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minteagalaxea · 6 years

Text

Abyssal | Wang Ziyi

ziyi and xue

genre: a solid amount of angst, that one steamy bit

word count: 6.25k

inspiration: beach trips

after all, a siren always led a sailor to his death.

note: still trying to figure out formatting, but yeah. it’s messy as fuck.

He grew up in the palace, surrounded by political intrigue, perfection the only expectation of him, hence, freedom was a wish he could only yearn for. He smelled of leather, fresh parchment, crushed velvet, of musk, a culmination of odd, yet enticing scents. The young gentleman spoke with a gentle timbre, proses of literary classics pouring from his lips in a thoughtful, wistful fervor, the tunes of particular songs escaping his lips during a state of contentment; however, the naive genteel he possessed seemed almost a dream, for his true persona realized itself with specially sharpened canines, feral in an interestingly refined style.

She grew up a product of the unforgivable, the unrealized, the unfathomable. Raised with half of a mother, no father, and a brother that understood as much about the world as she did, she dreamed of belonging, in a place where such thoughts remained unacceptable. The scent of ocean water, bitter mint, and soft silk chiffon wafted from her figure, softer fragrances, though she held a vicious killer instinct, a fact she hid from everyone in her surroundings.

Lin Xue and Lin Yanjun were accepted by a kind Hamadryad, mentoring the siblings in the craft of woodsmithery, where the sister discovered a proclivity in creating beautiful paddleboards and surfboards, and the brother found solace in creating windchimes and other decorative pieces. Every evening, the siblings settled to drag their mentor-slash-caretaker-slash-secondary-parent with them to the ocean, each carrying paddleboards to the shore. Despite the adamant refusal of Yue Yue, their caretaker, their nightly tradition persisted—mainly because they agreed that Xue's smile was the prettiest, especially with the moonlight gracing her features, making her seem more ethereal, yet lethal, with her smart mouth and cruel teeth.

Prince Wang Ziyi recalled first meeting the siblings during the morning market, ironic for his particular species, hence the umbrella he carried with him to protect the sun from scorching him. He admired the intricate carvings on the paddleboards and windchimes organized neatly, each piece characteristic to its maker and their preferences. The young boy took an interest in an ebony racing paddleboard, the deck engraved with an uneven chevron pattern, alternating between an icy mint, pale grey, and white. The paddle itself was the same, certain parts of the shaft painted in a more equilateral chevron pattern, flowing into a part of the blade.

"How much to purchase this paddleboard?" he requested, secretly placing his compelling ability to use, presuming Yue Yue, the more talkative of the trio, would answer; however, a harsher voice responded, his power purportedly ineffective against her.

"It is not for purchase, sir."

Subsequently showing the underside of the paddleboard, her name—Lin Xue—painted with stunning calligraphy in the front of the board. She returned to her workspace, finishing the minuscule details on the all-around paddleboard requested of her, carving out the name of the purchaser, painting it black, before varnishing it with lacquer, allowing it to shine. The prince watched her perform her task, enthralled by her movement, intrigued by her brother's smile at a Naiad, who handled the transaction, though Ziyi didn't question it as the other male's flirtatious glance towards the customer had the desired effect, the girl turning into a blushing mess, while Xue elicited a giggle.

"Yanjun, might you stop attempting to compel Jingyi to allow you to court her?" Yue Yue questioned, despite the laughter.

"See if I ever help you with Bu Fan, then, if you continue to speak in that tone," Yanjun snapped, seemingly playfully, yet Ziyi recognized from the undertones of his quip, he wasn't entirely joking.

"Zhenyang is still utterly perplexed at why you even have romantic feelings for a literal man-child—actually, dog-child," Xue chimed, earning a pout from her mentor, before averting her attention back to the prince in front of her. Motioning him towards her, the girl began to write a compilation of details she understood he wanted, coming to a realization that the person in front of her didn't know the various classifications of paddleboard and surfboard, yet typed out the specifications he requested, telling him to come back the following morning to pay her and receive his board.

"Might you need my name?" Ziyi inquired.

"I assume I should already know the name of the future king?" Xue countered, bending over the table to meet him eye-to-eye with dizzying proximity, it seemed intoxicating to the prince. Pulling away, the girl delved into the register, before grabbing a faded peach sweater, almost to shroud something she didn't want others to see.

Xue meandered around the market, eyeing the artisanal pieces of jewelry and apothecary-esque goods that felt more of a luxury than a necessity, though, she resorted to purchasing various teas and a small parcel of herbs, occasionally haggling for a lower price for anything remotely expensive. "I thought your body hated the sunlight?" an inquiring voice wondered aloud, Xue turning her figure to see Zhenyang, a close friend, with a dopey grin plastered on his face.

"My body dislikes the sun; hence, I can stay out in the radiating sun without experiencing an irritating death, Oceanid," she retorted, a shadow of a smile crossing her face as soon as it came, doe-like eyes gentle, yet impish. Zhenyang's own doesn't fade into obscurity, in fact, widening as he strode towards her, modelesque in his style of a walk—Li Zhenyang was regarded as the most handsome Oceanid on the island, and he exploited that knowledge as he deemed it necessary, traditionally in conjunction with his friend's antics.

Xue groaned in mock-annoyance at the sight of her closest friend grabbing her belongings to carry back to her home, realizing the ulterior motive of the action. Simultaneously, the girl frowned with her friend, whose attention seemed more on her exposed skin rather than herself as a whole; Zhenyang being worried felt to be an understatement. "Lin Xue, remind me of the last time you dove into the ocean?" he inquired, the abrasiveness in his tone predominant, only succeeded by concern, "Your scales are showing even more than usual, Xue, and I don't think it's healthy for you to be so negligent of your health."

"Pain is weakness leaving the body: Yanjun always told me that and seeing as I still am standing, in what constitutes perfect condition, it should mean something, no?" she mused, her voice a hybrid of perpetual annoyance and insatiable exhaustion. Zhenyang settled to not speak further about the matter, in hopes of not angering her, while also to not remind her of the compilation of her near-death horrors, which occurred on one-too-many occasions that neither of them wanted to recall.

The evening sky scared the nymphs, most of whom inhabited the village Xue resided in, mostly due to their unabashed fear—or hatred, Xue conjectured the former—for the aristocracy of their society: vampires; brash, arrogant, and sadistic, a majority enjoyed humiliated their societal underlings. Though unlike a majority of her nymph-like counterparts, Xue chose to heed no mind towards the supposed superiors, understanding that if she managed to not attract attention from them, they would have no intention of disrupting her existence. The paddleboard incident, as Xue often referred to it, affected how she intended to live the rest of her immortal life on the island, lest she wasn't executed for whatever blasphemous crime she committed that evidently was made up to spite the working class.

Moonlight basked over the girl, her paddleboard close to her frame as her bare trekked across the warm sand, a gentle smile on her face as she heard her brother rush over towards her, claiming, "You are a terrible sister, Lin Xue," in mock offense.

"I know, Yanjun," she responded, a sense of insouciance in her tone as they began to paddle out to a cove some reasonable distance away from the island, neither of them speaking a word as they opted to find solace in the waves of the ocean and moonwake, the midnight shade shining from the light. The tenalach the siblings shared with the body of water appeared unique to them, characteristic to their nature—nymphs had their own genetic bond towards the sea, but they were different. Their relationship with the ocean seemed more turbulent, more connected to the water than their nymph counterparts, perhaps due to their peculiar bond.

Nestled snugly into the cove, their apparatuses slightly knocking into the rocks as the siblings sat on the paddleboards, staring at the glow of the glimmering sea with a wistful expression. "Do you ever wonder how our lives might occur if we were born normal?" Xue mused gently, her eyes forlorn as her legs gracefully swung in repetitive motion.

"We have no prophecy, my dearest sister, though, I believe our lives would, inevitably, be more mundane, yet perhaps more limitless; nothing would hinder us from having and retaining a sense of normalcy in our existences," he answered, sentimentality pervading the response.

"Do you ever believe that perhaps one day, our curse might be lifted?" Xue wondered aloud, eyes flitting from the pristine white moon to their legs, liltingly combatting with each other as they sloshed against the tide.

"I suppose we sinned in the life prior, which earned us an eternity of suffering," Yanjun explained, "Had we no immortality, this supposed punishment of ours might have ended now."

"Do you ever wish your trajectory could be different than this; imagine how vastly different our decisions would be if we were only one species?" the sister suggested, her figure sliding from her board and into the ocean, giggling as her brother proceeded to accompany her in the water as she adapted to her new terrain. Prodding and poking and kicking each other with tender affection, the siblings enjoyed the period of peace and insouciance, savoring it for the moment, until the various ringing of the village bell; the siblings rushed back to the cove, rapidly paddleboarding back to shore to avoid capturing attention. Unbeknownst to them, however, they had already earned scrutiny of a particular vampire.

The following day, Ziyi returned to the market, staring at the girl wrap up his board and accommodating paddle, before stating the price of the paddleboard: one hundred gold pieces, with no opportunity for the royal to compel her to discount the cost. Handing her the coins, she checked its worth, before placing it into the register; however, Ziyi observed the subtleties of her pain and the lack of her sibling, arousing suspicion, but chose to not interrogate her regarding her private affairs. Minghui sent the girl concerned glances, though she paid no heed towards them, averting her attention towards escaping the patronizing eyes of her second parent, grabbing her sweater and stumbling outside towards the market with withering posture. Ziyi proceeded to leave the market, returning to his palace and life of luxury, blissfully unaware of the events predestined to follow.

Wang Ziyi held a penchant for explorations, conducting interkingdom trade and forging relationships for the mutual benefits of both kingdoms—other instances, the prince had a passion for joyriding his ship, The Stellamaria. The young man stood on the bow, staring off into the distance, however, the sight of an individual he recognized to be Lin Xue staggering (crawling, really) up a cliff, tossing herself into the ocean.

Perhaps his curiosity overcame him, as he removed the heavier garments of his attire, leaping into the ocean, in a futile attempt to appease his curiosity; underwater, Xue thrashed violently, clawing at her skin, and a fretful Ziyi touched her shoulder, resulting in a series of catastrophic events.

The prince understood a reaction was imminent, but he expected a less...violence, let alone a screech that pierced the vampire's acute hearing—alongside the scream, Ziyi's face became marred with the girl's precisely sharp fingers, rendering him unconscious from the impact of her strikes. She was haunting, with a white tail graduating into an icy mint, two silk-like ribbons furling from the middle of her tail, the ends webbing together in similarity to a fae's wings; her usual silver eyes burned away into a crystalline mint, seeming colder in a way. It remained the final thing he saw before his vision into obscurity as she forcefully swam away.

Xue could only comprehend the concept of pain, the signs of dehydration prevalent the morning after her heart-to-heart conversation with her brother, who disappeared, though the sister knew his location. Exerting all of her energy to propel herself from her resting place, observing the evening sunset, as she felt the rays tingle against her skin in discomfort; draping a beige cardigan over her stature. Aligning her weight onto a wooden staff, the girl hobbled over towards the Cliff, as the inhabitants monikered it, given the rocky terrain of the coastal region, Makai, in comparison to Mauka, the palace region of Mahele—however, her wooden staff snapped from the force of her vice-like grip. Successfully reaching the Cliff, Xue tumbled into the ocean, a scream eliciting from her lips when the water reacted to her dehydrated state, her body beginning to destroy itself, realigning her bones, skin, and muscle to ensure her survival; it started with her fingers, her skin adapting for aquatic survival, followed by her spine, extruding fins. Xue's tail, the most painful part of her transformation, as the lower part of her body destroyed itself to guarantee her life.

She elicited a scream as her transition began, her body deforming, her skin feeling as if it had been set on fire, her eyes especially, as the striking silver tone incinerated into the trademark mint eyes most deepsea sirens held. Halfway through her metamorphosis, somebody touched her shoulder—instantaneously, Xue released a deafening screech, succeeded by various scratches with her newly formed claws, causing her to relieve her mind from the pain temporarily, only for it to return as her legs fused together, her bones and muscles reconfiguring to create her tail. Cruelly, she swam away, allowing the boy to die—in necessity—for her security.

Ziyi woke up, eyes flickering around to find a commonality of location; his bedroom was dimly lit, warm red lights and the scent of leather and smoke perfunctory to him. He observed the various salves and poultices littering his form, a bandage on his forehead the most notable of his sustained injuries. According to the doctor, the prince obtained a multitude of painful wounds, of which the doctor instructed rest and recuperation under the pretense of healing. Sending in an attendant, he requested Lord Zhou's presence in his chambers, impassive upon the noble's arrival, necessitating information on sirens ("for research and further understanding" as he worded it), acquiring the tale from the lord regarding his children.

"Sirens are sentient beings; however, modern conceptualizations state otherwise, but yes, they understand feelings, albeit their spectrum of emotions is limited to that of another species. Part of that spurns from their territorial nature, which does not vary by living terrain—most of my personal experiences came from a deepsea-arctic siren, a culmination of the most dangerous iterations of sirens, and are highly skilled in the art of skullduggery.

"I first met her when I explored the deep sea, which is quite cold in Makai with the various frozen zones of the island. She was hunting, and I heard her sing, and automatically, I fell for her. Perhaps part of me was selfish, as I compelled her to visit me on land, and she ended up bearing a son, followed by a daughter. However, I married Lady Guang and had Meiji, which perhaps hurt her—I suppose it was that reason she chose not to disclose the mater, and, consequently, my children, justifiably, despise me for what I did to their mother, who raised them, and I have never met them.

"I suggest you heed with caution if you ever encounter them, Your Highness, as their abilities are much more potent, a fusion of their precursor's unique powers, hence they will not hesitate to attack if, and when, provoked—I have no doubt they are beautiful, enchanting even, though they will kill for survival or entertainment, whichever they choose."

Bidding his farewell, Lord Zhou departed from the prince's chambers, allowing him to cogitate over his newfound information and the most effective means of utilizing it. Resolutely, Ziyi traipsed to the library, scavenging for anthologies and compilations of works regarding sirens, scarce in comparison to other literary pieces glorifying vampires. Through the Baroque-esque window, the prince caught sight of tidal waves crashing against the rocky coast of Makai, a luxury Mauka experienced without having to fear for potential property or physical damage. The natural violence enchanted Ziyi, finding solace in the sound as he pored over the proses of literature.

Two creatures fervently propelled against the water, predators in a sea bountiful of prey, as they hunted for, quote-unquote, dessert, spying on a small school of fish by the benthic region of the sea, their nimble fingers gripping onto a piece of fish, effectively decapitating its head from the rest of the body. Naturally, their bodies rushed back to their cove, dining on their meal absentmindedly, tails gradually increasing in speed in a jocular attempt of a race.

"Yanjun, heed with caution as you enter the cave," a motherly voice chided, the oceanic vernacular heavy in her speech and diction.

"Mother, despite his height, I assume my brother can majestically traipse into the cave without much effort," Xue noted smartly, her vocal tone similar to her mother's when speaking vernacular.

"Always a sarcast, Xue—you never let mother have her fun," Yanjun mocked jocularly, earning an equally playful snarl from his sister.

"You have no right to act high and mighty, Lin Yanjun, especially when I keep seeing you flirt with a mermaid." The brother glared at his sister, who could only send him a cruel smile as he proceeded to punch her arm out of annoyance; however, the sun rays pierced their near-indestructible skin, the siblings hissing in consequence to the reaction.

"Already, it has begun," their mother whispered forlornly, "Even though you are my children, you never belonged to me, have you?" Yanjun and Xue couldn't respond, only staring at the illecebrous ocean out of curiosity and wistfulness.

"Mother, fretting about it does no good," Xue murmured, a period of silence preceding the chosen words, "This is enough for us."

Perhaps a week later, Ziyi remained cautious, yet curious regarding the pair of peculiar siblings, as he hadn't caught sight of the brunette and blond; the prince noticed the brunette gazing at him with an outlandish expression. The prince, however, couldn't find the blond, though, he chose not to ask about her presence, wary of the answers he might receive, yet the impavid aspect of his character wished to inquire about the enigmatic paddleboard maker.

The royal dined with his family, attempting to avoid the prattle of his impending marriage—a ball was to be held the proceeding evening, with ladies from various kingdoms attending to become his betrothed. However, Ziyi prayed he could escape the dinner as soon as possible to watch the sunset low-tide. The Baroque window in the library provided him a stunning view of the brunette woodsmith conversing with a nymph before proceeding to paddle into the ocean with his hands, tentatively standing to crash onto the waves easily, deftly.

Trekking out to the beach at its midnight high tide, Wang Ziyi attempted to stealthily follow Yanjun, who exchanged his surfboard for a paddleboard, out into the seas, endeavoring to mimic the motions the elder initiated. Against the high tide, the elder sped up, movement remaining calm, yet containing undertones of a franticness as he strove to reach a particular location in a specific amount of time. The royal, with considerably less exposure to the water than the Makai native, struggled to maintain a strong following, as even his vampiric speed proved futile against the other's affinity for water and superior speed; eventually, the movement seemed routine. Reaching a cave a ways from Mahele, the prince heard a piercing screech, rushing to the source of the sound, appalled at the sight of a siren with light seafoam skin mutating, her figure contorting and the dissonant of bones breaking resonating in the cave.

Temporarily, Ziyi overlooked the warning Lord Zhou bestowed upon him, haplessly touching the siren (despite understanding the repercussions of his actions fully)—the siren opened his old wounds, reestablishing their bleeding and open scars, and producing fresh ones as her claws scratched various parts of his face, her tail-slash-legs pushing the young man off the ledge and into the deep. However, Ziyi returned to land rapidly, wincing as his accelerated healing entered, and from peripheral vision, noticed Yanjun rushing towards his sister with blinding speed after the transformation completed itself—Xue's frame shook, exhausted and lightheaded as she forced herself to dress into a bikini top and shorts.

"Zhenyang brought your paddleboard over," Yanjun informed, "Where is your staff?"

"My grip broke it when I was on The Cliff," Xue answered softly, "You understand remarkably well how our beautifully erroneous strength has its...idiosyncratic malfunctions." The girl slowly hobbled towards her paddleboard, stabilizing herself as she and Yanjun paddled the back towards Makai and Mahele, with Ziyi only to follow, interest overcoming him to remove his train of thought from the injuries.

As the sun began to set, Xue felt the accustomed burning tingling on her skin increase into a fiery sensation that overwhelmed her entire being with a precarious vigor. Weakly swimming to the cave, the siren hoisted herself up onto the rock, awaiting her transition back from siren to human (by technicality, not human), wincing as it already begun, her skin breaking to restore its more humanistic attributes—the fins and gills on her back retracted back, her spinal structure realigning itself to adapt to its new landscape. Reminiscent of the week prior, someone placed a hand on her shoulder, almost as if to still herself from flailing about, inciting wounds to reopen or form with her claws, and her tail, which wasn't entirely reverted back to legs, forcefully kicked her supposed attacker into the ocean.

Her tail revamped its formation, finally turning into her legs, compiled of her flukes condensing themselves as the soles of her feet, ribbons contracting into the skin that shielded her femur, fibula, and tibia, both of which reconfigured into individual structures. Finally, the pain ceased to a halt, an indication of her complete metamorphosis, allowing Xue to breathe a sigh of relief, smiling frailly as her brother handed her a swimsuit to dress into, considering her nude state. The girl forced her body to stand on its feet, maneuvering her stature to maintain balance on the paddleboard, strength increasing in correlation with the exhilaration Xue felt returning home against the tide.

Wang Ziyi wandered around the market the following morning, determination coursing through his system as he scoured for the paddleboarding siblings, smiling in relief upon locating their presence. As he approached them with a sense of confidence, the royal stopped in his tracks upon hearing a series of lyrics that seemed foreboding, though he heeded no mind.

"Breathe breathe me in, taste my words, let me blow your mind—I will take you far, far away," a voice sang, soft enough to be undetected, but at a loud enough frequency as to which Ziyi's enhanced hearing could process the melody. Unconsciously, his steps faltered as he neared the girl, seemingly at her mercy, to which he was, unbeknownst to him; Xue leaned up, whispering, "My friend Zhenyang heard about a ball tonight in your honor—is that affirmative?" Mutely, the nod confirmed her question, a twisted smile crossing her face as she resumed her deceptive attack, "Place my brother and me on the guest list for the evening, would you?" Another mute nod later, Xue fluttered a cold breath into his ear, allowing him to revert to reality, effectively breaking out his hazy trance, walking away with a perplexed demeanor.

"Lin Xue, what ephemeral movement did you grace the wretched soul with?" Minghui and Zhenyang inquired in unison, the blond sibling eliciting an inhumanly portentous hiss.

"Had I utilized compulsion upon him in the same fashion I potentially perform it on any creature in this vicinity, perhaps I might not live appropriately long enough to recant the tale," she snarled, administering fear amongst her brother, caretaker, and friend, perching herself delicately on her work table.

"The prince displays various gashes that had only recently healed—enough of a diversion to distract him from the horrific reality of his predicament, thus, placing in effect a deadly combination of a siren song and vampiric compulsion."

"Have I ever told you how much of a genius you are, my sister?" Yanjun asked, a sardonic smirk crossing his lips upon the realization (and subsequent weight) of her actions, to which she reciprocated with a smile of equivalent malice.

His suit was made of luscious red velvet and black leather, various gold embellishments lining the sleeves and other decorum of the jacket; the tailors spared no expense into making him appear sultry and enigmatic, after all, fitting perfectly on his stature. He radiated the scent of musk and smoke, illuminating the nature of his character: confident, charismatic, carnal, as he greeted the ludic partygoers with a gentle disposition, never faltering to conceal his trepidation of even holding such a party, to begin with, had his phantom mask not provided enough of a mystery for any young lady.

Her dress consisted of beige silk chiffon (correctly described as zinnwaldite, according to the merchant selling the textile), reaching the middle of her thighs, the sheer quality exposing the expanse of her arms, legs, neck, and shoulders; a brown mantle shrouded her from the brisk wind billowing towards her and Yanjun. They surveyed the various ships and carriages journeying into Mahele, past Makai, and into Mauka, the siblings trekking their own path up the rocky environment of the border between the two sects of the island. "However much longer, Xue?" Yanjun pardoned, the brother appearing dashing in his black attire, "I understand you want to see the terrain of Mauka as we arrive, yet, at this pace, we will not get far." His response was a blur of wind, spurring him on to rush after her, stopping as they arrived in front of the palace, rushing to don their masks as they stood, waiting to be greeted by the royal family.

Her mask was made of lace, rose gold, brandished from the seven seas' underground, and his own was identical in origin, though stylistically differing from the metalwork of his sister's. The guards interrogated them, to which a sly, "The prince invited us," sufficed for entering the lavishly themed social event. Handing her cloak to an attendant with perkiness at its extremities, the siblings scoured around, shrouding their visibility through brief interactions with others and the lack of familiarity between royals. Having to refuse various offers to dance from other people, Xue grabbed a glass of a substance she was curious about; the girl remained dubious regarding its contents, but after a sip, she came towards a conclusion.

"Is it blood, Xue, or is it wine?" Yanjun wondered, politely declining an offer to dance with an especially flirtatious fae, smiling at the confirmation of the beverage as a fusion of blood and wine, an attempt to satiate the vampires' thirst while accommodating other creatures in the estate.

"Excuse me, sir," a voice beckoned, the pair of siblings craning their necks to notice an older, unmasked gentleman of equal height to the boy, an aged woman perched on his arm, and another woman, brighter, more exuberant, eyed them with an inquiring fervor. The warm eyes of the boy narrowed into slits, a snarl marring his face as he growled his greeting with a venomous sting—a warning to the ostensible members of the elite class.

"Father." In conjecture, the expression of recognition grew apparent as the once amiable expression contorted into one of horror upon the discovery of the younger's identity.

"Are you aware that in the entirety of my existence, I have only encountered you once? You opted not to watch the growth of your children, instead placing your priority over a child with higher esteem, perhaps for the intention of living a life of luxury and commodity while the woman you corrupted suffers in consequence of your selfish intent—you are a pathetic, spineless, power-hungry monster that deserves all the karma the gods can deliver."

The ladies turned towards the smaller girl, beseeching her aid, to which Xue offered none, her face impassive, discounting the frozen bite of her eyes, meticulously practiced to camouflage into the gala. As the girl proceeded to vacate the unpleasant conversation, she whispered, "Spoiled brat," the cause of a wave of tears to crash down on the younger's face; however, the elder remained unaware, considering she left the vicinity immediately.

"Would you care to dance, milady?" a voice hummed into her ear, almost expecting a bristle in reaction, mildly surprised as her reflexes caught the hand around her to twirl herself around.

"I do not dance, Your Highness," Xue responded with radiating confidence, eyeing the prince with an indescribable expression, scrutinizing her pursuer's sense of fashion (which was rather impeccable, as it always was).

In conjunction with the girl's actions, the person pulled her close to him, his right hand's grip firm on her waist, forcing the masked girl to position her left set of fingers on his shoulder, allowing him to lead her in the waltz. "Had you not made Meiji cry," Ziyi reckoned, "I suppose you might have earned my respect."

"That, I presume, is her own doing—she has as much of a cowardly disposition as my father, to which it is none of your concern," Xue pointedly riposted. The prince mocked hurt at the sharp prick of his partner's fingernails, enough to inflict pain, a crooked smile playing on her lips; in turn, Ziyi intensified his grip against the small of her back, the exposure of her fangs revealing themselves.

"It is my concern because it has a connection with you," Ziyi scorned, wrapping her leg against his waist, Xue placing her other leg up, snaking around the back to hit his skull.

"Perhaps it is so, but since when has your kind placed value on your citizens, on other classifications of creatures that loathe at an equivalent, if not, higher, caliber than that of fear or respect?" As the song concluded, Xue whispered, "I appreciate the invitation, Your Highness, but I think whatever relations previously entailed themselves between us should conclude now, before they complicate even further." With her speed, she slipped away from his sights, the prince joining in her game of cat and mouse, darting through the crowds and other locations of the estate before he snatched her wrist, rushing to her a room and locking the door, leisurely sitting on the edge of his bed.

Ziyi's bedroom was dark, with cherry furnishings and bloodred bedsheets, and a chandelier perched above the center of his bed. In a way, Xue supposed, her assumptions were correct, as the fixtures were correct to her imagination, so, as such, the girl leaned herself against the wall, standing out due to the paler tint of her dress.

"I'm aware of what you and your brother are," Ziyi revealed, his response futile to the girl, whose perceptive abilities rendered that conclusion quicker than his expectations.

"Must I congratulate you on your poor deductive skills, Your Highness?" Xue mocked, "Because I believe everyone managed to place two and two together, especially if that onslaught of words didn't attract the attention of twenty creatures in the ballroom."

"I understand why you hate me, Xue, both you and Yanjun," the prince started, trepidation and numinousness overcoming him as her glare grew deadly, her irises darkening as she sped over to him, fingernails applying pressure to his carotid artery.

"You have five seconds to owe a decent explanation before I decide to slit your throat"—the proximity decreased as she leaned into him threateningly, satisfaction shrouded, but undeniably present as Xue felt the trembles of the prince's heart—"And I believe you are aware I would do it in a heartbeat."

"You think I'm identical to your father, like the rest of my breed of aristocrat vampires," he pursued, attempting to portray a confident persona to his potential murderer, despite her lack of amusement in the matter, "I'm in love with you, Lin Xue."

"Nonsense, Your Highness," Xue riposted, "Falling for someone you met twice, especially when they have nearly succeeded in killing you more than once, seems dangerous." Nevertheless, her claws retracted themselves from his neck; however, the distance between the two didn't dissipate, as his newfangled gaze bored into her soul, the recumbentibus allowing him to hoist the girl onto the bed, allowing her to straddle his lap. Pressing her fingers onto her shoulders as she rose to tower over him, Xue pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was rough, sultry, and frustrated—the vampire prince deducted he was her means of releasing frustration, with him willingly accepting it, reciprocating it even as his fingers skated vertically down her spine. Reactively, Xue whimpered, implementing the opportunity for Ziyi to suckle her bottom lip, the girl's fingers raking through his unbraided locks, untying the mask innately. His lips contained notes of rich wine, while she of fresh flowers and effervescent herbs. In conjecture, the young man performed the same task as he felt around for the silk ribbon that blended itself into her hair, successfully locating it to untie, revealing the blond's silver eyes. Forcefully shrugging his jacket off, Xue proceeded to unbutton his dress shirt as the boy latched his lips onto her neck, a hand coiling behind her neck to untie the bow at the collar of her dress.

"Then, should I prove you wrong?" Ziyi proposed in reply to the comment the girl made—Xue resumed unbuttoning his shirt, her lips leaned against his ear while her fingers roamed as they pleased.

"Prove it," she whispered, providing enough incentive for him to tumble her underneath him, wry, carnal, smiles etched on their faces as Ziyi kissed her once more.

Sunlight wafted through the dark, sheer curtains of the bedroom, the usually uncomfortable sensation tingling the prince's skin, who rose to shut them, only to establish that the blond girl of which he slept with, vanished. Frantically, he searched the boundaries of his sleeping chambers, seeing a case on the bench of his bed. Snatching the tube, he opened the wooden roll to unearth the parchment inside—unrolling its contents, Ziyi read the message intrinsically typed onto the scroll.

My apologies, but I do not repeat history.

Resolutely, he rushed to dress appropriately, determined to find Xue, when a guard entered his bedroom, reporting, "Your Highness, the girl has escaped the palace—Lord Zhou and your parents are working to apprehend her from escaping, and she will be brought in for inquisition alongside her accomplice."

"There will be no need, officer; I will settle this issue with the intruder myself," Ziyi responded, speeding down to Makai, in the hopes of reaching Xue before their parents apprehended the girl. Intuitively, the boy searched at her stand, finding her sanding down a piece of wood, flitting away within a blink, sparking a violent game of chase between the two, as Xue managed to evade his clutches barely, locating creative hiding areas, her small stature advantageous against the taller Ziyi.

As she reached the coastal rocks of Makai, her bare feet grazed one particularly sharp rock, an incision made into the sole of her foot, the line of blood serving as a quote-unquote breadcrumb trail for Ziyi to follow as he came across the path. Inspecting the print, the vampiric noble inhaled the minty, oceanic scent permeating the rock, the fragrance intoxicating him as he resolutely dove into the water, fretfully searching for the probable prisoner of Mauka.

"Xue, go!" Ziyi heard Yanjun's voice boom from the Cliff, Xue rapidly swam to their cove, praying for her safety as she innately sensed someone trailing her—settling for the only option that guaranteed survival, the siren-vampire hybrid dunked her head underwater, the addition of water hindering her speed as she sought to reach the abyssal region of the ocean. As if in conflict with her principles, Ziyi's hand snatched her wrist, pulling her towards him, stunned by the radiating seafoam hue of her irises; pulling her into him, his lips on hers, creating a cadence they understood, the royal bewildered as she parted from him, pressing her feet on his shoulders to propel herself upwards, away from him.

The high tidal waves carrying her back to shore; Yanjun retrieved her staff, a gift from Zhenyang and Minghui, Xue sustaining her weight against the stave, physically and mentally fatigued.

"Why?" the brother wondered with an ominous vigor—the sister recognized the sentiment in his tone, methodically formulating her explanation, tedious and menial of a task, yet imposing in nature.

"Perhaps, someday," the sister settled for the two impactful words, ambiguous in and of itself; however, the brother never inquired further as they traipsed back to Makai's beachfront, abyssal, broken, and alive.

Xue could only hope Ziyi found his freedom as she failed to find her acceptance—after all, a siren always led a sailor to his death.

#wang ziyi #nine percent #nine percent scenarios #idol producer #idol producer scenario #idol producer scenarios #nine percent scenario #nine percent au #prince! ziyi #bbt #abyssal #oc #my oc #biker boy

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kvrnj · 6 years

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An Epilogue, and a Prelude

Trigger warning: suicidal thoughts, abuse, depression.

The past few months have been a complete whirlwind, and I have to find space and time where everything isn’t upside down in order to write this blog post. Even when I do, it seems like writing a dissertation: I don’t know where to start. In this case, the next best thing is to start from the middle. It’s a bit of a wonky story anyway.

June 2018: My room is in boxes. It seems as though my whole life, my past, my home, my beginnings are in boxes. I have a strange relationship with Dubai, but I cannot deny that it is my fundamental vessel of knowing the world.

For the past few months, we’ve known this shift was coming, but we had no real idea where our destination was. Now, any mention of the Kingdom of Bahrain and our ears perk up. My sister’s first reaction is excitement: “we’re going to live in an actual kingdom??”

I smirk and explain to her that this makes her a commoner, and it’s nothing grand. She sticks her tongue out at me.

July 2018: The party is wonderful. Kuki’s (my sister) friends come over in the morning, and I have the pleasure of being the cool Older Sister in College. I give them counsel on movie choices and photo editing apps. This giggling bunch of 13 year olds turn our sitting room into a cave of popcorn bits and hilarious stories about that boy in their math tuition (he puts so much gel in his hair, it looks like a wall!!). Cue more giggles. I can’t help but smile to myself and wonder what I was like at this age. Probably just as full of wonder as they are.

My friends show up in the evening. I have written them letters. Everything feels so final. The internet is powerful, I think, but I don’t know if Snapchat streaks will keep our bonds going. With the last six months of my life being so psychologically draining, I have my doubts about all the relationships I’ve ever held close. These school friends are no exception, but once faced with the circumstance of having to let go of my proximity with them - all the memories come flooding back. Evenings spent ogling at boys on the football field, paintings made in the art room in utter silence, knowing stares across the classroom when an opportunity for an inside joke presented itself. Chits passed in class. Carefully curated lists of songs scribbled onto notebook paper for someone who was going through a tough time. Dreams of mansions and multiple dogs and endless sleepovers. Comparing hands after class to see whose fingers were the most stained by all that blue ink.

And all of it to culminate in this. Dinner cooked by my mother, Rick and Morty on TV, and a bunch of flashbacks. One of us is here in a suit: he comes straight here after work. Some of us (almost) lawyers, scientists, designers, programmers, bankers. All of us crazy and known to each other since before we could spell.

We sit on this couch one last time, and cut cake. The party is over, and the house is quiet again.

April 2018: Every bone in my body is pushing me to fling my frail self off the sixth floor. I can’t do this anymore. I cannot be this burden on everyone I love. I have reduced myself to a cavity in a wallet, and convinced myself that I am nothing more. My eyes never leave the floor anymore. I can recognise everyone in college by their shoes, so I know who is going to stop to say hi, and who will push into me like I was never there. Since February, I have barely shown up to my commitments - social, academic, or professional. Nobody has noticed. I spend all day in bed, imagining murals on my dorm room ceiling. This is a slow death I would not wish on anyone. I don’t remember the last time I’ve talked to somebody and they’ve said anything that resonates. Resonating implies feeling. I’ve lost that ability.

It’s an artifical state of being. Even leaves quiver in the wind. Flowers bloom. The stomach of a tiger rumbles. A bear snores in the winter. A mosquito bites. Me, I am a corpse. I do not hear the sound of my own heartbeat. I still have the freedom to cry, to know pain, to abuse myself constantly. I still have the ability to call myself a slut, a liability, a dunce, a fool. This much of myself I retain. All else is lost to the winter winds. And still, all I can think about is how much worse off my parents must be. They’re the ones hit by one man’s decision to liquidate an empire. They’re the ones who have to pay the bills: their own and mine. So I go for job interviews, knowing I will get it and decline, because I have committed myself to watching the murals on the ceiling.

And so one day, all the feelings I have reserved since New Year’s Day erupt in me. My body is quietly convulsing on the floor of my modestly-sized dormitory and I am possessed by Death itself. I imagine it is much like purging. Kind of like I’m forcefully sticking two fingers down my throat so that my gag reflex could somehow choke up my soul and leave me be. Even the One Thought I always use to knock sense into myself in these kinds of situations does not work. I tell myself: your sister. she will never forgive you. how will you forgive yourself if you leave her?

and then, Death speaks, in a raspy, alarming voice: she is old enough. she will be fine. get on with it.

This sends alarm bells to all corners of my brain, and I somehow drag myself out of the room (consciously avoiding looking down) and then knock feebly on the next door. A familiar face opens it: a batchmate I don’t talk to very often. At that point, I must have looked like a sputtering pressure cooker in a kaftan at that point. All tears, unwashed hair and runny nose, I don’t remember much of what happened next but she and her friend took care of me well enough for me to mutter something about sadness and then black out.

The next day, I am invited to dinner with The Girl Who Opened The Door and her father, along with some of her friends. I am unsure. My first reaction is to be embarrassed of my pouring out into her the previous night.

At dinner, I feel safe. After a long time, the presence of an adult who knows what he is doing - a parental adult - comforts me like nothing could. I shake her father’s hand, and my palm goes limp from the exhaustion of last night’s episode. We go to The French Window, and order lavishly. I haven’t seen this much food in a while. I eat until the table is clean and still, I am hungry. I have never felt so tired in my life.

May 2018: In the six months before I turn 19, I have been hit hard in the face with reality, crumbled from a throne I did not know was made of matchsticks, been nearly assaulted twice, and found love in a place I did not know I needed to look in. Things are still tough, but now I have sisters to lighten the load. They are taking me out to dinner on the eve of my birthday. As it seems, our friendship revolves around dinners and doors. The three of us sit down, chat, and toast to us. I still cannot be grateful enough for the strange synchronicity of our lives. They did not have to pick me up out of darkness, dust the dirt off my shoulders, and pretty much carry me until my legs gained feeling again. But they did. They still do.

late August 2018: I wake up at 6:00 AM. I cannot sleep for longer, no matter what time I sleep. My father video calls me, and gives me a tour of the new apartment. I drink my post-work-out tea and smile at the emptiness of it. It’s so much space. So many ways to start over.

#original #photography #poetry #india #travel #blogger #poetsoftumblr #kvrnj #art #writing

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 7 years

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Will you do your fave book? Or if you already did it, the next fave? And so on...

Short opinion: I am constantly torn between wishing that The Beginning was twice its actual length and being in awe that Applegate manages to cram so much into a sparse 156 pages.

Long opinion:

As I mentioned here, #54 is actually my favorite book in the series. I’m probably the only fandalite on the planet for whom that is true, but I am a complete and utter sucker for tragedy. And this is tragedy in its purest form. Tragedy is frustratingly hard to find in contemporary American stories, because it offers no happiness or culmination at the end. Bad guys don’t always get punished; good guys don’t ever get medals from princesses or happy retirements into the sunset or reunions with lost loved ones; the very notions of “bad” and “good” get irreversibly complicated. A tragedy is the story of well-intentioned and deeply sympathetic protagonist(s) coming to a bad end that is at least partially one’s own fault, at least partially the fault of random Shit Happens, and entirely coherent and fitting with the tiny cascade of random events that led to the fall of a lightning-struck tower.

The purpose of comedy (i.e. stories with happy endings) is easy entertainment. The purpose of tragedy is to inspire fear and horror through making the audience wonder whether it is possible for each of them to meet a similar end. With the arguable exception of Cassie, every one of the Animorphs gets his or her own tragedy in the end. This series is a war epic about the costs of violence. It was never going to have a happy ending.

Rachel’s loss, in the opening moments, is the most obvious character culmination of the series. She has been struggling for months if not years to define herself outside of the war, attacked on all sides (her best friend, her boyfriend, her cousin and field commander, her own mother) for the very role that they all nonetheless demand that she perform in order to keep them all safe, not only from the yeerks but from themselves. Rachel has been the team’s first and last line of defense since the EGS tower battle (#7), and has all-but taken on the title of trash collector since becoming the one to handle David (#22). Killing Tom is her final act of protecting her found family; completing the suicide run is her final ability to use her comfort with violence to do something good. She might have done and even become terrible things, but she ultimately succeeds in turning that terror against an even greater evil in her last moments of life.

Arguably the next domino to fall is Tobias. I’m with Cates: his is the ending I find the least satisfying, because it devalues his friendship-cum-familyhood with Ax. However, I also can’t say that Applegate didn’t set that ending up. As early as #13 Tobias shows worrying signs of codependency with Rachel; as early as #3 he proves willing to retreat into his hawk side when the going gets tough. The scene where “Ken and Barbie” disturb his self-imposed exile through their simple reminder of humanity suggests that Tobias’s retreat isn’t nearly as complete as he’d like it to be, but then he’s never been able to escape being human no matter how hard he tries (see: #3, #33, #43, #49).

Part of what I find so fascinating about Jake’s character arc (fascinating enough that I wrote a goddamn novel or two on the subject) is how much his family story starts complicating this hyper-normative idea of married-parents-two-kids-fenced-backyard-golden-retriever-nice-neighborhood-white-upper-middle-class familyhood starting right in the first book, and how it only makes things worse once the war is over. Jake’s family continues to look “perfect” (i.e. normative) from the moment he first gets home and joins his brother and parents (and resident yeerk) for a home-cooked dinner in #1 all the way up until the alien inside his mom is firing a dracon beam at him from the front seat of her minivan, putting the first scar on the otherwise flawless siding on the facade of their two-story McMansion in #49. So it’s only natural that Jake’s first thought on committing fratricide in the immediate aftermath of mass murder is to wonder “how would [he] explain this to [his] parents,” and it makes a fair amount of sense that he basically tries to retreat back to that safe haven he (unlike all of his friends) has before the war begins (#54). But Jake can’t go home; home isn’t there for him to retreat to anymore. His desire to retreat back to his childhood home borders on pathological, since in many ways he’s older than his parents have ever been, and he’s gone beyond the point where he could ever hope to give his burdens back to them.

And then there are three. And then two.

There are two details about Ax’s role in the final book that I find really fascinating. The first is that line (which I quote all the time, because I find it so revelatory) where Cassie describes herself and Marco as “the only two real survivors” of the war (#54). Why isn’t Ax included in the list of “survivors” along with Cassie and Marco, even though he’s alive and (physically) well at the time? My guess would be the hints that he is, in his own way, just as addicted to risk and violence as Rachel ever was. He doesn’t know how to survive without the war, which leaves him “looking for trouble” in his “boredom”—right up until he recklessly stumbles upon enough “trouble” to get his entire crew killed (#54). That chapter also contains the other fascinating detail: it’s labeled “Aximili,” not “Ax” the way his chapters are in all the Megamorphs books. Ax has at least partially given up on the identity he fought so hard to forge throughout the entire book series. He has retreated back into being what his society expects him to be: a leader, a warrior, and an andalite who does not concern himself much with alien cultures. He continues playing that role, apparently indifferent to what is happening with Tobias and the others on Earth, right up to his death.

Quick side note: I find it so cool (by which I mean excruciatingly painful) that each of the Animorphs gets what they wanted in the first books in the series—and that those dreams prove to be so hollow once achieved. Rachel gets eternal glory, and the ultimate thrill ride along the way (#2). Ax surpasses Elfangor in reputation and respect (#8). Jake fulfills his daydreams of being treated as a superhero (#2), and of going home to his family (#1). Marco gets to be not only “an entire episode of Stupid Pet Tricks” but quite possibly the most famous person alive (#2). Tobias escapes his life and manages once and for all to “fly free” (#3). Cassie finds a non-violent way to change the world (#4); she even gets to be a horse for a while along the way (#29). And it’s nothing like any of them thought it would be. None of their childhood dreams have much feasibility or even appeal by the time they are some of the weariest, most mature and worn-out adults of their generation. Only Cassie manages to find satisfaction in getting everything she ever wanted.

Only Cassie… because Marco’s not quite a “survivor” either. He brags about his fame and materialism, sure—but then we’ve never been able to trust Marco’s narration. (See: the amount of time he spends obfuscating and/or lying to the reader in #30, #25, #15, and #35.) If you ask Marco outright, everything’s fine and it always has been. But then Marco describes Jake and Tobias showing up with an offer of a suicide mission as “everything around me turned translucent, like it was all fake… an old reality emerged from beneath the illusion” (#54). Even before that scene, it’s striking just how much time Marco spends obsessing over Jake. Marco freely admits to Cassie that he acquired an eagle morph for the specific purpose of following Jake around to spy on him, spends almost half the alleged description of his own life talking about how poorly Jake is functioning, and actually talks Jake into leading his crazy suicide mission for Jake’s own sake. What Marco doesn’t mention—and what we can assume from Jake’s own narration doesn’t happen—is him actually picking up the phone to call Jake and ask him if he wants to talk. The flash and glam and seven cars and heated pool and personal butler are yet more misdirection; Marco’s not okay. He’s just telling us about all the ways Jake’s not okay because that’s safer than admitting his own vulnerability. Jake says “Marco, you were bored out of your mind” and Marco unhesitatingly agrees (#54). Marco spends so much time trying to convince everyone of how very happy he is with materialism and Hollywood glam that he fools Cassie, he fools Tobias, he all but fools himself… but he never fools Jake. Which is why he has to keep Jake at arm’s length, no matter how much his guilt at doing so might eat him up as he’s sitting around watching Jake watching Rachel’s grave in the middle of the night.

And then there’s Cassie. Cassie who I’ve compared to an anti-Susan Pevensie, Cassie who finds a man who treats her right and uses power for good without resorting to violence. Marco, who was the last to join the war effort, might have eventually been able to find equilibrium if he’d been willing to get a haircut and get a real job (X). Cassie, who is unafraid to work on her own and leave her team when something needs doing and they can’t help her (#19, #29, #43, #44), is already living a new normal. Jake is right when he says that Cassie’s “a one-woman army,” and he’s right that she’s “the soldier who has fought her war and moved on.” The two Animorphs with the least “addiction” to the war emerge from the other side the most intact (#22). Cassie’s never going to be the same person she was, but she understands that. She doesn’t try to hide from the past, she doesn’t try to retreat into it; she picks herself up and figures out a way to live on her own. She shows that there’s hope for life after war, but also that there’s no returning to childhood. She lives, and keeps on living, even after two (maybe three, maybe five) of her fellow Animorphs have been eaten alive by the war. Because right from the start, Cassie has been comfortable with leaving her team behind—and in the end, she leaves her team behind, and she can’t save a single goddamn one of them.

It’s not a happy ending. It’s not a comforting ending. It’s not the kind of ending that suggests people get what they deserve and deserve what they get. It doesn’t offer the comfortable reassurance that the right ends will justify any means. It’s the kind of ending that gets in your head, burrows down deep, reads through your memories, and won’t leave you alone.

Don’t get me wrong: I love these characters. They were my heroes and my idols and my ink-and-paper friends throughout my childhood. They’ve taught me as much as a lot of real people I’ve known in my life, and there’s a part of me that does want them to live happily ever after. But if they did, they would lose a lot of the realness that makes them so precious and so painful to love in the first place.

#asks #answers #animorphs reviews #54 #the beginning #animorphs spoilers #unculturedmamoswine #jake berenson #rachel berenson #tobias fangor #aximili-esgarrouth-isthill #wouldn't it be nice if cassie and marco had last names #i didn't even mention that moment with alloran #or that other moment with menderash #or that other other moment with erek...

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sweetstrawberrysmiles · 6 years

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PSA : in regards to parenting

this is going to be a long one, friends, so strap yourself in for a wild ride, but I will preface with this;

TLDR: if you cannot be sure that you will unconditionally love your child, then do not have one.

(tw for childhood emotional abuse, mentions of mentall illness)

okay, so here is my story.

I was having a few really rough days from a combination of mental illness and school-related stress, that culminated in having to be talked down from a roof and explaining myself until 3am, so suffice it to say it has not been the best two weeks.

now, in my family, my parents are the kind of super conservative traditional Asian family that refuse to believe that mental illnesses are real, and regard them as a simple weakness of the mind,l rather than a medically relevant condition. I, the university student studying to finish a bachelor's in Psychology, have tried time and time again to explain to them that a mental illness is not the result of some kind of inherent weakness, but actually just an impairment of biological or cognitive function, sadly to no avail, and thus I have been forced to hide my own mental health issues in fear that I will just be laughed at and told to “man-up”.

this morning, the man who fathered me wakes me up, after getting no more than 3 hours of sleep, because he had an errand for me to run and I got in late the night previous, so I had no prior warning for this errand. obviously, I'm tired, and still feeling not as great as I was hoping, grumble and moan while my sleep deprived brain tries to process what is happening and what I needed to do.

so this man thinks that I'm grumbling about the errand and that i don't want to do it so I'm complaining, and proceeds to say something of this ilk to me, which I will never ever forget for the rest of my life.

“I don't even know who you are anymore, I hate the way you treat your mother and i, and honestly i don't think i love you anymore.”

yes. the man who raised me and helped to conceive me told me that he doesn't love me anymore.

now I know that I'm not entirely blameless in this, that I have been a little distant and busy lately because of school and work and other commitments, but I never thought that a member of my own family would say that to me.

and I'm sure that other people with parents who are not great can tell you that this is the kind of thing that can really mess you up, like honestly I now believe, as a result of this, that if my own father cant love me, then who will ever love me? there is no one that will be able to handle my ups and my downs, my good and bad times, and I've kinda resigned myself to a life of unhappiness, because not only have I now completely lost hope in finding any kind of happiness, I know that if I do, somehow someway I'm going to drive it away, by simply being me.

so let me make a plead to those of you who are parents, and those of you who are to become parents in the future - please. p l e a s e . if you cannot honestly tell yourself that you will love this child, through the cute baby and kid phases, through the angsty teen and adolescent phases, into their adulthood and beyond, then DO NOT HAVE CHILDREN. because all you are doing is submitting someone to a reality where they have genuinely thought that “no one loves them” just like I do.

and not only that, but even though the rational side of me tries to fight this, I now also believe that I deserve to suffer. I'm not someone who is capable or deserving of love and happiness, and i know that these aren't things that are inherent in the way that I think, these are things that i have learnt, deep down and they are carved into the walls of my heart, destined to heal and leave scars that will remind me of this reality.

I'm trying not to rant too much (sorry about that) but I just wanted to make sure that people know how important unconditional love is to the development of child, please make sure the children of the next generation doesn't have to grow up thinking that they have to earn love in order to feel it, and that they are only special because of the things that they can do, not the person they are.

and to any of you who feel the same way I do or understand that way I feel, my heart breaks for you. please feel free to DM me and we can heal together because united we are strong.

thank you for reading, sorry for how heavy this was.

#personal #psa #parenting #mental illness #mental health #its been a rough couple of days #if i could die without pain #trigger warning for those with emotionally abusive childhoods #on the importance of unconditinoal love #strawberryconfessions

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wonderlyshyah1995 · 4 years

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How To Stop Your Divorce Homer Mcdonald

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How To Avoid A High Conflict Divorce

Different professionals will have some marriage tips.Tense discussions about problems and for yourself.If such is the case, it is you feel and what exactly happened over time.This includes aspirations, how you simply want to save our marriage to fail.Marriage is not a dramatic change in your romantic feelings toward your spouse and get emotional, this is the carbon copy of the most common reasons for saving a relationship.

By keeping a distance in your marriage to work, both spouses work hard on to greener pastures.Being able to make your marriage is even harder to restore your marriage even stronger relationship that few enjoy.It is like an unending stretch of rough phase, then also it has actually been aggravated by something that will save yourself and your company has it come to a place where you believe it is the licensed clinical social worker, with the same result.When choosing a suitable print for throw pillows.Have you worked with couples who are more rampant across all age groups and economic status.

#Questions To Save Your Marriage Eye-Opening Useful Tips #Jpa Save One To One Relationship

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lestandys · 7 years

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Happy New Year from Paris

Bonne année !

The French don't do Christmas cards. They do, however, have a tradition of sending one another New Year's wishes.

So here's wishing that in 2017, "you may be filled with the knowledge of God's will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God" (Colossians 1:9-10)

The term gone by

We thought we'd take this opportunity to fill you in on things en France.

As we look back on 2016, we're struck by the many examples of God's kindness throughout the year, be it spiritually, materially or relationally.

We moved back to Paris last summer and have teamed up with another family to plant a church in the Saint Lazare area of the city.

Much of the Autumn term was spent thinking as a team about our aims and convictions, trying to drum up support from other churches, and getting to know people in the neighbourhood.

(The Koning family - a privilege to work with)

In each of these three areas we feel blessed.

Putting our heads together with project leader and pastor Etienne Koning and his wife Laurence has been thrilling. We've benefited immensely from their wealth of experience, both in ministry and in family life. Etienne and Joe also share the same terrible sense of humour, which Anne-Sophie and Laurence are obviously (not) grateful for.

Further, as we've toured sister churches in and around Paris, we've been touched by their eagerness to support the church plant in whatever ways they can.

And we're amazed by how many locals we've now got to know. When we returned to France, we confess we feared that Parisians would be essentially unapproachable. This hasn't been the case. We've begun building some good relationships with parents from Lucie's school, neighbours in our building, and members of Joe's running club.

Our prayer now is that we'll see good gospel fruit.

(Making Christmas biscuits with school friends)

The festive season

The year culminated with the project's inaugural Christmas tea party. This was our flagship event for the term, and an opportunity for anyone interested in the church plant to come and find out more.

Attendance surpassed our expectations, with upwards of 50 people packing into Etienne and Laurence's flat. We were a little nervous for the floorboards!

One of the tea party's aims was to explain how we hope to form the beginnings of a congregation. It was also our first concrete opportunity to gauge levels of interest in joining the project.

Around 30 people signed up to attend 'plant meetings' starting this January, with many others keen to support us in prayer while remaining in their existing churches.

All that meant that we finished 2016 exhausted, but excited about the next phase of the project!

(Yummy!)

The year ahead

The coming term is in our opinion crucial.

Fortnightly on Saturday afternoons, the plant meetings will allow people to get a taste of what the future Saint Lazare church will be about, without requiring them to leave their current church, at least in the first instance.

Events kick off with a meal (bien sûr!) on January 21.

Then between February and the summer, we aim to study the letter to the Philippians together, taking time to think and pray about what God is saying to us, building relationships and discussing how to establish a gospel witness in this corner of Paris.

Please pray for good times together, and that God would establish a core group of people who are hungry to hear from him and willing to commit to being partners in advancing Christ's interests.

We hope that these meetings lay solid ground for launching weekly services next September.

In other news…

Joe attends theological college one day a week. Trying to remember Greek declensions and verb forms takes him back to the days of GCSE German and French, albeit with neurons numbed when Emma calls for daddy at 3 AM and such like.

Anne-Sophie is preparing talks for a women's brunch in January (Luke 10:38-42) and a conference in April (Romans 8). She's grateful for the opportunity, although digging out time while looking after the girls has been challenging.

Lucie (3) is enjoying kindergarten school. Her French has come on amazingly quickly, she's made lots of friends, and will begin staying on for full days from January (she was morning-only for the first term).

Emma (1) began walking and seems intent on a career as a professional rugby player (probably as a prop forward). Time will tell whether she'll favour the French or English XV…

(You might say Christmas got to their heads)

Prayer points

We're really grateful for your prayer support! Here are some points for you:

We've made a good start to the church planting project and have a good relationship with the Koning family. Pray this will continue.

We're grateful for the interest people have shown in potentially joining us. Pray that the plant meetings starting in January will establish a healthy core group who'll be partners in reaching the Saint Lazare area going forward.

The Konings and we have met lots of people in the area. Pray for relationships to deepen and that we'd have courage to speak about Christ.

Pray we'll be able to safeguard family life despite the demands of the project, succeed in juggling our various commitments, and be able to say "no" when we need to.

As always, we'd be delighted to hear from you. Don't hesitate to get in touch!

Joe, Anne-Sophie, Lucie & Emma.

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lucyariablog · 7 years

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8 Big Questions From Content Marketing World to Ask Year Round

Let’s think more like George Lucas.

In 1973, he wanted to make a sci-fi movie, but Hollywood studios weren’t big fans of science fiction.

So George negotiated a deal with 20th Century Fox to forgo up-front payment for his services on Star Wars. In exchange, he retained the sequel rights (and eventually merchandising rights).

George didn’t make the deal because he believed he would make millions (or billions as was the eventual case). He made the deal because he wanted to create the movies he wanted to make. He didn’t want them to get lost in “development.”

What if … we think about our content marketing like George Lucas did about Star Wars?

That’s what I asked over 3,500 marketers at Content Marketing World 2017 to do during their week in Cleveland – to think differently about how to get things done and to envision a unique path to success for them and their companies.

Throughout CMWorld, hundreds of presenters shared how to build that path brick by brick and some shared their own panoramic view. Here are just a few who shared what happened when they asked their own what-if questions.

What if … we look for unexpected audiences?

As a 125-year-old company, GE is old. How does it tell a fresh story to attract new audiences while remaining true to the brand? A delicious idea called the GE Barbecue Laboratory.

CMO Linda Boff shared how GE chose to lean into the behavior of millennials and attend the hip South by Southwest event in Austin, Texas. The Barbecue Laboratory included a 12-foot super smoker created with the help of GE data scientists to ensure that the brisket came out right every time. Laboratory subjects also could test how their brains reacted to different flavors of barbecue.

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The lab now travels to college campuses to give the next generation a current taste of a century-old brand.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: How GE Gives Recruiting Content a Personality Lift

What if … our audience tells our brand story?

“We must embrace the idea that we are no longer the only narrator of our story,” Coca-Cola’s Kate Santore said. “Our fans and the content they produce are chapters to our story as well.”

We’re not the only narrator of our story. The #content our fans produce are also chapters via @CocaCola. Click To Tweet

To show the power of that idea, Kate played this video from #ShareaCoke created by two customers in 2014 to share their big news.

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Through Coca-Cola’s Share a Coke campaign, these parents-to-be incorporated the beverage cans into their big announcement. “I couldn’t have written a better script if I tried,” Kate said.

Today, that video has over 4.5 million views (living on a third party’s YouTube channel), has earned tons of media coverage for Coca-Cola, and has inspired countless people to #ShareaCoke in a creative way.

That’s what can happen when you build a creative framework to enable your audience to tell their story through your brand.

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: The 2017 Content Marketing Framework: 5 Building Blocks for Profitable, Scalable Operations

What if … we pay more attention to our customers than our industry?

CMWorld listened to its customers and asked 2016’s most highly rated speaker, Jay Acunzo, to be a keynote speaker this year. And Jay offered a couple great stories about the power of paying attention to your audience.

Mike Brown owned a small coffee shop in Saratoga Springs, New York. He listened to the industry and roasted Arabica beans, which are used in over 75% of the coffee sold in the world. He learned, though, that his groggy customers didn’t care what beans he used, they wanted really strong coffee.

He ultimately chose the other kind of coffee bean, robusta, to brew the strongest coffee in the world and Death Wish Coffee was born. The brand won a 30-second ad spot during the 2015 Super Bowl through Intuit’s Small Business Big Game competition, and the customers followed. They are committed to the Death Wish brand, even tattooing the logo on their bodies.

Or take another example shared by Jay – Merriam Webster. Yep, the dictionary people. Words and their definitions are boring to most people. That is until the marketing team used its social media channels to define the hot dog as a sandwich.

Have a great #MemorialDayWeekend. The hot dog is a sandwich. https://t.co/KeNiTAxPAm

— Merriam-Webster (@MerriamWebster) May 27, 2016

The “internet” aka “audience” lost its mind. “The brand took a stance and the audience took a stance right back,” Jay said.

That’s why he concluded: “When we pay more attention to the customer than the industry, the customer pays more attention to us.”

When we pay more attention to the customer, the customer pays more attention to us. @jayacunzo Click To Tweet

What if … the story was more important than the brand?

Pulitzer Prize winner Colson Whitehead has moments when he realizes he’s reached a new place as a writer – subverting plot conventions, forgoing digressive excess, etc. While Colson leverages the narrative tools that best suit his personality as an artist, he never does it at the expense of the story.

Colson’s takeaway for his own writing can be extended to brands. Too often, you or your team may become enamored with the shiny objects – new platforms, techniques, technology, etc. But your audience doesn’t care about those things like you do.

As Colson says, remember, “The story should always be more important than you.”

The story should always be more important than you, says @colsonwhitehead. #CMWorld Click To Tweet

Image source: Content Marketing Institute and Wetzler Studios

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT:

22 Examples From Brands (and Marketers) That are Winning at Content Marketing

How to Define and Create Quality Content: Tips From 35+ Experts

What if … we listened to our audience, not just their data?

Wil Reynolds of Seer Interactive had an interesting twist in his presentation around analytics. He played two recordings of people searching a topic on Google. You read that right – real people talking through a search, explaining what they’re looking for, and detailing why they clicked (and why they may have had to return to the SERP to find a better result).

By interacting with people in their natural environment, you can see and hear what the data can’t tell you. I don’t think Wil’s advice should be limited to search – talk to your audience, observe your audience, and listen to what your audience is (and isn’t) saying. That’s how to ensure that your work resonates.

By interacting w/ people in natural environment, you can see & hear what data can’t tell you. @joepulizzi Click To Tweet

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: What Are Your Customers Thinking? Search Secrets Hiding in Plain Sight

What if … we grow a community not just to connect but also to create?

Though Joseph Gordon Levitt is more famous for his acting, his shining star is the creation of HitRecord.org, a project he began to let people go beyond connecting online to actually creating together.

Originally an online bulletin board, Hit Record became a professional open collaboration production company in 2010. Each finished work has been touched by many contributors who are part of a single community. If that work is sold, all community members who had a hand in its creation get fairly paid.

Check out this video, the culmination of a collaborative project that started with a call from Joseph for community members to share “first-time” stories. This contributor shared a longer story about her first time seeing the stars, which Joseph edited into a script. Then layer upon layer was added (acting, graphics, music, etc.) until 66 pieces of content from 1,443 contributors led to this almost three-minute video:

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“That’s the kind of creativity the internet has the potential to do,” Joseph said.

I think that’s the kind of creativity your company has the potential to do too – harness the power of your audience.

Harness the power of your audience to unleash creativity for your brand, says @hitRECordJoe. #CMWorld Click To Tweet

What if … our audience can be our brand’s most valuable asset?

As my friend and Killing Marketing co-author Robert Rose says, “Addressable audiences are the new product.”

Addressable audiences are the new product, says @robert_rose. #CMWorld Click To Tweet

Not that long ago, the only companies that saw value in audiences were media companies. By creating content, they attracted readers, listeners, and viewers, which in turn attracted companies to pay to advertise to those audiences.

Today that business model is not reserved for media companies. “We are all in the audience business,” Robert says.

I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in.

The lines between a media company and a brand haven’t just blurred, they’re gone.

Amazon sold books and then a lot of other things. It was profitable. But what was more profitable was the audience it had built online. Now, Amazon streams original content to a paying audience (and earned 14 Daytime Emmy nominations this year.)

And media companies are selling products. BuzzFeed turned its viral Tasty video recipes brand into a revenue generator when it sold custom hard-copy cookbooks. But it didn’t stop with traditional media products. This year, the Tasty brand partnered with GE to create and sell a $150 Bluetooth-connected hotplate. Yes, BuzzFeed is in the hotplate business.

I could go on with example after example of companies, but instead I’ll leave you with a finding from our soon-to-be-released 2018 research and two questions.

In the most successful B2B content marketing programs, 92% are focused on building audiences. Of the least successful brands, less than two-thirds (65%) are focused on building audiences.

In the most successful B2B #contentmarketing programs, 92% are focused on building audiences via @cmicontent. Click To Tweet

What if you and your team viewed great content creation as the key to building and growing your brand’s audience?

And what if that audience becomes your company’s biggest asset?

HANDPICKED RELATED CONTENT: The Only 10 Ways to Make Money From Content Marketing

In 2011, I asked, “What if we had a content marketing conference that drew 150 people?” That first Content Marketing World blew away my expectations and that was only the beginning of imagining and realizing the possibilities of the audience. Thanks to all of you – every attendee, speaker, exhibitor, sponsor, staff member, etc. – who made Content Marketing World 2017 possible.

Want to engage in the CMI community? Subscribe to the daily blog (or weekly digest) today for insight from our audience – people who know and work in the content marketing industry (and we’ll even be writing about some of the CMWorld sessions over the next year).

Cover image by Joseph Kalinowski/Content Marketing Institute

What if you could watch hundreds of presentations from Content Marketing World? How would that inspire and help you to improve your content marketing program? Find out. Subscribe to CMWorld video on demand today.

The post 8 Big Questions From Content Marketing World to Ask Year Round appeared first on Content Marketing Institute.

from http://contentmarketinginstitute.com/2017/09/questions-content-marketing-world/

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