Ask me questions about my characters and I will answer. The meme is entirely OOC, questions and answers both. Use it as a fun time to find about about characters' choices, motivations, feelings, actions, or anything else you've been wondering.
ASK ME ABOUT: Huruma~
(This is like the only meme I am any good at... lol)
Do you ever listen to a song and just think "Gosh, that reminds me so much of _____"? (And then you totally forget to tell _____).
Do you totally already have playlists for your character? Or do you just want to know what reminds people of your character? Or let them know what reminds you of theirs?
Then this Meme is for You! Open for: Huruma
RULES: Post this into your feed. Commenters can then leave comments with links to songs (spotify preferred) that remind them of your character. Bonus points for explaining why. THE END
She is not the same,
Sameness in ways that is--
An echo of somewhere I have been before,
An unwanted legacy forced upon me.
The same fear,
Even after they came into my arms,
It was despair that hovered close,
Just behind me--
Despair makes us love harder,
But only when we can see it for what it is.
We must feel it,
Sense it on the air.
Uncertainty makes us stronger,
The principle of polarity--
The psychological theory that when faced with hardship,
Human hearts react in rawness,
Accepting whatever love they are given,
Allowing themselves to be loved,
Despite the world showing them worse than they deserve.
Conquering our disorder,
Letting it slip under our skin so that we may rise above it,
Learn from it,
As a glimmer in our eyes,
And as a glow from our skin.
Hopelessness is a broken wheel,
One whose purpose is to continue to roll,
Regardless of its state,
Regardless of attempts to repair it.
Emptiness is the same,
--a counterbalance, but a wheel nonetheless.
So long since I have felt winter,
Running down my spine,
In the wind,
In the breath leaving me as my self follows,
In the words and darting eyes of a former touch,
Caught in a web as it leaks,
Stuck where I can see,
Just out of reach,
My heart and mind struggling to realign--
--because equilibrium is one feeling I have never known.
I admit to have ached for it.
That unfulfilled space in a stomach once filled with the result of desperation and now,
Filled with the result of desperation that has long since evolved into the litter of survival.
Because surviving is everything, is it not?
I have survived--
And while sometimes it feels as if that is all that I am--
--I feel a lack of life.
If you cannot survive--
Do you deserve to?
What I hold is mine,
An entire life in my hands,
Delicate fingers grasping for warmth,
The riddle of ribs jagged under the track of the thumb,
Lungs pumped wide,
Shouting to the world,
Into the wind,
A pitched plead for a second, third, fourth chance.
Something familiar as always,
In the taste of things,
Tart, salty, coppery,
It becomes old,
Yet something comfortable--
--too much comfort,
That it discomfits others,
Leaving behind the grit,
Charred at the edges,
Stuck sharp in the throat.
It is an uneasy swallow to keep down--
--though it rinses the burn, and cleanses some of those shadows in the eye.
But I see them there nonetheless,
And even when I play, I leave a dust behind,
A fog of something uncertain,
Still I find my longing for something warm and shining to be real.
Is this one more thing to revel in?
When there is an illusion of choice,
Is there is an allusion to reason?
Choice, spoken of like a holy grail to polish and protect.
I do not squander it--
--I savor it.
Too much so,
To control it as if it were commodity.
There may be less wisdom in that.
When it is time to change, we can't.
When it is time to change, we try--
And try again,
Cycling through rounds upon rounds,
Where we do nothing save tread paths we've trod before--
And for what?
The insistence that just perhaps,
Something in us will learn to change.
So much an impasse.
Then, it is there--
A touch of something else.
The shift of a feather's weight,
Like spun glass that shines red in streetlight,
Conversation of weakness,
Of difficulty to change,
An unfamiliar chill of uncertain presence,
Lying there under the taste of a cloying sweetness I still carry on my tongue.
Sweetness that hides the tang of copper and red--
--if only for a moment longer.
Of course it is not untrue.
It is the only truth.
It was become this,
Under this comfortable mask of mine,
If I truly am afraid to show my blood,
Which of these makes me the weaker?
"Are you that afraid of people seeing you?"
It was become this,
"And perhaps I am."
This road began before my memory,
And it shall extend,
Ever after it ends.
So many bad things.
My only way was--
To be more fierce,
I cannot stop.
I must never stop.
This is all that I know.
Who I would be,
Without a calloused heart,
Without scars in my head,
I could never say.
That she is too far gone.
"Never too late to find out,"
I am not so sure that you are right. priya.
"Sometimes it's restful to be someone else for a day or two."
Delicate in concept,
Fragile in practice.
I saw frost this morning,
watched it thaw as the sun rose,
rosy yellow between buildings,
the dusting of autumn melting away in a too-quick reflection.
Tthe smell of cold in the air is--
A cycle of chill and warmth,
but all the same never unwelcome.
I stand by my words--
when all things feel 'old',
but souls still reek of 'new',
and I am somewhere in the middle.
The middle where magic is self,
the middle where nature is gift,
the middle where covenant is the most powerful of things.
It places a fire under my skin and a vibration in my bones,
old and familiar.
I have been here before.
So much more watching,
holding to touches,
flecks of light,
This time they are brave enough to probe back.
Brave enough to Want me.
I do not hate it.
Perhaps I need it.
Grey skies, metal spines, hard streets.
Smells of desperation and inklings of hope.
It is familiar.
It is new.
Tarnished coins in the gutter,
Faces I know,
Reflecting in on themselves and seeing nothing but a truth made of lies.
But that is not mine.
Mine is plain,
I know my own truths,
And they spin wild,
Searching for meaning.
Reflecting off of the shine of others,
Catching on my senses like delicate webs of light.
Leaving me curious.
And I am here.
RP Scavenger Hunt! Complete as many off the list below as possible and link the scene which completes it. Yes, scenes can count for more than one item.
If you complete the list by November 8, send staff a +request and a link to your entry for a bonus luck point!
Thought collection is such an
The hands to feed,
the subtle milkteeth of a begging mouth.
starving or staving,
the tug of sharp teeth against bone to grind.
I am here in glittering light and shadow,
I am an impulse,
a wildling fire,
a phantom feeling.
Anywhere I wish.
Though I am here, drawn, magnetic, frenetic, interstitial.
I'll never say.
Others try to speak for me,
daring to commit where I don't.
She, he, he, me,
hungry eagles on the east wind,
doomed to plummet,
or to simply