somethingqueerisgoingonhere - Tumblr blog

somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 5 months

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A snippet from a very long wip im working on, hope you enjoy!

“Are you sure this will work?” Geralt says nervously.

“Of course not,” Yen drawls, “if he rejects you, he rejects you.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” he growls as they step through the portal Yen had made and into a strange room filled with obscurities.

The room is filled with every color imaginable, shining and blinding in every corner.

“What is this place?” He asks Yen.

“You’ll see,” Yennerfer says, coming up to the front desk and ringing a bell that had been sitting unassuming on the counter.

Immediately a small man, about up to Geralt’s hips, comes walking in, so you can only see the top of his balding head, and hikes himself up into the chair, “what can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for a dagger,” Yennerfer says, “handmade.”

“That will take sometime,”

“As quick as you can, we’ll pay,”

“What kind of dagger?”

Yennerfer looks at Geralt expectantly, “broad, short, practical.”

“How romantic.” Yennerfer says snarkily, she turns to the man, “the hilt will need to be decorated quite lavishly with carvings and stones.” she turns back to Geralt, “have you picked a stone?”

Geralt remembers the small book Yen had passed him and the many worn pages of their significance and meanings, it felt overwhelming. He’d looked endlessly through the blue stones, wanting one the particular shade of Jaskier’s eyes but also with the right intent. There was one that made him think of nothing but Jaskier’s dancing eyes.

“Hotez,” Geralt says firmly.

“For his eyes, really?” Yen drawls.

The mans hums thoughtfully, “quite a meaningful gem, many cultures use it for love or honesty and I believe the elven meaning is ‘I can’t live without you’ or rather ‘our love is eternal’.”

Geralt can feel his face warming at Yennefer’s intense stare. “Well,” she says, “I’m glad you at least gave it some thought rather than picking a random one.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he growls.

“Wouldn’t you?”

The man cuts in, “Along the hilt? Would you like engravings as well?”

“Yes,” Geralt answers sure of himself, the engravings were the part he knew exactly what he wanted, “A wolf and a…” he looks at Yennerfer who arches an eyebrow at him, “a lark,” he finishes lamely.

She actually laughs, “Oh Geralt you’re simple but you’re sweet.”

“Is that supposed to be a complement?”

“That’s as close as you’ll get with me I’m afraid.”

Yennerfer pulls Geralt to the side while Jaskier and Ciri enter the dining hall.

“What?” he hisses.

She gives him a look that says don’t ever take that tone with me again and he listens, his tone is much more subdued when he asks “what’s the matter?”

“The dagger, it’s arrived, you can do this after all. Tonight. Come with me.”

“Yen,” Geralt calls after her figure leaving down the hall, “Yen!” He has no choice but to follow.

She brings him to her room and balks at the interior, “really? You used magic here? To make your room nicer?"

"What they had just wasn’t cutting it," she says shrugging.

"You know the point of the simplicity is to be humbled."

"Well I’m not exactly the humbled type."

He she tosses a paper wrapped package at him that he manages to catch, he frowns at her.

“Don’t look at me like that, go on, look at it, do you know what I had to pay to have this specially ordered and on a deadline and you just had to have one of the rarest stones-”

“Okay i get it,” Geralt says annoyed, “I’ll pay you back.”

“Please, like I need your money, besides I’ve seen what your salary looks like, I’d be dead before you could ever pay me back."

“Yen,” he says annoyed."

“Consider it a gift, for good will towards your love,” she waves him off but he feels a warmth pooling in his stomach.

He carefully unwraps the dagger, the paper rustling, as he reveals the blade of it, it’s broad like he’d asked and smooth. It shines brilliantly in the candle light, flashing as he turns it this way and that.

“The hilt,” Yen says, telling him to hurry up.

He unwraps the hit, met immediately with that striking blue that drew him in and he feels embarrassment crawl up his neck as he thinks of the stone’s meaning. “Do you think he’ll know what it means?”

“Someone as romantic and poetic as Jaskier? He’ll know what it means.”

Geralt runs a hand over the bumps of the crystal blue stones, shaped so their sides flash brilliantly and that’s when he turns it over and sees it, the carving of a wolf arched towards a bird, a lark.

“Well?” Yennerfer says.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Really what has he gone and done to you, you’re never this courteous."

“I really mean it Yen, for helping me with this, even if he says no, I know how much you and Ciri have put into this, it means a lot.”

“My gods he’s good for you, don’t you ever let him go if he says yes.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

“I’m serious."

“So am I,” he doesn’t buckle under her piercing gaze and when she’s satisfied she turns her attention back to the matter at hand.

Do you need to practice what you’re going to say? He makes a face at the thought of telling Yen what he’s been repeating in his head for days, “No.”

“Very well she says, and you remember what to do?”

He nods.

“Okay then here’s the last piece,” she waves a hand at her bed where there’s something draped on it, as he draws closer he can see it’s fine clothing, clothing that makes him want to die on his own sword to be seen in but finely made clothing of high grade silk and carefully embroidered, something Jaskier would love. “you weren’t really planning on going in your usual clothes?”

“Isn’t this a bit too dressed up for such a place?”

“You think he won’t be dressed up?" She’s right, gods he’s been saying that too often these days. “Besides Ciri and I will be dressed up also so you won’t feel alone."

Geralt feels the dagger burn against his skin through the pocket of his pants. Jaskier has just finished a set and walks over to him.

“Jaskier,” he draws Jaskier’s attention, those blue eyes turning to burn into his. He’s a little sweaty from all the movement but it’s not unpleasant, his hair a little mussed.

“Well aren’t you well dressed,” Jaskier says, an easy smile gracing his lips, “you must absolutely hate it,” he laughs, eyes creasing with his delight.

Geralt feels mirth rumbling up from his chest. This is Jaskier, he steadies Geralt even without meaning to do so.

“I bet Yen had to hold you down while she squeezed you into that. It must have been quite the sight,” there’s teasing to his voice and a glint in his eyes that holds Geralt captive.

Geralt’s voice is quiet to even his own ears, “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” Jaskier says, smile faltering.

“These two weeks have been amazing,” Jaskier stares at him with pure confusion, “I feel that I’ve grown to know you better than I ever have. And the more I’ve grown to know you, the more I’ve grown to appreciate your friendship.”

“You’re awfully talkative tonight,” Jaskier says, trying for another laugh to break the serious tone.

Geralt stares at him with a determination that rivals anything he’s ever felt in his life, “I have thought long and hard about my intentions towards you. There’s nothing that frightens me more than losing your friendship or your respect.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier looks scared now.

Geralt brings his fingers to his side, he watches how his fingers tremble as he unsheathes the silver dagger, the stone encrusted hilt flashes in the low candle light.

He draws it out before turning it in his hand, grasping the delicate blade and pointing the hilt towards Jaskier. He finally brings himself to look at Jaskier who’s staring down at the hilt offered up to him, eyes wide and glassy, mouth opened in shock. Geralt knows he’s completely caught him off guard.

The seconds stretch by painfully, drawing them both apart with each moment that passes. And then there’s blessed movement as Jaskier brings a hand up to grasp the hilt, and Geralt moves without thinking, pressing his palm into the sharp edge of the blade and pulling back quickly. The sting of blade biting into flesh barely phases him, only knows he’s done it because he can smell the copper in the air.

Jaskier’s eyes flick up to him, swimming with fear and trepidation, he looks so lost. Geralt wants nothing more than to rush forward, to embrace him. Geralt grits his teeth not because of the lowly stinging of his palm. He opens his fingers revealing the two slice marks welling with scarlet blood, it represents the seriousness of his proposition. Jaskier’s eyes drink in the cuts eagerly like he’s starving for the sight of it.

Geralt takes this as a good sign and drops his hand back to his side. It’s now time for Jaskier to make a decision. He must place the dagger back into the sheath on Geralt’s side and either leave it there in rejection and Geralt must not approach him again or unbuckle the sheath from his side and wear it himself. A sign that he’s being courted and not to be approached by any other suitors.

Geralt can feel the blood slicking his fingers and imagines it must’ve begun dripping to the floor.

Jaskier’s movements are stuttered as he brings the dagger to Geralt’s side, his hand grasped determinedly around the hilt. Feeling, Geralt imagines, the stones and their intent digging into his palm.

Geralt closes his eyes for a moment, listening painedly to the whispering of the blade against leather as it slides into the sheath. He opens them, staring into those cornflower blue eyes. The most beautiful color Geralt’s ever seen. He watches as Jaskier’s hand moves and prepares for him to draw it back to his side, for him to step back away. He hears it, not sees it, when Jaskier’s fingers pull at the buckle, metal tinkling in the air and the rushing of leather pulling free as it whisks through the buckle. And like that the firm pressure of the band around him slides away, held firmly in Jaskier’s delicate hands as he pulls it back to himself into Geralt’s eyeline. Geralt feels like it can’t be real, watches in a daze as Jaskier pulls the band around his hips, the sheath coming to rest against his side and shaky fingers bringing the buckle to meet the notched band before sliding it through and firmly buckling it. Geralt can see his fingers shaking, but Geralt can do nothing but stare as the downcast eyes flick up to his own, watching, waiting.

Jaskier gives him a hesitant smile, “did you really think I’d reject you? I don’t think there’s a world where that happens.”

And like that Geralt crumbles apart at Jaskier’s feet, leaping forwards to grab Jaskier around the waist and hoist him up into the air, spinning him. Jaskier’s laugh is pure delight. He stops, dropping Jaskier against himself, arms crushing him in a hug. Jaskier returns it, laugh sweet in his ear.

Then there’s Ciri’s shout, “he accepted!” And just like that they’re surrounded. The women of Alietza cooing over Jaskier, bustling him away from Geralt as they make him pull out the dagger so they may admire the jewels and intricate designs in the hilt, it’s then that Jaskier seems to notice the engravings, he runs his fingers over it admiringly just as Geralt had done hours earlier.

“Hotezes,” they gasp. “We hope your courting will prove fruitful.”

He feels like his legs are going to give out from under him from the way the adrenaline racing through him leaves him in a rush. And yet he feels more content than he’s ever felt in his life.

“Congratulations,” comes a sly voice behind him, he turns to meet assessing lilac eyes, “you managed not to fuck it up.”

“Yen,” he says with a smile on his lips.

“You’re both going to be disgustingly romantic aren’t you?” Yen asks, a look of disgust on her face and Geralt’s laughing. He’s laughing so freely that Yen’s face morphs into one of shock.

He’s suddenly blindsided by an armful of Ciri, she hugs him tightly, her arms around his neck, her hair tickling his nose. She pulls back, flushed and delighted, “Congratulations!”

“He’s only accepted my request to court him,” Geralt tells her seriously.

She punches his arm, not lightly, “yeah but this was the hardest part! Now you get to shower him with affection.”

“For Geralt that is the hardest part,” Yen says into her glass of wine.

“I’m not worried,” Ciri says, and her eyes are filled with something loving and kind that shines in the candlelight and Geralt feels his heart ache with the love he feels for Ciri.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier #geralt jaskier

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 5 months

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They make it to the Wheelers and Eddie is surprised at his nerves. Are they really going to let him in the house? Though all charges were dismissed, do you really let a suspected murderer into your house?

They ring the doorbell and Mike answers the door to Eddie’s relief. He ushers them in so Eddie decides to ask, “aren’t your parents going to be freaked that I’m here?”

“They aren’t home.” A knot in Eddie’s chest unclenches. Mike leads them all to the basement where the horde is waiting. They’re all busy in conversations but acknowledge them both as they go to sit down and to Eddie’s surprise Steve sits next to him.

“Okay, okay! Everyone shut up!” Dustin says, standing up and walking in front of everyone, waving his arms.

It does work and the room falls silent.

“We’re here today to discuss our options for defeating Vecna. Ideas?”

A hand goes up and Eddie follows it to Robin.

“Are we sure he’s not dead?”

A boy, Will, Eddie strains to remember, speaks up, “he’s definitely still around.” Oh yeah Nancy had explained to him how this kid was somehow in tune with the upside down. Eddie did not envy him as he remmebered the chill in the air there, the constant feeling like someone was sneaking up behind-

“I have a question,” can a sure voice.

“Yes, Erica?” Dustin says.

“Who put you in charge?”

A quick Steddie study

Eddie knocks on the surface of the door and steps back, putting his weight on one foot. He waits impatiently, tapping his foot until the door finally creaks open, revealing Steve. His hair is swept back and yet somehow also falling in his face in its usual fashion.

“Harrington,” Eddie says, “busy?”

Steve’s brows furrow, he glances back into the house when muffled talking issues from behind the door.

“Just a friend,” he yells before stepping forward making Eddie stumble back. He closes the door behind himself, “what’s going on?”

Eddie puts his hands on his hips, “can’t pay my best bud a visit?”

“Uh, no that’s not what I-”

“Relax Harrington, they sent me to get you, and by ‘they’, I mean a bunch of kids who helped us beat an interdimensional mon-”

Steve leaps forward, covering Eddie’s mouth with his hand. “Are you crazy?” he grits out in a whisper, “someone could be listening.”

Eddie pushes his hand off, frowning, “it’s not like anyone can hear us out here.”

“You’d be surprised,” Steve says, glancing around.

“Okay,” Eddie says, stretching the word out, “anyway you coming or not?”

Steve fixes him with a stare, his tone still hushed, “this is serious shit okay. You don’t know about what,” he says the next word so quietly Eddie strains to hear it, “the government, has done to cover this stuff up. They don’t like us poking around in it.”

“Well considering Hawkins basically cracked open, expelling the depths of hell, I think they have bigger fish to fry than a bunch of kids.”

“If only,” Steve says, hopping down the steps and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Eddie takes this as his cue to follow.

“What’s going on? What do they need?” Steve asks him.

“They want to have a little brainstorm about our good friend Vecna. Hey Steve, I uh, haven’t told you where we’re going…” Eddie says to Steve’s back.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Steve stops, turning to wait for Eddie, “lead the way.” He spreads out an arm, gesturing for Eddie to go ahead and Eddie hates the way it makes his stomach flip.

“Come on,” he says, annoyed. Fuck Steve Harrington and his hair and his tight jeans and his manners. And no Eddie’s head does not respond “with pleasure”.

They walk in silence for a bit, Eddie struggling to find something to say in the quiet surrounding them.

It’s Steve who breaks it, “so you’re into all that Dungeons and Dragons stuff?”

Eddie’s eyes widen, “I don’t know what’s weirder, that we’ve fought off Demo-bats together or that Steve Harrington, king of Hawkins High is asking me about my hobbies.”

“Come on dude you’ve got to drop that high school stuff, I’m not that guy anymore.”

“You don’t remember me from school do you…” Eddie promised himself he wouldn’t ever bring this up, that he would let bygones be bygones. How embarrassing.

Steve frowns, “no…but I didn’t exactly hang in the best circles in high school.”

Eddie lets out a derisive snort, “no kidding.” Steve waits, watching and Eddie gets nervous under his gaze. “I used to…see you around the school, especially in the cafeteria, we sat two tables away from each other.” Way to sound creepy Eddie, like you spent all of high school watching Steve Harrington.

“To be fair I was in the same class with Robin and I had no idea who she was when we met. I wasn’t exactly…focused on others back then, I was kind of a self centered piece of shit.” Steve has his eyes on him again.

Eddie doesn’t know why he doesn’t shut up, “I meant it when I said I was jealous of you. You fit in so well, no one ever questioned if you belonged for even a moment.” Everyone in school, everyone in this whole fucking town seemed to think it was their duty to remind Eddie just how much he didn’t belong.

“Is that what it looked like to you?” Steve says, “because everyday I felt like an imposter. It was all just a show.”

“The Steve Harrington Show,” Eddie says, smiling around the words, “the hair, the looks, the bod.” Please shut up.

To Eddie’s surprise Steve laughs. And it’s a rich sound. When Steve’s laughter dies out he finds Eddie’s eyes, “basically, yeah. But it was all just bullshit.”

Eddie thinks of Steve sitting on top of the lunch table, laughing. Of him walking the halls. Of him at pep rallies in his uniform.

“Guess things aren’t always like they seem,” Eddie says quietly.

They fall into a silence and Eddie is surprised to find it’s not an uncomfortable one.

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 6 months

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Aged up Lo’ak wip

#avatar #loak sully #avatar loak #atwow loak #avatar the way of water #avatar twow

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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Just got out the hospital and I’m scarier and angrier than ever 😘💋 Really didn’t want to do a stint in grippy socks vacation, now really don’t want to do the healing that comes after but if you think I’m not gonna whole ass it you’ve got another fucking thing coming

#artists on tumblr #art #my art #art!#artisits #selfportiat #selfiie #self image

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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Oliver steps forward hesitantly into Charlotte’s space. The way his palms start to clam up and his nerves rush to his stomach, makes it feel like sadistic self-inflicted betrayal.

He tries not to flinch when his fingers brush her delicate wrist, taking it his hand to steady it and bringing his other to the belted clasp of the watch. The leather is sleek and smooth outwardly but the inner side is almost confusingly soft for leather. He unclasps the pointed metal piece and watches with a shameful interest as the band falls away, running like water against skin until it’s cradled and lightly clasped in his hand as though he’s curiously afraid to really hold it. They both slowly look up and their eyes meet in the middle in a heart topping searing moment. Against everything in him, Oliver’s eyes fall and submerge in the desire of her lips his gaze finds itself resting over.

Her lips lie together lightly but as though they could part at any moment and tell him everything he wants but is afraid to hear. They’re shaded with a paisley beige eased pink. So light it feels both like a hand laid over a thigh or unconsciously smoothing comfort that’s wanted but afraid to be voiced.

He forces his eyes back up and finds her expressive eyes so wide with something resembling hopeful anxiety, he feels like a bared open wound.

He takes a step back and holds out the watch still cradled in his palm. His eyes catch on the underside of the band where words are imprinted.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, taking it from him, careful for fingers not to linger.

She is setting it down on the table when he works up the courage and levels his voice enough to speak.

“What do the words say, if I may ask.”

She looks up and gives him a soft smile colored with an accepted sadness. Her eyes are such a lovely pale blue he thinks he’ll move forward and just let himself drown like he wants to.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he gets out before she can speak.

“It’s quite alright,” and his stomach flips as he watches her smile warm into a completely honest one, her eyes creasing with her delight but maybe really his own. “My mother gave me this watch. She raised my little sister and I and I always had such admiration for her grace.”

She sounds a lot like you. “You have a sibling?”

The smile breaks into a feeling of resignation. “I did. Unfortunately she passed.”

“I see.

I’m sorry.”

“It was a very long time ago. I got the engraving put in after she died.

‘Returned to peace but forever alive within.”

“That’s beautiful.” And he means it, and he can see that she knows it.

“It’s a way to keep the good memories but always remember my duty to keep her memory alive by making this a world she could have only known love in.”

“That must be a heavy burden at times.”

She looks up, genuinely caught off guard.

she waves off the correct assumption, “It’s truly not. It’s one I want to carry.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

“Well,” she says breaking the silence awkwardly, should we finish getting ready? I mean not together of course! Separately. You at your house, me here-

“I understood, Detective.”

She breaks into laughs of genuine delight and Oliver tries to fight the pride that wants to bubble up.

#detectivestory #oc #mywriting #writing #book #story #screenplay #screenwriting #basedoffof #seehowtheyrun #Sorcha is an icon

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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Princess Diana, 1983

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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Knives out and Glass Onion work bc it brings the role of mystery solving detective out of brooding tortured genius and back to its rightful place as Friendly Weirdo In a Little Outfit

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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Too old to hold hands,

But you’d hold theirs.

Too fat to wear that,

But you’re allowed to wear yours.

Too out there to be acceptable,

But the leaps in logic you take are larger than mine.

Too strange to be accepted,

But your rules don’t add up.

Too weird to be tolerated,

But you’re happy to ignore most things.

Thank god he’s nothing like you.

Winner up or runner up?

Hard to tell,

When you’re losing either way...

Which do you prefer?

Your dignity or your sanity?

You can’t have it both ways,

But you’d take it in any shape or form,

This I know.

Why?

Because he told me so.

No one dies with a happy ending,

I mean,

Maybe if you die while getting a blow job.

But that is a very niche instance.

Bohemian king,

Humble ruler,

Flower laid over your heart.

As delicately placed as your hand on my soul,

As the shape I take in your arms.

Kindest of touch,

Softest of temperament,

Do I really get the honor,

To lay my head next to yours each night?

You’ve ruined my life.

Do it again.

Where did I go wrong to end up with you?

Please tell me!

I’d make the same mistake again and again.

No reason!

I’m asking for a friend!

#poetry #mypoetry #mypoems #poems #tumblr poetry

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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“it’s a beautiful thing to be understood, but a powerful thing to understand yourself.”

— iambrillyant

#damn everybody is hitting me with damn quotes and poetry #goddamn

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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Sarah Kay, from “And Found”, No Matter the Wreckage

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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we've been holding onto the old self, these days. the wolf girl. the weird little kid. the strange wildling that would run through forests, our knees all skinned.

we remembered the magic of our loose teeth, how we used to know how to talk to trees. we're taking god out of the church and prying worship from the dirt. making our lives about using the finer things, about just-trying. the leisurely enjoyment of laziness, lawlessness, of leaving the dishes undone. of enjoying food without apology, of showing off our naked body, of kissing her. call it hedonism, sure.

always knew something else about ourselves. spent our whole lives hushed up; told we're made wrong. that's fine, these days. we used to know how to cast spells on the clouds. we have always been a little bit of lightning. the moss will teach us the soft hand - here's how to belong.

relearning magic. a little beautiful necromancy: you gave me nothing but bones. i still made a family.

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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A co-worker of mine was standing outside with me during a break from customers to share a cigarette with me, and told me about how he had lost his brother that he was close with some years ago. He told me about how they used to be in a band together with some friends, and how ever since he'd died, he hadn't played any music because he'd been too scared and anxious. I told him about how I'd lost my brother to suicide some years ago.

I went home and pulled out an old tiny wooden box my brother had given me before he'd died. I'd been using it to store guitar picks I'd collected over the years, including one guitar pick that used to be his. I haven't played the guitar since he'd died, my hands are too small to play some of the chords, so I play bass and piano instead.

I went to work the next day and gifted my brothers old guitar pick to my co-worker. I told him that it'd been sitting in a box for ten years unused, and would probably sit there for longer if I kept it there. Told him that I thought he deserved to have it, because I bet he could put it to better use than I ever would. Told him I didn't feel like it was coincidence that me and him would cross paths with each other in our lives, and that it seemed suiting that we had these similar experiences but split in two halves. That somehow, I felt like he was meant to have the guitar pick. I told him that I knew he'd not played guitar since his brother died, but that if he ever decided to play again one of these days, maybe he'd be able to honor both of our brothers by using that guitar pick.

He almost cried. He thanked me. Then he went home that night and for the first time in years he played the guitar.

I don't know what the meaning of life is or what my purpose is, but I do believe that love and human connection is one of the most important things in life. It's finding ways to tell strangers you love them and share experiences with others. I think it's all just about love.

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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July 21, 2023 theater run

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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I hope Ken and his crew give off the Zoolander male models vibes, heads empty.

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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Who's third wheeling,

You or blue?

Charcuterie spread,

Is goat cheese the best?

He’s all about new experiences,

And experiments,

How high can you drop a wrapped egg,

Before it shatters?

Prescribed bed rest.

Awkward white elephant,

It’s tradition every year!

Converse on my wish list?

What! It’s on yours too?

I just love fascinating intercourse.

Hair long enough to move.

Christmas-lights-phobia.

Exposure therapy is the only way!

For the sake of science!

I’m a supporter of the arts too!

Even if I sometimes think Vermeer is full of crap.

But you better know he’s not.

Because I trace coffee imprints,

From just enough sun.

Weird noses,

Are just so much more fun.

And weird is my favorite,

I have to go powder my nose.

Here! Catch this thorn covered rose!

You saved me a coke? Oh darling!

How did you know?

You told me so...

Have a coke, I mean joke!

Why did the harlot speak French?

To stick it to Marie Antoinette.

Custom tailored Christmas ornaments.

Some heartfelt and homemade,

Some that have long anticipated holiday cheer.

Let’s hide the ugly ones in the back,

They have to go on even if they’re trash!

In this house we believe in second helpings,

Unless you want to skip the meal altogether.

I hated those plates anyways,

Just like expectations!

Because you’ll never be happy,

with anything we do or don’t do,

Because you think love is conditional,

Like you.

Well someone went waaaaay out of their way,

To let me know it’s okay,

That I think it might be unconditional,

And that’s okay.

#poems #mypoems #writing #mywriting #poetry #mypoetry

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somethingqueerisgoingonhere · 1 year

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Int. Castle - Night

Hurried footsteps sound down the hall. A couple of castle guards enter the hallway, they are clearly in search of something. They hear a sound down the hall and take off.

A closet doorway in the hallway opens and a girl sticks her head out, surveying for sounds of trouble. She exits and starts making her way down the hall. She is clearly very on edge.

She is looking behind her when she trips over an artifact in the hallway, the sound is deafening. She closes her eyes in complete frustration before shouts can be heard in the distance and runs for it.

The guards are gaining on her, that’s when she gets an idea. She opens a large window and climbs onto the ledge. She edges her way across the ledge so that she’s hidden. She looks down and it is a sheer drop into icy, rocky, churning waters.

It is clear to us that she doesn’t know what to do next.

Guard

Hey!

A guard on the wall spots her. She rushes across the ledge almost slipping. She takes a deep breath and keeps going. She’s rounding the corner when she’s met with a guard.

Guard

Someone shouldn’t be out of bed…

More guards join him. He advances towards her and she steps back hurriedly towards the edge.

Renée

Stop! Or I’ll jump!

The guards laugh and continue.

The camera gives her a moment of peace. She has resigned herself to what she must do.

She presses her fingers to her lips. Closes her eyes and then lets herself fall backwards. She plummets down into the sheer water.

Ext. Beachside - Day

The sky is overcast and grey, the beach uninviting.

There is a figure on the water's edge. It’s the girl. She is deathly pale and not moving.

The screen flashes with snippets of a scene. A funeral procession, a room cast in low level light. A woman at the window looks back towards the viewer.

The girl gasps, sitting up and immediately turning to the side and vomiting up sea water. The force of it makes her cry out in pain. She brings her hand to her side and it comes back bloody.

She looks at her trembling hands and then all around her nervously, she is deathly afraid.

She gets up shakily, almost falling over and runs for the shelter of a structure of rocks. She climbs them to get a better view and spots a small rural village.

EXT. Rural town - day

The girl is trying to get through the alleyways without being spotted. She spots a clothesline.

EXT. center of town - day

She has changed clothes and now wears something appropriate for the setting. She wears a coat and relies on it heavily to hide her face.

The town is bustling. Vendors yell and haggle, people all walk with a sense of purpose. She is in the way, people knocking into her.

We close in on her reactions. She is mesmerized. It’s dirty and busy but she is enraptured by the beautiful things. A group of excited children buying candy, fresh produce, spices, anything you could want, people laughing and smiling.

Suddenly her smile drops when she spots a woman on the street grabbing onto people, she's hysterical.

She can’t help herself, she asks the vendor next to her.

Renée

What’s she doing?

The vendor is disinterested.

Vendor

She says the guards took her husband.

Blank

What? Why would they do that?

The vendor now becomes interested.

Vendor

They say he was involved with the underground movement. Not sure why she’s so torn up about it if her husband was probably a you know.

She is extremely taken aback and tunes out the vendor looking back at the desperate woman.

She leaves the vendor and his rambling and keeps on her way.

Ext. Bar - day

She enters.

Int. Bar - day

The bar is not a welcome sight. Let’s just say it’s filled with people she’s never seen before.

She walks up to the counter.

Renée

Excuse me…

Her voice is entirely droned out by the commotion.

Someone cuts in over her, leaning past her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Kene

Rai!

Barmaid Rai

What!

Kene

He’s trying to order!

The man looks back at her.

Kene

“What do you-”

He stops in complete surprise.

She panics thinking he's recognized her and backs away, her hood slipping down. She backs into the back of a chair, nearly toppling a man over. He’s angry at first but stops when he sees her.

Drunk man

“Now what is someone as lovely as you doing somewhere like here?

Renée

“No I’m-

He grabs her wrist pulling her in.

Renée

“Let go of me!”

Kene

“Let Go.”

It’s the man from earlier.

The two men stare each other down. The drunk man stands, trying to intimidate the other man.

“Why don’t you stay out of things that don’t concern-”

The man stops at the sound of a blade and looks down to find one digging into him.

“Let. Go.”

The man lets go.

Kene grabs her wrist and drags her out of the bar as she tries to get him to let go.

He drags her to the side.

Kene

What are you doing?

Renée

“What am I doing? What are you doing! Who do you think you are?”

She rips her arm out of his grasp. She starts stalking back towards the bar but he pulls her back again.

Renée

“Get off of me!”

Kene

“Are you insane? Do you know what they’d-”

He goes quiet.

Kene

“Don’t go in there again.”

Her shock is palpable at the seriousness with which he says it.

He lets go of her and reaches for her hood. She flinches back but he gently takes her hood and raises it, placing it back on her crown. He gives her a wink and a smile, before taking a couple steps backwards and turning back around heading in another direction.

She is puzzled but then seems to get an idea and runs after him.

“Hey!”

He turns around and she runs the rest of the way up to him. He waits.

“I need…some kind of transportation…do you know where I might find something?”

“In Arsul?” He laughs and keeps walking.

She cuts his path off and reaches into the top of her dress.

We close in on Kene’s surprised face.

She pulls out a necklace, holding it up in front of him.

Renée

“I’ll pay.”

His eyes go wide and he grabs it out of sight.

Kene

“Are you insane? Flashing something like that around here?”

Renée

“Will you help me or not?”

He drags her into an alley and inspects the necklace.

Renée

“I need to get to Evelin.”

He’s distracted by the necklace but then fully processes what she’s said.

Kene

“Evelin? That’s seas away from here.”

Renée

“Which means we better get going.”

She tries to say it confidently but it does not work.

He stares at her in confusion but then bemusement.

Kene

“I’ll take you to Kirth and no farther.”

She starts to object.

Kene

“And I’ll get you on a boat that will take you the rest of the way. One where you won’t be…you know…”

She stares at him in confusion. He stares back in the same manner.

Kene

“Where did you say you were from?”

“Osreet.”

She's not convincing at all.

“You know what, I don’t care.”

He starts walking and she follows closely behind.

“But wherever you stole this from, it better not get us into more trouble than we’re already in.”

“I did not steal it!”

Her reaction does not warrant the situation.

“So you come from Osreet? The capital most well known for its shitty farming and you expect me to believe this is a family heirloom?”

She looks like she's going to argue but lets it go and keeps walking.

“Um, it’s this way?”

She turns around stalking off in the other direction.

He keeps walking in the other direction. But calls over his shoulder.

Kene

“You’re gonna lag behind!”

She’s annoyed but runs to catch up with him.

#writing #mywriting

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