Give me the lover who yanks open the door
of his house and presses me to the wall
in the dim hallway, and keeps me there until I’m drenched
and shaking, whose kisses arrive by the boatload
and begin their delicious diaspora
through the cities and small towns of my body.
To hell with the saints, with the martyrs
of my childhood meant to instruct me
in the power of endurance and faith,
to hell with the next world and its pallid angels
swooning and sighing like Victorian girls.
I want this world. I want to walk into
the ocean and feel it trying to drag me along
like I’m nothing but a broken bit of scratched glass,
and I want to resist it.
we lie beneath the stars at night
our hands gripping each other tight
you keep my secrets, hope to die
promises, swear them to the sky
i wanna slay my demons, but i got lots of them
Reblog if you're willing to roleplay the following subjects:
Violence in General
A big mix of them, so have fun with them! Intrigue, revolts, and fairytales~
- “Your majesty, the invaders have breached the castle walls — you must flee!”
- “I pledge my fealty to you.”
- “One day, you will become a fine ruler of this land.”
- “I need no king/queen.”
- “You should do something about those revolts.”
- “And on this day forth, you shall hold crown and scepter in the name of the people as its fair and just emperor/empress.”
- “My king/queen, do not fret for there will be no one else I would rather die for.”
- “Kings/queens do not weep so weakly.”
- “I am not the true king/queen — I am merely their body double.”
- “Oh, sweet Prince/Princess, would you care to be mine?”
- “The king and queen have arranged it — you will be married to the child of the opposing nation so that peace may come to both our kingdoms.”
- “In a few hours your head will roll through the town square — what say you, deposed one?”
- “You are the king’s illegitimate child and I have come to collect you.”
- “My name is unimportant — you, tyrant, will die today by my blade.”
- “Oh, cruel majesty…for your selfishness and evil ways, I place a curse upon you and your house…”
- “Royal balls are such a bore, aren’t they?”
- “I wonder what it’s like beyond the palace walls?”
- “You are hereby condemned, exiled from this kingdom, stripped of your title for crimes against the kingdom.”
- “Oh, highness, do not shed anymore tears — I am here to rescue you.”
- “As per the rules of the tourney, I am granted one wish: I wish to marry your son/daughter.”
- “Let’s overthrow the king together, shall we?”
“Royal balls are such a bore, aren’t they?”
—- ♔ Genesis, crown prince and first in line to the throne of Banora, watched with no small amount of distaste as various members of the population marched up, stopped at a respectable distance to the throne, and attempted to kiss up to the king and queen. Who were, fortunately and unfortunately, his parents.
Which meant he was once again confined to the head table at yet another tedious social gathering.
The prince cast a quick glance to the side; his twin sister looked just as entertained as he. No doubt he needed to better school his expression before reprimands st- ah, yes, and there they were.
“Genesis,” the queen trilled from several seats away, face all smiles while her eyes promised murder, “is something troubling you?”
“No, mother,” he droned, resisting the intense urge to roll his eyes. They’d been sitting here for near an hour now, advisers and shop owners alike all coming up to praise and prattle. Judging from the hushed “royal balls are such a bore, aren’t they?” Genny sent his way (along with a not-so-subtle nudge of the foot) she was just as ready to bail out.
“This is terrible. I can’t even people-watch–there’s no interesting people to watch!” he hissed back, jabbing the toe of his dress boots into her shin.
Another ear-splitting “Genesis, darling!” had him straight-backed in his chair, wearing a forced, polite smile just as murderous as his mother’s.
“Dear, why don’t you–”
He quickly cut her off. “I think the stuffiness of this room is beginning to get to me; a walk outside would do wonders for my mood, mother.” Genesis made another under-the-table jab at his sister. “Don’t you think so too, Genny? A walk? Outside?”
The former Soldier let rip a bloodcurdling shriek of pain as a naked bone jutted out of his back, growing out of his left shoulder blade, and just as with Sephiroth the limb constructed itself in slow, bloody spurts – there was the sound of cracking cartilage and the wet burble of growing flesh, and Genesis panted hard as he listened, each breath voiced with terror. His eyes were wide as he looked into nothingness, trying to realize what was happening, and he brought up one of his hands to his back to try and feel what was dripping so much hot liquid down his back.
“Don’t touch it,” Hojo called. “Focus on staying awake.”
“What is it?” Genesis all but whimpered, “Oh, Goddess – what the fuck is it – ”
- Chapter 23, BoT. (After struggling to write I just gave up and illustrated earlier chapters instead. x) It’s something I suppose… /shot)
An Icelander who had travelled over most of the earth, and had lived in very many different lands, found himself one day in the heart of Africa. As he crossed the equator in a place never before penetrated by man […], the Icelander saw in the distance a huge bust, in appearance like the colossal Hermes he had formerly seen in the Isle of Pasqua. At first he thought it was made of stone, but as he drew near to it he saw that the head belonged to an enormous woman, who was seated on the ground, resting her back against a mountain. The figure was alive, and had a countenance both magnificent and terrible, and eyes and hair of a jet black colour. She looked fixedly at him for a long time in silence. At length she said:
NATURE — Who art thou? What doest thou here, where thy race is unknown?
ICELANDER — I am a poor Icelander, fleeing from Nature. I have fled from her ever since I was a child, through a hundred different parts of the world, and I am fleeing from her now.
NATURE — So flees the squirrel from the rattlesnake, and runs in its haste deliberately into the mouth of its tormentor. I am that from which thou fleest.
ICELANDER — Nature?
NATURE — Even so.
— Minerva, the Goddess ( a.k.a. Gaia’s Will ) meets the one who’ll be the Hero.
Text is from the Dialogue between Nature and an Icelander, written by the Romantic author Giacomo Leopardi ( originally in Italian, officially translated by Charles Edwardes ) .
“Nothing is too wild, for my tastes, Genesis,” Angeal said cautiously, face composed into perfect neutrality as he wiped his shoulders free of the grass and twigs that’d clung to him as he emerged out of the earth. The ground at his feet was a strange circle of flat-black marble, transplanted from his own realm. “Not even your strange frolicking with mortals. I do not see the point of making them chase you, if you’re not caught.”
Though to be fair, Death himself was probably the only god who could safely let himself be caught and eaten if he had a care to. If he could spare the time out here on the surface world. He watched the other curiously, the wild hunter had always been strange to him.
“I would ask a boon of you, either your service, or your blood,” he continued on, bluntly. No use hiding what he was here for, he took a step from the disk of black laying on the ground, staring uneasily in the direction of the sun’s light. The great orb of fire always made him suspicious. He didn’t like it. “Your sight is required, for my work below. The titans stir in their cage, and I…grow concerned that there are events beyond my own observation. I am willing to perform whatever services you require, for it. It is necessary.”
His pride stung, at the admission, but Death didn’t disseminate. Angeal was honorable, and he knew what he was asking was a great deal. They had known each other a very long time, though that could be said of many, Genesis was one of the few other deities that didn’t seem to view him antagonistically. Or at least didn’t treat him as such. Despite all of that however, Angeal believed the other god’s sight was just as necessary as he claimed. The Dead King wouldn’t have come himself, otherwise.
—- ♔ "Angeal?“ Last syllable drawn out in mild surprise, the older god’s name came out a tad more quizzical than intended. Genesis’ brow quirked with amusement as Angeal swatted away bits of grass from both shoulders. All birdsong had stopped; to his left, a small fox ceased movement and twitched its ears nervously at Angeal’s presence. Even plants seemed to wilt away from him, the austere Lord of Death with garb the color of blackest night. Genesis, though intrigued at the smooth marble beneath Angeal’s feet, hoped it would disappear when said god took his leave. It looked too foreign, too…out of place within his sylvan realm.
Tinkling gently against the metal bands encircling Genesis’ arms, spidery-thin chains swayed in time with his motions as he stepped back to observe Death and cocked one hand on his hip.
”Frolicking, he says.“ Genesis turned his nose up, sunlight glinting off the silver twined into his hair. "Goodness, why would I ever want to be caught? All the fun is in the chase, old friend.”
‘Friend’ was used lightly. They’d had surprisingly little interaction over their long existence. Angeal rarely left his kingdom, and the Divine Hunter was never in one place long enough to run into him otherwise. Genesis preferred to spend time with mortals (they were far more interesting to begin with), but he supposed the two of them got on well enough. When times called for it. At least the gloomy deity was more agreeable than high-and-mighty Sephiroth on his best days.
“A boon?” The sometimes-seer flashed an ambiguous smile.
Underbrush rustled and the shrill scream of an animal rang out. Moments later a wounded hare with bloodied back bounded across the grove, large wildcat hot on its tail. Genesis’ hands shot out and gripped the cat behind the neck–which yowled fiercely–as he lifted it into the air.
“A boon. You know, sometimes I prefer the simplicity of dealing with these creatures,” he held up the now squirming beast with one hand, “as they do not ask questions, they do not barter, they simply take. And take. And take. Not for greed, but for necessity. Survival at its prime. They, I always understand.” The god dropped the cat to the ground when it attempted to nip at him. “Stop that,” he admonished, and sent it scurrying off with an exasperated curl of his lips, teeth bared in a menacing show of authority.
Capriciousness was rearing its unbecoming head today, it seemed. Genesis paced around the god of Death, gait feline and slinky, every step deliberate. His bare feet made no noise as they met the ground.
“And you, o Dead King, would ask of me a boon.” Genesis quipped, eyes flashing with repressed mirth. “How I admire your thoughtfulness. Yes, I’d much rather pay a visit to your charming under-worldly abode than be stuck with whatever sharp object you feel appropriate for the occasion. My blood? Gracious, I know what you’re capable of.”
“I needn’t be offered anything. You aren’t the only one eager to keep those unruly titans locked up tight.” He brought up his left hand and motioned airily, vaguely indicating at the earth where Angeal first appeared. “Lead the way. It’s been ages since I’ve been below.”
Genesis was curious to see what eons of imprisonment had done to the titans, and even more curious to see if a helpful vision would come to him while down there.
One uprising had been enough. He wanted no part in another.