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17 January 2011 @ 07:21 pm
Title: The Second Fall
Fandom: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Pairing: Carth/fem!PC
Rated: M for sexual content and occasional profanity
Spoilers: Yes, for KotOR I and II
Status: In progress
Summary: Through their memories, the Republic war hero and the redeemed Jedi Knight struggle to reconcile their pasts while grappling with what is–and isn't–meant to be.


Chapter 2: SuspicionsCollapse )

Chapter Index
 
 
14 October 2010 @ 07:16 pm
Title: The Second Fall
Fandom: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Pairing: Carth/fem!PC
Rated: M for sexual content and occasional profanity
Spoilers: Yes, for KotOR I and II
Status: In progress
Summary: Through their memories, the Republic war hero and the redeemed Jedi Knight struggle to reconcile their pasts while grappling with what is–and isn't–meant to be.


Author's note: It should be pretty obvious that I do not own KotOR or its characters. They belong to LucasArts/BioWare/Obsidian/John Jackson Miller, ingenious bastards.

I also want to give a HUGE thanks to lostacanthus for all the suggestions and wonderful brainstorming sessions. She's been with me on this little (big) project since day one, back when I had no idea what the hell I was doing with it. <3

> Chapter 1: Impressions
> Chapter 2: Suspicions
 
 
Current Music: 崎元仁 - White Room | Powered by Last.fm
 
 
14 October 2010 @ 07:10 pm
Title: The Second Fall
Fandom: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Pairing: Carth/fem!PC
Rated: M for sexual content and occasional profanity
Spoilers: Yes, for KotOR I and II
Status: In progress
Summary: Through their memories, the Republic war hero and the redeemed Jedi Knight struggle to reconcile their pasts while grappling with what is–and isn't–meant to be.


Chapter 1: ImpressionsCollapse )

Chapter Index
 
 
 
 
26 September 2010 @ 01:47 pm
> DRAGON AGE

The Things He Remembered
Alistair reflects on the awkward, amusing, and poignant moments over the course of his relationship with Aeryn.
In progress | Rated T | Alistair/fem!Surana | Origins spoilers | 1/? chapters

> STAR WARS: KNIGHTS OF THE OLD REPUBLIC

The Second Fall
Through their memories, the Republic war hero and the redeemed Jedi Knight struggle to reconcile their pasts while grappling with what is–and isn't–meant to be.
In progress | Rated M | Carth/fem!PC | KotOR I and II spoilers | 2/? chapters
 
 
26 September 2010 @ 01:39 pm
Title: The Things He Remembered
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Alistair/fem!Surana
Rated: T for sexual innuendo
Spoilers: Yes, for Origins
Status: In progress
Summary: Alistair reflects on the awkward, amusing, and poignant moments over the course of his relationship with Aeryn.


Author's note: Originally, this was going to be a story told from my fem!Surana's perspective. However, I eventually realized it would end up collapsing into one big angst-fest, and while I do love my angst, I wanted to balance it out with some light-hearted humor. Thus stepped in Alistair, Narrator Extraordinaire, having the perfect mix of witty banter but still taking matters to heart. This is my first attempt at writing a fic from his point of view…I hope I did him a bit of justice. :D

And of course, many thanks to David Gaider for bringing us yet another character to make us smile (i.e., I own nothing except perhaps my character, Aeryn).

> Chapter 1: In Which I Try and Fail to Give a Damn
 
 
 
26 September 2010 @ 01:28 pm
Title: The Things He Remembered
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Alistair/fem!Surana
Rated: T for sexual innuendo
Spoilers: Yes, for Origins
Status: In progress
Summary: Alistair reflects on the awkward, amusing, and poignant moments over the course of his relationship with Aeryn.


Chapter 1: In Which I Try and Fail to Give a DamnCollapse )

Chapter Index
 
 
 
26 September 2010 @ 01:01 pm
in amber-soaked rooms,
the aroma of sandalwood coils and wafts about our
heads; limbs like ivy sprawl over tired furniture
as fingers graze over skin latent.
one drink short of complacent, we deftly check
for reflexes; between layers of flesh and bone, we sense
the budding anticipation of

CHANGE,

but only heads bob and shoulders roll
as even WORDS give way to
gravity; those pesky little prepositions
do so love to sneak in at the end of our sentences–
well, maybe my sentences–
yours always seem
perfect; so intricately
perfect, as if a piece of you
expires in the parting of each breath.

yet we continue to slip into the cracks between
lucidity and sleep; we are a dreamless people.
(WAKE UP!)
our captivation with CHANGE quickly grows
convoluted,
disillusioned,
eventually altogether absent.

perhaps this external (internal?) dialogue is
nothing more than some makeshift screen.
(WHAT ARE WE TRYING TO HIDE?)
maybe WORDS are dangling
strings; teases, distractions
that suspend us from all that we fear to
face.

maybe there is no enigma to solve–
maybe we are just that transparent after all.



when we think we have
nothing left,
it is here that CHANGE loses foothold;
our bondage to CONTROL and
GOOD INTENTIONS are broken.
no longer will the cure be force-fed
capsuled repression; what was the use
if we were still led to
(LIED TO)
search for answers in carnal
oppression?

no longer will a one-click nation's
transgressions be hidden by sleight of hand.
(WHERE IS OUR PRIDE NOW?)
the law does not save us;
it condemns us all.



there is a shift in the silence; our
WORDS have no weight.
it is a slow awakening to acknowledge
one's own depravity,
even slower to acknowledge
one's own helplessness.

but even as we walk amongst
ashen faces and vacant eyes
tonight, we will see beyond the shroud;
we will see the pierced hands and feet, and it will
break us
when we realize this self-inflicted INDEPENDENCE,
this bastardized sense of
LIBERTY was never about
ENTITLEMENT–when we finally understand
freedom has a price.



this is what we cling to at our most humble:
pure,
simple

truth.



in the small hours of that morning, the
smoke dispels; we blink as necks stretch back,
heads angle upwards.
and i watch for the first time
the curve in your lips,
the swell in your chest,
and the glow in your eyes.

at last, we will not FEEL ALIVE but
be alive,

and we will dream again.
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26 September 2010 @ 12:59 pm
strange days, these are

amidst the blaring colors and the raucous laughter
there is a disquiet
we call it adventure; we call it freedom
but this freedom is nothing more than
a glamorized resignation
as we fumble and grope for purpose

we like to believe in the moment
we like to be fooled into thinking
a brush, a touch, a caress
will unravel the tragedies we've woven
but the longer we dull our senses
the deeper we burrow
until we're estranged from ourselves

we all know the question lingering in the back of our minds
will we escape before the collapse?

it hurts to see your eyelids struggle to rise
and reveal the blinking vacancy signs
it would take but one tilt of the chin
to face the sun and let the light filter
through pupils that have long strained to dilate

we're one step from ground zero
and one step from grace
we romanticize the descent
desperate to pad the fall
we try to wax philosophic
with the fervent stroke of a pen
and we create collages of cut-out shapes from faded polaroids
of slivers in time where we thought
everything brash and raw was beautiful

but inevitably, we'll be on our knees
oh, how the body aches with this weight
Tags:
 
 
26 September 2010 @ 12:56 pm
speak nothing;
the vacancies between your breaths
comfort more than trite words ever could.

do you hear it? – the deep, incessant groaning
that burns in the pit of our stomachs –
sometimes i wonder if it will burn us alive.

but these internal laments, falling together in unison:
they sing of such beautiful sorrow.
o, what divine woe! that softens your lips into a smile
as i bask in the empathic glow of your eyes.

if only i could have reached for your hand –
i would have clasped it so tightly – but
i think you already knew.

instead, we stand three feet apart,
i nestling into my winter coat
and you clinging to your nicotine pacifier;

we have our own ways of shielding ourselves from the cold.

but in the quiet,
these inarticulate groanings are given the same name.
this alone is solace.
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