About onlyfragments

I'm a writer on the hunt for someone as passionate about writing as I am. It doesn't matter what kind; it just matters that the person love the written word as much as I do. I dabble in different things, but my primary focus is something along the lines of cross-genre character-based multi-narrative introspective episodic flash fiction. (That's fancy mumbo-jumbo for "I write short fiction involving the same two characters in different settings and genres." I just liked all the kooky words.)

#1458

If you must go away, at least leave me a trail to follow for the day my heart grows too restless to restrain; breadcrumbs, blood, tears, bullet shells, shards of glass or pieces of the moon, it doesn’t matter what; I’ll know what you have touched, so just leave me something and I will follow the day I can no longer bear to stay behind.

#1457

it feels like an ocean inside me
rising up, flooding every chamber
but that’s not what I dream about;
I dream about liquid fire
seismic cataclysm
and me screaming over the thunder;
about jet planes nosediving
falling from the sky like diseased birds dashing themselves on rocks
escape by suicide;
about crumbled cities
radiation
refugees and ghosts;
it seems these days
all my nightmares are about losing you

#1455

she says I should write about myself
what I’m feeling, maybe
(what I won’t admit I’m feeling)
but I’m no good at this
I dance around subjects like a fencer
when I should strike
onetwothree
like a boxer
beat them bloody with my fists
curb-stomp their teeth in
and I guess what I’m feeling
is anger
is fear
is helpless
and what I don’t feel is
safe

(but don’t we all?)

I guess what I’m feeling
is angry
angry at a world I can’t trust
angry at a society built to subjugate
everything I am
everything and everyone I hold dear
so angry I want to lash out somehow
brand myself with ink and metal
unleash ghosts, breathe fire
bleed and scream and sing dirges
just fuck shit up, really
and the irony is this fight’s not even the one that hurts

(the most)

because I’m still feinting my blade
see how good I am?
and the real story
the real thing I’m feeling
is as empty as the house I imagine when I look inside myself
and hear
nothing
and see
nothing
and feel
nothing, nothing, NOTHING
because I have been vacated like someone exorcised
and I wonder if they miss the demons, after
the invasive presence
the madness
the companionship

(it’d be something, at least)

(I’d take it)

#1453

there are no terms for how I love you
like the ocean loves the land
like the soil loves the rain
no labels for how I need you
like birds need the wind
like berries need the sun
no categories for how I have become
a salmon swimming upstream
a seed settling in the earth
a falling star disintegrating
atmospheric
kinetic
endless

#1449

[ In a few weeks I will be speaking on an asexuality panel hosted by a local LGBT youth organization for which I volunteer. I decided to post my answers to the pre-panel questions here because I haunt the LGBT/asexuality/lesbian tags here on WordPress and want to start weighing in on discussions in and about the queer community. Apologies in advance if my thoughts seem scattered; there's just so much in my mind about this topic! ]

1) What does being asexual mean to you? Tell us where you land on the sexual orientation and romantic orientation spectrum.
a. How does your asexuality connect or intersect with the other parts of your identity?
b. Do you think your relationships with others are different than other people’s?

Let me start by saying I consider myself completely asexual, meaning I feel no sexual attraction regardless of sex, gender, or any other factor. I’m not comfortable claiming a romantic orientation, though; the only person I’ve ever felt romantic feelings for is my girlfriend, for whom I fell hard (and am still falling). Since I plan on being with her for a very, very long time, it isn’t important to me to figure out where on the romantic spectrum I may land. I would have considered myself aromantic before her, and now I just consider myself in love. I know, we’re gross.To me, being asexual means knowing I’m not alone. It means I have community, support, empathy. Other people who know what I struggle with because they struggle with it, too. I’m not someone who needs lots of labels to define myself, but this is one label that has brought me an immense understanding of why I am the way I am. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I honestly hate myself for being asexual; for not being able to feel certain things, or want certain things, no matter how badly I try to feel them. However, there’s a strange comfort to knowing it’s just part of who I am, an unchangeable aspect of myself I can either fight or embrace. Most times I embrace it openly, happily. When I can’t, I have my girlfriend and the online community to lean on and remind me I’m not broken.

I think my asexuality is tangled up in my personality, so it’s hard to tell if it influences my identity or not. Even if I were sexually attracted to one gender or another, I know I wouldn’t be someone who enjoys casual sex or heavy flirting. My personality would remain the same no matter what; low-key, nerdy, creative. What asexuality has given me, though, is the self-awareness to explore the queer aspects of my personality. I have become much more involved in the queer community in the last year (tentatively, one toe in the water at a time) and through this I have begun to acknowledge and embrace parts of myself that I used to ignore or deny – the aesthetic attraction I feel for women, the intense connection I have with my characters, the relationship with my girlfriend which surpasses romantic love. While there aren’t labels for some of the things I am or feel, asexuality was one gateway for me to embrace them regardless.

I don’t think my asexuality greatly affects my non-romantic relationships. Neither my friends nor family are particularly sexual or flirty people, so I’m not often in situations with them where I might feel uncomfortable about the topic of conversation or jokes being made. I have always been myself with them, and I always will be. My asexuality does of course affect my relationship with my girlfriend, but not as much as some might think. Despite what you might read online, allosexual/asexual relationships aren’t impossible. They aren’t doomed to failure or misery. If you love the person, you make things work. I love my girlfriend because I’m meant to love HER, regardless of her sex or gender or orientation. We’re two souls in love, not two bodies, and that’s why we’re so wonderful together.

2) How does your asexuality shape the way you move around in the world?
a. What are some assumptions or stereotypes that you face?
b. Have you come out as asexual? What was that like for you?

Asexuality is an interesting lens through which to see the world. While we all know “sex sells” and that we’re inundated with sexual images in media, not as many people are aware that we also live in a culture where sexuality itself is seen as compulsory. For example, while we’re making strides in showing our children it’s okay to like boys OR girls, or both, we rarely tell them it’s just as okay to like neither. We still tell the undecided that they’ll change their minds when they meet the right person, or that they’re just late bloomers. So viewing this world as someone who doesn’t feel the pull of sexual desire at all can be at once amusing and frustrating. Amusing because you get to watch sexual drama from the sidelines; frustrating because everything is geared toward people who feel sexual desire, so your own wants or needs are rarely reflected in media or society in general (and when they are, not usually very accurately).

In our current society, sex is an expectation of romance and love – I think that’s why some asexuals feel this immense responsibility to out themselves to anyone who might be romantically interested in them, in case that person feels they’ve been lead on. I know I did. We fear being rejected for what we are before someone even takes the time to learn WHO we are. And if we are with someone romantically, we then run the risk of being mislabeled. People always assume my girlfriend and myself are both gay, when neither of us identifies that way. (She, in fact, doesn’t identify as anything, which I love.) We even had someone at a queer event make some rather inappropriate jokes about lesbian sex, assuming we were a) lesbians like her and b) sexually active, and therefore we’d find them funny. No, we didn’t; we found them extremely awkward and kinda graphic. We laugh about it now, but it was still frustrating to be misidentified while at an event promoting queer freedom and understanding.

A harmful assumption I have encountered both without and within the LGBT community is that asexuals face no discrimination (and, some feel, therefore don’t deserve inclusion in that community or its safe spaces). Some people believe we can “hide” our sexual orientation and therefore pass as normal. This brand of discrimination we face is one the LGBT community has faced in the past – invisibility. We’re told our orientation doesn’t exist; that we CAN’T exist. We’re told we’re broken, that it must be past trauma or hormones or mental issues causing our asexuality, or even that we’re just attention seekers. Some of us face damaging corrective therapy or, worse, sexual assault. To me, it hurts more when this dismissal is perpetrated by those in the LGBT community that people on the outside. Can we hide? Not if we want to be happy and healthy. Should we have to hide? No. No one should. But when the “A” in the acronym more often stands for “ally” than “asexual”, it’s hard to feel included.

I didn’t want to hide, but that doesn’t mean I embraced my identity in one fell swoop. Coming out was a long and often difficult process for me. I gave myself almost two years to become comfortable identifying as asexual, and in this time I only told a very few select friends. Once I decided the label was right for me, I began opening up to other friends and people online. It was only in the last year that I came out to my immediate family, almost seven years after I first learned about the orientation. I knew I would be accepted no matter what, but also that asexuality was a foreign concept to my family and it would take time for them to understand. (Though it probably didn’t help that I broke the “I’m asexual” and “I’m dating for the first time ever – and it’s a girl” news at the same time…) I’m very open about my asexuality now, though. If I mention my girlfriend and someone says “Oh, you’re gay?” I always (kindly) correct them. I enjoy educating people about asexuality; I think it’s important to be a voice within the community, even if I’m only speaking to my own experiences and observations. I even have a rainbow PFLAG bracelet hanging from my purse strap, along with a button that says “Tacoma Pride” that I got from my city’s pride festival.

3) Do you identify as queer?
a. What does “queer” mean to you?

To me, the term “queer” is an umbrella for anyone who doesn’t strictly fall under the heterosexual/heteroromantic and/or cisgender labels. It can be a very helpful and convenient term for people who feel their identity doesn’t have a label, or who feel uncomfortable using labels in general. It’s also a very malleable term, meaning it can be used for aspects of a person that haven’t yet been included in the larger sexuality and gender discussions. I believe I fall under the queer label, though not necessarily because of my asexuality; instead, my queerness comes from other aspects of my life, such as the relationship between myself and my girlfriend, and the relationship I have with my characters. I’m queer because there’s no word for two women in a relationship who don’t identify as lesbians. I’m queer because I feel things for my girlfriend and my characters that don’t fall under any terms or buzz words. I’m queer because I’m a little bit off from what society considers normal, and until there IS no normal, queer is the best word to sum me up.

#1448

If my mind is a house with countless doors down endless hallways, and those doors have always been closed and locked, or maybe just closed and waiting to be nudged open, then now it’s as if every door in every hallway on every floor stands wide. I shrink from these open doorways, fearing what I will see if I creep around their corners; empty drawers, bare windows, layers of undisturbed dust on every surface. My footsteps would echo on hard floors and blank walls with no signs of life to dampen the sound of my passing. At least when the doors were shut I might peep through the keyholes or press my ear to the wood, gleaning in fragments the mysterious lives within. At least when the doors were shut I could wonder at what their locks protected from intrusion – or barred from escape. But open wide like this they hold no wonder and I am only too aware of the vacancies, the silences all around. If my mind is a house with countless doors down endless hallways, then whomever lived in these rooms is gone, vanished, removed.

#1447

[ My arch nemesis asked me to imagine what Mage's boss forms would be if the story were envisioned as a video game. Here's what I came up with! ]

1 – The Wanderer: A figure clad all in black, the hood of her cloak always drawn up to hide her face. Long black hair streams from the hood. No bladed weapons or jewelry save for a single silver ring on one finger. Carries a wooden staff topped with a clear crystal crescent moon. Solely uses far-range magic attacks, combo elemental spells involving wind, earth, ice, and lightning. Battle takes place in a frozen wasteland.

2 – Darkelvenmage: The Wanderer unhooded. Same outfit, though now you can see her face. Still solely magic-based, though the attacks are both long-range and close-range. Uses speed to close quickly and then back away, much like a game of cat and mouse. Circles patiently until an opportunity presents itself. Battle takes place in a fae forest which responds to her spells.

3 – Mage: The first incarnation with hair shorn at the chin. No cloak now, and her dress is more casual; black pants and corset, bare arms and neck decorated with silver jewelry. She uses a combination of magic and blade attacks, which have become more playful and impulsive. Battle takes place on a Sanctuary Island training ground. Is the battle serious, or just practice? Are the combatants friends or enemies? Hard to tell.

4 – The Dark Lady: Captain Mage; she wears a tattered black captain’s coat instead of the cloak, and carries a long rapier on her belt. Her ears, neck, and arms are covered in silver jewelry and charms. Some light body armor. Battle takes place on the deck of the Jolly Roger, which bucks in perpetual storm and over which waves frequently crash. Uses spells to summon monsters from the deep, as well as to increase the severity of the storm and control the thrashing of the ship to her advantage. Closes in with the rapier or hidden blade for final blows.

[ The name is a reference to the song The Dark Lady. ]

5 – The Trickster: Beast form. Mage assumes the form of a giant fox-like creature reminiscent of the kitsune, lithe and many tailed. Uses speed and agility attacks, as well as dealing damage with teeth and claws. Moves in shadows to hide her location, darting out to attack. Can also send out shadow forms as distractions. Battle takes place in the dream world, where nothing is as it seems.

6 – Shatterpan: The Mage we know best. Her outfit carries over from The Dark Lady, though now she wears a ragged cloak instead of the coat and more body armor. Uses the Hook to call down lightning and also as a close-range physical weapon for slashing/stabbing techniques. Also does double attacks using the Hook and another bladed weapon (either sword, dagger, or stiletto). Can call down darkness to partially veil the battlefield. Battle takes place on the shores of Sanctuary Island, pre breaking of the light.

7 – The Exile Queen: Final form. The original cloak and hood are back, veiling her features completely; it looks as if she is made of the shroud and nothing more. The cloak is made out of shadowstuff, which ripples and extends unnaturally across the battlefield, causing mild damage if touched. Uses control over the moon and stars to completely black out the playing field, attacking in the darkness with razor sharp claws (once the Hook) and magic. Battle takes place in the ruins of the Sanctuary lighthouse.

Mini Boss 1 – Tanim: Uses a single handgun. Main attributes are strength and firepower. Possible final form as The Sun.

Mini Boss 2 – Daren: Uses only bladed weapons, favoring small hidden blades. Main attributes are speed and agility. Possible final form as The Moon, or The Angel of Death.

Bonus Battlefield: The Starship Jolly Roger.

#1446

So here we meet again, my friend
looks like we’ve got a score to settle
since you’re always talking up your game -
come on, let’s test your mettle

I know you think you’re hot shit
but you’re room temperature at best
a special little snowflake? nope -
you’ll melt like all the rest

You’re getting pretty cocky
with all your buddies gathered ’round
bitch, this ain’t even my final form -
I’ll beat your asses to the ground

They’ve told you that you’ll triumph
’cause good always has to win
but this isn’t Disney, princess -
you better contact next of kin

#1445

I should be writing
…let me check Tumblr real quick
shit, what time is it?

[ Some people have asked if I have a Tumblr - the answer is yes! Only-Fragments is basically a storage place for any images/GIFs/etc that remind me of my characters. An inspiration wall, only online. Feel free to check it out! I have like five followers. ]

#1444

You have wept an ocean in the middle of the night, curled against my back as if to keep yourself from being swept under, and in the morning I long to kiss away the dried salt in the corners of your eyes; but I never imagined this, never in all the years before we met did I wonder what you looked like with tears in your eyes (because how could I ever cause you pain?) so when your gaze finds mine I’m suddenly too shy; too shy to say I would drown with you in that ocean, if you asked, or that I will shelter you through every storm no matter the waves or the wind; too shy to profess my desperate, devoted heart and so I merely kiss you, lips and brow, and promise to return to your side.

#1443

I have wanted you since I was fourteen; since I listened to Kiss Me on repeat while working on my ninth grade science project; since I doodled your unknown likeness in my notebooks during tenth grade English; since eleventh grade, when Eisley made me long inexplicably, and senior year when I looked for your face in every crowd. I have wanted you since my unwilling adulthood; since the long nights when I would pace campus with Imogen Heap or sit cross-legged on my dorm room floor with Tegan and Sara; since the even longer nights after graduation when I would toss and turn beneath the sheets, refusing the false hope of the siren’s song. And I want you now, still, forever; since your voice has become the one singing me to sleep at night; since I’m no longer ashamed of offering you my own; since every song reminds me of you but none of them hurt the way they did before.

#1441

If you want me, oh summer king, oh golden lord, then come and seek me; cast off your heavy silks, your rings of amber and tigers eye, and go slumming in the dark places; I am waiting for you in those cold depths, crowned in funereal ashes and buried in shadow, exhaling smoke with every deathslumber breath; take my cold hand, brother, if you do not fear the grave, and draw me out of this purgatory; resurrect your winter lord.

#1439

Dear Tanim and Daren,

Yeah. Hi. Remember me? Your faithful, humble scribe? The one who’s devoted her entire existence to chronicling your endless, messed up lives? The one who’s been available to you 24/7/365 for the past twelve years?

Right. That one. Good. Now that I’ve jogged your memory a bit, I just have a quick question for you both…

What. The fuck. Is going on here?

Seriously. Virtually no contact for, what, two months now? Three? What exactly have you been up to in that time? Are you on a fucking vacation or something and just happened to forget to leave a note? I’m not running a shitty poetry blog here; you have to give me something to work with so I can stop vomiting out bad haiku. That’s the deal, isn’t it? You do your thing, fuck or fight or whine, I don’t really care, and I write it all down. That’s the deal.

Let me be straight with you: It is way too fucking hot for you bitchy motherfuckers to go full on radio silence on me. I know it’s always angsty-rain-clouds where you are, but over here we’re having what you call a god dammed heat wave and I am way. too. hot. to keep playing nice.

So here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get your shit together and start giving me something to write or I swear to every god in the multiverse that I will straight up unleash the insane pirate elf on you. Don’t make me get Mage involved; you know that bitch is just itching for a fight. So do the right thing and nobody gets hurt any more than they respectively enjoy being hurt.

Finally, in closing:

Love,

The Scribe

#1438

Summer nights like this, hot and dead, my legs recall the endless circles paced along well worn paths, between brick buildings and silent chapels, dormitory windows slid wide to catch a nonexistent breeze. Sleepless nights like this, my legs itch to run but you are sleeping fitfully beside me and I no longer need to go seeking in the dark, headphones blaring Eisley and Imogen Heap, Sixpence None the Richer urging me onward another loop in the endless quest for something which couldn’t possibly be real yet lays at my side now, a lifetime later. I sought you for so long that on these stifling nights my body still falls into the familiar rhythm, the need to pace, to pine, to be unsettled and unfulfilled, the impulse almost overwhelming until I turn over and brush my hand across your bare skin to feel your warmth and life beneath my touch, the proof of our reality; the proof we no longer need to wander in lonely circles on restless nights and return, exhausted, to empty beds – our seeking is over.

#1437

[ A small sampling of the songs that remind me strongly of Tanim, Daren, and Mage. ]

Tanim:

Battle for the Sun – Placebo
Run to You – Pentatonix
Protoge Moi – Placebo
Gold Guns Girls – Metric
Lost in the Shadows – The Lost Boys
I Will Follow You Into the Dark – Deathcab for Cutie
Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) – The Eurythmics
Every You Every Me – Placebo
Say Something – A Great Big World
Love Me Broughte – The Medieval Baebes

Daren:

Broken Promise – Placebo
Cold (But I’m Still Here) – Evans Blue
Lonely Ghosts – O+S
Mykonos – Fleet Foxes
Running Up That Hill – Placebo
The World – Yuki Kajiura
The Pit – Silversun Pickups
To Be Alone With You – Sufjan Stevens
The Bitter End – Placebo
Dirty Knife – Neko Case

Mage:

Dead Men Tell No Tales – Muppet Treasure Island
Brand New Day – Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog
Bedlam Boys – traditional
Radioactive – Imagine Dragons
Hysteria – Muse
Inner Universe – Ghost in the Shell
Resident Evil Main Theme – Rob Zombie
Team – Lorde
Love Song – Snake River Conspiracy
Exile – Enya

#1433

beware the fields, little rabbit
though you long to run and leap
there are fox eyes staring from the grasses
and hawk eyes gleaming in the sky

beware the forests, little rabbit
though it’s cool beneath the boughs
the hunting cats creep on silent feet
and wire traps lay buried in leaves

beware the call of freedom, little rabbit
though the warren is hot and dark
the safe spaces aren’t as safe as promised
and the hunters can smell your blood

#1432

take my voice, sea witch
grant me fine legs in return
a worthwhile bargain
even if each step pains me
at least I’ll be like the rest

take my voice, sea witch
after all, what use are words?
brief, untouchable
yet flesh is warm and solid
bone and blood make us human

take my voice, sea witch
I just want to be normal
feel the things I should
I long to walk on the shore
but now longing’s not enough

take my voice, sea witch
change the self I never chose
give me sensation
for I’ve given up on words
and now I’d give anything

#1431

Tanim’s hands shake as he wedges the knife blade beneath the edge of the capsule’s seal. He draws in a slow, steadying breath before working the blade back and forth enough to slide one half of the capsule free, and a teaspoon of white powder rains down to join the contents of the other pills already emptied into the steaming cup of tea. A swirl of the spoon dissolves the powder, leaving nothing behind to betray any hint of the drink’s addition. Cup in hand, he pushes open the bedroom door and moves through the warm gloom to sit at the edge of the bed. Its occupant doesn’t stir at the motion, nor the light streaming in from the hallway. Only Tanim’s hand shaking his shoulder with a murmured, “Daren, darling, wake up,” draws him from an exhausted sleep. Glassy eyes deep within sunken sockets roll up to meet Tanim’s and Daren wets dry, cracked lips before rasping, “Morning. I think.”

“Something like that,” Tanim smiles weakly, grateful his face is half hidden in shadow. He’s never been able to lie to Daren, even when absolutely necessary. He holds out the cup of tea and urges, “You should drink something, love.” Daren frowns, staring at the proffered drink as if not immediately comprehending his lover’s words. Then he shakes his head, a minute gesture of dismissal while muttering, “You know I can’t keep anything down.” Nor has he for days now, the older man knows all too well. Still… “Please,” Tanim pleads, the word barely a breath, so desperate is he to keep any note of worry or guilt from his voice. “Just one cup. For me?”

Daren’s frown deepens and his eyes narrow, bright and focused now, searching Tanim’s gaze for a silent moment. Whatever he reads there must decide him; he levers himself up to a sitting position, a soft hiss his only acknowledgment of the pain even simple movement causes, and reaches out one skeletal hand. “For you.” He brings the cup to his lips, meeting Tanim’s eyes once more over its trembling rim as if in challenge – or submission – then downs the contents in one swallow.

Tanim catches his companion as Daren slumps forward, the cup clattering from limp fingers.

#1429 – Summer Solstice

high above the city, the world, if it must be done then just let it be done spoken with a weary sigh to the chill night, silent night, one way or another, what does it matter? holiest night and the sun long set, where is the sun? by my hand or his, blood or bruises, or just one simple step off this edge no sun, just the darkness and the wind tugging at hair, fingers, clothing like a lover’s supplication but I don’t want simple, not this time gentle yet insistent, urging him to take that one step into oblivion no, I want to fight, I want to rebel, even if it means falling I just want to live a different kind of lover’s supplication as the hand closes around his wrist, if you fight, I fight at your side and the wind picks up, fate demanding submission to the ritual death, howling for blood, how dare they defy? but I choose the dawn not this time, not this night, destiny denied as the Moon steps down and the Sun releases his wrist, kneeling in allegiance, adoration and abdication, and I choose you, always

 

[ I have a number of new followers, so to those of you who are new to my characters, here! Have a tragic solstice myth! ]