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Author Topic: untitled #1  (Read 48 times)

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stormie

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untitled #1
« On: July 25, 2017, 11:12:07 AM »
Author's notes: this is.... more or less about Nothing Like You, with a couple discrepancies: Kylo's pronouns, whether she's gotten to killing things with her brain yet. Either way it's about trans wizards, abusive families, and coping with trauma. Hux pov. Warning for implied/offscreen suicide & abuse.



Untitled #1

you intend to fix the broken pieces you saved--
but they donít exactly sell glue for this, do they,
or the sorts of adhesives they market are the kind that make your gut churn--
(that insidious little word advice--)
and the saying goes that no spell can mend a broken heart,
and you always thought it was about love, about something daft and simpering and beyond you,
and it is, in a way, still about that,
but you know what itís really about now and itís about something much, much worse,
and the truth is however desperately you take silk thread to cracked leather theyíre taking you away from her, or her away from you, or something,
sending you back to your cage and her across the ocean where her trembling hands are far from your reach,
telling you no, NO,
this isnít for you, you arenít allowed, and we will hurt you if you try, we will hurt you if you try to hold her hand where we can see it,
if we catch you spiriting her the words that might save her this time,
sheís not for you, this isnít for you, this was never for you and she was never yours--
arms wrapped tight around you sobbing for you not to leave but she was never yours--

and you will detach her gently and tell her you have to but somehow youíll write, somehow, youíll right it--
and you will kill her, in that moment, or so you fear, as you turn and straighten your hair for the guillotine,
she will die before you see her again and it will be your fault for letting the chain round your neck get the better of you, your fault for not being more like her in the times that she needs you to be: all fuck-you and would-be-fearless, screaming at the sun,
and you should break free and you should scream that you love her and you should run after her and not let them do this--
but you will,
you will let them,
and if she dies itíll be her own fault because you did the best you could and you swear it wouldnít have helped, vomiting your fears out at one in the morning, if she dies--
if she dies--
(a real fighter, they said while she bled out a thousand times over, while they failed to glue her broken pieces back together, boy is he a fighter--)

fuck--

you will glue her back together or you will DIE TRYING--

needle in calloused bloody fingers, tears spilling down your face, and if you die will it be her fault? she, the spell that fixed your broken heart, your light-of-sunset, your leather armour?
shouldnít you have clung as tight as you can?
didnít you already?
should you just let them kill you?
what did you even save her for?

you saved her for this: for finding she has taken your hand at three in the morning when you cannot sleep. for the way she tosses her hair out of her face when she laughs. for the way she dances in the rain and tracks mud back through the corridors, for the black bow in her hair and her long knobbly fingers. for every time sheís said fuck you. for every fly sheís killed with her brain. for the fact that she can pick you up like a flower but treats you like her demon-king. for the flame that wreaths her soul and tongue. for the rose thorns in her wrists and the way she pulls at her chains til they choke her. for the song in the way she says your name before she says something you will not like. for her freckles and fears and fangs. for the sadness in her eyes and hate in her throat and fire in her feet and love in her fingertips. for the fact that you even could save her because you knew exactly what sheíd gone to do.

you didnít save her for the world. they canít have her. sheís yours. she was always yours. you still have her pieces in your pocket. sheíll still have your name tucked beneath her tongue. but because you could not scream and fight and cling you forgot to whisper: i love you. iíll see you again. itíll be okay.

this will keep you up at night,
but you didnít kill her.
no, no, between the secret letters and the ghost of your hand--
the look on your face as you were taken away, and the memory of your copper-plated voice--
you saved her. sheíll save you just the same. and someday youíll walk home together at sunset and the light on the water will illuminate the cracks in your porcelain, and her scarred-over silk stitches, and the patchwork bodies you each built yourself. when you kiss her it will taste like velvet darkness. when she sings to the radio it will not hurt her. life will lap at your ankles as you stand in the shallows, and hand in hand, you will be whole.
heavenly bodies make the devil a little uncomfortable

Lynet

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Re: untitled #1
« Reply #1 On: July 26, 2017, 06:26:11 AM »
Powerful.
Be polite, or I may put you in a book and kill you.

Young at heart, old everywhere else.

Not doing things is my new superpower. Iím not doing an infinite number of things as we speak.

Surprised_by_Witches

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Re: untitled #1
« Reply #2 On: July 26, 2017, 10:03:12 AM »
Tears in my eyes at this. Good stuff, stormie.

stormie

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Re: untitled #1
« Reply #3 On: July 26, 2017, 10:41:24 AM »
thank you so much!! i'm so glad you guys enjoyed it!!  {/
heavenly bodies make the devil a little uncomfortable