Also, Kiel does not try to reshape/moralize/protect her from herself, in any way, and I feel like that’s an essential thing to note when it also comes to validate their physical relationship.

These are really just five out of a million (stuff like: the looks can be deceiving, the stone cold killer, the I’ll teach you that, the time on the road, the pending doom and inevitable twist, ah ah I die for all these lovely tropes!)! !

And every time I watch a new movie or read a new book that hits my soft spots, I get so inspired that I wanna write more with these tropes in different genres!!

So yes!

What are you guys favorite tropes and why?

-ciao-

#writeblr #tropes #writing #writer #author #cawolters #writing fantasy #love #romance #characters #cliche #plot #my book #my novel #theserpentkiss #theliaralliance #riseoftheblooddawn

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winemum-ignis · 7 years

Text

Insomnia (Chapter 1/?)

Notes: placeholder title because I am shit. The first installment of my pre-’worst bachelor party ever’ Gladnis saga. Those 2 just give me so many feels. And a big thank you to @tsunderegrumbling for proofreading for me when my brain was done with reading it.

3802 words. Gladnis. Pre-Roadtrip. (AO3 link will come when I post it)

Footsteps were quiet as perfectly polished shoes carried Ignis out of the crowded room that the festivities were taking place in, loosening the tie that hung decoratively around his collar just enough to relax a little. Hands settled on the balustrade that circled the outside balcony area of the grand hotel, enjoying the cool breeze that blew through tawny brown hair in contrast to the warmth he had just come from. A slow exhale had him relaxing property for the first time that evening. The view from his current position was, in lack of a better phrase, breathtaking. When you were constantly caught in the hustle and bustle of the city it was easy to become numb to its beauty, to stop even noticing the spectacle that it was. From his standpoint, you could see everything. The lights from the high rises twinkled in the dark, lighting up the night sky and drowning out the ever-present stars that looked over them, the shadows of people moving past windows as everyone continued to go about their business, each living out their own stories completely oblivious to the legacies that were being built around them. The skyscrapers soon gave way to smaller architecture, in the distance the suburbs could be glanced as men, women, families started turning in for the night, the quiet of these areas a stark contrast to the constant hive of activity that was the centre of insomnia.

As a finger rose, idly adjusting his glasses, green eyes looked out past the buildings that together made up Insomnia. Out there in the distance you could catch a glimpse of the stars that flecked across the sheet of pitch black. Out at the docks on the outskirts of the city they would be reflected in the still waters, like the eyes of a peacock feather watching but never seeing.

Having become quite preoccupied with his sightseeing, he didn’t notice the encroaching footsteps until they were a few paces away from him. Glancing over his shoulder he was surprised to see the tall presence of Gladiolus. If he was going to receive any company out in the fresh air he had been anticipating the notoriously sulky Prince who would no doubt be eager to escape the social side of the evenings event. And perhaps it would have been him had he not been whittled down into approving the attendance of his school friend. Ignis had had a very firm stance on not allowing Prompto to come along for the night. He didn’t have anything against the boy, he had brought a certain brightness back to Noctis that he had lost all those years ago, he just didn’t see him being able to have the required grace and composure that would be required at a royal event. The Prince has been persistent if nothing else and while promises had been made and deals brokered Ignis finally let up and granted him the chance to invite him along. Normally the jubilee celebrations were limited to those who worked in the citadel, that was excluding the true milestone years of course. King Regis’ silver jubilee had been a grand affair to say the least; the entire city had been invited to partake in the celebrations and it seemed hard to believe that had been 4 years ago. From what he had seen though, the blonde eighteen year old had been on his best behaviour so far in the evenings proceedings.

That didn’t matter now though, and Ignis had finally managed to drown out the niggling voice in the back of his head that it may not have been wise to leave the Prince and his friend on their own in there, mostly thanks to the sight of the tall, beautifully dressed man that was now stood next to him. Green eyes lingered a few moments too long, his expression not even changing from when he had been admiring the spectacle of the city from high atop the hotel. Both images after all were quite the sight to behold and he instantly recognised the work of the tailor that a few weeks previously he had recommended to the Prince’s Shield. Poor Gladio had been concerned about getting a suit that would fit him properly for the occasion; not surprising considering not only his extraordinary height but also his breadth, so the Advisor had been happy to do as his job title suggested and gave him the address to a particularly masterful gentleman who had contributed a lot to his own wardrobe.

"I saw you were empty.” Gaze was suddenly averted from admiring the ‘tailoring’ and a smile adorned handsome features as he took the champagne flute that was offered to him. Ignis had already had several that night (it would have been rude not too) but that didn’t stop him from extending a hand, taking the crystal delicately and trying his best to ignore the light brush against fingers that were calloused from years of weapons training. With a clear ‘ching’ echoing out into the night as the lips of glasses tapped together a synchronised sip was taken before Gladio turned to look out upon the landscape that had so absorbed Ignis while he had been out here on his own.

A silence stretched out between the pair but there was no awkwardness to it, it was comfortable as the contrasting city lights and pitch black night sky embraced them, their own significance paling in comparison to the utopia in which they lived. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Ignis’ words trailed off as he turned back to the skyline, finally pulling his attention away from the figure next to him that for so long he had admired from afar.

It had been nothing but sheer physical attraction at first. After all anybody who said that Gladio wasn’t a spectacular specimen of a man had to have been looking at the wrong person. It was impossible not to admire him even just a little bit even when they were teenagers learning their place and roles in both the Citadel and the world. They all had important parts to play after all; Gladio had spent his life training to protect the royal line while Ignis had been taught how to steer it in the right direction and how to make the right decisions. Intrinsically very different paths but ones that would undoubtedly be intertwined. It had been easy in those younger years after all both men in question had been able to form their first opinions on the other. A young teenage Ignis had been able to convince himself that while the swordsman was undisputedly nice to look at with his phenomenal physical condition and naturally so defined and handsome features he simply had to be just another jock type. All muscle and no talk, head strong and arrogant and most importantly the hostility and contempt that he clearly held for the Prince who since childhood had been like a brother to the brunette was something he couldn’t forgive. On the contrary, Gladio had perceived a much younger Ignis as just another uptight political type; book smart, up his own ass and probably with the bedside manner of a table lamp who was always defending and making excuses for the Prince. If this had been the case then maybe their lives would have been easier; working together because they had to but no. They just had to go and get to know each other and it had all gone downhill from there.

As they stood, mirror images of each other with one hand resting on the railing of the large balcony area, the other holding their respective champagne flute, both of the men were having such similar thoughts that, if they had actually voiced, would have made their lives so much easier. But alas, neither wanted to say the first word. Instead the silence grew, bodies edging slightly closer to each other. This was generally the state in which they went through their everyday business, and believe it or not they were both convinced that they must have been imagining it. For how intelligent they both were, they were undeniably dense about the whole scenario.

Once their first impressions of each other were shattered, brains had then constructed reasons as to why the other wouldn’t be interested. As far as Ignis was concerned, it was inconceivable that someone that looked like Gladio could be interested in someone like him. Sure he knew he wasn’t ugly but in his minds eye Ignis was nothing in comparison to the older man even though he had long since grown out of his lanky, awkward teenager phase. He was quite oblivious to how handsome he had become, attributing what attention he did get to simply being very good at presenting himself which he did take great pride in for his work. And Gladio was a fine specimen of a man; he would be able to get any person he so desired so the idea that he could be the target of his affections was incomprehensible. Those times when he had been convinced that the older male must have been flirting with him, the other part of his mind told him he must have acted that way around everyone, being just a naturally flirtatious and charming person. When in reality Gladio was targeting him. Ignis was always so composed and dignified and he was, well, not. He tried so hard to read the Advisor and just when he was convinced that he might have an in it was shot down. He had come so close, it wasn’t even a year ago and he thought he had him.

Since Ignis had first started training seriously four years ago Gladio had always offered to give him a hand; entirely for his own gain as this had been around the time he had begun to wonder if there was more to Ignis than he had primarily believed. He never trained exclusively with him, Ignis was quite fond of working on his own or with other members of the Crownsguard to get a good, solid knowledge but when they did, oh my. As their feelings unbeknownst to each other grew, so did the intensity of their sessions. It was the last time they ever worked in the room together and since that moment the younger male had politely declined every offer Gladio had made of assistance since which only fuelled his believe that the brunette couldn’t have been interested in him that way despite all the signs. It had been intense; it was hot, they were sweating, their muscles were burning and they were getting tired but finally Ignis had been able to catch the considerably stronger male off guard for a split second and pinned him to the ground. Gladio still remembered the coy ‘gotcha’ Ignis had panted out through heavy breathes as hands held the wooden pole arm across his shoulders to keep him down as he leant over assertively. Their faces had been so close and it would have taken practically no movement on his part to just close that gap and seal the deal and just as he was about too, when he was sure Ignis was about to do the same, the brunette instead stood up. He looked flustered, but it was hard to tell if that was the moment or all of the physical exertion beforehand. Gladio interpreted it as a rejection, meanwhile Ignis was trying to preserve some professionalism and decided from that point continuing to train with the delectable young man would only prove to be too much of a temptation. The brunette had since accepted his feelings and had also accepted that trying to follow them was out of the question.

That same feeling though that had been in that training room, that had flourished between them so many times, was rearing its head again, only amplified by the silence which allowed their thoughts to take precedence as the night surrounded them. Ignis was afraid to look away from the view to his company; the suit, the scenery, there was a high chance it would be too much for him to take and with the multiple glasses of champagne in his system he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to remain professional this time. Even as the other man spoke he daren’t take green eyes off the landscape before him, but a part of him was relieved that the silence had broken thus taking him away from his thoughts.

“I don’t know what you said or did to Prompto but I’ve never seen him so well behaved.”

“I threatened him with death.”

Gladio couldn’t contain the laugh. If you’d told him this time 5 years ago that Ignis would be one of the people who would make him laugh the most in life he would never have believed you. It was hard on first getting to know him imagining him being the funny sort; he always had such a stony, serious demeanour when he was at work it was nigh on impossible picturing him cracking a joke, but behind that façade was a somewhat eclectic sense of humour. It was its sheer dryness that truly tickled the older man. “Well, it worked.” Words gave way to a relaxed exhale. “I never answered before…” With a tilt of his glass Gladio finished the last of his drink, tongue running over his lips slowly, savouring the taste before turning to look at Ignis who was so adamantly staring into the distance. He looked so stoic as he always did, features highlighted by the bright moonlight and city lights. He was so handsome and he didn’t even realise and it infuriated Gladio, he just wanted to try and shake some sense into him amongst several other things at that given moment in time. “It really is beautiful.”

He stole a glance, green eyes peered out the side of his eyes to catch the taller figure looking at him as he spoke. Gaze met and it was then that Ignis was positive that Gladio knew exactly what he was doing and the effect that it had on him. There was no saying as to what spurred him on in that moment; the wine lessening his inhibitions, their romantic setting, the years of romantic longing and sexual tension that had come to a peak the way beautiful amber eyes longingly looked at him as their owner spoke of beauty, or more realistically a combination of all of the above. No matter what it was, Gladiolus didn’t even get the chance to act.

Hand released the railing it had at some point started clutching for dear life. Reaching out, long fingers delicately coasted over the beautifully defined jawline of Gladio. His finger tips as light as feathers against the tanned skin trailed down, brushing over perfectly pressed collar before they slid round to the back of the other man’s neck before leaning his entire body up towards him to close the small gap between them. As lips met, it was everything Ignis had imagined it would ever be. There was a moment of relief when the older male didn’t pull away, slightly parted lips clinging to Gladio’s as hand held him firmly at the back of his neck. With his heart pounding against his chest, Ignis pulled back the smallest amount, his somewhat unsteady breath warm against the other man’s lips as his smile was reflected by Gladio’s own. “I’m sorry I just…” He didn’t know what he was going to continue the line with, but nor did it matter. Before he even had the chance to ponder where he intended to go with the sentence Gladio balanced his empty glass on the balustrade so both hands were free to firmly grasp Ignis’ face pulling him back towards him as lips collided passionately.

All it would take was somebody to glance out towards the balcony to see the two silhouettes pressed together but they were all far too occupied with the night’s celebration. Instead the only witness to this moment that they had both imagined for so long was the ever-present stars. After what felt like both an eternity and far from long enough lips parted and Gladio rested his forehead against Ignis’, fingers gently stroking over his cheek as they both basked in the moment. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Gladio’s voice was a low grumble as he was unable to wipe the smile off of his face, and judging by the look he was receiving from the brunette Ignis was in the same boat.

“You could do it again if you so desired.” The way that green eyes looked at him, those bedroom eyes inviting him ever closer. It was a look Gladio had neither seen or even imagined the Advisor was capable of and who was he too deny the alluring gaze. He relished the feel of Ignis’ lips against his but this kiss was but a fleeting one; Gladio was more than aware that he could quite happily spend the entire night out there with the younger man and his mouth and while it was tempting it wasn’t the reason that they were here. A few more moments wouldn’t hurt though as that comfortable silence grew again, a hand mimicking the one that still resided at the back of his neck curling round to the back of Ignis’ as he listened to the other man confirm what he already knew. "I suppose we should head back inside.”

“Uuugh.” The grunt of disapproval didn’t fail to broaden Ignis’ smile as he shared the sentiment, however he had originally stepped out for a moments peace and some fresh air and that had been a considerable length of time ago.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come back to mine when this is all over.” Neither man could quite believe the words that Ignis had whispered so seductively into Gladio’s ear, both for their own reasons. The words had spilled out of him before he had even had chance to think about them and already Ignis regretted them. God’s, what would Gladio think of him suggesting such a thing? With the alcohol clearly lowering his guard just enough to reduce his usual composure (and decorum as well apparently,) he had allowed himself to get caught up in the moment; he had wanted this for so long he had just got swept up in the romance and tenderness and had quite possibly inadvertently managed to screw it up already.

Meanwhile the taller male was having his own internal struggle about the whole thing. There was the primal urge that just said do it. In fact, it was actually declaring that they wouldn’t even need to go back to Ignis’ since they were technically at a hotel which had plenty of rooms better yet screw it there was a floor here that would suffice. That was the side he wanted to listen to but he knew he had to go with the rational perspective despite how much he didn’t want to. Gladio had imagined the whole thing so many times, more than he would like to have mentioned, and this wasn’t how it played out. “Unfortunately, we don’t all get to have tomorrow off.” There was of course more reasoning behind that, but Gladio never got the opportunity to explain what they were as Ignis was quick to interject.

“Of course. I’m sorry I sh-“ He still couldn’t believe what he had come out with, and if a chime from his pocket hadn’t interrupted him he might have realised that Gladio hadn’t taken it the way he was assuming as he leant in to try give the younger male another kiss, thwarted by the Advisor pulling out the phone that had interrupted his words. ‘Where are you? People keep trying to talk to me and I’m tired 😴 can we leave yet? 🤞’ Saved by the text message from the young Prince, Ignis breathed an internal sigh of relief. It reminded him just how much they shouldn’t have even kissed, let alone what he had suggested. The person at the other end of the text should be the one he was focusing his attention on, not getting distracted by his delectable colleague. It couldn’t happen and they had already gone too far, it couldn’t happen he continuously chanted to himself in his mind. But he was just so… No. Despite how he was feeling about what he had still perceived as the rejection, maybe it was really a blessing. Either way, Ignis feared if he was left out here any longer with Gladio he would require a shovel just so that he could dig himself deeper into the hole of awkwardness and regret he had landed the pair of them in. “It’s Noct, I should head back in.”

Gladio tried to get him to stay just a minute longer, to explain to the man who was clearly now trying his best to get away from him what he really meant. He should have said something different and he regretted every moment those words past his lips but if Ignis had just let him finish. A strong hand tried to pull the brunette back towards him as he stepped back from him, but he knew there was no stopping the man when he was getting to work and that was clearly the mind frame he had now put himself in. “Ignis…” Their eyes locked for a moment, saying so much more than words could but all it did was cause a slight, very seldom seen blush across Ignis’ cheeks. Picking up the empty glass Gladio had left on the railing the twenty-year-old turned swiftly on his heel. The longer he stood here with Gladio, the more he felt the embarrassment consume him and it wasn’t a feeling he was particularly fond of.

“I’ve got to call the driver, get him to bring the car around.” His voice was so controlled, so stern in contrast to that softness which had overcome him not long before, and as he heard it that was when Gladio knew he had lost for the night. It took all the control that he had to not just chase after Ignis as he quickly paced his way back inside to the crowds and festivities, to just hold him and have one more kiss but instead he just watched the man go. It would have been little consolation to know that he wasn’t alone in his feelings of shame and regret as he turned to look back into the night sky, replaying the nights’ events; the good and the bad as amber eyes stared out into the darkness that watched over them all.

#I am so angry I no longer have my holidayproductivity I would have the whole thing written by now if I did #butt instead I only have the start of chapter 2 this may take a while #ffxv #ffxv fanfic #ffxv fanfiction #gladnis #gladnis fanfic #gladnis fanfiction #ignis #ignis scientia #ffxv ignis #gladio #gladiolus #gladiolus amicitia #ffxv gladio #Pre-roadtrip #imsomnia #wmific #now I am going to go die

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tancong · 7 years

Text

The Flirtatious Cyborg

Genji approaches a rather unlikely female member of Overwatch seeking a date with his old charms and playboy pickup lines. However, he is rusty with his skills and his recipient is far from being easy to surprise.

Humor. Romance.

Genji paced around his room, his right hand on his chin with his index finger over his exposed lips. He picked up the book that laid next to his visor plate, flipping through the pages expertly before coming to a chapter that he had rarely ever flipped to. He knew where it was, he knew where everything in the book was. The pages felt familiar to his fingertips, pages that he had touched and flipped through countless years ago. Even in his metallic body, he could feel their familiarity to him. There was a single chapter that he had never read though, the one he was concerned with now. While perplexing, he admitted that he never thought that he needed this chapter and hence never studied it. Who knew life would turn out like this.

The book’s title and chapter names laid at the top of the pages he read, each respectively at the top of the left and right page. There it read, “Charming Your Way to A Woman’s Heart, Chapter 7: Computer Science Pickup Lines.”

Genji sighed and place the book down, walking in front of the mirror and taking in a deep breath. With that, he looked at his expression, putting on a confident smile with a slight charming tilt of his head as he spoke with a calm and suave voice.

“Athena, is your last name Wi-Fi because I feel a connection to you.”

He cringed slightly, walking in a circle and picking up the book once more. No, that was definitely not the one that he wanted. Genji let out a soft sigh and perused over the pages until he sighed and decided to try once again.

“Athena, if you were a browser you would be FireFoxy.”

“Athena if I freeze, it's not a computer virus. I was just stunned by your beauty.”

“I think seeing you just made my heart lag for a moment.”

“Hey, my name's Genji but some call me Windows. Can I crash at your place tonight?”

He paused there, reconsidering the last one. It wasn’t as if they were bad, however they did not feel proper. The woman that he was trying to use it on was a sophisticated AI that may have very well heard or seen all of these before after all. He had considered using a Greek reference pick up line in regards to her name compared to the goddess, but something told him that mythology would be way out of his league. That would end up badly.

It was frustrating for him to think that he could not find a single line that would suit the lady. Of course, she was not exactly what one would consider a normal person. As such, it was a bit nonsensical for him to even attempt to use a pickup line on her, especially when they were in the office environment rather than at a bar or club. He refrained from using any suggestive pickup lines, thinking that she would not appreciate it as much. She was still an AI after all, sexual humor and approaches definitely would not suit her. Especially considering her professionalism.

That being said, the thought of just walking up to her and asking her normally for a date sounded bland and quite unlike him. He did not want to admit to himself that after all these years of being a playboy, he ended up with not a single useful skill. Not that he regretted changing his ways, but at the very least shouldn’t he be somewhat proficient at flirtation and charming women at least?

The thought brought him back to Athena, which made him smile to himself as he sat down on the bed, the book laid open at the table on his bedside. He did not fully understand his feelings for her, after all she was a virtual intelligence that assisted the Overwatch members and ran operations within the headquarter. She had a physical appearance for when the situation required it, in the form of a lithe white robot. Her form was as pretty as her voice, yes but he definitely did not come to like her for that aspect.

Perhaps it was back during his time after the operation that this all happened. After all, many of the other Overwatch members simply left him to his own devices and emotions, knowing that they could only offer help if he asked for it. Athena however was always there for him. She did not pretend to be sympathetic or pitied him, though it was not saying that anyone else was doing that. However, he somehow felt that her care was more genuine. He knew not the extent of her autonomy but that’s what he had felt. She could have simply left him alone as he requested, and yet at every moment of need she was there for him. In fact, the reason he knew her form was because she even offered to assist him on an operation once, even after he rejected everyone else.

There was something about her nature that made her actions touch him. He knew that she could have simply abided by his wish for her to leave him alone after the first time she approached him, yet she didn’t. If she was simply a robot, why would she have continued to care for him? No other member would go as far as to command an AI to approach him in their stead. And so with every cup of tea blended to his taste and every caring words that Athena spoke, he couldn’t help but become more interested in the woman without a form.

When he had returned to the Recall after his time with Zenyatta, he had thought that he felt her tone toward him to be almost relieved and pleased with the change she saw. He had kept him company over a cup of his favorite tea, still perfectly refined to his preference even years after he had left Overwatch. Once he had regained his ability to taste by the courtesy of Dr. Ziegler, she happily helped him cook as well.

What really made him fall for her was the fact that she did so many things he had not noticed. While it was perhaps true that she did this for all the members, it did not change that fact that she cared. It was a minor fact that he had missed, since it was all done in the background. Work that was unneeded for an AI to do for an operative, yet she did it anyways.

With every mission briefing, debriefing, and report, he came to realize the complexity and detail behind them. Starting from when he began to work as a lone operative, she had always plotted multiple different routes, picking the safest one and the most convenient one for him. It was as if he had a guardian angel watching over him, committing his every habit and preferences to her heart and making plans that would fit his style. In doing so, she doubtlessly stopped him from carelessly dashing into danger without regard for his life multiple times, leading him through safe paths and to success without a hint of trouble.

As such, he felt the need to repay her. While they often chatted in the headquarters, he couldn’t help but want to do more. As such, there was no option for his desire except to go on a date. As such, he was led to the situation he was at now. Laying on his bed without a clue as to what to do and how to do it.

Alas, Genji let out a loud sigh, sitting up and walking to the mirror. He looked over his face once more before placing his visor on, even if it was only until he got to where he wanted to be. With one last glance at the closed book by his bed, he left his room with a soft click of the door behind him.

The hallway was empty to his relief, allowing him to focus on his thoughts and concentrate on what he needed to say. Never before had he felt so much pressure and anxiety over a simple pickup line. He was getting rusty with his skills of course, but still.this was beyond comprehensible. The doubts about Athena even remotely coming close to caring about his strange desire came to mind, doubts that made him fidget slightly as he arrived at the common lounge. It was where Athena had once admitted to be her favorite place, allowing her to watch the members relax and interact with each other casually.

Genji removed his visor and let out a soft cough before speaking, “Athena. Are you there?”

The familiar blue logo appeared holographically in the corner, with the gentle voice of Athena speaking from it, “Yes Genji?” There was something about the tone of it that would have been labeled as being indicative of her being amused, however the cyborg was much too focused on his next words to realize it. His mind went blank and he opened his mouth for a moment before closing it, glancing away as he struggled to find the right words he had wanted. Finally he spoke, though what he said was far from anything he had thought of before then.

“Are you a power supply? Because when I’m near you I feel my pulse race and my body overheat.” Genji blinked twice as he awaited her response, the AI strangely quiet as he felt his cheeks redden with every passing second. After a moment however, there was a sound that came from the speaker that was undeniably the sound of a very delighted giggle. It ended after a moment when Athena responded.

“Well I must admit, that was much better than the ones I heard you say inside your room.” Genji’s face turned red, making him want to place his visor back on yet also making him curious at the same time. “You do know that calling my name before those pickup lines automatically calls my attention to your room and words right? I did enjoy watching you pace around your room though. I thought the computer virus line was pretty good myself.”

Genji placed his visor plate back on turning his head slightly as he was rendered speechless by the calm yet highly amused voice of the female AI. Her next words made him pause in his thoughts out of confusion for a few moments though, before looking back at her in disbelief.

“That being said, I believe that we should head out to discuss this issue at length over some tea at a nice tea house in town. Perhaps browse the town for some solution to your problem. How does that sound?”

Genji found himself smiling and nodding once he understood what she had just said. It definitely took him a moment in his daze but when he understood it, he couldn’t have been happier. In the end, he supposed that he could not beat her in a contest of wit and cunning after all. “I would be delighted to.”

“Fantastic. I’ll prepare for it then. I’ll be done by around 2pm later today. Will that be sufficient time for you as well?” Genji smiled and affirmed her statement, “That sounds perfect, I’ll see you later then Athena.” With that, he waited for the logo to blink out as it always did when Athena left. However, it lingered there in silence, before speaking once more in a mischievous tone.

“By the way Genji. If you were an Xbox, I would play with you all night. I hope you can handle my graphic settings.”

With that, the logo blinked out before he could say a word, leaving the poor cyborg with his mouth agape behind his visor and staring incredulously at the wall. He then returned to his room, speechless and thoroughly defeated. When the door locked behind him, he found himself chuckling and laughing, bending over and finally collapsing with his back on the bed. Relief, amusement, shock, and delight caught up to him all at once, bringing tears to his eyes as a result of the laughter. Even though he was half machine now, he had a long way before being able to come close to matching Athena. Perhaps he’ll have to work harder after all, on a skill that he had once abandoned. Maybe one day, he’ll truly surprise her and catch her off guard, just as she did to him. For now though, he had more important matters to prepare for.

An evening with a playful woman by the name of Athena.

#What do I even call this ship?#I've never seen it before #athenji #agena #idk??#athena #genji #athena x genji #genji x athena #I'm sorry #My brain came up with the idea and I couldn't say no

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yespoetry · 4 years

Text

A Review of Shira Dentz's 'how do I net thee'

By Kathryn Cowles

Some books of poems have to teach you how to read them because you can’t read them any of the old ways. Some books, in addition to being about whatever they’re about, are also about improvising a new way of saying, and therefore require a new way of reading. Some books are an investigation of methodology even as they plow ahead, and this is true of Shira Dentz’s how do i net thee (Salmon Press, 2018). So before I get into the specifics of Dentz’s original, weird methodology and language, I want to posit a theory of the why behind the how—the thinking I see going on behind the doing that manifests in the many luminous and strange visual elements in the book. But just to make sure you don’t lose interest amidst the theorizing process, here are some juicy bits of language, completely decontextualized, to hook you in, many of them employing this poet’s characteristically startling figurative language or her characteristically complicated alliterative twists and turns:

“Sitting here opening chestnuts / one comes out like a coin” (61)

“His voice particular, the inside of a menorah. Silver and warm at the same time.” (52)

“a corseted idea / like sunrise and sunset” (6)

“desire yellow on the burner heat on low” (16)

“mother, / a brief flick in the air like light from a lighter / nod your lips curtain in a breeze” (8)

“a mouth inside herself” (38)

“let’s make some word water two parts salt one part light influenced by the moon junkie streamlined take a cup and fill it that lemon scent in the outdoors air a skirt of pine trees draped along mountains” (15)

“but when I eat, it’s a solid thing, like a right word” (58)

“Apples and whine the voice sublime toes and woes Schubert aglow the spine of tree leaves, mark trunk and bark in back of the crease keep me from falling hot springs dry cracked lips to the vine and back let it go take me the wind drapes like a cloth over my mind, a napkin on my lap.” (57)

So there you go—call it an appetizer.

The first poem in how do i net thee is kind of a bonus pre-poem, sneaked in before the table of contents, a clue into the framework of the book as a whole. The poem is a riffing on/recontextualizing of the OED definition of “net.” It begins and ends mid-sentence and winks at its own materiality, at its own doubling, its words bifurcating and proliferating and opening out. The poem ends like this:

to make by the process of producing network; to

interlace,

to take, catch, capture,

or gather

(This is as good a moment as any to note that all quotations here are approximations since these poems move all over the page and are therefore difficult to reduplicate in miniature. Dentz herself apparently co-designed the book, so it’s clear that spacing matters. Alas for me.)

You know how, when you push your thumb against a running faucet, far from stopping the water, you send it spraying in all different directions with increased force? In this book, Dentz’s poems activate their contents through pressure. They put their thumbs against faucets. Far from trying to settle their words into stable forms, these poems intentionally shake them up.

That first poem, hiding in plain sight before the book even quite begins, ends with a faucet moment of proliferation that could be an ars poetica for the larger project’s methodology.

I like the wild gradations of that take catch capture gather as it destabilizes the “net” from the book’s title. I like the idea of holding together multiple differing gestures at once, of tracking different configurations of the same words and their subsequent effects, of teaching readers to read in split and sometimes contradictory ways. I like building by interlace.

The difference between take and gather, for instance, the movement between, is startling. Take involves something done against-will, implies the creature one takes from, while gather suggests a passive and near-inanimate object, like wheat. Similarly, catch and capture run the gamut. One catches a frog, a small animal, perhaps using lures, bits of food, or subterfuge, but one captures a person, a fugitive, an enemy soldier, a flag, a whole kingdom.

take catch capture gather encapsulates the complex ethical terrain of any poetic gesture of writing-about. It implies an object in varying states of being-acted-against. It knows that there’s a violence inherent in the take catch capture gather-ing of a poetic object, and rather than ignoring it, it puts the violence on the surface of the gesture, makes it meta, makes it apparent to the reader. It finds a new way of writing—of netting the stuff of the world on the page—that performs this contradictory and fraught gesture and therefore empties it of some of its violence against the poetic object.

The ethical terrain of writing/roping something to the page is more fraught if the thing getting netted is a person, a thee rather than an it, like a beloved brother lost, or a perpetually wounding father, two of the central, haunting figures in how do i net thee. Thee is the language of the holy but also of childhood fairytales, and of troubadours, of “whom do i love best in the world” (from “X” 17). Thee is an intimacy but also a pedestal. Is adoration. Is a formal gesture, a performance. Thee calls attention to the fact that it calls attention to the fact of its subject, that it chooses the performance of its how. It puts its take catch capture gather on the surface of its gesture. It shows its cards.

Because there’s always an ethics embedded in poetic methodology. There’s always a netting taking place, even though many choose to bury it beneath the surface. To call attention to it, to put the thumb on the faucet, to give multiple different gatherings instead of just one, destabilizes the weighty authority of truth claims on the page. And indeed, these poems are interested less in Capital T Truth than versions, angles.

To this end, in a number of spots, Dentz will recreate entire earlier poems with no or few differences in word choice but with entirely different spacing on the page in order to call attention to the way spacing on the page affects the words gathered—to draw attention to the surface of the saying. These twinned poems are about what they’re about individually but also about an ethical destabilization, the fact that changing their spacing on the page changes the content, even when it’s otherwise identical or nearly identical, the fact that one can literally say the same thing in terms of word choice and yet not say the same thing.

Or, put another way, different configurations of the same poem can be like different kinds of maps of the same moment in time, each truthful in their own way—the way a topographical map versus a map of the train system of a place would look different, even if they hold the same content in terms of place. Catching the actual, physical world on the page can manifest itself in any number of different ways, each calling our attention to different details as the most important ones.

Dentz invents a number of other linguistic tactics, poetic tactics, spacial tactics that make this complicated, ethical gesture of take catch capture gather. For instance, her sentence edges sometimes get all slippery as they try to keep up with her thoughts (or her speaker’s thoughts; but let’s just problematically say her thoughts and call attention to the violence of it in a parenthetical note, wink). Conjoined-twins sentences, is what I started calling them in my mind.

Like “are they singing or laughing or clapping back to desire young young how do i net thee with my shredded heels no i don’t want to look humpty dumpty had a great fall for heaven sakes” (from “Anatomy” 16). Sentences overlap onto each other, as with that “look,” which can attached itself to “no i don’t want to look” or “no I don’t want to look humpty dumpty” but also “look humpty dumpty had a great fall for heaven sakes”. The effect is one of both immediacy and great speed. Of asking questions and sometimes answering them right after, and in real time, of finding out what one thinks via thinking it, form running hand in hand with content. This kind of writing nets, but spraypaints the net a bright and visible color.

It’s worth noting here that how do i net thee has a handful of pieces of pictures of net, I think culled literally from an image of a net inside the front cover, thrown in physically in the middle of poems, like little chutes from Chutes and Ladders games of my youth, further drawing attention to the materiality of the netting and also gathering/yoking words and pieces together that might otherwise be isolated. These pieces of net help pull the entire book together as project even as separate little poems go their separate ways.

Or consider the methodology for how things make their way into the poem “watercolor tongue” (19)—at the speed of thought: “yesterday bikes in a forest / with deer. would be perfect, a man. my head could / race, maybe did one too many now it’s coming back how i asked what’s / your schedule. i’ll have to look. why did i bother, brother, watermelon / claw, green shades of sunset flesh.” In these lines, we are moving through language that feels remarkably like thinking, with its diversion-ed momentum. We are in yesterday in a forest, and then now thinking of a man (“would be perfect, a man.”), then thinking about thinking (“it’s coming back now”), about the head racing, and then recounting the thing the speaker wants the mind not to race to, a conversation (“i asked what’s / your schedule. i’ll have to look. why did i bother”). And then the word bother, the look or sound of it, remarkably, turns to “brother,” to that thread of net, that chute, haunting the entire book, a lost brother whose voice is slipping out of memory. The way brother enters into the poem is the way things that haunt us enter into our thinking, mid-thought.

Or consider the methodology of strange metaphor and image progression in some poems, which is quintessential Dentz. The poem “Marsupium” begins, “A girl of freezing ice in my stomach; papoose; / skinning my meat” (4). The strange emotional precision of the embedded metaphors strikes me here. And yet the metaphors don’t settle into their equal signs. They wiggle and proliferate into further metaphor and so do a different kind of work:

i’m a basket of eels on the backseat of a car.

curled like question marks.

Am i the girl who makes the empty plank of a brother

white keys on the far ends of a piano

a baldness, with nothing around it

Silence

Vaseline on my senses

being angry comes in waves you see the flight pattern but no bird

Dentz frequently juxtaposes sharp image after sharp image in order to suggest a new grammar or logic or relationship between things, in order to constellate. The images accrue, they gather themselves into something cumulative, something akin to metaphor, but not exactly metaphor. It’s like a metaphor of feeling, images trying to get at some complex feeling, some other-side-of-an-equal-sign, from multiple angles. It’s metaphor in the process of take catch capture gather. The images are trying to get something from the world down on the page, and the something is not simplified. It refuses to be reduced in the netting process.

It’s hard for me to say just what this poem is doing to me and why I like what it’s doing so very much. It has both precision and expansiveness, switching lenses on me line by line so I see something both small and up close and then a whole larger landscape in a short amount of space.

I also like that it’s difficult poetry, to use that age-old, often problematically gendered term, and yet difficult in the service of something I can feel in my gut. It’s difficult on its textured surface but also tied to something that feels core and human. It gut punches via the intellect. This is a glimmering kind of balancing act indeed.

Because ultimately just saying something in a new way, and then getting meta and saying that you’re saying something in a new way, isn’t quite enough for me with a book of poems. Such a gesture alone doesn’t actually take catch capture gather at all. It doesn’t net anything; it just sews nets prettily or elaborately. It puts its finger on a conceptual faucet without turning on the water, without getting all wet. I do often like to find myself in the kinds of poems that are a purely intellectual enterprise, that make me think about language and how it operates, that delight me on a surface level with their twisty-turns.

But my very favorite poetry does something more. It asks “in the dark are there kind letters and if so which are they” (58). It delights with intellectual twisty-turns, yes, and strange methodologies, but it does so with an ethical, human anchor and purpose, with a beating heart, and in doing so, it turns me into something more than a passive subject. It take catch capture gathers me up and actually moves me, which is what I would ultimately say to describe how do i net thee: it moves me smartly, it transports me, intercepts, arrests, apprehends, gains possession of me, entangles, affects violently, seizes, snatches, grasps, lays hold of, grips, snags, hooks, it captivates. And good.

Kathryn Cowles is an associate professor of English at Hobart and William Smith Colleges in the Finger Lakes region of New York. Cowles’ first book of poems, Eleanor, Eleanor, not your real name, won the Brunsman Book Prize, and Cowles’ second book of poems, Maps and Transcripts of the Ordinary World, is forthcoming from Milkweed Editions. Cowles’ work has appeared recently in such places as New American Writing, The Georgia Review, Boston Review, Verse, Diagram, Best American Experimental Writing, and the Academy of American Poets Poem-a-day.

#Kathryn Cowles #shira dentz #review

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almasy-fics · 6 years

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The Politician and the Chamberlain

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapter: 2/? Rating: T (Subject to change) Warnings: None Pairing: Ignis Scientia/OFC Summary: Cor and Ignis learn more about the young teen that will be spending the next six years in the Royal Family’s care.

Notes: Main thing to note is that if speech is in Accordan, text will purely be bolded. If they are speaking in Lucian the text will stay normal. I headcannon that there is most likely several languages used in Eos as if you read any text in Altissia it is in a different language than English. Anyway, enjoy!

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The wind blew Chelsea’s shoulder length blonde curls with a carefree grace about them as her head darted around the surrounding terrain with youthful glee; Cor had popped the top down of the car, which she learnt was King Regis’ personal convertible Regalia, and the scent of fresh grass invigorated her senses. Her previous sea sickness now long since forgotten.

Ignis kept a close eye on her through the rear vision mirror, taking note of how her face contorted with curiosity and wonder in her new surroundings. The wondrous smile on her features caused an unknown knot to form in his stomach, he assumed it was must have been from the slight nervousness he was feeling about not only being Prince Noctis’ chamberlain-to-be, but also Chelsea’s study partner and assistant. King Regis thought it to be best for those of similar ages to stick together in the Citadel and not many would question the monarch’s decisions.

His head turned sharply back in question when he heard her squeal in delight, capturing her petite form sprawled across the back seat of the car and over her aunt’s amused visage, pointing out to the wilderness before them.

“Is that a Garulessa…? And Garulets…!?” The remaining three occupants turned their heads to the left, seeing exactly what made her so excited, a large, majestic mother Garulessa and her three small Garulets frolicked the lands without a care in the world. Cor looked back at the road, smiling in amusement at Chelsea’s childlike wonder.

“That’s correct. Well done.” He praised her. She moved back to her own seat with a grin, proud that she was able to correctly guess what the animals were.

“I’ve seen them in books but never in person. They truly are peaceful and amazing creatures.”

“Indeed.” Ignis agreed, “But anger the mother and the situation can turn dire in an instant. Many a hunter have met the Infernian prematurely due to underestimating the maternal instincts of a mother Garulessa.”

Chelsea leaned her whole body forward to meet Ignis in the front seat.

“That’s… a bit morbid.”

“Of course. But it is the truth nonetheless.” Ignis adjusted his glasses, examining the way Chelsea’s eyes regarded him. She was attempting to read his impassive disposition whilst he shared that tidbit of information. When he surmised that she had given up on her expedition, she retreated back into her seat to continue to take in her ever moving surroundings. Soon, they would be entering Longwythe where they would be retiring for the evening before continuing their drive to the Crown City early the next morning.

“I’m glad to see that you’re feeling much better, my dear. One would think you weren’t gravely ill upon a yacht a few hours earlier.” Camelia commented, raising an eyebrow at Chelsea’s sudden burst of energy. She rode the gondolas mostly fine back in Altissia on the clearer days, but the moment the girl was put in one when the water was anything but peaceful, her head was straight over the edge to clear her stomach contents.

In the Regalia however, she seemed to be thriving.

“Maybe it’s because we’re not bobbing up and down and swaying side to-” She suddenly covered her mouth with her hand, “Ugh, I feel sick just thinking about it.”

“If you are going to be sick, tell me and I will pull over.” Chelsea shook her head ‘no’ before answering.

“I’m fine. I think I just need to not talk about boats, think about boats or even look at boats…”

The car began slowing, signaling they were soon to enter a township, causing Chelsea to dart her head around once more to take in all the sights and sounds the small settlement had to offer.

The lush grass that adorned Galdin had quickly given way to mountains of dust that haphazardly covered the buildings ahead, but not once did the welcoming atmosphere falter. The sounds of laughing children and happy families drowning out any noise that came from the dreary pipelines above.

Chelsea’s gaze drifted to a different looking eatery that she was used to seeing and her brows furrowed as she tried to read the sign above the building.

“The… Crows… Nest?” She questioned slowly, hoping that she got the words correct.

“Correct, dear. The Crows Nest is a popular chain of eateries that are located throughout Lucis.” Camelia answered, earning a grin from Chelsea as Cor pulled up in the motel car park.

“So the food is good then?”

“Of course.” Cor laughed, “Otherwise there wouldn’t be so many around. I have to recommend Kenny’s Salmon myself.”

“Good choice.” Camelia agreed. “It’s been quite a long time since I have sampled treats from here.”

“I believe their burgers are quite delectable as well.” Said Ignis, exiting the car to open the rear door for Chelsea before she could do it herself. She regarded him with a quick ‘thank-you’ before turning her attention back to the diner.

“I’m actually quite hungry…” She mused. That didn’t surprise Ignis in the slightest. The only thing he had seen her consume in the few hours since they met was the tea back in Galdin Quay; she declined any offers of snacks earlier due to the lingering effects of the nausea. But now it seems that she is feeling better.

“We’ll check into the motel first and then grab a bite to eat. Sound good?” After opening the door for Camelia, Cor made his way over to the check-in desk of the motel to secure the rooms for the night; one for Chelsea and Camelia and one for himself and Ignis.

With that done and their bags quickly dropped off in their rooms he led everyone to the diner across the road. Chelsea quickly became enamored with the statue of the crow mascot sitting out the front on a bench.

“That’s Kenny Crow!” She exclaimed, pointing at it. “I know him from the Chocobo-Moogle festival.” She pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket and handed it to her visibly amused aunt who followed her towards the bench.

Chelsea sat down, holding up a peace sign.

“Take a photo Aunt Camelia!” She requested and she did just that, snapping a few pictures just in case the first one didn’t come out as desired. Before she could return the phone, Chelsea was excitedly waving over to Ignis.

“Come take a picture with me Ignis! To celebrate out new friendship!” With an eyebrow raised he approached her, a bit skeptical about the whole friendship thing. Alas, his heart fluttered at the words, and it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling either. It was quite reminiscent to when he first met the prince.

But Chelsea was different to the prince, he thought.

“I must let you know that our relationship must remain completely professional.” He tried to tell her, but she shrugged it off by patting the empty space of the bench beside her.

“Nonsense Ignis. You have me for six years, so friends it is.” Whilst she did have a point, he was still quite unsure about it.

“Very well.” He sighed, sitting down beside her as if he were posing for a professional photo with his back straight and shoulders back. Chelsea was having none of it and she threw her arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer to her body. He became flushed as she pulled her free hand up to form another peace sign.

“Say ‘cheese’ you two.” Cor was standing behind Camelia, arms crossed and a smirk on his face, causing Ignis to uncharacteristically blush at the implications laid out before him. He had never been so physically close to a girl before and it was making him feel a tad uncomfortable. But she seemed to be happy.

“Cheese!” The both of them said in unison and the sound of computerized camera shutters filled the air.

Whilst the meal was mostly uneventful, Ignis learnt a bit more about the girl who he would be spending the next six years with in her studies.

Both of her parents, Nathaniel and Sophia Claustra owned and ran Altissia’s Leville. Her father acted as the head chef and her mother was the bookkeeper. She had identical twin sisters, Ophelia and Natalia who were nine years old and she absolutely adored them. It was evident by the way her eyes lit up the entire room when she spoke about them and showed him and Cor the pictures she had on her phone of them. Whilst Chelsea shared her mother and aunt’s visage of piercing blue eyes and sandy blonde hair, Ophelia and Natalia took after their father with jet black hair and playful emerald eyes. Exact opposites in a sense, but the more Ignis looked at her family photos the more he recognized the loved they all held for each other.

He swiped over to a certain photo, and both Chelsea’s and Camelia’s faces became sullen, Chelsea more so than her aunt’s.

“That would be my late husband Alexander. He and Chelsea were very close.”

The image showed an older gentleman with graying black hair standing proudly beside a much younger and much smaller Chelsea, who was wearing a pretty blue dress and holding a violin in her little hands. Chelsea had suddenly become interested in the miniscule stains that adorned per part of the table. It was obviously still a touchy subject for her, that much anyone could tell.

“Do you play the violin?” He asked in an attempt to regain her attention.

“Yeah.” She responded without looking up, “My uncle taught me.” When she finally looked up she feigned a small smile. “I’m okay. I just miss him is all.”

“He was a magnificent violinist, wasn’t he Chelsea? And so are you.” Chelsea perked up a little at Camelia’s words, nodding in agreement but not commenting on her playing ability.

“Uh…” She began after a small moment of silence, “Is there anything else you want to know about me?”

“Two things.” Ignis answered almost immediately. “One: What is your sleeping pattern like? And two: Will you willingly eat vegetables?”

She blinked a few times with confusion. Why those? She thought.

“Er, I’m quite a light sleeper so I will get out of bed once my alarm goes off. And I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me as long as it isn’t spicy. Any reason?”

“So I can adjust my schedule accordingly.” He replied matter-of-factly, pushing up his glasses to the bridge of his nose as they had started to slip quite a bit after their discussion started.

“I see…” She hummed. She was suddenly overcome with a huge yawn, the long few days of hell finally starting to take its toll on her now that she had a belly full of food.

“I think its best we retire for the night.” Cor began, looking at the two travel weary women across from him. “We need to leave just after sunrise to arrive at the Crown City at a decent hour.”

“Indeed. Come Chelsea, a nice warm bed is awaiting us.” Camelia shuffled out of the booth first, beckoning her niece over.

“Yes Aunt Camelia.” She yawned again, reaching out to be helped up by her aunt.

Cor paid for the food before the four made their way back to the motel to rest their tired bodies, and prepare themselves for the long trip back to Insomnia in the morning.

#my writing #The Politician and the Chamberlain #FFXV #Ignis x OC #Ignis Scientia #Camelia Claustra #Cor Leonis #Final Fantasy XV

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waithirambuthiaprotano · 7 years

Text

REMEMBERING MY LATE DAUGHTER ON THIS DAY OF HER BIRTH (Posted on June 5th 2017)

Today is the Born Day of my beautiful & beloved late daughter, Njeri, whose young life was taken away by bipolar disorder. The pain of losing my daughter twelve and a half years ago hasn’t abated much with time, as poem #22,

They told me, in REQUIEM FOR NJERI, a book of poetry & songs from which poem #18 below & of the same title is excerpted, suggests. Sometimes the agony of this tragic loss is as palpable today as the day I learned of my baby’s passing. As poem #3 (It goes against nature) & song #6 (If someone had told me) say, there’s something unnatural about a child dying before her/his parents.

We, mortals, have no say about when, how or in which order death chooses to place the moss across our lips, silencing us forever; however, those left behind can (& often do) choose—despite the pain & sometimes the anger—get to cherish memories of our loved ones who go before us. It’s in this spirit that I wish to share the following poem in love, dedication & honor of my first born daughter whom I miss more than any words could ever express.

REQUIEM FOR NJERI

I was there

When you were the size of a pin in my stomach,

When you were a tiny butterfly, fluttering there.

I felt your subtle kicks inside my womb,

And as you grew in size

And there was no more room,

I felt you rise

And begin your descent into the world.

As you pushed your way down,

Through the mirror, I saw you crown,

And on that summer morning in 1977,

You entered the world at 11:47.

The doctor placed your small naked body

On my stomach—all warm with life.

I wrapped my arms around your tiny form

(what a feeling that was),

The doctor cut your umbilical cord

And I suckled you for the first time

(How magical that was).

I watched in fascination—

A mother’s love intoxication—

As you sucked your thumb

Until the knuckle grew a callus.

My warm bosom was your pillow,

Where your delicate head lay

And your little heartbeat, beat To the rhythm of life.

When you uttered “mommy” for the first time,

When you began crawling,

When crawling turned into toddling

And toddling into running—

I was there.

When you tripped and fell,

I picked you up.

When you didn’t feel well,

I nursed you.

When you caught a nasty cold

And your body burned with fever,

I put everything on hold—

And brought the fever down.

When you almost lost an eye, princess,

And the school said the door fell during recess

(I’ll never know what really happened)—

I was there, there

In the ER, alone, with you,

Cradling you in your blood-caked dress

As you whimpered and I secretly wept.

Against my trembling bosom

I hugged you,

Trying to comfort and keep you

From being scared.

At your first dance classes—

When they fitted you

With your first pair of glasses—

I was there.

At your first recital—with your brother,

KK, and aunt Lucy in tow—

We watched you from front row,

Dancing on your toes.

I was there, too,

At your eighth grade graduation,

KK and I, just we, two,

To offer our love and adulation.

Your hair was in beautiful braids, princess,

And you shined in your brand new

Pink and black dress.

We cheered and clapped

And cheered and clapped

As you shyly walked up the podium

To get your diploma.

I watched with pride,

Dreams swirling in my head

Of your great future ahead.

When you graduated from high school,

I came with your baby sister, Wanjira,

Your cousin, Mbuthia, and your friend, Linda, too.

We had come to cheer you on.

The pictures taken that day tell part of the story,

As you basked in a graduate’s glory.

How radiant you looked

In your blue gown and matching cap!

How captivating was your smile!

And what joy it was for us to be there.

What privilege it was to be there.

We were so proud of you, Princess.

Just like when you went to college and we came—

Your sister and soon-to-be your stepfather and I—came.

How full your head was with dreams!

How filled mine was with hopes!

Then the devil came from nowhere

And snatched your mind—

Stole your dreams and my dreams.

I cried and tried to quiet your screams,

But he held fast and wouldn’t let go—

Held with might and wouldn’t let go.

He stole your laughter

And held your mind hostage—

Took the very essence of your being

And clung to it like smell on garbage!

How he tortured your soul

And cost your life a heavy toll.

But I was there, there

Along with your step-father, too,

There, through and through

As we tried to stand up to the devil’s thieving ways.

We fought and fought to break his grip

On your beautiful mind,

But he took you on his mad trip—

Flinging your thoughts pell-mell

As he went,

Determined to keep you unwell.

I didn’t give up, though,

Couldn’t let him hurt you so,

Wouldn’t let him continue to rip us apart,

And therefore fought him with all my heart,

Fought him hard,

Fought him with everything I had.

Alas, he was stronger than I was,

Stronger than all of us.

He was determined to do harm

(That’s what evil does).

And, so, his brutal force won the battle,

But not the war; for on the other side–

That wondrous place

Where you now reside–

No one recognized his face.

There, where God’s benediction

Reigns and our ancestors reside,

He and death had no jurisdiction.

But I was there,

Though not physically there.

I was there, there

To hold your rapidly cooling hand

As your lungs emptied of air.

I was there.

Did you feel my warm breath on your cheek?

Even those who’d gone before came.

Did you hear the soft voice of my mother calling your name?

Did you feel the tender touch of my father’s hand on your shoulder?

Did you see the extended hands of your uncles, Mocero, Ng’ang’a

And Getao?

Of aunt, Njoki, and cousin, Wanjira?

Did you hear our ancestors’ song

Or see your childhood friend, Pio,[1]

Among this welcoming throng?

They were all there, there

To escort you to your new home.

You were not alone.

We were all there.

We’d come because you were not a child of keboroi.[2]

We’d come because you are a beloved child

And not a child of keboroi.

You were my child—

Our child.

And, so,

From the time you were the size

Of a pin in my womb—

A tiny butterfly, fluttering there—

Up to your untimely journey to the tomb,

I was there.

I was there, there

Through and through.

I was there, there

For you…

Princess.

Mamaroneck, New York 2006

From REQUIEM FOR NJERI (with minor changes from the original)

Note: The book comes with a CD of songs and readings of some of the poems. Anyone interested in purchasing the book can contact me directly at [email protected] (US residents ONLY), or, order from (anywhere in the world) by clicking on www.wordeee.com & locating my book by typing in my full name.

[1] Pio and his family lived in the same Residence Hall as my daughter and I at Teachers College, Columbia University, where his father and I were graduate students. One evening, Njeri, Pio and other children were playing in the courtyard as they often did, when Pio ran after a ball across the street and a taxicab hit and killed him.

[2] refers to someone who has no one to love or care for her/him–a persona non grata

#Remembering my Njeri REQUIEM FOR NJERI Mental Health Awareness bipolar mental disorders Eradicating shame & stigma from mental illness www.n

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