#witnessing history is so overwhelming. look at the black woman shine. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lynenspray · 4 years ago

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alleyway sunsets

irwens x lynenspray collaboration

seungwan drags them far enough into the alley to muffle the street noise before backing her against the wall, hands steady at her hips. the whole while, there’s a mischievous smile dancing across her face. “you have to stay quiet, seul.”

(wenseul, cunnilingus, semi-public sex)

—

europe is a dream.

seulgi loves it. there’s just something about the cobblestone streets, the glowing shop lights, the warm and welcoming atmosphere of being in a new place with the one person she would promise a lifetime and several more with.

she sighs as the sea breeze from the bay caresses her face and lifts up the ends of her hair. seungwan had the right idea to suggest they take a trip to this island; this is the perfect vacation. instead of their schedules being filled to the brim with countless mind-numbing tasks for work, the couple instead had hours and hours together to visit museums, taste the exotic food, and best of all, drink to their hearts’ content.

“i love it here,” seulgi admits after taking another sip of their delicious red wine. “especially the museum. the black figures juxtaposed with the bright backgrounds are just… jaw-dropping—they’re so different to witness in person. you can really tell the age of the artifacts once up close, all that history.”

seungwan smiles and leans against her side. “yeah?”

“yeah!” seulgi exclaims. “not to mention that those marked the beginning of when their narrative scenes started, so they also tell a story both in religious and daily contexts, and, uh,” she feels her cheeks burn from embarrassment when seungwan keeps her eyes focused entirely on her, an unreadable expression on her face. “am i boring you? i’m sorry—i’m literally just repeating what the museum guide said, too,” she worries with a frown. “i should stop—”

but seungwan interrupts her by snaking an arm around her waist, over her thick overcoat. “what? why on earth would you stop? i love listening to you ramble,” seungwan replies, eyes shaping into crescents as she smiles at her. she smiles at seulgi like she could offer the world in her hands “i think your rambling could actually give me a run for my money, paired up against mine.”

“i don’t think i could ramble that much,” seulgi disagrees, teasing seungwan right back as the younger woman laughs her large, hearty laugh. the kind that made one of her eyes wink close. seulgi will never get enough of that. “no one can beat you at that,” she hums, tucking a few loose strands of the smaller woman’s hair away from her slowly reddening cheeks.

“that was mean,” seungwan scrunches her nose. “but also very true. touché.” she then grins, raising her glass to clink against seulgi’s before sipping from it, seulgi eyeing the slow bob of her girlfriend’s throat and staring at the moisture left on her lips afterwards. “and for what it’s worth,” seungwan’s voice drops to a whisper, startling seulgi as she leans in closer, so close that their noses are almost touching. “i love it here too.”

maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the fact that they were on holiday in europe. maybe it’s just the fact that seungwan is here with her in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. seulgi thinks any and every country is beautiful with seungwan by her side.

it makes seulgi really, really want to kiss seungwan. by the looks of it and how seungwan’s cheeks are turning rosy and how her eyes are locked in on seulgi’s lips, it seems like she does too. all they have to do is lean forward, tilt their heads, close their eyes and—

“another bottle?”

seulgi quickly jerks away, almost tripping over herself if that was even possible while being seated, and awkwardly laughs in front of the smiling waiter. seungwan just pouts.

the expression on the waiter’s face lacks judgement, but their eyes do have a knowing glint in them as they gesture to the empty wine bottle on the couple’s table. “shall i?” they ask, the hint of an accent tinting their words.

seungwan takes a look at seulgi, then their half empty glasses, and then decides for them. “this is enough, thank you. in fact,” she says, and seulgi melts at seungwan’s perfect english and the way her arm around her waist tightens. “we’ll take the bill.”

“of course.”

the waiter leaves, but now seulgi is conscious of the hustle and bustle of the people around them, also partaking in late evening drinks after a hot summer day. the city is old and worn in a homey sense and romantic in every way, along every street—seulgi doesn’t blame herself at all for wanting to inch closer to her lover. she wants to feel their sides press together, to have seungwan’s leg over one of her thighs and hold her down, to have seungwan’s fingers card through her hair.

it isn’t because of the alcohol, and it isn’t because of the town set aglow. it’s purely seungwan, and seulgi wants her. she feels the heat of a blush light up her cheeks when seungwan notices the hitch in her breath, holds back a whimper when seungwan’s pupils are blown black and shining as they zero in on her, bites her lip when seungwan leans in close to whisper, “i want to—”

“we hope you had a good evening with us.”

seulgi hides her snort behind a hand when seungwan yelps and hisses out a curse in surprise before she turns to the person to blame; the waiter is back with their bill and looks too amused to be sorry for disrupting their time together. “right, thank you,” seungwan responds before placing cash on the tray, telling them to “keep the change, please,” as the waiter takes their leave and finally leaves them alone. hopefully.

and then seulgi just finds herself staring at seungwan. there’s a slight furrow on her brow when she turns back to the older woman, but it smooths out almost immediately when they find themselves lost in each other again.

“you were saying something?”

seungwan blinks, and seulgi watches the flutter of her eyelashes like it happened in slow motion. it seems like anything seungwan did seemed to catch her attention.

“before the waiter came and, uh,” seulgi bites back a laugh at seungwan’s slowly growing pout. “—ah, you were telling me something. what did you want, wan-ah?” the taller woman asks, almost breathless from the way the lights shone against seungwan’s eyes and lit up her face.

“you.”

“you want to—me? what?” seulgi teases further, her grin widening when the tips of seungwan’s ears start to pink. “what do you want to do to me, wan-ah? tell me,” she whispers once she’s close enough.

seungwan looks around and is decent enough to notice the children around that could possibly hear their conversation. “i uh, i want to…” she trails off, looking for the words, harshly sucking in a breath when seulgi breathes against an ear and nips at it. “i want to—love—you. can we get out of here?” she barely finishes her sentence before grabbing her glass and chugging the rest of her wine, seulgi following suit. she would follow seungwan anywhere.

they leave their outdoor table with a last smile to the waiter and eventually proceed to walk along the paved road arm-in-arm, seungwan pulling her along slowly at first until her pace quickens, becoming hurried, almost carrying seulgi along with her.

“wannie?” seulgi questions, the frantic stride seungwan set almost unbecoming of her gentle girlfriend. seungwan’s head whips from side to side every few seconds, eyeing the buildings around them, yet the only things seulgi takes note of are the salty sea breeze and the warmth of seungwan beside her. the smaller woman’s next statement knocks some sense into her, however, and the heat pooling in her belly comes alive once again.

“i won’t make it as far as our room. i want to kiss you senseless, i need to have you right now.”

seulgi would have said something else, but instead her mouth snaps shut at the image. of seungwan taking her, right here, against a corner of one of the historic buildings, her hands all over her, her weight pressing against her, seulgi’s limbs becoming useless as her body completely surrenders to the whims of the other woman.

“here, quickly,” seungwan whispers, inciting a giggle from seulgi. it feels like they’re teenagers again, with their fingers intertwined as they run through the corridors and sneak secret kisses between them sitting under the bleachers.

“this will do,” the smaller woman decides as they come across a tiny, empty alley that’s hidden from view. the cobblestone path continues inwards, but that’s all that can be seen from where they stand, and unlike other alleys that were wide and commonly used, this was narrow and clean.

seulgi can’t help giggling, her arms automatically coming up to wrap around seungwan’s neck and pull her in closer. in the dimness of the evening shadows, she can only make out seungwan’s rose-tinted cheeks and darkening eyes before her own slip close as seungwan presses their lips together.

the kiss is slow, simmering with the heat of their bodies and the pleasant buzz humming beneath their skin. seulgi tilts her head, sighs, lets seungwan deepen the kiss as she’s pressed further into the wall. somewhere in the midst of it all, she feels seungwan wedge her thigh into the space between her own, and a soft moan slips from her mouth that seungwan is quick to swallow up.

of course, seungwan knows too easily how to unravel her: the evidence is in how steadily seungwan builds her up, stoking the fire burning inside her until seulgi is practically quivering with need. when her girlfriend keeps her pinned down with her own body and grinds her thigh up into her core, hands deftly sliding up her shirt to cup and squeeze her breasts, seulgi can do nothing but gasp and whine into her mouth, senses entirely overwhelmed.

she isn’t sure where to focus her attention, and she knows seungwan is aware of what she’s doing, of the effect she has on seulgi—there’s a little, telling smile that remains on her lips as seulgi clutches desperately onto her shoulders, legs trembling and almost unable to hold herself up on her own.

“you have to stay quiet, seul,” seungwan whispers softly, sweetly, lips brushing against seulgi’s. she presses their foreheads together as seulgi pants hot puffs of air between them, though it’s hardly a given reprieve.

seulgi can feel fingers teasingly circling her nipples over her bra before kneading them firmly, and she keens, chest arching forward into seungwan, who is pressed right up against her.

her reaction, if anything, only seems to encourage seungwan rather than dissuade her. “can you do that for me, baby?”

for a moment, seulgi finds herself unable to answer, too focused on trying to muffle her whimpers as seungwan’s thigh rocks into her, the friction sending sparks through her veins. a light nip to her earlobe jolts her back to attention then, and she manages to stutter out a shaky “yes.”

a pleased hum leaves seungwan’s lips. she gives seulgi an affectionate kiss on the nose before finally stepping back, allowing her a moment to try to collect the frazzled bits of her remaining thoughts.

in dazed confusion, seulgi can only emit a soft noise at the lost contact, but then her throat dries as seungwan sinks to her knees, gazing up at her with dark, suggestive eyes. she whimpers as seungwan’s thumbs press down along the junction between her pelvis and inner thighs, as they slowly spread her apart.

desperately, seulgi grabs at her shoulders. “w-wannie, wait,” she manages to gasp out, and seungwan instantly stills, looking up at her in concern.

“is something wrong? do you want me to stop?” seungwan asks worriedly.

"no!" she quickly responds, only for the rest of the words to get stuck in her throat. seungwan gives her a confused look, but she remains as patient as ever, infinitely attentive and understanding.

still unable to formulate words and entirely too captivated by the tender expression on her girlfriend’s face to even try, seulgi simply begins to shrug out of her overcoat and slide it off. understanding dawns on seungwan then, and she gives her an amused but fond smile, taking it from her hands and carefully placing it by seulgi's feet.

"it’s going to get dirty, you know,” she murmurs as she kneels down onto the fabric, hands settling once more against seulgi’s thighs.

the touch seems to burn through her jeans as heat coils low in her belly once again, but seulgi only laughs breathlessly. “i don’t mind, i just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

seungwan softens immediately. before seulgi has time to react, she feels her thighs being nudged apart by seungwan’s insistent fingers, and a small gasp escapes her. “thank you, seul,” seungwan says gently, a coy smile slowly curving along her lips. “now let’s continue where we left off, yeah?” she leans forward to plant a kiss on her inner thigh.

“wannie,” seulgi begins weakly, but seungwan just softly hushes her this time. her hand trails up to cup seulgi between her legs, giving her a firm squeeze that has seulgi buckling over with a groan. another hand comes up to pin her hips back, keeping her both from either bucking forward or falling over.

“unbuckle your belt, baby,” seungwan purrs, her eyes never leaving her. sweat drips down seulgi’s forehead as she struggles to comprehend through the heady feeling fogging up her head, but then seungwan gives her another squeeze, and it spurs her forward as she lets out a strangled gasp.

slowly, obedient as always, seulgi begins to undo her belt with shaking fingers. she feels the hand between her legs start to massage her then, fingers digging in through the fabric of her jeans, and seulgi clamps down hard on her lower lip, poorly muffling her whines as shocks of pleasure wrack through her. her thighs tremble from how helpless she feels, completely at the mercy of seungwan’s every titillating touch.

“unzip too, seul, i want these off,” seungwan says lightly, thumb tapping against her jeans, right above her clit. there’s a pleased look on her face as she carefully gauges seulgi’s expression, taking in the way her eyes squeeze shut at her words.

seulgi complies, of course, fingers dragging down the front of her pants to unbutton and unfasten her jeans. seungwan doesn’t stop kneading her core the entire time, and it leaves seulgi feeling utterly wrecked by the time she manages to completely undo her pants, flushed and quivering. she manages to tug the fabric down at last, but only until just past her hips, before seungwan takes pity on her and helps pull them down to her lower thighs.

cooing softly, seungwan presses her palm up against the front of her panties, which are damp and sticky with her arousal. the teasing pressure causes seulgi to jerk forward instinctively, sucking in a breath as the tips of her ears redden. “good girl, seulgi-yah,” she hears seungwan murmur.

almost immediately, her knees go weak as she lets out a gasping whimper. they nearly buckle under herself if not for seungwan’s knowing grip at her hips, keeping her pinned back against the wall just in time.

seungwan chuckles quietly. “i’ve got you, baby, i’m here,” she soothes, tracing along sharp, narrow hip bones. seulgi shudders with every brush of her hands, shivers still tingling along her spine. she’s panting heavily, feeling all of a sudden too weak, too sensitive. her body is overheating, every nerve inside her on fire.

when seungwan runs her fingers along the fabric covering her underside, seulgi mewls. she doesn’t realize she’s biting her knuckles to muffle herself until she hears seungwan let out a soft coo.

“that’s it, seul.” fingers hook beneath the band of her underwear, slowly beginning to tug them down. “not too loud, or i’ll have to stop. you don’t want that, right?”

coolness kisses along her folds as they’re exposed to the evening air, causing seulgi to suck in a breath. frantically, she shakes her head. there’s a beat of silence, one with still anticipation, before hands settle along her inner thighs and she feels hot air washing over her core, quickly replacing the chill that had begun to set into her skin. the contrast is startling, unexpected; the slightest whimper slips past her lips.

“i think i’ve teased you enough. you’re soaking, baby,” seungwan murmurs. she’s so close that seulgi feels the words against her more than hears them. before she has the time to flush in reaction, a hot, wet tongue slides against her heat, licking up slowly, tantalizingly.

a strangled moan tears itself from seulgi’s mouth, just barely covered by the back of her own hand. she only has a second to recover her bearings before seungwan’s tongue presses up between her legs again, lapping steadily, hungrily at her dripping core. sparks go off behind her eyes as she feels herself getting wetter, the muscles in her abdomen clenching. biting back a breathless whine, seulgi shoots her free hand out to brace herself against the wall, against the sudden onslaught of sensations.

she has no idea whether or not she’s successfully quelling her noises; each wash of seungwan’s tongue over her center, every teasing dip of it into her entrance leaves her reeling, desperately empty and begging for more.

seungwan, who has kneeled between her legs on countless occasions, knows seulgi like the back of her own hand. by now seulgi understands that every move her girlfriend makes against her for her pleasure, every thrust of her tongue and her fingers is deliberate. she could make seulgi scream if she wanted to. and if the mood and the setting were different, she has no doubt that seungwan absolutely would.

the fact that seungwan isn’t is just because she knows how to show mercy; even with her on her knees, they are both markedly aware of who exactly is in control.

and so seulgi is left to do her best to muffle herself with her own hand, whining quietly and bucking helplessly into seungwan’s mouth, into the relentless thrust of her tongue inside her. fingers scrambling for purchase against the wall, whitened knuckles bitten between her teeth. seulgi pants, feels seungwan lick hotly into her, nose nudging against her sensitive clit. her head knocks backward, eyelashes fluttering wetly.

the heat coils, builds inside her, mixes with the sweat trickling down the back of her neck. she sees the sun dipping out of sight, a sliver of light disappearing in the vision of her closed eyes, before seungwan’s tongue presses deep into her one last time and seulgi cums hard with a breathless moan.

her every limb is still tingling as seulgi floats down from a moment of pure-white pleasure; faintly, she’s aware of seungwan still lapping against her, licking up her slick and oversensitive folds as if to not waste a single drop of her release. she whimpers uselessly, at the mercy of the aftershocks prickling up her thighs as seungwan attentively cleans her up.

“w-wannie,” seulgi stutters weakly between gasping breaths, finally mustering the strength to open her eyes. her girlfriend is looking up at her with a satisfied set to her expression, and seulgi knows she must have watched every single second as seulgi fell apart against her mouth. the thought has seulgi biting her lip, tampering down a sudden ebb of want that pulses through her.

with a final little kiss to her clit that has seulgi jerking forward, seungwan carefully rises to her feet, the same smile that had started all of this once again adorning her face. seulgi can only stare back, still and breathless, as seungwan cups her face, slowly drawing her into a kiss.

of course, as their mouths curve against one another, as seungwan hums pleasantly into her, seulgi can taste herself on seungwan’s lips. it mixes in with the sweetness of seungwan, with the wine that lingers from earlier evening. all of it combined causes seulgi to groan quietly into the mouth joined against hers, hands trembling as they settle around seungwan’s hips.

when they part, even in the space of a breath between them seulgi can see a gleam in seungwan’s eyes saying they haven’t finished yet. the thumb that glides along her lower lip, dipping into her mouth to trace the ridges of her teeth, only confirms it; a low gasp escapes from her mouth before her lips obediently close around seungwan’s finger, suckling lightly. and she watches as seungwan’s gaze begins to darken once more.

“you were so good for me, staying all quiet when i told you to, weren’t you, baby?” seungwan murmurs, grasping seulgi by the hip, pressing her thumb in deeper.

seulgi groans around the intrusion, nostrils flaring sharply. she feels seungwan’s body heat bear down on her as she’s pinned against the wall, stomach to stomach with her girlfriend. the brush of fabric against her inner thigh reminds her suddenly of how naked her legs still are, of the thigh easing in between her own to keep them spread apart. the fingers trailing along her pelvis, dangerously near her center, only makes her tremble even more in anticipation.

“such a good girl,” seungwan continues softly, smiling knowingly when a deep flush blossoms across seulgi’s cheeks. her eyes all of a sudden feel watery, and the faint arousal that had been lingering between her legs promptly comes roaring back in full force. “i should give you a reward for being so well-behaved, right, seul?”

seulgi whimpers, nodding timidly around seungwan’s finger. she feels so weak, knees shaky all over again. in the end, her greatest weakness has always been seungwan’s words, seungwan’s praise. knowing she’s been good for her girlfriend, that she’s made her happy—it makes seulgi feel incredibly good too. incredibly proud. happy on a level she sometimes can’t even comprehend.

the palm that cups her center drags seulgi back to the present, and she moans softly, eyelids fluttering, as seungwan gives her a teasing squeeze. “that’s it, baby, come back to me,” seungwan coaxes, beginning to stroke her dampened folds. “you’re doing so well. always so wet and ready for me, hmm? always eager to please, always easy to be pleased. obedient. such a good girl.”

seulgi mewls desperately, flushed and heated as she rocks into seungwan’s hand. her breath feels caught in her throat, stuck somewhere in her lungs as she gasps and whines around seungwan’s thumb.

seungwan always knows how good seulgi wants to be. and she’s always telling seulgi how good she is. her words anchor seulgi down, lets her fall into the secure grasp of her girlfriend, who cares for her with such deep-seated sincerity.

fingers sink into her, long and reaching as they quickly fill her up. seulgi pants out a whimper, spine arching and chest pressing forward, hands trembling as she clutches onto seungwan’s back. when seungwan leans in, the praise comes in whispers, soothing words breathed out against the shell of her ear.

“look at you, baby, so pretty and full for me. dripping, stretching open for my fingers.” seungwan’s hand pistons in and out of her, smooth and steady, unrelenting. seulgi chokes on a moan, feeling a finger rubbing firmly against her clit. “you like that, don’t you, seul? of course you do, darling. always so good for me.”

for the second time, the muscles in her stomach tighten, and the heat inside her builds up into a roaring flame beneath her skin. a breathless groan leaves her every time seungwan’s fingers slide back into her, and something like stars flash across her vision at the pressure against her sensitive nub. seungwan’s words, her touches, the physical weight of her body holding seulgi down and into submission—it has her shaking on the edge of a cliff, desperate, wanting and waiting—

seungwan presses into her with one final thrust, fingers curling as she brings her lips to the corner of seulgi’s mouth. “go on, baby,” she coos gently, finally. “let go for me.”

eyes clenched shut, seulgi tips over, and the waves crash into her as she falls apart in seungwan’s arms with a shuddery, high-pitched cry.

when her legs finally give out and she buckles forward into seungwan, an arm instantly wraps around and steadies her. seulgi can only pant hotly into seungwan’s shoulder, shuddering with every shallow thrust of the fingers inside her as she rides out her release.

her every nerve feels overloaded with sensation, electricity tingling up and down her spine. seungwan coos, gently pats her back. “i have you, seul. i’m right here.”

seulgi can only whimper as she feels seungwan’s fingers leave her. but she stays limp in her grasp, chest heaving for breath. faintly, she’s aware of her underwear being pulled back up her hips and then her pants soon after; the click of her belt buckle follows a few moments later, along with seungwan's shifting to pick her overcoat off the floor.

a soft kiss is pressed to the side of head, and seulgi blearily tilts her face back to look up at seungwan’s beaming smile. “how do you feel?” she asks gently, curling a stray hair behind seulgi’s ear.

“really good,” seulgi whispers with a happy sigh, returning seungwan’s hug. she finally has enough strength in her legs to hold herself up again, and she takes the opportunity to straighten up and then nuzzle her nose against seungwan’s. the movement elicits a faint laugh from the younger woman, and seulgi feels her heart soar. “do you want . . . your turn now?”

seungwan only snorts. “there’s no rush,” she replies. “we can continue this later.” she leans back in seulgi’s arms to begin patting down her hair, straightening her collar and softly caressing her face. “besides, it’s already dark out, seul.”

seulgi answers with a hum as seungwan steps away; the chilly air hits her all at once as soon as she leaves her side. the absence of seungwan’s heat makes seulgi even more conscious of how it felt to have seungwan in her arms, pressed up against her. she wants more of her. and seungwan doesn’t deny her when she invades her lover’s space again for another kiss, and then another, and then another.

“not here, love,” seungwan cuts her off with a giggle. when seulgi leans back the moonlight curves over seungwan’s features in a way that makes her glow. “we have a warm bed waiting for us. yeah?” seungwan gives a final kiss before stepping back out into the street with seulgi by her arm.

a soft bed. dim lights. seungwan’s moans echoing throughout the room.

“seul? hey—!” seungwan laughs now that it’s seulgi’s turn to tug her along, weaving in between the crowd, excited to get her alone and have her way with her now.

#wenseul #seulgi #wendy #red velvet #irwenspray #two of them #by two of us #lynenspray #sol wrote like 80% of this LMFAOOO

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tearlessrain · 6 years ago

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time to subject myself to Dracula: The Dark Prince, aka another bad movie starring another dude from black sails. this time with 100% less horny on main because my only real motivation for watching it is it truly looks to be a whole new caliber of horrible and I have to see it.

witness my standards for incomprehensibly bad movies being raised prohibitively high in every way imaginable under the cut

I seriously doubt that.

this was made in 2013 by the way, not 1994 as the graphic design of that logo might suggest

oh good, once again we’re opening with an exposition narrator. except this time it’s a woman and she has less vocal inflection and emotional investment than an amazon echo.

I feel like she’s gonna tell me to turn left in 800ft

it feels like a dragon age epilogue, but just. worse.

WE ARE WATCHING A TRULY HIGH QUALITY MOVIE TONIGHT MY FRIENDS

I can’t even describe how bad this is, you really need the sound. that’s where the true lack of quality shines through. siri’s depressed sister is talking about pre-vampire dracula’s epic feats in battle to more weird sepia dioramas and the dying soldiers sound like they hired muppets to voice them

HOLY WIG BATMAN

also this dude is obnoxiously jovial considering he’s supposed to be dracula, even if this is pre-vampire

oh no dracula’s advisors, who all wear black hooded robes and scowl ominously, have betrayed him and killed his wife, how unexpected

someone drew these, looked at them, and thought “yeah that’s good enough to go in the final movie”

the characters are speaking both english and what I assume is... romanian or something? transylvanian? it’s not spanish or welsh I can tell you that much. anyway there are no subtitles and also no rhyme or reason to which they’re speaking at any given time so I hope I’m not missing anything important. probably not.

so like... they killed his wife, yes. and he went on a murderfest in what appears to be a church in revenge, makes sense. now a dude who... I think maybe he’s supposed to be a priest or something? but he wasn’t speaking english so I can’t be sure, then a voice over said “I have killed for god, the hand that fought for him will now be turned against him” but I’m unclear on who was speaking. this movie is an absolute clusterfuck and we aren’t even five minutes in yet. this is still the prologue.

now zombie alexa claims dracula was cursed with immortality “in punishment for his defiance” but I’m still not sure... what defiance. he killed the dudes who murdered his wife and that’s somehow not okay despite his apparent status as a war hero, a designation that implies a LOT of killing has already happened?

fucking finally, the title screen. usually a prologue clarifies what a movie is about but I went in thinking I knew and now have absolutely no idea what I’m watching.

a carriage drawn by friesians is rolling through a misty forest with wolf howling sound bites playing at random in the background to vaguely urgent music, now this is what I’m here to see.

nevermind the carriage is too slow so they’re leaving it because that’s a thing people do (?????)

“Lady Arwen, we cannot delay”

seriously though everyone’s mumbling so much I can’t understand them much better than when they were speaking whatever the other language was

BOOTLEG XENA RIDES AGAIN

but this time she’s accompanied by esme. we don’t know who esme is yet either.

there she goes

and now the knights are being attacked by hilarious squeaky goblin things? who I guess are led by this power rangers villain with, again, an unintentionally hilarious voice. it’s like a bad batman impression.

with every minute that passes I become less certain of what I’m actually watching.

they’re looking for the “light bringer” and telepathically overseen by the world’s most halfassed lestat dracula

they’ve also got some random prisoners in a cage wagon

okay the prisoners are being taken to dracula’s castle and I’m sorry for such an image-heavy post but I NEED you to understand the community theater level of set design/quality we’re dealing with here

“what is that?” cardboard and mod podge is my guess

so far the only thing esme has done is fall off her horse and be knocked unconscious, and now a Roving Band of Misogynists has appeared to harass Bootleg Xena 3.0 in the most generic way possible (the words “what ‘ave we got ‘ere” accompanied by a chorus of malicious cackling and some whistles have been spoken)

oooh no the ringleader of the Roving Misogynists has been given a name, and it’s ~Lucien~. I have a horrible feeling that I’m about to bear witness to the worst romantic subplot in the history of cinema.

oh for... I thought at least bootleg xena 3.0 would be a Strong Female Character and fight them off, but she just rapped lucien on the head with her sword and then they stole her very important box and left as obnoxiously as they came

OH NO SHE’S ASKING TO GO WITH THEM, SOMEHOW THAT’S HER PLAN I THINK I’M RIGHT SHE’S GONNA HOOK UP WITH LUCIEN AND IT’S GOING TO BE HORRIBLE.

“trust me” she says to esme, who, wisely, obviously does not.

I appreciate the timely thunderclap every single time the castle comes on screen

who the fuck are you, did you wander onto the wrong movie set

nope okay they’re not gonna explain that shot at all we’re just moving on to a shot of a weird angel shadow doing slow flamenco moves on the ceiling while ominously gurgling, and the prisoners being led into the throne room

“what’s happening to us?” I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW THE SAME THING, PRISONER #3

oh never mind that guy from before wasn’t a priest, he is remfield, chancellor of this kingdom, which means the last scene he was in makes even less sense

AKSLDGHJFGAKDLFJGHKAJGHFDKLFDS;GJokay so. remfield introduced himself then said “I will see that your needs are tended to.” then dracula in his new white contacts gets up from his shadowy throne, circumnavigates the cluster of prisoners, sniffs them dramatically, and walks back to his throne. remfield then says, “come, I will see that your needs are tended to” because proofreading is for COWARDS

now remfield is... literally giving the prisoners a tour of the castle and going on the “oh you’re our guests and many pleasures and adventures await you” speech and somehow the prisoners are accepting this despite the fact that they were just carted in on a barred wagon in shackles and got sniffed by a bad alucard cosplayer. they have a fucking harpist.

seriously, who the fuck are you

she’s just been twirling around in the background of this entire scene for no discernible reason no matter what rooms they go into

what the hell am I watching

yeah they’re just going for that incredibly suspicious food and also seem weirdly okay with the ambient clusters of scantily clad lesbians no one will explain okay they deserve whatever happens to them

WHOA TITS apparently this movie is a different rating than I thought

remfield: the newcomers have settled in

dracula: I d o n ‘ t l i k e s t r a n g e r s

then why pray tell have you brought them directly into your home in chains. I cannot stress enough how avoidable this situation was for you my dude

“just think sire, once the light bringer is in your possession no one need die again” “except those who defy me” [ominous chime as the angel shadow on the ceiling continues its sensuous flamenco dance]

meanwhile in the misty blue filter forest of eternal night, some guy in a tricorn finds a gold amulet that I think bootleg xena 3.0 dropped, and the power ranger villain rides menacingly in a random direction for a few seconds

I’m still waiting on whether this masterful display of cinematic calvinball has any cohesive story to it.

ah joy and we’re back to The Non-Adventures of Xena 3.0, Esme, and the Roving Misogynists

as an aside, I’m not calling her that just to be dumb, I’m calling her that because they still haven’t given her a name even though her sidekick got one in the first five minutes

they’ve opened the box and revealed... the light bringer, which is a wooden staff. because it is not shiny gold, the roving misogynists regard it with confounded disgrunglement and scoff at xena 3.0′s insistence that it can defeat dracula

these guys sound like what an eleven year old thinks gangs of ne’er-do-wells sound like. like cartoon weasels, if the weasels were also mediocre pirates who have heard of women, conceptually, but never seen one. like goblins in a pre-written D&D campaign run by a slightly overwhelmed first time DM.

HUR DUR WALKING STICK NOT TREASURE, WOMAN DUMB

it’s what cain used to slay abel, apparently. given that zombie alexa mentioned that dracula is the descendent of abel, this leaves us with the terrifying implication that someone did put at least some vestige of effort into writing this movie.

oh good she’s finally gonna fight lucien

no she failed again. please someone just punch the shit out of lucien so he’ll stop.

NO WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT STOP IT GOD HAVE SOME STANDARDS WOMAN. STOP PLAYING FLOATY ROMANTIC MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND THEY ARE LITERALLY STILL STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ENTIRE BAND OF ROVING MISOGYNISTS

I thought it might at least be a trick but no she is actually, genuinely starstruck over this profoundly mediocre olde-timey frat boy who called her “sweetheart” while she was trying to explain to him why the ancient dracula-defeating relic was important.

this guy.

we did it boys, we found a worse love story than twilight

also I just. I wish I could convey with words the way the roving misogynists react to every single thing lucien and sometimes xena 3.0 says like the world’s worst greek chorus in a literally neverending stream

lucien (post makeout and xena 3.0 explaining again that the relic is ancient and powerful and they’ve searched for ages to find it): well we may not be knights but we can respect that

[cacophony of rowdy but understated agreement]

lucien: what do you think boys, should we give it back?

[assorted grumbles of assent]

xena 3.0: hm, a thief with a conscience

[gruff mercenary-esque chuckling]

lucien: maybe even a heart

[chorus of “ooooooOOOooh”s and some whistles]

it just goes on like that in every scene they happen to be physically adjacent to, they never shut up but also never actually contribute or say anything meaningful

ah, the mysterious leonardo has appeared. I think he was the one they were trying to take the light bringer to so that’s handy

“what is happening here? what is this flirtation?? is this the people to share your sacred secrets with???” - leonardo, the only remotely rational person in the entire movie

oh he is schooling these idiots, finally someone with sense. it’s bouncing right off of lucien, but at least he’s saying it.

“the scourge” - leonardo

“scourge!” “scourge!?” “scourge?” “hrgghhg??” “hrrm...” - the roving misogynists

power ranger villain and his squeaking goblins vs leonardo, the most useless female leads of all time, and the roving misogynists. who will win.

not the people watching this movie, I can tell you that much.

oh no, the lightbringer isn’t working. this will do nothing to convince the roving misogynists that it isn’t a walking stick

oop, wilhelm scream

oh no lucien has picked up the light bringer

goddamn it he’s the chosen one isn’t he

yep he activated the stick and now we all have to suffer

oh xena 3.0′s coming for power ranger villain maybe she’ll actually do something

nope she bounced off him and now he’s grabbed her and hauled her onto his horse

“you’re coming with me” he says in his weird batman voice, to make sure the audience can tell that he is in fact taking her with him

and esme has yelled “no” to make sure we remember that she’s in the movie

wait what the. did lucien just yell “xena” is that her actual name what the fuck. what the fuck. I had to have misheard that. okay I can’t tell what he’s saying for sure but someone’s bound to say her name again at some point in the movie so I’ll revisit that.

and on that note, I think I’ll end here, because there ended up being a LOT more to unpack in this movie than I expected, it’s after midnight, and I’m tired.

tomorrow, we follow lucien as he presumably goes to save some lady he wildly disrespected and then made out with one time whose name may or may not actually be xena, and hopefully figure out what the hell is even going on with dracula, remfield, and their castle full of artfully strewn half naked harpist lesbians and dancing ceiling shadows. because right now I really don’t have time to unpack all that, and I have a feeling it will only get worse.

#this is #a masterpiece #no description of mine can hope to do it justice #hypnotically incomprehensible #tearless liveblogs

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madeofpurestarlight · 8 years ago

Text

Till Death Do Us Part, V

‘Effie and Haymitch’s marriage doesn’t really differ from any other seven years long marriage. They got together young and stayed together through both worse and better, and now they’re slowly drifting apart. And like all married people, they have their secrets, and it turns out they might not know each other as well as they thought - at all. | Hayffie Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU’

Chapter V.

The chapel was quiet. Too quiet - Haymitch could hear his own heart beating, resonating from the white-painted walls and shappy lino with a wooden motive. So this was it? This was how it was supposed to be? He couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into this. His very first instinct was to run like hell and never look back, but it was way too late for that, so he just tugged at the uncomfortably tight black tie around his neck and took a deep breath.

It wasn’t as though they were planning on waking up one day and putting a ring on it. He wasn’t husband material and she wasn’t that eager to drag him to the altar, because they were perfectly happy just the way they were. But his orders only allowed him to stay in the West Coast for so long, and when he realized that in a few weeks, it might be all over, well…

He had considered that option, too. Actually, that was the very first option he considered. They have been togehter for what, seven months? It wasn’t exactly a long-term relationship. It wasn’t exactly a serious relationship, either. Or, at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. Him and Chaff had a rented apartment in Los Angeles where she stayed for some time, and when her semester started, she moved back to Denver, where he willingly followed her. They were basically living together at her place, quite happy to act like a normal couple in their late twenties and early thirties. They went grocery shopping every Saturday, had pancakes on Sundays, put up with each other’s annoying habits that they purposefully overlooked, too caught up in each other.

While she was at school, he was working on finishing the longest case he had up to date, while pretending he was remotely finishing his degree. As time progressed, they had become a solid unit. Him and her have become them. What started out as a summer fling to kill his time and get some distraction has developed into a full-on relationship (she had proceeded to officially call him her boyfriend everytime she introduced him to someone, and insisted on him calling her his girlfriend, too).

Maybe it was because she has awaken something in him he didn’t even know that was there, anymore. Something so raw, real. Maybe it was because her eyes had always made him feel like he was floating in the sky, so blue, so beautiful, so soft, but also full of life. Maybe it was just because she was good in bed and he had been lonely for too long. That was what his cynical mind was up for. However, when he told her he might have to leave soon, she simply nodded and told him that she understood, but it was obvious she was heartbroken, hurt. And so maybe it was the fact that he was terrified when he realized two things - hurting her was something he simply couldn’t force himself to do, even if it was inevitable; and that the thought of losing her for good was too painful for him to even mess around with the idea.

So one day, he brought up a trip to Las Vegas and the rest was history.

A creek of the door caught his attention. Haymitch looked up to see Chaff, also in a tux, with a huge smile plastered all over his face, and it was hard to tell whether it was a happy or a mocking one. However, when he walked up to Haymitch and hugged him tightly, patting his shoulder as he pulled back, there was a hint of pride in his eyes.

“Thanks for coming,” Haymitch muttered, which prompted his best friend to laugh out loud.

“Did you really think I’d miss this?” Chaff shook his head. “Haymitch Abernathy is getting fucking married. I can’t believe this, buddy.”

Haymitch sneered. “Me neither.”

“You nervous?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

“Here you are!”

A man that could be aged anything from mid-thirties to late sixties entered the ceremonial room through a door that was leading to the back of the chapel. Both Haymitch and Chaff couldn’t help but stare - sure, the West was weird and Las Vegas was fucked up, but still, the sight in front of them was a bit dicky. The man had blue hair pulled back in a voluminous ponytail and their color matched his lipstick and glittery suit. He was smiling in an overwhelming fashion, his teeth white enough to blind you for a split of a second. His theatrical gestures matched his odd appearance.

“Welcome!” he gripped Haymitch’s hand and then Chaff’s. “I’m Caesar Flickerman, it’s so good to have someone here again! How long have you been together, if I may ask?”

“Seven months,” said Haymitch, the man’s enthusiasm making him a tad concerned. Was everybody here high all the time, or what?

Caesar clapped his hands. “I see why you chose this place. Don’t worry, no one is judging here! Especially not a lovely couple like you two. Now, let’s get-”

Chaff snorted loudly as he tried to supress the laughter and Haymitch closed his eyes briefly. “It’s not us who’s getting married,” Chaff clarified in amusement. “My friend here is waiting for his girl.”

“Oh, I see,” Caesar recovered and smiled brightly. “What are the names, if I may ask? Also, do you have your own vows or do you want to say the universal ones?”

Haymitch didn’t really give it much care, however, his fianceé had thought about everything. “Haymitch and Effie. And we’ve got our own.”

Someone cleared their throat and they all looked in the direction of the sound. Portia, in a mint green dress and a black coat, was slowly opening the front door. Behind her, Haymitch saw her. She was slowly walking to the altar, her eyes only for him and his own only for her. She was beautiful, she was wearing a short lacy white dress with a puffy skirt and long sleeves, her hair was made in waves and pinned up in the back, a few lone strands framing her face, and in both of her hands she was holding a bouquet of white roses. He couldn’t look away, she was gorgeous and he was struggling for every breath. He never knew he could want someone that much.

Chaff glanced at him in amusement and Portia, who joined Chaff in the pew, gifted him with a wide smile, but Haymitch didn’t notice them. Everything he cared about was right in front of him - he gave out his arm and she wrapped her fingers around his biceps and let him lead her through the few final steps. Then they found themselves at the altar and he looked at her, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered roughly.

Effie grinned and gripped his arm tighter. “You don’t look bad, yourself.”

Haymitch smirked and finally tore his eyes away from her. Caesar has already stepped behind the little altar and greeted Effie with a smile, then nodded towards their little audience. “We have come here today to witness the entry into marriage of Effie and Haymitch, a beautiful young couple - especially the bride looks magnificent,” he nodded at Effie and she returned the birght smile happily. “If I am right, they have some vows to say and promises to make.”

“Haymitch,” Effie started softly, eyes full of tenderness that sent shivers down his spine, “when we met, I didn’t know that the man who kissed me because he lost a bet and mouthed back at me the entire evening was going to become my husband one day. I’ve never suspected that, and if somebody told me I’d fall in love this way, I would just laugh at them. But life is unpredictable and I found the love of my life in someone who makes me the happiest and the saddest woman in the world at the same time, every minute of each day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You are frustrating, and don’t see into your own mouth, you are complicated. And you have such a good heart. All you want in this world is justice for everything and everyone. I admire it, and how you always stand up for what is right, no matter the cost. You teach me something new every day, and I don’t have to act like I am anything more than just myself when I am with you. You help me become better everyday. That is just some of the reasons why I want to be with you, why I want to cross my path with yours and then go down a common one for the rest of our lives.”

Effie’s eyes were shining by the time she got to this part and there was an ugly lump in his throat he couldn’t manage to swallow away, so he simply tightened his grip on her hand to encourage her to continue.

“I promise to give you my all, my loyalty, my trust, my protection, my unconditional love, for both worse and better, in sickness and in health, for the rest of eternity, till death do us part.”

It was Haymitch’s turn and he had to clear his throat before starting. “Effie… you are one hell of a challenge. I- sorry, we’re in a chapel. It’s not even a real chapel, so, whatever. You know I suck at all of this,” he smirked and she laughed and hit his arm playfully, “but you deserve to hear it. When I first saw you, I knew you had something nobody else in the world has. I don’t know how you do it, and I didn’t know it would lead to this, but I knew I couldn’t just walk away the morning after. You have something that always brings me back to you, you have something I need, for whatever reason. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s how beautiful you look when you are mad at me, which is quite often. Maybe it’s how damn easy it is to make you angry. You’ve got guts, you can handle yourself, you let me know every day that I’m a dick, and you also make want to not be one for you. Whatever happens with the rest of the world, I just want you to be fine.” He just wanted it to be over already. “So I promise to give you my all, my loyalty, my trust, my protection, my unconditional love, for both worse and better, in sickness and in health, for the rest of eternity, till death do us part.”

Caesar, totally lost in his emotions, as if he wasn’t used to it by now, turned to Effie. “Effie, do you take Haymitch for your rightful husband?”

“I do,” she said, biting on her lip to supress the wide grin spreading her lips, unsuccesfully.

“Haymitch, do you take Effie for you rightful wife?”

This was it. He could still get out of it. He could still tear that damn tie off his neck, get out of his tux, run through the door and prevent his stupid ass from doing something there was no graceful way back from. Not that this variant was graceful - but he’d still rather play the runaway bride and break Effie’s heart now than do it later, when everything would hurt twice as much. That was just a thought, though - just something his brain, so afraid of commitment, and his heart, too scared of having something to care for so deeply again, were coming up with. It maybe really wasn’t that late, but… he was too stuck. Leaving now would be the cowardly thing to do, and he was tired of being a coward.

It was time to learn to live again, and if this woman was a way for him to gain some of his old self back and to finally have a shot at a happier life, despite everything he had to put up with everyday, if she was his chance at having a home and someone to give all the affection and love he had frozen inside him for so long, burnt too many times to have the guts to offer it to anyone, then so be it.

“I do” he said, and he was surprised how at ease he felt with it. He had always imagined this moment as feeling like being given an iron ball at his feet, while in reality, at that very moment, it felt like a mountain had fallen off his shoulders.

Caesar clapped his hands again. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Haymitch leant in, his palm cupping Effie’s cheek before craddling the back of her neck, and pressed his lips against hers hard. She responded, deepened the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck as his own lifted her from the ground and held her against him tightly. Overwhelmed by the smell of roses from her bouquet and her own scent, a combination of flowery perfume and citrus shampoo, he realized that he didn’t want to let go of her, ever, with the skin of her bare back so soft beneath his calloused fingers and her warmth being something so familiar that its absence sent his body into a paralyzed state while its presence sent his mind into overdrive. When the kiss ended, he carefully put her back down, one look at her face giving away the fact that she had started to tear up. He gently brushed one tear away with his thumb which prompted a happy giggle.

“My parents are going to kill me,” she said, obviously not bothered by that at all as her eyes lingered on her ring.

“Your parents can kiss my ass,” he muttered and kissed her forehead before taking her hand in his again and turning to Chaff, who showed Haymitch a thumb up, and Portia, who was smiling wildly and her own eyes were sparkling.

He put his arms over her shoulders and pulled her close to him while the acceptance settled down - he was married, and to the best girl that was out there -, and let himself slowly realize that with her by her side, nothing felt as terrifying. This was their chance. A chance that it would be plain insanity to let go without a fight. It was the beginning of a new life for the both of them, a life they had both hoped to be long-lasting.

Preferably, till death do them part.

ii.

Effie had cried herself to sleep the previous night and she woke up aching all over. The sleeping pills she used were still messing with her, so when she tried to go at least make herself some coffee, she couldn’t even get up, so she just lied on the sofa, staring into the ceiling. When she woke up this morning, she was so, so relieved - she hoped it was just a bad dream, that it was just a nightmare, and then she opened her eyes and realized where she was, and everything crashed down at once.

Not many people knew, but it was difficult to keep something like this secret. Portia and Cinna promised to be discreet and she was grateful, but there wasn’t a way to truly help her now. Her whole life has just fallen apart, all thanks to the worst coincidence ever. She didn’t have the strenght to truly live those emotions, but she was half-berserk with anger and betrayal.

He was an enemy, as if the fact that their whole lives were just a big, fat lie, wasn’t already bad enough.

She was supposed to talk to someone from the direction, but she wasn’t ready. There would be staring, there would be questions. She didn’t know what to tell anyone - she didn’t know anything. The only thing she did know was that Haymitch was a rival who was apparently assigned to the very same case at her, and then tried to kill her. She didn’t know whether he realized who he was shooting at before or after it happened; she could believe that he saw her in the last second, because there was two of them and they only shot at Portia. He probably would have killed her during the dinner, though she knew that if he truly wanted to hurt her right there, he wouldn’t have let her go so easily. But that didn’t matter. They needed to see each other, talk about it, but… something told her that there wasn’t much to talk about.

They were on opposite sides, with the same target, and had tried to kill each other, without much success. That wasn’t something they could just brush off.

But what was she supposed to do?

The answer to this obvious question came in the form of Portia, whose soft steps Effie didn’t even hear on the fluffy pink carpet, and who walked in with a laptop and some kind of quiet fear engraved in her features. “Effie?”

“Yes?” she wiped her face with her sleeve hastily, though she knew Portia wouldn’t have commented on her red eyes and huge circles under them anyway.

Portia hesitated, then handed her the laptop. “It’s Snow.”

Effie knew that this moment would come and she was too terrified, too tired, too angry to face it, but, and that was even worse, she couldn’t just put it aside either. She couldn’t just ignore this, go back to sleep and pretend nothing ever happened, despite how much she wanted to. She had to accept it, she had to take a grasp on it and hold tight onto the harsh reality, she needed to look at it from a certain perspective and understand it.

Her husband had tried to kill her.

She had tried to kill him.

They have ruined each other’s missions, because they didn’t know it was them they were supossed to get rid of.

Now there were consequences to face and choices to make and before she did anything, she needed to speak to Snow, though she knew what he was about to tell her. She knew what he was going to ask from her. And she knew she wasn’t going to do it and she needed a way to make things alright without having to go through yesterday’s horrors again.

Her friend disappeared behind the glass doors and left her there with nothing but the laptop from which’s screen he was watching her with his snake-like eyes, dark and hard even when his face was speaking of a certain empathy.

“Miss Trinket,” Snow greeted her, his voice disorted through the speakers, “this isn’t the best opporturnity to speak to you again.”

“No.” Her eyes were burning and she was afraid of the tears that were threating to fall down her face. Not now. Not now.

“I didn’t even know what you are married,” he told her and let his lips curve into an ingenuine smile. “This might surprise you, but I know Mr. Abernathy.”

“What?” she snapped. “How could you know him?”

“I have asked him to come over to our company. To start working for us, and he had declined every time. I never would have guessed this. This situation is the product of my carelessness. I cannot phatom what it feels like to know that I have missed something so important, but you two sure know how to keep a secret.” He shook his head slightly, then tilted it as if pretending to be evaluating the possibilites, already decided on one. “Miss Trinket, you have always had my unconditional trust. You have a keen instinct. I bet that that instinct is telling you the same thing that I am about to tell you. Your husband, however he has my respect, is an enemy. And enemies need to be eliminated. I believe that you will do the right thing.”

Effie’s mind softened but her body tensed. Her own words sounded strange to her, like her voice wasn’t her voice and the brain that came up with them wasn’t part of the same body that her heart was. “The right thing?”

Snow took his time before answering. He was scanning her face and by his expression, she could tell that she was far from her best appearance, with eyes tortured from crying and a night of no sleep, with her forehead wrinkled in the fear she was failing to hide. And she didn’t care. He didn’t, either. There was very little that could possibly make him feel sorry for her, or to have any mercy at all. His conclusion was not surprising. It was, however, shattering. “Yes, the right thing. Miss Trinket, you have been living with him for even years. Sharing home with him. You have always had my trust and I am sure you wouldn’t want to lose it now, because as much as I don’t want it to, there is this doubt creeping on my mind. He is a rival, and I am sure you understand that despite you are one of my best employees, you can never be sure in people. You have your experience with that.”

“Are you implying that I knew?” She curled her hands into fists to try and control the wave of grievance that was about to take over her reason.

“The only thing that I am implying is that you still have a job to do and a mission to finish.” The speakers rattled briefly. “It’s simple, though it may look like it’s not.”

“It’s my husband we are talking about here!” She knew that this wasn’t wise, and again, she didn’t give a damn. “What do you mean by the right thing? I’m not-”

“Miss Trinket,” Snow interrupted her, slowly running out of patience, “it’s your husband, and your enemy we are talking about here.”

“He isn’t my enemy.” She was shaking and her vision was already blurred. Not now. Not now. Not now. “You don’t mean it. You can’t make me do that.”

“I know this is hard for you, but you need to accept it for what it is,” his voice was calm but stern. No mercy. “Your husband IS an enemy now. He has attacked you and made you fail your mission, and everyone who assaults a member of our company, or ruins a chance at accomplishing your task, is considered just that. If you have any loyalty to us, and any good judgement at all, you are going to do the right thing and finish this mission without a fuss.”

She was vaguely aware of shaking her head and wiping the tears away hastily. She had already showed too much weakness. She couldn’t afford that. Not now. “I could resign. I could do anything else. Not this.”

“Do you think that he is begging for your life right now?” It was cruel and it was a low-blow and it was also very much true. “Let me reassure you, Miss Trinket, that he isn’t. And neither should be you. Of course it’s not easy, but the person we are talking about here is not your husband. He is second to nothing more but a stranger you happen to be married to and who you have never really known. You are going to follow the orders. For the sake of yourself, and everyone you love. If you love him, too, you will end matters as quickly as possible. If you refuse, I must inform you he is going to die, anyway, and you might get yourself into a very uncomfortable position. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“No,” she whispered harshly and closed her eyes.

“Do we understand each other?”

“Yes.” Effie cleared her throat. “I understand everything.”

Snow nodded when Effie opened her eyes, hard and emotionless. “I’m glad that you are so smart, Miss Trinket. I was afraid I would have to dig deeper, and remind you what happens to people who refuse to do their job. Seneca Crane, for example. Your good friend. He was there before your husband, wasn’t he?”

She loured as the mention of that name stung in her chest. “It’s… long gone.”

“And so is he.” Snow smiled contently. “You have fourty-eight hours.”

The call ended abruptly, and Effie sat there, staring at the black screen, without a trace of some proper emotion. The world was spinning with her, the realization settling down…

She gasped for air.

What in the world is she going to do?

She heard Portia’s footsteps. “So?”

There was, in fact, only one thing she could do.

“Dial Haymitch,” Effie said sharply, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. Her heart was beating faster and faster as the anger grew. “We’re having a date.”

iii.

“So you are saying that you didn’t know?”

The silence in the room, the heavy atmosphere in the whole place, one could cut it how thick it was; one would shiver at how it felt. Like building a house of cards in a full-blown whirlwind; like striking a match next to a vessel filled to the brim with gasoline. Nobody knew what to say to make it feel better. Nobody knew what to do to change it. Nobody knew what to do, period.

And Haymitch didn’t know what to think; it was too much information to process at once. There were so many things he should be feeling - disbelief, anger, betrayal, fear. And he was feeling them all at once, feeling nothing in the end. He just wanted to drink himself into oblivion and never have to wake up again.

Of course, it would be pure hypocrisy to blame her for lying to him. They had created whole fake lives for themselves and then joined them and let it become one huge lie. Haymitch didn’t know where the truth ended and where the lie started, how much of what she had told him was made up and how much of it was real. He himself never told her much about him. She always said the past didn’t matter - that what mattered was present and future. Their future. But the past did matter now, no matter how unconvinient it was for them.

Eight years of lies… it was almost ridiculous, he’d certainly find it just that if it wasn’t him, if it wasn’t his wife, if it wasn’t so fucking serious. Because it was serious. And he had no idea where to move next.

There weren’t that many choices left for him - he had to find her and talk to her. It was so weird - he was thinking of her, and he still saw the same woman he saw eight years ago. He had a problem comparing her to someone who was hired to shoot people from rooftops and could beat his ass like it was nothing. He had a problem seeing her as a rival… as a traitor.

Haymitch didn’t want to think of her like that, but she was an enemy. Not in his eyes, but in the eyes of everyone else.

“No,” he confirmed. “I didn’t know it.”

A flame flickered in Coin’s eyes that have been unreadable up until now. She moved her hand across the ebony table, stroking the polished surface, and slowly leaned back against her leather-coated chair. “I see.”

“What am I supposed to do?” His voice was rough and slow when it escaped his throat. He knew how he looked - his shoulders down, hair falling into his face in messy strands, face disorted in the poorly hidden despair. His knuckles were white from gripping the armrest so hard, but if he didn’t, he probably would have fallen apart already. He felt sick of everything.

“You know what you are supposed to do.”

He did. He… expected it. That’s what Johanna told him. “She fired at you and made you ruin the mission,” she spat, “you know how it works.” No one has showed him much empathy.

But he couldn’t.

He simply couldn’t. Period.

“No,” he growled as his heartbeat took up pace. “I need to talk to her. I have to.”

She shook her head, slowly, but resolutely. “There will be no talking. It needs to be quick and-”

“Stop,” he hit the table. The glass filling in the table’s covered shelves trembled. Coin’s eyebrows shot up. “Stop. Stop this. You don’t-”

“Mr. Abernathy,” she hissed, “this is my order. You know how I respect you, you know that over all these years, I have made a lot of concessions for your sake, but this is my ultimate and bulletproof order. I understand that it’s hard for you-”

“Hard?” He was shaking all over. “Hard? You don’t understand-”

“-she is a threat,” Coin’s voice battled his own. “She is a threat not only to you, but to all of us. CAPITOL has no mercy and it’s time we learn to not have any as well.”

“No. No. She’s no threat, she’s my wife-”

“It’s going to be you.” She got up. “I am ending this discussion. You have fourty-eight hours. You know what happens if you defy.”

He felt so stupid for begging. He just needed time. That must have been understandable - time to process it, time to figure out what other possibilities there were left. He had fourty-eight hours starting right now which meant he had two days to make it alright. He needed to talk to her, that was all. He needed to know why things happened the way they happened and if there was a way to prevent it. He needed to tell her that he was sorry for keeping this away from her and partly being responsible for this situation.

What else was there to come? They were going to get divorced and the companies’ rivalry would only get worse, given how dificult it was to keep a secret here, but it was also a way. They could talk things through, nobody would be a threat to anyone, this was one huge mistake that they couldn’t fix, overlook, or take back, but they could make a deal - after all, she was still just Effie to him. He had a hard time imagining her as someone who was hired to shoot people from the rooftops. She was gentle. She was silly. She was a lot of things he disliked combined in such a dosage that made him love them.

But he knew that it wasn’t really her, and that was the problem. Because he didn’t know she was. Because it was all a nightmare he couldn’t drink away.

There was only one way this could go, only one thing he could do.

One thing he couldn’t do.

The door creaked half-open. A petite dark-haired woman stood there uncertainly, pale eyes flicking from Coin to Haymitch. She didn’t walk in, only her torso creaping from behind the heavy door, fingers tapping on the wooden panels.

“Mr. Abernathy had a call,” she told them, “it was some Miss Trinket. She said that she’ll be at your old spot, tonight, at seven.”

“Thank you, Trish.” Coin’s sharp voice was hiding a farewell, and the woman disappeared behind the door again. “You do know what this means, don’t you?”

“She wouldn’t hurt me,” he lashed out, blood boiling, hands shaking, “we’re just gonna talk-”

“If it wasn’t so serious…” She inhaled sharply, as if to stop herself from the flood of words that were threatening to spill and flood the void of uncertainity, which has become Haymitch’s only certainity. Her eyes fluttered close briefly, she looked like she was counting something in her head, like she was comparing and calculating and finally, she had come to a result. She opened her eyes again, hard as stone and cold as ice. They were speaking of something that was already decided. They were defininte. “Talk to her. If you manage to come to an arrangement, the orders are invalid. Your immediate cut of any strings attatched to your wife is a matter of course. Either way, once all of this is over, you are going to go to a three-month leave until everything is settled. I want her dead or a proper deal. You have fourty-eight hours.”

His throat felt like it had been convulsed. There would be words to say, but there wasn’t a way to let them out. He wanted to thank her for giving him a chance, the only and last chance he would ever get. He wanted to say a lot. However, words were no use now. He needed to act. Now.

Dinner at their old spot at seven. No wonder that she picked that place. It was her favorite restaurant in the whole city and just a few days ago, she complained about how long they haven’t been there. She was pushing and pulling even now.

Despite his misery, he had to shake his head in amusement.

This… this was going to be a wild ride.

Author’s note: Hey there! After trying things like writing ahead, writing all week for an update, and not writing at all, I have decided to update each story every two weeks. Today is an odd week, which I’m going to generally dedicate to Till Death Do Us Part, while even weeks are for If This Was A Movie. I’m going to post both today, though, because I haven’t updated anything in a really long time which I feel bad about; but I’m sure every (not only) fanfic writer can relate, because time is precious when you’re in school and the effort put into brainstorming, writing and editing actually takes a lot of it, so I don’t write until I’m 100% in the mood for it - it’s supposed to be fun, not another obligation. Sooo, I hope you enjoyed it, if you’re a If This Was A Movie stan, then stay tuned for later, and have a nice day, everyone!

#Till Death Do Us Part #hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #Hayffie fanfiction #hayffie au #my writing

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thoughtsfromthebackofmymind · 8 years ago

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I waited for you

Jannette

Unbeknownst to you, there’d be six more doors you’d have to get through before you ever even saw a glimpse of me. I was still wounded. Conditioned to live with a knife lodged in between my third and fourth intercostal margin which collapsed my left lung so I never left due to you being out of my comfort zone and shortness of breath. Besides I was already in a relationship with pain and I hated him but I loved him because pain had been faithful for years. I could rely on a past history that he was sure to come. My first love on Earth cheated on me, visiting me on holidays bearing beautifully wrapped gifts of empty promises tied with bows the colour of wishful thinking and then leaving me. An egg can’t produce without a seed and winter came, then summer, then spring, then fall and I guess mine took the option to leave because although mummy said I was beautiful, and that it wasn’t my fault, it still felt like incarcerated incidence so beauty, to me, was incomplete. Like having only five heartbeats with no reason to stand up, there was no heart in the house tonight, nights like this I wish and I’d pray;

“Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name, please allow the clouds to gather and the sky to turn to grey. Lead us not into temptation. Oh how I wish that it would rain so when I look in the sky I can see my reflection.”

I got nervous when you got to door six, but surely when you saw the auction off art on the wall no one else wanted, redescribing each and every one of my wounds, you’d see the ugliness of pain. That I’m not the beauty you thought me to be when you sat in an audience listening to a woman spit a poem about how she would wait. So confidently as I did every morning after taking off poetry and music and talents and great things others think of me because they’re just John’s Legends and can’t see all of me. I stepped outside to bask in the sun. He’s the one that knows me. He loves me. He has the ability to forsee and still loves me. So I stepped outside only to find you sleeping night after night in front of the door of my cold heart, “who led you inside?” I was terrified. No one has ever been this close but all you wanted to do was show me that we shared the same old wounds. There were no butterflies, just extreme discomfort because comfort is uncomfortable to someone more acquainted with pain than love. Fear began to eat at my mind and scared crows pucked up my warm heart long ago but even with the strength of ten men I’ve had no courage. I promise I’m not lying.

But for some strange reason you still felt like heels click three times. I was a relentless unpredictable storm. And I guess those other men were made of straw and hay because I huffed and puffed but the spirit that your brick body house wouldn’t go down. Why couldn’t I admit that your hand placed gently on the back of my neck calms me? Instead I accused you of trying to control me. I hated the way my heart became a defiant teenager and began listening to you instead of me. And even after you kept giving me your ‘I LOVE YOUs’, I couldn’t stop them from replaying in my mind when my spirit, my spirit was a witness to the Christ that I saw in your life. I started getting tired of the fight. I decided to give it a try just to prove to you that you too would leave just like my seed and die before petals, stems and leaves. My trusting heart had been attacked. I didn’t know the difference between accepting abuse and being the peacemaker. I’m left with a pacemaker, nobody wanted me. My rhythm is abnormal.

I lost my footing and I kept asking myself ‘who are you?’ While climbing the attractive mount Everest of your mind, I attempted to hike a little higher to take a peek at your soul. I lost my footing on that trail, dangled off the cliff of your condition of unconditional and that is where I fell in love, skydiving on the wings of your patience. Thank you for catching me. But this love, it’s too much. This love is just way too much because your smouldering volcano erupted upon my arrival. Smothering larva, I mean hot larva chasing me down, burning the pain of my past. Scorching heat on the back of my heels, a fire that screams ‘just let me love you!’ I fell, I am consumed, I am overwhelmed. Did you know that I am crazy? Did you know broken homes and corrupt fathers, fictitious family figments, fractured bones and stained glass windows shattered my windpipe? It’s hard to breathe when anyone gets close. Stand close. And just let me inhale your exhale. Stay close. Even when I punch you with my words, stay close. Even when I cut you with my fears, stay close. Look into my chilling eyes and remember, look at my chilling eyes and remember, look at my bleeding knees and remember, look at my bleeding lips and remember, I fell for you. And it took me thirty three years to let that pain die so that new hope and new life could resurrect.

You caught my tears like wilted worn bible pages, stored them up in bottles and let the collection remind me that as long as I stay close to him, I’d never thirst again. And when God removed the scales from my eyes, I remember looking at you for the first time and finally understood the meaning of the word ’Behold’. I remember the first time I looked into your eyes, it was like staring at the back of the moon only to find that it shines too. You wear patience like a tailored suit. And all I could do was thank God and your mother for raising the man I never believed could exist. You begin to see me transforming by the renewing, I was so comfortable cocooning as you studied the freckles in my face like constellations. How sweet it is to know that I’m with someone who would still find me beautiful with stretch marks? Even when I begin being stretched as I press towards the mark.

We are not Romeo and Juliet. We are just Matthew and Janette. We too are a beautifully written tragedy. We too fought in the beginning like Capulets and Montagues. We too persevered in love’s name. In love’s name, in Jesus’ name, two lovers destined to kill themselves daily for the love of Christ. And although we know the world considers this poison, we will continue to drink truth. Stabbing ourselves with the daggers of his word constantly to convictive. We live to fight another day, we live to die another day in order to live another unending day with our king in eternity. So far from what our adversaries had planned and written for our ending, but he’s nothing but a pretender. Trying to be an author and a finisher, posing as an angry, weak William that Shakespeare but as though many of his weapons would be formed, they’ll never prosper here.

And I know they told you, “Goodluck with her.” Many have tried. Cause not even Charlie could Parker, but your consistent love would make Ella stop having fits and put down her dukes. You have me willing to walk and hop on cold trains even on a holiday. Inspire the desire to not be headstrong but armstrong, you had me in a sentimental mood willing to walk miles to get to you. You became my black coffee and I couldn’t move on. I felt dizzy because I was out of my element like a uncovered monk but you’ve been a good man for more reasons than I could count. May the Lord continue to orchestrate this beautiful lifelong complex cord progression.

I could make a million promises with a long list of what I could vow but we are flawed human beings. And if there’s anyone who could break one before night’s end, it would be me that could show you how. So today I would let my yes be my yes, my no be my no and today my I do my I do. I vow that at times I will fail you. I vow that at times I will fall short but in failures and short comings, I won’t tap out, I won’t give up. I vow to gather arguments like evidence left behind by unsubs, having the humility to say I have this criminal mind and it is CSI for the sake of Law and Order. I vow not to buy into false romanticism saying things like “you complete me” because you don’t. In Christ I have already been made complete, the head over all. So I vow not to attribute glory to you that only belongs to God.

To you and only you today I commit, to you and only you I submit, with an attitude. The attitude of Christ Jesus. Who although existed in the form of God did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped but humbled himself and emptied himself and made himself to the point where he became obedient even to the point of death. Even death on the cross and he would be my constant reflection as death on that cross was the greatest public display of affection. I’ve learned that he loved me enough to give me you, and so I vow to you my last breath.

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thesundiaries · 7 years ago

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New Delhi & Agra, India

Turns out April in regions near the equator is the hottest time of the year. We were vaguely aware of this before booking our trip to India but it really only hit us when we walked out of our plane onto the searing asphalt and blinding sun of the tarmac at Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi. It was the beginning of a trip that had high highs and low lows but that really truly leaves a lasting impression on you. There is nowhere quite like it, this mixture of urban sprawl, ancient history, and tropical air.

Delhi is a city that has to be seen to be believed. It is sitting in LA-level traffic in an air-conditioned Uber with Bollywood music playing in the background while green-and-pink tuk tuks and motorcycles packed with whole families whiz by, horns blaring as a monkey climbs on a nearby car. It is women walking to temple by a freeway in beautiful jewel-colored saris with shining gold filigree, the colors dulled by a haze of red dust that billows up from the ground and the smog that permeates the air. It is having a 10 rupee pakora in a grease stained napkin for lunch in an alley of Chandi Chowk and then spending 11,000 rupee on dinner at Bukhara at the ITC Maurya, where you wait next to a giant orchid arrangement in the mahogany paneled lobby for the taxi the concierge called for you. It is walking out of a 400 year old sandstone fort directly into a maze of stores and tangled electric wires that nearly block out the sun, looking for the neon lights of the closest McDonald's to buy a Fanta.

Truth be told, it can be a bit overwhelming and there were times we felt defeated by the heat, the blaring traffic and a stomach bug or two. But I can safely say that it is unlike any of the other metropolises I have been in and if you fly into Delhi you should definitely take some time to explore the city. And save up for a meal at Bukhara.

THE PLACE TO PICNIC INSIDE A PALACE:

If you're looking for historical sights, the Red Fort is probably near the top of your list. This expansive structure was built in the 1600s and served as the main residence for the Mughal emperors for 200 years. It is hewn out of red sandstone and white marble, with green gardens criss crossed by the long dry beds of canals that used to carry the water that surfaced inside the ornate carved pavilions and cooled their shadowy, pale interiors and noble residents. In its courtyards and dungeons the emperor used to carry out Coliseum-style fights between exotic animals like lions and elephants. In the present day, you can find many families picnic-ing on the lawns and pigeons roosting in the intricately carved marble walls, their former bright white color faded to beige and streaked with dark grey smudges from age. Bring water. And if you dread roaming the fort underneath the bright Delhi sun the night can be a preferable time to visit when you can also witness the Sound and Light Show, which projects colorful art onto the facade of the fort to the sound of music. Buy tickets in advance and note the separate (usually shorter) line for tourists.

WHERE TO GRAB A BITE POST-RED FORT:

Chandi Chowk is a market area in Delhi adjacent to the Red Fort that is rife with small shops and food stands. We were there on a Sunday where most shops were closed but walking in the narrow alleys, dodging motorcycles and cast iron pans bubbling with fried loops of orange jalebi and peeking inside the occasional sari store or barbershop is still an experience. I would likely not have worn open toe shoes if I went again and instead of waiting for an Uber, would have grabbed one of the many tuk tuks rushing by to find a ride home. As for food, this site provides a comprehensive list and Karim's Kebabs nearby is a particularly popular spot. As is just looking for what looks good (and well-fried if you are wary of Delhi belly).

WHERE TO GO FOR NEW YORK CITY PRICES AND THE BEST CHICKEN OF LIFE:

If you are pleased with how far money can stretch in India, Bukhara will be a bit of a rude awakening. You can easily spend $100 USD per person here but if you can't tell by the refined interiors of the ITC Maurya hotel that houses Bukhara and the genteel English-speaking service, this is a pre-tty nice establishment. The food here, a lot of it flame-grilled over charcoal pits, is exceptional. No doubt one of the best chicken dishes I've had and together with the blistered naan, buttery black lentil daal, cool creamy raita and giant cubes of life-changing seared paneer cheese - probably one of the best meals of my life in general. The waiter threw in some free dessert, saffron tinged and pistachio topped firni (an Indian rice pudding) and we left very happy if unexpectedly $160 USD poorer. If we went again I would skip the cocktails (save the room for more daal then get your cocktail fix at the 1911 bar The Imperial Hotel) and take note of the rupee to USD conversion rate, which were blissfuly unaware of the first day in Delhi.

WHERE TO STAY:

Hotel prices in Delhi can range from $2 USD a night for a bunk bed in a shared room in a hostel to $1000+ USD for a room at one of the Taj properties. Although Airbnb is not as popular in India, we still found interesting properties in the Delhi area. Although some of them can be further from the city center, note that Uber is safe, widely used and very affordable (we rarely spent more than $2 USD on a ride). Hauz Khaz, Greater Kailash and New Friend's Colony are all good, safe, relatively upscale neighborhoods to stay in that are not too far from main attractions. And there are some sights and eats within, including the Lotus Temple and Seventyseven restaurant, both in New Friend's Colony. We booked a fairly large apartment in Greater Kailash that easily accommodated five people (and could have accommodated at least 2 more) with a rooftop garden that had quite the sunrise and sunset views. There was also A/C, filtered water in the kitchen and it included a prepared breakfast every morning (for about $100 USD a day). Link here.

IF YOU HAVE MORE TIME IN DELHI:

There are many places we missed as we only had 3 days total in Delhi. Besides the attractions we saw Akshardam, Humayan's Tomb, Jama Masjid Mosque, Qutb Minaret, Lodhi Gardens, the Stepwells, Connaught Place and Dilli Haat (for hand made goods) were all stops on our list we didn't get to. As for restaurants, SodaBottleOpenerWala , a traditional tea house (like this one or this one) and this list from CN Traveler were all noted down too.

FOR FEELING LIKE A LOCAL:

You can get to Agra from Delhi via train (2-3 hours) or private transport car (~3 hours). The train is significantly cheaper and a chance to ride with nearly all locals if you take the regular train instead of the express. Make sure you reserve seats and if you are a woman traveling alone, there is a women-only car. We sat across from a family with two small children and some locals perched on the bunk beds that were in for much longer trips than us. Although few people spoke English the few that did were fun to chat to and wonderfully helpful when the conductor came by and (angrily) noticed we were seating in the wrong area as we had not reserved seats. It's a long ride, the benches are far from comfy, and there is no AC but the company of your fellow passengers and the Indian countryside whizzing by the open windows is quite the experience. Maybe book it only one way and then take the more comfortable express with it's airline style seats or a private car back the other way. Bring snacks and bug spray.

IF YOU MISSED THE RED FORT:

If you missed the Red Fort in Delhi, the Agra Fort in Agra is it's bigger and badder cousin. Similar to the Red Fort it is not solely a fort but a large complex and the Agra Fort is so massive it can be considered a walled town. It was also a residence for Mughal emperors and part of the fort is still in use by the Indian military. You can find multiple courtyards and gardens, some framed by imposing arches hewn out of red sandstone and others all delicate terraces and carved white marble. Be prepared to walk a bit and definitely bring water with you. There are many guides that will offer their services to you if you want a more complete tour. We opted to just wander around. Also, in my opinion I would skip the Red Fort entirely or just go for the Light & Sound show in Delhi if I was also visiting the Agra Fort, which in my opinion is more impressive and has a similar enough architectural style that there is no need to go to both.

WHERE TO BREAK FOR LUNCH:

I don't know about you but despite being a big fan of Indian food, the variety of Indian food we get in the US is quite limited and although most people know what vindaloo curry and tikka masala is, there were times when I would look at a menu and not understand what a single dish was. I now am much more well-versed in what constitutes a dosa, a paratha, a vada and an idli. And if you are not, the lacey thin crepe you see above is a dosa.

Dosas are a thin crepe-like pancake, made of a rice and lentil batter. They cook up so that they are crispy and feather-light, and are often filled with golden spiced potatoes or thickly sliced paneer cheese. On the side, they are served with a wide range of hot and cold sauces like cool coconut chutney, pickled onions, warm lentil daal, and tomato chutney. The onion dosas we got at Dasaprakash were laced with tiny flecks of caramelized onions and I would highly recommend them. The restaurant had friendly servers and was also where I discovered my favorite Indian beverage: salty lime soda. If you are worried about the salty part, you can get them sweet and salty - but the salty is SO much more refreshing. Lastly, if you are in the mood, besides their top-notch dosas, Dasaprakash also has a very extensive ice cream selection for dessert.

IF YOU'RE IN THE MARKET FOR A NEW CHEESE BOARD:

Note that in general if you arrive by train to Agra you will need to hire a car to drive you around. There is a taxi station right outside the train station that shows fixed prices for the driving fares. Although we were skeptical of how pushy the drivers were, it is the way to do it (unless you are staying in Agra and have arranged a tour thru your hotel). The prices are all inclusive although you are expected to tip at the end. Usually you can see multiple sites, like the Agra Fort and the Taj Mahal, while your driver waits outside for you. They will also take you to lunch and dinner if you are staying late: if you have any preference as to where you can request to be taken there, if not they will likely take you to a friend's restaurant. It is also common for them to stop at shops that sell marble inlaid items and gems, both characteristic of Agra. Although they definitely get a commission if you buy anything we found both shops to be of good quality and bought a small marble table and a pair of earrings. Likely because it was the off season and we spotted very few other non-Indians around (even at the Taj Mahal), we were able to get generous discounts (...at least from the initial price stated).

THE BIG ONE:

I guess if it's your first time in India it's difficult to not go to the Taj Mahal. Many times when I first visit a city I eschew the big, more time-consuming uber-tourist spots - I only went to the Louvre the third time I went to Paris and despite living in Toronto, I've yet to make it to the CN Tower. But there is a reason they are such major attractions. And even if you feel like you already know exactly what the Taj Mahal looks like, seeing it in person, with the sunlight gleaming off it's curved white walls, is quite a thing. In the off season when we went, it is not terribly crowded at all, and you can walk around and linger wherever you want. Our guide also suggested going later in the day to catch the sunset and to avoid the midday heat, which I wholly endorse. When it's busier, I hear sunrise and sunset boat rides thru the river that runs beside it are a serene and unique way to see this wonder of the world.

Note that as a foreigner, your ticket already includes a guide, a bottle of water and covers for your shoes. So no need to go with one of the "official" guides that try to tell you they can help you cut the line at the outside entrance.

IF YOU MISS MEXICAN FOOD:

If you miss your weekly burrito, try a chicken kathi roll! Spiced chicken and/or paneer are rolled in fluffy kathi rolls, fresh off the griddle. Cheap, fast, and tasty, we were big fans of Mama Chicken in Agra. They also have biryani, mutton and momos if you want to stray from their specialty.

#india #delhi #guide #agra #taj mahal #restaurants #bukhara #red fort

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imawritinginprogress · 7 years ago

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The Feminist Princess and the Unexpected Warrior

June 12, 2089, Ithuriel

Princess Cleo: I’ve lived all my life being trained as an independent and courageous princess. Since my father died, I don’t believe I need a man to tell me how to lead the kingdom of Ithuriel after what mortality did to what the people call Philippines. I studied the history and government of that country for years and I’ve learned that when a woman rule a country, she is usually claimed to be a devil advocate, a puppet, or worse, people might advice you to “just leave it to the men,” like most men rule the country. I did not say that the leadership of men was wrong, I admire few men leaders who weren’t selfish on their good intentions to lead, but most of men were corrupted by the influence of money as well as the recognition of the people, notably the poor and the commoners.

That was long time ago, since angels came and conquer this beautiful country to correct history and to improve humanity on Earth. My parents led the revolution since most of the corrupt politicians died of our powers since the battle of angels and humans happened on what was now known as Ithuriel.

Their government was what the people call a utopian, ideal, you could say. Religions were now unified, yet people were given a free choice to express their diversity, be they wanted to be a Catholic, Christian or whatever you wanted to believe in, even in being a part of the rainbow community too. Everyone is given equal rights to study their level of expertise; of course there were schools for each profession. I could mention more about how beautiful Ithuriel is, but according to the people my parents talked to, it was like heaven on Earth.

Until, I witnessed my father being slain by someone he considered to be his ally, his best friend. Since then, I furiously become determined to be a worthy leader for the people of Ithuriel and to take revenge of those behind the assassination of my father.

Since then, I won’t let anyone tell me I’m just a girl, that I’m just another pretty face but considered worthless in history, especially by men who tried to revolt against my mom because she is just a woman. My study on international culture and leadership has been helping me to be what fate wanted me to be. I’m now more than ready to be the next leader of Ithuriel, father. So help me God.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“So Ms. Jemima, how do you write this compelling story?” a reporter from The Manila Bulletin named Christian interviewed in her first ever press conference promoting the book.

“About the story of Princess Cleo, which many women wanted to emulate like the famous heroine too. What are your reactions that your book has been worshipped by your fans not only on Philippines but also worldwide too?” said another from Philippine Star.

“Will you consider the rumor that Shine Network will televise your book into a primetime series,” commented another from Inquirer.

Me and my classmates in Creative Writing under Sir Carlou’s class were watching the live simulcast of Palanca awardee and best-selling author behind “The Feminist Princess”.

“Personally, I like Ms. Jemima Angeli. She’s been known and well loved not only on the present times, but also on social media too. She’s been responding to her growing number of ladies whom she encouraged to be true to themselves and also been reaching out to men to be not afraid of what society dictates us to be. Yet she did not consider herself wise, she is also cracking jokes via her official Twitter ever now and then when she’s not in writing mode.

She’s my inspiration. That’s why I wanted to be a writer like her one day. I will write as dauntless like her,” gushing Cristine, who is a big fan of her writings. As expected, I had to get myself be overwhelmed by her idolizing such a writer like Ms. Jemima Angeli.

Truth is, I cannot blame Cristine. She’s also an aspiring writer too, she needs someone to ignite her writing skills but sadly, I’m an Engineer. I don’t usually involve in things such as literature and arts, unlike my girl classmates and I don’t even care.

“Feminists suck”, says my mind while enduring the live press conference. “She claims she reaches out to men, but that is still women superiority complex disguised as women empowerment”, that is what I believe in. Sorry Emma Watson, I would rather prefer her acting rather than her advocacies, I even commented to stop her fangirling obsession.

Man that kills me. Girls, when will you learn that you still needed men too?

To which Cristine replied, “You know what, you’re just being insulted because she achieves way better than you did. I hate this to tell you, but if you don’t have something nice to say, you better shut your mouth okay?”

“There you go, Cristine. You won. I am worth nothing, and you go ahead with your shitty writing if you wish,” I sighed in my defeat when suddenly her book opened without a second, and since Sir Carlou shut the lights dark, the blaring light shocks everyone. Later I didn’t realized I was devoured literally into a book.

I screamed with all my might but even my classmates and Sir Carlou were almost paralyzed into inaction, unable to help me.

“This is crazy. I just saw these on anime, but well, welcome to an adventure, Arthur”, as in minutes I am now surrounded by people attending the congregation of Queen Esther and her daughter Princess Cleo. I looked at my shabby university uniform and felt alienated by the outfit of the people around the city.

A big white arrow, with a sign labeled in all big capitals, “Ithuriel” was seen before my very eyes dusted by sand.

“Ouch”, I exclaimed, “This isn’t real”

“Hey, “a knight-clad warrior approached me and tied both my arms, about to arrest me without even knowing me. “What the hell are you wearing? Are you one of the revolutionist Magicians who even dared time travel to Ithuriel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I almost shouted in pain before I gazed at the knight who even dared to even argue with me. “Oh what a nice welcoming”, I sarcastically sighed to myself when he pulled me towards the prison cell.

“You better come with me, no objections, Mister, if you wanted me to keep you alive, you” as the knight led me to the prison cell with everyone staring at me.

A few minutes later, I was in the prison cell, just like what he wanted of me. I’m still thinking of escaping from this fictitious place when a beautiful woman approaches me.

She was wearing a gown just like the typical princess on the fairy tales; her straight shiny black hair caught my eye. Maybe she was Princess Cleo, the way Ms. Jemima writes her to look like, but I never thought that novels could be this real. Just like her beauty.

I never fall in love with a fictional character written in the book. Nah, that’s insane.

“Are you even hungry?” she even asked.

And she has a lovely voice. Oh dear me, am I in love?

Days passed and I began befriending the knights who appeared to be amazed at my smartness to construct the castle of Ithuriel using my knowledge at Engineering. So I learn how to narrate tales of what the Philippines look like during my time, since I already told them I’m a student at one of the prestigious university in Manila and they look very interested in where do I grew up and if word was true that men were treated fairly during my time.

Cool. I was now here in the future of the Philippines. Well, if only I memorized by heart the history, I would even give up my Engineering degree to pursue politics and governance and study in Ithuriel. No, I don’t mean that. Engineering was cool, yet one must be patient if you wanted to be like me. Just kidding again; please laugh.

Heck, I would even ask if I could study something related to Engineering, or whatever they might call right now. Even with all the knowledge I study at heart, all I cared at this moment to get to know this beautiful woman. I don’t care if Cristine spoiled me that she’ll soon die at the end of this story, I just wanted to.

If Cristine were here and she saw my face gushing, she’ll surely be laughing at me to no end.

But I don’t even bother, except for my feelings every time Princess Cleo visited the prison cell to feed me and talk to me, if she is not in a bad mood. Even if all I received sarcastic humiliation and countless rejections from her, I just wanted to hear her voice, daydream I would touch her angelic face, and.. just her presence made my day.

I waited and waited and hoped for her, to no avail. Has she never seen a man like me before, I don’t know. Even I showed her my wisdom, I cracked jokes with her, I tell my stories to amuse her; damn this woman’s heart is as cold as stone!

I never felt so miserable in my whole existence. Maybe my charming appeals do not work in my favor, nor has she ever fallen in love before with a man and later left her too?

These questions haunted my mind every night whenever the knights stayed behind me in bars to watch me. I’m in this prison cell, staring at my cell phone, missing my college professors, Cristine, Ivan, Abby, Laven, Denver, and everyone until I immediately fell asleep in my immeasurable grief.

* * * * * * * *

The next morning, a knight whom I mostly befriended named Joseph invited me to free me from my miserable days on the prison cell, in exchange for my training to be expert in swords just like I’ve seen in the movies.

Less than weeks passed since I’ve been given this freedom I owed to Joseph, and in no time, finally I mastered sword fighting. Joseph taught me how to ride a horse and everything I need to learn in combat.

I never felt like a hero in my whole life, aside from my classmates knew me as a Math wizard. Finally, you’ll see what you lost, Princess Cleo.

Joseph lent me his favorite horse named Viceral. At first, I laughed for his quick sense of humor in nicknaming horse names, but he told me that it’s his lucky horse and wishes me well in the battle I’m going to face in. “You’ve already mastered quickly what I’ve learned in knighthood for years. I’m so proud of you, Arthur. Go and save the Princess, the world needs her existence!” as I left with Viceral on the way to what was previously called Mt. Apo.

I am more than ready to rewrite your history. Sorry, Ms. Angeli, but your story is long gone. You need quick revisions, or whatever editing you might proofread after all, for I am to prove Princess Cleo that she doesn’t need to face leadership alone, she needed me.

Which is to no avail because she won’t let me either after the night I saved her from the angel-slaying dragon who is about to imprison her. I cut the dragon split in two, and Princess Cleo did not even acknowledge me for saving her life.

Why did she every time she sees me, her eyes looked at me sweetly too? I don’t understand that night when I saved her, she hugged me in her fright, as if she needed my help? And yet every time I do care, which is I never did for my past loves, she even won’t give me some slacks?

I stood with my hand-me-down night armor Joseph borrowed me on the night I helped her, helplessly and exhausted in my battle, my eyes swollen in heartbreakingly pangs of rejection as she commanded me to stay away from her. I turned my back, gazing one second towards this ice princess who claimed she was a feminist. Or maybe she is.

“My love, can’t you see how much I’ve changed me since I met you. Why you’re making me crazy thinking about such wasted beauty like you? I wasn’t like this before, but why? Is there someone before me who hurts you? I will protect you from the boys who will do things I wanted to do with you, please hear my heart” I desperately screamed at the top of my lungs, damn my almost victory no one ever knows.

Except that my pleas were finally heard at the author itself.

Jemima Angeli.

She stood at me quickly, asking me of my intentions to save the princess. I quickly replied that “I may not be a fan of your works, but I loved her since the day I saw her when I was wrongfully imprisoned those weeks, but she never do care about me, even on the day I risked myself to save her from her tragic fate.”

“So you already read my book,” replied Jemima. To my surprise, it took me seconds to notice of her maroon coat she’s wearing to.

“So you’re one of the revolutionists who killed her father?” I blurted out my damn hypothesis, which I’m afraid she might have said it worse.

She replied politely to my surprise, “Yes, I did. But thank you for doing great in my story, which I heard you screaming at the mountains just earlier in my dreams.” She took a step forward, “Already looking for revenge towards her indifference?” which she brought up someone I did not see coming.

Princess Cleo was stunned to be back after she proved her victory that her feminist theory could be won, but in the end, whatever good it might seems, if done in bad intentions, it would fail anyway.

“Why are you bringing me to this man; you murderer!” Princess Cleo screamed horror as Jemima Angeli is not your usual writer; she has the gifts of time travelling, precognition and clairvoyance, which is declared illegal magic by her present government.

In instant, the author in her pity shared her tragic story, “I once become like you, I lost my dad before which is why I become a feminist. But I never tried hurting any man of good intentions like Arthur to feel what grief your father left of your soul. It’s a waste to continue you becoming an unworthy heroine to thousands of ladies who knew your story very well, even they know your life would be tragic anyway”, the Palanca awardee I just watched long time ago muttered in her breath.

Life is one big adventure of mishaps and learned lessons. Believe me or not, the next few words she says gives me sense of justice over my recent heartbreak.

“From now on, you’ll been recognized not your title of being a Princess but live your life being this guy” she commanded, her powers drew towards the ice princess.

“Until you finally learned how to appreciate what this guy did for you, for love, “as Princess Cleo was swallowed into the book, her angelic face was being transformed like Arthur’s resemblance as a punishment.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

PRESENT-DAY at the UNIVERSITY, TWO DAYS AFTER ARTHUR IS BEING SWALLOWED BY THE BOOK..

“Waaaaaaaaaaah!” as the princess woke up and find herself in the mirror as soon as she got up. Espedillion’s abode, to her surprise!

From now on, the princess was forced to look like the man she crushed his hopes for romance. Her tears started to fell down too as she stared back at her handsome reflection.

“Arthur”, she sighed. “I’m sorry I broke you. But this is my fault. You always said that you love me, but I’m so scared because I’m so heartbroken, I used to hate men and preach the wrong meaning of feminism but I was wrong. I should get to know you instead, oh please.”

“Hey, Arthur, why you’re crying” Cristine approaches him, giving her handkerchief at him.

“Sorry”, I apologized to the girl, “Were you a friend of Arthur?”

“Of course, you’re Arthur right? My god, friend, you’ve been absent since 2 days! You have missed so much time. Laven, Abby, Walker, Angel, and everyone misses you so much, we never stopped contacting you via Messenger but seems that you shut your mobile phone not to make us feel worried. Where have you been all these days?” as I noticed the book she’s holding to, besides her black bag.

She owns the book I’m been looking for, so I would know if I would be in damn tragedy like what she said she originally written as my death. I asked Cristine if she could lend me her book so I could study what my life would be as well as my future, to avoid my fate, if proven I would die, as being written.

“How come, I thought you’ll never be interested in Jemima Angeli’s writings because you only cared for your Engineering degree? On one condition, I’ll accompany you at the gazebo. Looks like we have so much time to talk to, “

I hesitantly agreed as she pulled me playfully to the gazebo. It was peaceful outside the University, as the cool breeze swept as us. We were sitting on a bench nearby, and she told me things that like me, despite of his amazing intelligence, lies a man longing for someone who could he be himself around, and things Arthur never shared things with me about. I then admitted that I wasn’t Arthur and pleaded Cristine not to tell her classmates about the curse, and everything Arthur did for me, which she laughed to no end.

“I’m just his friend, c’mon, I never liked him,“ Cristine admitted. “If you really love him, let me help you. Feel free to contact me just in case you wanted someone to talk to,” as she waved herself goodbye for her next class.

Days passed and I was adjusted to the university life Arthur is experiencing through. Cristine helped me cope with whatever weird nuisances my Engineering classmates were slowly noticing, so thank God I wasn’t caught.

The Espedilion family has been my second home to me. Abby and Wesley were good friends, they’re nice college buddies even they did not recognize I wasn’t Arthur after all. Sorry guys.

The day of submission of Prof. Carlou’s assignment regarding Jemima Angeli’s interview has been drawing near. And we have to read our reactions in front of my class.

God, I hate oral recitations.

“Mr. Espedillion?” Prof. Carlou called me after Cristine and Wesley has finally done reading their pieces.

Cristine tapped my shoulder, wishing me good luck. “It’s time.”

I read the paper I’ve been thinking about Arthur the whole time. I realized writing could make you powerless, but above knowledge, love is the strongest power in my whole existence.

I forgive her for killing my dad. I finally learned to love Arthur, the man I lived within days of discovering the life he’s accustomed to.

I stared at everyone who’s been waiting for me to even open my mouth. My train of thoughts snapped back to reality as Prof. Carlou repeated his instructions, “Mr. Espedillion, are you with us?”

“Yes,” I immediately replied and nodded to read my essay again. I just make sure the night before the presentation not to reveal my true identity in my essays as well as my growing feelings for Arthur.

“What I’ve learned from Jemima Angeli and her heroine Princess Cleo Maxine were adventures I’ve never travelled to, but from an Engineer’s perspective, I’ve learned a girl can be hurt and insensitive because she thought love can be restrained not taught not to feel it. I’ve tried, believe me, I realized you can be the most knowledgeable and the most successful Engineer, or writer, or an author, or even be anything you wish, but if you’re doing it out of vengeance, it wouldn’t only resolve anything, it would make things worse. I realized these past few days reading her novel and realized Jemima Angeli is not your typical feminist but Princess Cleo is, blinded by her anger and hatred towards the people responsible for her father’s death, if someone might call her heartless and insensitive. News: Princess Cleo is in love. Jemima might not mention to you guys yet, but she is in love with the unexpected knight she met in the prison cell. That stranger she thought he was a time traveler who’s threatening her safety, but heck, he doesn’t know whatever I denied, I smiled. I blushed, but I never dared to utter, for I don’t believe in such nonsense. That she’s a feminist and I won’t fall in love with the man that might betray my trust later on, just like what happened to her dad. Sorry, but, I do love---

Meanwhile in Ithuriel, Jemima and the real Arthur watched behind her speech using the water in the well to witness such change of heart for the once called ice princess so she let Arthur return back to his true form and live his normal life.

“She has loved you back, Arthur. Go back to your life and I’m sorry for bothering you” Jemima started to apologize me.

Oh no, I did not even wanted her to apologize the one responsible for why we met.

I smiled at the author slash magician I would never forget, the kingdom of Ithuriel, Joseph, and his knightly comrades as I was swallowed by the book.

Love takes you to places you’ve never been of, feels of the things Engineering never taught me, but I learned that anyone can be a hero for someone you’ve consider to grow and marry for the lifetime, should I?

I reached the University in no time, in a woman’s dress. I remember.

I do look like Princess Cleo, so keep calm, my darling. I’ll rewrite our love and your fate, I sighed as the book take me to where Cleo admitted her feelings to me. She was surprised as our eyes met, and I can say she missed me too, even if she doesn’t admit it.

“My Cleo,” I kissed her with all my might the moment I saw her. I don’t care if my classmates saw us, for all I care as her existence makes me feel alive. Her confession was enough for me to taste her love, and what she deserves for a simple college geek like me.

Our bodies start to exchange in front of the whole class, and finally I hugged her tight, with the essay paper she wrote for me. Professor Carlou and the whole class clapped for us out of their shock a few minutes later. They must have felt like they’re watching a televised love story. Or maybe it is.

She finally grew feelings for me, as I cupped her angelic face. Damn, I could stare at her face for a lifetime. I’m not at my dying years, but am I already in heaven with her. Wish I would rather die right now and marry her right away, but I guess this is me happy. I really did, and I’m sure of it myself.

Jemima nowadays must have been playing Cupid now, I’m honored.

Years past since I’ve gotten myself a degree in Mechanical Engineering and I’m now a professor in my alma mater. Even it took me years since that day Princess Cleo kissed me; she never died in my heart. And even they never believed in me except Cristine who is now a famous spoken word artist, Ithuriel still holds a special place in my heart.

Even if the story no longer became the trend unlike way before did, I’m still holding on fate that we’ll soon meet, if we’re really destined to be with each other. Only time could tell, I just need to trust her to forget her fears.

Just kidding though, I hate tragic endings. Oh, did I forget to tell you, we’ve been married in Ithuriel days after I got my licensure in Mechanical Engineering?

--END--

#clethur imawritinginprogress myfirstshortstory dystopian futuristicPhilippines Ithuriel

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hope-n-prayers-blog · 8 years ago

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Did you know that I’m not her? And I partially agreed to the wait because I didn’t believe you existed in the first place. But in the slight rare possibility that you did, you would definitely not want me. Because I’m not ‘her.’ I choke on soft words like ‘want’ and ‘need’. I hate flowers, red boxes of unpredictable strangely textured chocolate, balloons that take months to die and everything Valentines Day. I’m sorry but to me The Notebook and Pretty Woman were just okay. I am the one that fairies tell you to stay away from, I was never Cinderella, I was the evil stepmother. I was never the princess, I was the fire breathing dragon. I was Ursula, I was The Wicked Witch of the West, yet you still chose to knock on the door of this castle- my heart, unaware that an invisible fortress had been built due to much more experienced pain than a sting. Unbeknownst to you, there’d be six more doors you’d have to get through before you ever even saw a glimpse of me. I was still wounded. Conditioned to live with a knife lodged in between my third and fourth intercostal margin which collapsed my left lung so I never left due to you being out of my comfort zone and shortness of breath. Besides I was already in a relationship with pain and I hated him but I loved him because pain had been faithful for years. I could rely on a past history that he was sure to come. My first love on Earth cheated on me, visiting me on holidays bearing beautifully wrapped gifts of empty promises tied with bows the colour of wishful thinking and then leaving me. An egg can’t produce without a seed and winter came, then summer, then spring, then fall and I guess mine took the option to leave because although mummy said I was beautiful, and that it wasn’t my fault, it still felt like incarcerated incidence so beauty, to me, was incomplete. Like having only five heartbeats with no reason to stand up, there was no heart in the house tonight, nights like this I wish and I’d pray; “Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name, please allow the clouds to gather and the sky to turn to grey. Lead us not into temptation. Oh how I wish that it would rain so when I look in the sky I can see my reflection.” I got nervous when you got to door six, but surely when you saw the auction off art on the wall no one else wanted, redescribing each and every one of my wounds, you’d see the ugliness of pain. That I’m not the beauty you thought me to be when you sat in an audience listening to a woman spit a poem about how she would wait. So confidently as I did every morning after taking off poetry and music and talents and great things others think of me because they’re just John’s Legends and can’t see all of me. I stepped outside to bask in the sun. He’s the one that knows me. He loves me. He has the ability to forsee and still loves me. So I stepped outside only to find you sleeping night after night in front of the door of my cold heart, “who led you inside?” I was terrified. No one has ever been this close but all you wanted to do was show me that we shared the same old wounds. There were no butterflies, just extreme discomfort because comfort is uncomfortable to someone more acquainted with pain than love. Fear began to eat at my mind and scared crows pucked up my warm heart long ago but even with the strength of ten men I’ve had no courage. I promise I’m not lying. But for some strange reason you still felt like heels click three times. I was a relentless unpredictable storm. And I guess those other men were made of straw and hay because I huffed and puffed but the spirit that your brick body house wouldn’t go down. Why couldn’t I admit that your hand placed gently on the back of my neck calms me? Instead I accused you of trying to control me. I hated the way my heart became a defiant teenager and began listening to you instead of me. And even after you kept giving me your ‘I LOVE YOUs’, I couldn’t stop them from replaying in my mind when my spirit, my spirit was a witness to the Christ that I saw in your life. I started getting tired of the fight. I decided to give it a try just to prove to you that you too would leave just like my seed and die before petals, stems and leaves. My trusting heart had been attacked. I didn’t know the difference between accepting abuse and being the peacemaker. I’m left with a pacemaker, nobody wanted me. My rhythm is abnormal. I lost my footing and I kept asking myself ‘who are you?’ While climbing the attractive mount Everest of your mind, I attempted to hike a little higher to take a peek at your soul. I lost my footing on that trail, dangled off the cliff of your condition of unconditional and that is where I fell in love, skydiving on the wings of your patience. Thank you for catching me. But this love, it’s too much. This love is just way too much because your smouldering volcano erupted upon my arrival. Smothering larva, I mean hot larva chasing me down, burning the pain of my past. Scorching heat on the back of my heels, a fire that screams ‘just let me love you!’ I fell, I am consumed, I am overwhelmed. Did you know that I am crazy? Did you know broken homes and corrupt fathers, fictitious family figments, fractured bones and stained glass windows shattered my windpipe? It’s hard to breathe when anyone gets close. Stand close. And just let me inhale your exhale. Stay close. Even when I punch you with my words, stay close. Even when I cut you with my fears, stay close. Look into my chilling eyes and remember, look at my chilling eyes and remember, look at my bleeding knees and remember, look at my bleeding lips and remember, I fell for you. And it took me thirty three years to let that pain die so that new hope and new life could resurrect. You caught my tears like wilted worn bible pages, stored them up in bottles and let the collection remind me that as long as I stay close to him, I’d never thirst again. And when God removed the scales from my eyes, I remember looking at you for the first time and finally understood the meaning of the word ’Behold’. I remember the first time I looked into your eyes, it was like staring at the back of the moon only to find that it shines too. You wear patience like a tailored suit. And all I could do was thank God and your mother for raising the man I never believed could exist. You begin to see me transforming by the renewing, I was so comfortable cocooning as you studied the freckles in my face like constellations. How sweet it is to know that I’m with someone who would still find me beautiful with stretch marks? Even when I begin being stretched as I press towards the mark. We are not Romeo and Juliet. We are just Matthew and Janette. We too are a beautifully written tragedy. We too fought in the beginning like Capulets and Montagues. We too persevered in love’s name. In love’s name, in Jesus’ name, two lovers destined to kill themselves daily for the love of Christ. And although we know the world considers this poison, we will continue to drink truth. Stabbing ourselves with the daggers of his word constantly to convictive. We live to fight another day, we live to die another day in order to live another unending day with our king in eternity. So far from what our adversaries had planned and written for our ending, but he’s nothing but a pretender. Trying to be an author and a finisher, posing as an angry, weak William that Shakespeare but as though many of his weapons would be formed, they’ll never prosper here. And I know they told you, “Goodluck with her.” Many have tried. Cause not even Charlie could Parker, but your consistent love would make Ella stop having fits and put down her dukes. You have me willing to walk and hop on cold trains even on a holiday. Inspire the desire to not be headstrong but armstrong, you had me in a sentimental mood willing to walk miles to get to you. You became my black coffee and I couldn’t move on. I felt dizzy because I was out of my element like a uncovered monk but you’ve been a good man for more reasons than I could count. May the Lord continue to orchestrate this beautiful lifelong complex cord progression. I could make a million promises with a long list of what I could vow but we are flawed human beings. And if there’s anyone who could break one before night’s end, it would be me that could show you how. So today I would let my yes be my yes, my no be my no and today my I do my I do. I vow that at times I will fail you. I vow that at times I will fall short but in failures and short comings, I won’t tap out, I won’t give up. I vow to gather arguments like evidence left behind by unsubs, having the humility to say I have this criminal mind and it is CSI for the sake of Law and Order. I vow not to buy into false romanticism saying things like “you complete me” because you don’t. In Christ I have already been made complete, the head over all. So I vow not to attribute glory to you that only belongs to God. To you and only you today I commit, to you and only you I submit, with an attitude. The attitude of Christ Jesus. Who although existed in the form of God did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped but humbled himself and emptied himself and made himself to the point where he became obedient even to the point of death. Even death on the cross and he would be my constant reflection as death on that cross was the greatest public display of affection. I’ve learned that he loved me enough to give me you, and so I vow to you my last breath.

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#weddingvows #beautifulwords #relationshipgoals

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