I Have Shattered Under Midnight (Roleplay Writing)
This is a post from a thread being done with my friend Lily, whose work you can read HERE, who plays the character of Jian. She has one of her posts for him up on her blog. Jiordano and Jian are two characters that I adore. The chemistry between the two was completely unintentional. We played them a few times together and they just happened to click in an unexpectedly, tender way. Both developing feelings that are difficult for them due to cultural, as well as personal, issues. The roleplay setting we play in is known as Skye: The Winged Isle, it is alternative historical roleplay based in 1300s Scotland, created by the wonderful admins Liv and Will, and expanded on by the years of play involvement via members. A wonder, creative world that offered me much of an escape during stressful times. A place that was like home with kind, caring friends. Anyways, I’m sharing this with you as I am proud of this writing. Mine is the second post in the thread. I apologize if the Italian is wrong or terrible. I rely on Google Translator as I do not speak the language.
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“Our memories are paintings made by the mind. The most vivid colors chosen to display those moments we cherish most, bambino. Go now, it will be time for Master Jian’s festa di addio soon.”
Young Hope and Luke were ushered off, covered in paint as they were, with a kiss to each of their little cheeks. The lesson done for the day. No, now it was time for them to prepare for the feast that would usher Jian out of this world and back into his own. One that many would attend. One that he should attend. The more he stared out the classroom’s window though toward the house in the distance… the harder it became to even attempt getting ready.
How could he say farewell to someone that he didn’t even want to go? Yet, asking him to stay would be just as unfair. For Jian’s world was somewhere else. A palm smeared in paint the color of sunset gently touch the cold glass window, pressing against it to keep steady, as he bowed his head and quietly withdrew back into the quiet of the school. The print left behind now smudged.
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Evening passed swiftly, quietly. A tomb of solitude that shut away all the sounds to be heard outside. Carried by the wind toward the school as though taunting Jiordano. Come, come. Come say farewell. Come celebrate… they whispered and the artist tossed a ceramic jar of paint toward a blank wall. It shattered harshly in the dark room that was lit only by two drooping candles.
“Festeggiare? What is there to celebrate? Niente! Nothing!” The man shouted at the silence in a mixture of Italian and English that rambled. He took another heavy drink from the wine bottle at his side. Acquired from a case that was being taken upto the house earlier. There was another laying empty on the floor. It sparkled in the candle flame that glinted off it, splashing abstracted shadows around the room, and was a harsh reminder to just how much he’d had to drink.
Not that he cared. He was an Italian! Drinking was in their blood. It would take much more than a bottle and a half of wine to make him drunk. Though he stumbled a bit as he approached the wall covered in a myriad of mixed paints with shattered pieces of jar laying about areas of the floor. He was shirtless, his pants unlaced in the front, and his black hair was mussed from having his hands ran through it a thousand times. Bare feet stepped on broken jar pieces that cut into tender skin and let the bright red shade of his blood mix with the paint that had sprayed on the floor.
Placing the bottle of wine down on the floor, uncaring of the cuts, placed both hands against the wall. Feeling the squish of the wet paint between his fingers and against his palms. Soaking into every crevice of his skin. Cool, gentle… calming. The anger faded to sorrow as the feel of the paint reached his soul and he remembered those times here, in the school, when he would teach Jian to paint while also trying to teach him bits of English and Italian. Even with the language barrier they always found ways to understand each other it seemed. With him gone, he realized, he’d be lonely. Ever so lonely.
Oh, he’d have Eirian and Hope and Luke, and a myriad of other faces that he’d come to call friend or family. Yet none that touched his soul and heart as did Jian. His Jian. Jiordano had known for quite some time that what he felt for Jian went far beyond the realm of friendship or family. He’d never felt anything like this since… Demetrio, but it was more than seduction and lust. It was what the poets wrote about.
“Nonsenso! That is not what the Lord has in store for me. No, that is… is bl-blasphemy.” There was a weight of self-loathing carried in it. Guilt that he should even feel these emotions for another that was a man. No, it was a sin of the worst kind. Was not that what they all said? That he could even consider dragging Jian into it. That could not happen. It would endanger his vows. It would make him scorned by those who now cared for him. It would give his soul to the Devil.
“NO!” The shout echoed off the walls off the room, one hand moving in a reaction of anger and hurt.. and guilt to grab the bottle of wine and slam it against the wall. The glass shattering in his hand, cutting it, as he stared at the floor with both eyes squeezed shut. “I will… I will let him leave. It is be-best.”
The tears leaked out slowly, sliding down cheeks rough with a scruffy beard, as he stood there. Not hearing the voice that called his name.
Stand together in protest. Let your voice be heard. My official blog is set to join in the blackout. DO NOT BE QUIET. Contact your representatives. Not in the US? Contact the State Department. We must not sit idly by, but speak whether through email or phone or just internet protest.
http://sopastrike.com/strike
Visit that page. Speak up. Do it before we have no rights at all on the internet.
Internet Blogging Decisions
This took me months to decide, but as it stands I think I’m going to do it. I adore Tumblr, really, and will never fully leave the community. However, its overcapacity issues make this a bit of a challenge for keeping a blog on. Even one that doesn’t get many views at the moment. I’ve come to decide that if I want to improve my blog, and hopefully get it more subscribers, that means I need to have it on something with a more reliable server. I’ll be keeping this one, but I’ll probably only use it for discussion stuff as I do like how people can send questions via the ask or submit tool. It’s a nice way to carry on a discussion when it comes to critiques or curious questions. Even tips about writing.
Any posts I make though will go under here: http://totiltwithwindmills.wordpress.com/
That is my new “official” blog. As far as the book reading challenge goes? I will update the post I made on here along with a new one on the new blog.
Hope you’ll check me out over there too! Have a good day!
My 100 Books Read List
So, here’s the listing. I’m gonna tag it and keep updating it as I go. Feel free to do the same and link me to the page through my author’s Facebook page, or even by tagging my name in it here on tumblr! :)
- Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
- Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
- Heat Wave by Richard Castle
- Naked Heat by Richard Castle
Busy Bee & 100 Books!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
2011 came, flew by, kicked me in the arse, and then it was gone. It kept me busy with so many things that it left little time for me to focus on much else or have any real creative energy (or any energy at all, really) to write. Though I’m hoping that 2012 will change this for me! Instead I’ve been focusing on reading. One thing I’d like to do this year is read at least 100 Books in 2012.
I love books more than I can express. They were what introduced me to the realization that words could come together to create stories that can move you in a thousand different ways. For me, they’re a respite from the exhausting, stressful days that is my world at times. They give me that time to forget everything else and escape into these wonderful pages for a few, precious hours. Some days I need this more than I can express. It’s a treat that I hope to one day provide myself as an author.
I made many resolutions this year, but this isn’t one of them. This is something I decided that I wanted to do around the end of 2011, but with it being so close to over opted that doing it at the start of 2012 was a better option. Now though I want to invite you, my fellow readers and book lovers, to come do this with me. It’s simple really.
- Only books that you have never read count.
- List them once you finish them. Not when you start them.
- Be honest. As this, clearly, only works with the honor system.
- Keep a list and update it, either via tumblr or facebook notes or your own blog. Any way you can update it then do it.
- If you read more than 100? Keep listing them!
- Finishes at the end of 2012, midnight.
Isn’t that easy? That’s the only requirements. I will be making my own post on my blog here that I can link in the sidebar of my page to update for you all to see. Join me! :)
A Question(or two)?
I’ve come to a point where I don’t know if I should continue with my NaNo story I started with or just continue with my Stargate Atlantis fanfic? My big dilemma with using the fanfic is the first two paragraphs I technically wrote before November started. Wouldn’t that be considered cheating? Unless I just only counted the words after those two…
Any advice?
I love the story I started for NaNo, but it needs alot of restructuring and work(most especially a bit more research than I anticipated) so I think it might better serve me to continue that after NaNo is over instead. Just really not sure what to do. Help? o.o
On a completely unrelated note, how do I add an RSS Feed option? I see alot of tumblr pages with this option and mine doesn’t have it. Considering I’m a writing blog I think this would be very useful. I know I like my RSS Feed option heh. If you know please feel free to clear this up for me!
Good night, friends.
Writing Prompt: Inspiration Writing pt 1
[Beautiful signature made by my friend Meggie aka GlamourGirl@SP]
The prompt on Shadowplay was to choose a graphic that you liked that inspired the story(which I am calling ALIVE for now). This story is not yet done, but I wanted to share what I had so far. I’d love to hear your thoughts so feel free to contact me in my ask box!
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A L I V E
What makes someone human?
It’s a question asked constantly in various forums amongst those of scholarly pursuits or intellectual thought process. Even those below who have not a single desire to be considered one of those “uppity” folk tend to consider it as they sit sipping their whiskey and repairing their ships. Idly flipping through page after pages of ads that say Get your own cyber-friend today! while holding conversations of many tones. Yet mostly those views are negative. Frowning on the prospect of these machines being any more than pieces of material arranged together into a false person. Sometimes people forget that we are, in a sense, machines as well. What then actually makes someone human? Or makes them alive? Nobody can seem to give a definitive answer…
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Contrary to popular belief the world did not end in 2012. Another fluke just like the incident called Y2K. Instead it brought a ton of chaos and paranoia created by fear in the hearts of those awaiting that moment of absolute destruction to ensure their deaths. Some, out of these chaotic emotions, brought about their own leaving those who remained to endure the aftermath long after that year passed. The world still remained as 2013 came into existence… and instead of dying slowly began to advance. Human beings growing though some seemed only to take a thousand steps backward instead.
Advancements in medicines and technology saw cures for diseases that we only hoped for years prior as well as further exploration into the depths of space. The latter a feat that eventually saw the human race branching out into the stars to live. The dying Earth could be saved though only after our population on it began to dwindle some. Less demand meaning more time for it to recover and regrow into what it once was, but there’d always be permanent damage. An unfortunate side effect that left parts of the world unable to be inhabited which some refused to acknowledge. It was only the need for certain goods in those very areas humans could not safely entire that saw the creation of cyber-beings… and by 2016 they were a common, every day item. Though mostly amongst the more wealthy as they provided a better listening servant that required no pay.
That was until the first cyber-being displayed human traits such as emotions, dreams, and desires.
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8.10.2018
Why do they all treat me different? Am I not the same as they?
Memories as tangible as the ribbon being threaded between little Nimha’s curls accompanied the silent question as Tilly’s long fingers expertly wove it through neat patterns. Up, down, in, out repeated until each tiny, thick curl was secured atop of the the twelve-year-old girl’s head. It was easy to recall the first time she’d gently pulled a comb through the child’s hair, and the first haircut that had followed it. Just enough to trim a few inches off the bangs that impeded Nimha’s ability to see clearly as she learned to walk. It’d been a moment that’d caused both pride and sorrow for Tilly as she’d collected a few of the strands to show to Morgan when he came home. Now, the child was a young woman of seventeen preparing to meet the woman her father would soon call his wife.
“Tilly, are you alright?” Nimha’s soft, musical voice drifted into the quiet room. Immediately sensing the disquiet in the woman behind her. Some called them ‘things’ or other rude words, but she’d always thought of her as a woman. A woman that had raised her like a Mother would. Her own mother had died in a car crash only a couple months after her birth, and Tilly had been part of the household long before that. When her father had been falling apart under the distress of loss and grief she’d been the one to take care of things- including him.
There’d been any number of nights while growing up that Nimha had crawled into this woman’s bed to hide from monsters in closets. She’d kissed boo-boos and soothed broken hearts, and been a great comfort. Been a mother to a girl that had none… and there’d been moments where she thought her father loved Tilly in ways that some stuck-up people would frown on.
[… to be continued, obviously]
My FB Writer's Page
I just made this today, and the picture is horrid(I’ll be replacing that with a new one sometime soon… once I get my hair done). However, there’s no information provided yet, because FB keeps eating the info right after I type it instead of saving it. Anyone have any idea why it’s doing this? I’d appreciate the help solving the issue.
