#all the flowers kneeling

[smokefalls]

I’m marked / by grief and by the idea that something must emerge from grief.

Paul Tran, "Scheherazade/Scheherazade" from All the Flowers Kneeling

[whisperthatruns]

[...] I’m marked  by grief and by the idea that something must emerge from grief. The difference was not unlike that difference between the fear I felt going toward the cliff and the fear I feel---having gone---seeing what’s beyond.

Paul Tran, from “Scheherazade / Scheherazade,” All the Flowers Kneeling (Penguin Books, 2022)

[ripeteeth]

scientific method - paul tran

Of course I chose the terry cloth surrogate. Milkless artifice. False idol. Everyone, I’m told, has a mother,

but Master bred me in a laboratory, his colony of orphans. Rhesus macaque. Macaca mulatta. Old World monkeys, my matriarchs ruled the grasslands

and forests long before white men like him weaned their whiteness and maleness from our chromosomes,

slashed and burned our home, what they once called The Orient. French Indochina. Việt Nam. Master, like a good despot, besotted and dumbstruck, dying

to discern the genesis of allegiance, the science of love and loss, nature versus nurture, segregated me at birth

from my maker, pelt sopping with placental blood. In a chamber where he kept track of me, his pupils recorded my every movement, my every utterance,

hoping I might evince to them a part of themselves. But I wasn’t stupid. I knew famine and emaciation,

and nevertheless I picked that lifeless piece of shit because it was soft to hold. Who wouldn’t want that? Though it couldn’t hold me, I clung to the yellow-face

devil as though it was my true mother and I grasped the function of motherhood: witness to my suffering,

companion in hell. Unlike infants with wire mothers I didn’t hurl myself on the floor in terror or tantrum, rocking back and forth, colder than a corpse. I had

what Master believed to be a psychological base of operations. Emotional attachment. Autonomy.

Everything he denied and did to me, his ceaseless cruelty concealed as inquisition, unthinkable until it was thought, I endured by keeping for myself

the wisdom he yearned to discover and take credit for. Love, like me, is a beast no master can maim,

no dungeon can discipline. Love is at once master and dungeon. So don’t underestimate me. Simple- minded and subservient as I might appear to be,

I gathered more about Master than he did about me, which, I guess, is a kind of fidelity

conceived not from fondness but fear magnified by fascination. Master made me his terry cloth surrogate, his red-clawed god, nursing his id

on my tits, and for that, I pitied him. All this time he was the animal. All this time he belonged to me.

[from All the Flowers Kneeling]

[whiskeysorrows]

Analysis and collage inspired by the poem 'Galileo' by Paul Tran

(everything apart from the poem is mine)

[libraryleopard]

Poetry

Explores intergenerational trauma, sexual assault, U.S. imperialism, and healing

Favorite poems: "Incident Report, "The Nightmare: Oil on Canvas: Henry Fuseli: 1781, "Bioluminescence," "I See Not the Stars But Their Light Reaching Across the Distance Between Us," "Process Report," "Galileo," "Judith Slaying Holofernes: Oil on Canvas: Artemisia Gentileschi: 1620"

Nonbinary, queer, Vietnamese American author

[hivepixels]

.

[darlingpwease]

chu wanning, who experiences a strange mixture of shame, disgust, excitement and shyness whenever he has muddy erotic dreams that are rarely explicitly sexual, but always carry this obvious subtext, from which he cannot help but be embarrassed around you, understanding that both options are "to brush you off" and "behave as usual" are unsuitable for him. but at the same time, to look at a disciple with whom he dreams like this,,,,

[baesooraya]

I've never noticed before but the outfit Volo gives you (Blazer of Benevolence) has little flowers on the pants - it looks like buttercups on the ones I dyed Baby Blue and Gold!

[sentientpaperbag]

Happy Valentines Day to Myself and Myself Only /j

[smokefalls]

what humiliated me // as I relived my death in that room without sunrise / wasn’t my desire for light but my desire for more darkness.

Paul Tran, "Scheherazade/Scheherazade" from All the Flowers Kneeling

[whisperthatruns]

Bioluminescence

There’s a dark so deep beneath the sea the creatures beget their own light. This feat, this fact of adaptation, I could say, is beautiful

though the creatures are hideous. Lanternfish. Hatchetfish. Viperfish. I, not unlike them, forfeited beauty to glimpse the world hidden

by eternal darkness. I subsisted on falling matter, unaware from where or why matter fell, and on weaker creatures beguiled

by my luminosity. My hideous face opening, suddenly, to take them into a darkness darker and more eternal than this underworld

underwater. I swam and swam toward nowhere and nothing. I, after so much isolation, so much indifference, kept going

even if going meant only waiting, hovering in place. So far below, so far away from the rest of life, the terrestrial made possible by and thereby 

dependent upon light, I did what I had to do. I stalked. I killed. I wanted to feel in my body my body at work, working to stay

alive. I swam. I kept going. I waited. I found myself without meaning to, without contriving meaning at the time, in time, in the company

of creatures who, hideous like me, had to be their own illumination. Their own god. Their own genesis. Often we feuded. Often we fused

like anglerfish. Blood to blood. Desire to desire. We were wild. Bewildered. Beautiful in our wilderness and wildness. In the most extreme conditions

we proved that life can exist. I exist. I am my life, I thought, approaching at last the bottom of the sea. It wasn’t the bottom. It wasn’t the sea.

Paul Tran, All the Flowers Kneeling (Penguin Books, 2022)

[saintbleeding]

oh my frickin god im thinking about tim absolutely weeping as ‘o danny boy’ is played and danny’s empty casket is lowered into the ground

[maxellminidisc]

You know how like Barbies have those like super stiff articulated knees and they crackle when you bend them? That's what's happening to my knees rn laskksksksa

[whiskeysorrows]

Analysis and collage inspired by the poem 'Hypothesis' by Paul Tran

(everything apart from the poem is mine)

[narugen]

ACK HOSHIMINA FLOWER FIELD DATE

[lovelyghst]

craving consensual somno with (slightly intoxicated) simon riley and his (extremely heavy sleeper) girl. take this as ur warnings.

just him coming home late at night as usual, the bourbon in his system keeping him loosened up and tranquil, yet ever so cognizant as he enters your shared bedroom. those familiar creepy-crawlies invading his stomach with boyish excitement to see you, and quickly turning towards his dick when he lays eyes on your pretty body.

it’s nearly a routine at this point; you purposely fall asleep in these skimpy, two-piece pajamas, usually some sort of small berries, cherries, or flowers adorning the thin, white fabric that leaves little to the imagination, knowing it’ll get him all worked up. the curtains are left pulled and the door cracked open, you kick the covers off and lay with a pillow hugged tightly in your arms beneath you to give him the best view; infinite signs telling him you want it just as bad as he does. it is routine, but it gets so him riled up, each and every time.

he trudges over, as quietly as the tipsy man can manage to the end of your bed, and with tunnel-vision on your exposed thighs. even his jaw fallen slack just a bit in hunger. desperate to get his hands on you after being apart for so long, and wanting to soothe that ache in his cock he hadn’t even realized he was palming through his jeans.

you barely stir when he kneels on the foot of the bed, and neither when he crawls above you and places a kiss right behind your ear.

he presses a cold palm to your shoulder, attempting to urge you onto your back to give him a visual of your features. to let him see your curves in the raw moonlight, how the dainty material of your pajamas becomes a tad bit see-through around your tits and incidentally rides up past your bellybutton, endless thoughts running through his dazed mind as he eventually manages to flip you over successfully.

though, your sleepy hum suddenly alerts him to a standstill, his worst nightmare being to wake you from your serene rest. not now, anyway.

“shhh, sweetheart,” he gently coaxes you, and he can’t help the grin spanning his lips when you mumble the first syllable of his name in that questioning, dreamy tone. he clears fallen hair from your face, slipping his pillow from your grasp as he mutters, “yeah, dovie, s’only me. you’re okay, you’re safe… jus’ go back to sleep for me, now.”

your unconscious mind obeys like clockwork, the smallest of smiles curling your lip corners in contentment, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s returning to his endeavors.

kissing all across your exposed collarbone, thoughtlessly slipping a finger or two beneath the strap of your little pajama shirt and carefully allowing it to glide down your shoulder as he repeats the process on the other side. peppering kisses to your soft skin, before rolling the fabric upward from the bottom so he can properly pay attention to the rest of your chest and tummy.

lips grazing your sternum with short, controlled breaths fanning your sensitive parts; aware of how easily ticklish you are and attempting not to light that fuse, equally straining himself in not turning too feverish as he takes your hardened nipple in his mouth and paws at the other in his hand.

he works his way down slowly but surely, until he’s pulling your shorts off with tender hands and unveiling your bare, soaked pussy, and he can’t even think to suppress the low groan pushed from his lungs at the sight in front of him. he inches forward with nearly crossed eyes, taking incisive ministrations in lifting your legs up and over his back.

your breathing hitches a bit in your slumber when he licks an almost reluctant yet long stripe from your hole to your clit, unable to give himself a moment to savor it before he’s diving back in for more.

“missed this pretty, little cunt on my tongue, baby… christ,” he chuckles lightly to himself, “good girl’s gonna be the death o’ me.”

he sloppily makes-out with your pussy, any and all devotions of rhythm and precision thrown far from his intentions. he only gets to be selfish when he has you like this, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity as it’s laid out on his bed. moaning at your wetness and taste, how your pussy drools for more and coats his chin with a slick he devours like a madman deprived.

the small whines you make in your sleep are nothing but precious to simon, burning them into his brain like any other occasion he’s pulled them from your lips. saving them for the later times like when he’s a thousand miles away, locked away in some office, and can’t possibly bring himself to bother you with a pestering, horny phone call.

you turn your head to the side with a hum, empty hands reaching for any semblance of comfort on your abdomen, which rather concerns him for a moment until he realizes just what you want.

he gives you one of his hands and you blindly accept it, wrapping your smaller fingers around his wrist and thumb to pull the appendage closer. resting just below your ribcage, satisfied and holding it close like you would a teddy bear.

“sweet thing… always loved this perfect pussy,” he mumbles right up against your warmth, quiet as to not disrupt your blissful obliviousness in your sleep. he’s utterly drunk on you and your taste, and the alcohol he had beforehand certainly contributes to his filthy, forward language.

“how easy y’get on my mouth, ‘nd yet how tight you are around my cock… fuckin’ hell—”

he watches intently as the tips of his fingers delve between your folds, gradually disappearing whilst your chest begins to heave a little heavier; a faint, broken noise of pleasure omitting straight from your throat. tightening around his digits as he pushes them further in, just as you do wrapped around his cock when you’re conscious.

he’s not thinking straight; he’s merely experimenting with you as he curls his fingers upward, prodding at that gummy spot in your cunt and greedily sucking on your clit to push you over. toying with you, rather, because the face you make when you’re first emerged from your slumber with a mind-shattering orgasm is truly priceless.

your eyes snap open as you come around his digits, squeezing his hands tight with your vision going blank. the high is strong but you don’t allow it to last very long when the dots in your brain are connecting, turning you all excited for the implications of it all.

erratically catching your breath with a huge grin on your face, matching his as he comes up to greet you. he’s stupid, shamelessly drunk on your taste, and it radiates from his expression as if he just witnessed a star being born right before his muddy eyes.

you haven’t a clue what just happened, but you fucking loved every sober second of it.

and before you know it, he’s coming back up to meet your lips with his own, which you graciously accept, taste of slick and alcohol and all. humming as he slips his greedy hands upward and behind your back, giggling when he impatiently flips over on his back and hauls you with him. til you’re curled up by his side, halfway on his chest whilst one leg slips between both of his bulky ones.

“i‘m glad you’re home…” nearly a pout, “really missed you, si.”

you’re the first one to speak, quietly, sincere as ever as you examine his pretty face. the faint bags beneath his lids, the wetness that sticks to his dirty-blond stubble. his rough and gruff exterior that hides behind it a boy who’s absolutely and utterly whipped for you.

“that right?” he taunts, eyes remaining shut. “and my tongue, i bet?”

you shy away with a laugh. he won’t remember these words in the morning, but you’ve always loved how cocky and brazen he gets with a couple of drinks running through his blood.

“i missed all of you...”

his eyes barely have to open for him to effectively, and lovingly, judge you with a mere glance. it’s one of his talents.

“some parts more than others, clearly.”

“that’s not true,” you contest, but the humorous hesitancy and sheepishness in your voice tells him otherwise.

“sure, baby, sure.” he takes a moment to breathe, overtly proud of himself. “y’missed my mouth, n’ my hands. even with how rough they are with ya sometimes, yeah?” you hide your flushed face in his neck with a groan, praying this embarrassment is short-lived though preparing for the worst as you feel his lips inch closer to your ear.

“prob’ly missed me fuckin’ my cock into that tight, little cunt—”

“okay, fine!” you finally admit and pull away defensively, slapping his chest but only earning a laugh from him. “but i definitely don’t miss that dirty brain of yours, you big dog.”

“you love me anyway,” he states, matter-of-factly.

you give a big smooch to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips, which he returns.

“i do. a lot,” you add and he hums, feeling fulfilled.

and, oh, he’s so fulfilled with you. you take care of him by allowing him to take care of you, and it’s a two-way street. you ground each other whilst never forcing one to tether themself to earth.

you sit up to fix your top, smoothing over the fabric and shrugging the straps back into place. shimmying back into your shorts when you catch a glimpse of the large man’s dark jeans contrasting your light sheets, belt buckle glimmering in the corner of your eye.

“simon, honey, you need to change before you—”

you look over and are suddenly forced to stifle a giggle when you discover that the poor man has fallen asleep, a droopy smile still ornamenting his slick-covered face. taking your hand and swiping the apple of his cheek with your thumb, you’re pleased when he doesn’t budge one bit. dragging it downwards past his muscled chest and abdomen, landing just beneath his leather belt.

your fingertips trace his hard-on over the jeans, knowing you can’t just leave him like this, all aching and pent up and too exhausted to do anything about it himself.

maybe you could do him a favor and return the sweet gesture? <3