aalinaaaaaa

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HEYO LOSERS

I'm too lazy for a poll

SO

Who wants me to go through my 4-year-old TCOT very first very original drafts?

And also my stack of papers that's got stuff from like t0 different WIPs ranging from written last year to like 6 years ago?

WHO WANTS TO SEE MY OLD EMBARRASSING STUFFF???

(Reblog or comment if you do :])

Requirement is like 25 people?

@oliolioxenfreewrites @friendfromdsmp @thepeculiarbird @corinneglass @phoenixradiant @sunflowerrosy @kia-is-poisoned @rivenantiqnerd @aestheic-writer18 @ryahisbored @nkikio @somethingclevermahogony @mjparkerwriting @sl-vega @darkandstormydolls @agirlandherquill @baconandeggs-25 @alnaperera @fantasy-things-and-such @ajgrey9647 @aalinaaaaaa @cybercelestian @danielleitloudernow @illarian-rambling @idunnobutliaiscool @jeremy-no @fandom-pits-dweller @katwritesshit @smudged-red-ink @sunnyjustice @thelazywitchphotographer @pastellbg @louudthoughts @bigwipscholar @killingthemoon84 @attemptingwriter @purplehandshumanfeelings @bluberimufim @artsandstoriesandstuff

#that would be amazing #do it!!!

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Reblog if its ok to spam you with boops

#non-writing stuff #boop

[aalinaaaaaa]

boop! :3

Super boop! <3

#boop

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booping the mutuals again :3

#boop

[aalinaaaaaa]

An Invitation to the Afterlife

For this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt!

Word count: 764

—

“Upon this pyre, you must burn.”

Her name was Ealide, a sweet young thing. Born of the flowers she tried to protect, she sought her life’s work in revival.

“Upon this pyre, you must burn.”

Michel would be a liar to suggest that he accepted his death. Acolytes of the Treaty wrapped him in ceremonial garb, a long cord of rope tying him to the pyre.

The crowd’s hallowed chants rang through the air. Some would say a pyre was too honourable for his crimes, that he should burn by pure magic of a fiery hand. Though of course, that would be doing Fate’s work.

“Upon this pyre, you must burn.”

A summer’s day in Nomet. Himself and the lady took to a spot by the riverside. Pleasurable banter made way for a curious glance, and furthermore, the wilting of a few leaves.

“These leaves form a trail.” He noticed, not hesitating to follow at her behest. What started as splutters of wilted leaves and spotted bark, degraded further. The trail absorbed the summer light, crowns and canopies crowding like squashed teeth. The ground festered with mulch and fungi, the flowers long wilted and without their fine petals.

Birdsong made way for silence, before the emergence of the atrium.

He held Ealide as she recoiled in horror. The trees enforced darkness here, masking from above the smell and ichor of death. The mushrooms in the centre spread out of their circular formation, some growing at the feet of the willow dryad.

She went up and took the dryad’s hand in hers, pleading for her not to be dead.

“Child of spring.” The dryad rasped, wrapping its long fingers over her hand and forearm. “A blight festers here. Blessed as I would be for your assistance, the blight makes you vulnerable.”

“I do not care. I wish to help you and your grove.” Michel admired her determination. He hoped only for her not to lose herself in the process.

“Michel Serrache, of Lorchaine born, you stand convicted of necromancing Ealide Arilae, do you have any final statements?”

By some misfortune, a Minister took interest in this. Conniving fools the lot of them, interfering with affairs they have no hand in.

He resisted the urge to spit in her face. “My actions were just and proportional.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and turned to the crowd. “There exists no justification for trapping a soul beyond their death, nor asking of them to continue their life after said death.”

“You shall be burned for your crimes, Mister Serrache, may you burn in dishonour.” The crowd roared into life as she got someone to light her stick.

Michel struggled against his bindings. His hands burned from the stick of iron one of the acolytes shoved, preventing him from using his magic.

Glad as he was to have given the grove in Nomet a chance, he needed to live to see it through.

The straw crackled and popped, embers starting to fly.

He ceased his struggles for a moment, trying to accept his fate. Though what was there to accept, only murder committed in the name of life. His countrymen called themselves moral for going against necromancy, yet how did actual murder compare to something so nebulous?

Smoke clogged his lungs, his sight, his nostrils. The crowd shuffled amongst themselves, waiting to see his death through. Some parted entirely for some reason.

He hoped it would be worth it for them, to know they are having him slaughtered for choosing life. His dear Ealide showed him that revival and renewal were possible. That picking life could hold such power, and it be the right choice.

When the fire started cause pain, he had no hesitation in letting it claim him.

—

He emerged into a nebulous darkness. Swirling shadows accompanied him in this hollow silence, leaving him alone in this void. Was this the afterlife? Was there one at all?

He expected some sort of intermediate, a way to travel to the next stage. Perhaps he should’ve asked Ealide that. She would know.

A muffling occurred. He waited for it again.

“Are you awak-“

The void turned white and blurry. He waited for the moment he would lose himself, his thoughts, to be reformed into another soul for the next part of his journey.

“Open your eyes.” The voice said.

And so he did.

A series of men in white silken cloaks stared down at him, with one holding a hand out to him.

“Welcome to the Royal Seladian Order of Lyloskje Recordkeepers, we’d like you to join us.”

—

General taglist (ask/comment/message if you'd like to be added or substracted to any of these lists): @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart @thelaughingstag @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @bigboicol-theflamingcol @original-writing @darlingsmoon

Flamebearer taglist: @mundanemoongirl @scarletteflamerald @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @ceph-the-ghost-writer @another-white-void @outpost51 @mattresses-and-macaroni

#flash fiction friday #writeblr #writing #fantasy #open your eyes #fff 249 open your eyes #flamebearer

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Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Send me a number and an OC, and I'll answer.

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

#writing ask game #ask game

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I realized I’ve been posting about my characters but never really introduced them. Fortunately, I made slides for them on canva last year. I love my slides and I love using canva so everyone should look at them

#these are really pretty #makes me realise I haven't done proper introduction posts for my characters either lol #others' characters

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Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

#ask game #writeblr ask game

[aalinaaaaaa]

Two Lonely Figures

For @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt of Watching Birds, I decided to write a little pre-canon to The Chaos in Sunlight.

-_-

The first thing he saw were birds.

A flock of them soared against the blue sky. It would have been a lovely sight, if he wasn't so confused. He had not seen such sights in a long time. Stone was dark and cold. No vision, no smell, nothing.

So why...

"Chaos."

The personification of chaos looked down and received his answer.

Princess Solange stood there. Usually, she wore white, her golden curls piled up to have curls perfectly frame her face, a serene smile on ruby red lips. It was perfection, and Chaos hated it. Now, however, she stood there with red eyes, dressed in a simple black dress he hadn't seen her wear in centuries, her hair left to hang loose and messy, as if she had been pulling on it.

His first instinct was to slap her. Or strangle her. Years later, he would regret not following through. At the moment, he was too confused by being released and his former love's bedraggled state. "Solange? What-"

"Orion's dead."

It was just two words. Two simple words.

Yet, they dug deep into his gut. Even if his heart had been caked up in hate, love still throbbed there.

"You're lying."

Even as he said that, he knew it was truth. Solange manipulated, yes, but she never outright lied. Solange shook her head, tears welling up, and Chaos had to realize that she had been crying.

It was impossible. He had made Solange and Orion immortal. He had made sure the spell was perfect. He had loved them both deeply, ever since he found a young wizard-in-training and drowned in her gorgeous blue eyes as she looked up to see what creature was laughing at her. He had practically raised Orion, entrusted with the younger sibling as the older tried to survive in a world that simply did not care.

"I don't..." Chaos stepped off his column. Most would run, frightened by the form of chaos personified, but Solange only stepped closer. He reached out and pulled her closer, feeling his legs shake. "Why? How?"

"I don't know," Solange sobbed. He found himself sitting down, and the princess followed, practically curling into his lap, the fingers that must've held her brother as he laid dying digging into his fur. "I don't know, I don't know. He...he's gone, we're all we have." She curled up tighter, and he held her tighter. "Please don't leave me alone," she whispered. "I'll go crazy."

It was true. It was so heartbreakingly true.

(Both of it.)

Chaos leaned against his column, holding his first love close as she wept and mourned for the prince that they had loved. Tears pricked at his eyes and he wept, uncaring for who saw.

Right now, they were not Princess Solange and the god of chaos.

Right now, they were two little figures in an uncaring world.

Right now, they were just Sol and Chaos.

Birds flew overhead.

#a beautiful piece #it really tugs on the heartstrings #also add me to the taglist please #flash fiction friday

[aalinaaaaaa]

EXCITED TO SEE YOU AROUND can I hear about The Practice of World-hopping from the WIP tag pls

— @outpost51

Thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️

I'm excited to receive this ask! >D (And also apologies for it being months late lmao)

Anyway, one thing I should mention is that all the faerie portals in my works lead to Ireland. This is because I took inspiration from Irish mythology, where there is significant overlap between people and faeries in the various stories.

Without further ado, here's the entry in question:

A popular past-time for both fae and humans alike, but for different reasons. Fae do it to visit their compatriots living beneath the forts and fairy trees scattered throughout Ireland, as well as to gift or trick the humans living above.

Humans do it to either go ‘home’ for a while, or to go out and get a taste of a slightly different culture. Teens especially find it handy as they can hang out without the contents of their conversation spreading beyond their intended recipients.

This practice has been a reflection of each world’s histories, causing minor pockets of influence on each other’s cultures. It is also a source of conflict and sadness, for within the human settlements of Emaryia, there is an expectation that newcomers should not leave. Leaving is frowned upon because the people are afraid of the repercussions that could happen should the faerie denizens of their world find out that people in the mortal realm know definitively of their existence. This is partially brought upon by pressure from the faeries themselves, who don’t like it when humans leave (without at least being spelled).

For those that know what life in the human world is like, some miss it, others don’t. Those who entered during the famine years were the most susceptible to getting trapped as the food was a godsend to them and their families. These people may have desired to stay a few years or forever, not knowing when things would improve in Ireland again. But a few years turned into decades and longer, as people settled into their new lives and forged new communities.

Similar occurred when the first laws prohibiting Irish culture and language were introduced. Those that entered (though far fewer than during the famine years) were grateful that they could celebrate their culture and customs without worry of being harassed by the British. However, there were some split sentiments amongst people who believed that the right thing to do was return to Ireland and fight to preserve it there. People who thought otherwise were sometimes deemed as ‘cowards’.

From there, a pattern emerged. World-hopping fae copped on rather quickly that they could lure/deceive/manipulate people with great success during periods of historical turmoil. Some of them (the wandering sentinels most notably) were called upon by their underground compatriots when their forts and trees were threatened by planters, farmers and landlords. During the time of the famine, some of the underground fae were afflicted by the same blight affecting the potatoes, and for those that were guarding and blessing the land, their sickness lead to the land suffering too.

It is to be remarked that the fae were generally anti-British, for they found that the Brits had less respect for them as well as the Irish people, and they did not appreciate their liberal use of iron, especially in the Industrial Age. Though some will trick, prank or even harm the native people, they only do so out of playfulness or offence. For a lot of fae it is not their way to spite people for no reason (bar the ones who do have a malicious nature).

Cut to the later times, when English-speakers started rolling in. There was a stigma against them that they were British, or at the very least, that they held pro-British sentiments. When it became more widely known that it was actually a result of the Irish language being exported and erased, there was a sense of horror amongst people. Some people became determined to return and set things right, others decided not to. Those who were more savvy realised that the people of Ireland would not understand Emaryian Gaeilge, due to its slang and other derivations from the original language. While people would walk in with standard fluent or schoolbook Gaeilge, if they spent enough time in the other world, they too would have picked up Emaryian Gaeilge. This version is an amalgamation of the four dialects plus extra words and slang to describe the concepts and experiences unique to humans living there. It is remarkably known for its anachronisms, wildly varied accents and borrowed terms from faerie languages. There are also far less anglicisms in this version.

#caointe na mná #the lady's lament #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #writeblr #ask game #writing ask game

[aalinaaaaaa]

Writeblr Introduction (a Rewrite!)

Hello everyone, my name's Alina (Twenties, female), and if I'm not studying I'm likely on here (or writing, lol). I've had this account for a while now, I use it for posting my stuff as well as the lovely writings of others.

Also a proud member of this society -> @writersuog , go give them a follow! They reblog writing prompts and their members' writings.

And here's what can be found on my blog:

- My writing (see below)

- Other people's writing

- Writeblr things I think are neat

- Eurovision posts (lol)

Just a side note for visitors (this should be common sense, but eh), please don't send me asks/messages relating to the following things.

1. Discourse of any kind (such as political and/or humanitarian issues)

2. Asking for money

3. Anything such as hate comments, advertising, scams and other foolish things.

Should one send me an ask or message in relation to any of the aforementioned above, your message will be deleted on sight. A block and/or report may also be in order, message depending.

WIP Introductions and Masterlists

Flamebearer

Obsidian Sapphires

Caointe na Mná | The Lady's Lament

Flash Fiction Friday Masterlist

Taglists:

General taglist:

— @thelaughingstag @glassstardust22124 @wip-nook @thereadingfoz @thebluesthourcommunity @original-writing @bigboicol-theflamingcol @darlingsmoon @the-ellia-west @guessillcallitart

Tag Game List:

— @emelkae @afoolandathief @oh-no-another-idea @talesfromaurea @ettawritesnstudies @estelaiswriting @drippingmoon @pluttskutt @avrablake @bloodlessheirbyjacques @writerfae @ghost-town-story @druidx @wildswrites @enchanted-lightning-aes @jezifsterswriting @ashen-crest @writing-is-a-martial-art @thesorcerersapprentice @echoing-sailor @splashinkling @copper-dragon-in-disguise @athenswrites @talesofsorrowandofruin @notthatpanda @mk-writes-stuff @scifimagpie @sparrow-orion-writes @winglesswriter @mysticstarlightduck @thepeculiarbird @poethill

(Ask/comment/message me if you'd like to be added or subtracted from any of these lists! (Each of the wips also have their own lists))

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #writeblr community #flamebearer #obsidian sapphires #the lady's lament #caointe na mná

[aalinaaaaaa]

I want to be friends!!!

Can you add me to your tag list please??

Absolutely! Thank you so much <3

[aalinaaaaaa]

@idunnobutliaiscool @aestheic-writer18 @darkandstormydolls @aalinaaaaaa @agirlandherquill @baconandeggs-25 @blueberryseast1

Anyone else Online, Should I go get pajamas and make cookies?

I'm not gonna do a poll for this, so put it in tags or comments or something

#yes you should #nothing beats getting cozy with some homemade cookies

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#or-ah-sea #just flows like that in my head for some reason

[aalinaaaaaa]

Cw: Mentions to Cannibalism, Alchohol abuse/usage, Murder, torture, Slavery, and VERY HEAVY SWEARING

@corinneglass YOU ASKED FOR THIS also, @blueberryseast1 @darkandstormydolls @aalinaaaaaa here's a new scene for you lovelies :]]]

ARGUMENT TIME

Fuck it, it's probably bad, but I'm not editing it anymoreeeeee

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Horns. What's wrong?” Rose eyed her brother-in-law.

Jakkon shrank down in his seat. “It's nothing, Petals.”

“Clearly not!”

“Please just let it go.”

“No, you're making things worse by not telling me!”

“Rose, I'm fine.”

“Oh Really Jak? Because you sure don't look like it.” Rose narrowed her eyes. “Stop trying to lie to me! Your hands are fucking shaking! You look paler than a piece of parchment, like you're going to be sick at any moment! You can't say a single kind word, and your voice sounds like you've been shredded through a cheese grater! Just tell me what's wrong!”

“NO! There's nothing wrong! This whole fucking conversation is the thing making things worse! Everything you say is so patronizing! ‘How was your day Jak? You're gonna be okay Jak. Everything you do is a source of stress Jak. Everything's gonna be okay Jak! Look at me Jak, I can cry without seeing Eveny die in my mind Jak. I have the capacity to care about someone other than myself because I'm a good fucking person Jak!’ JUST SHUT UP!”

“Well I can’t do what you want and leave you alone if you’re around me! I won’t leave until I know what’s bothering you Jak!”

Jakkon gritted his teeth as Rose glared hotly at him. “Fine.” He growled, voice deep and gravelly, the smoke damage adding to the menace of his snarl. “You want to know Rose? It’s you. Every day it’s just worry, worry, worry, ‘I worry about you. You’re worrying me Jak.’ STOP! YOU’RE ONLY STRESSING ME OUT MORE AND MAKING IT WORSE! NO ROSE, IT’S NOT GOING TO BE OKAY! I’M NOT GOING TO BE OKAY! AND IT’S TIME YOU LEARNED THAT!” Jakkon gasped, his breaths rasping like his voice as the wheeze from his damaged lungs cut itself on the shattered tension in the air.

Rose clenched her fists, wings unfurling as her Petals grew black and red, thorns spiking out all over her as she growled, matching his intensity. “WELL YOU DON’T TELL ME A DAMN THING JAK! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO? ALL YOU DO IS DRINK AND TRY TO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF! I CARE ABOUT YOU!”

“Do you want to know why Rosenia?” Both were shouting now, voices matched in intensity and anger, so that their volume didn’t have any more impact. But neither quieted. Even with Rose’s voice choked by tears and Jakkon’s shredding itself with ash. He gripped at his fur, hands shaking violently as he exposed sharp teeth and Rose’s vines wrapped around her arms. Jakkon tensed at the thorns, his voice rising to a strained tone. “Why do I do it Rosenia? Because I’m more addicted than the sun is to rising! BECAUSE EVERYONE I KNEW, EVERYONE I LOVED IS FUCKING DEAD!”

In that moment, anger combined with fear and grief, and the sharp tension cut their words into things neither ever meant, or wanted to say. But nonetheless, they hurt. Rose’s thorns spiked to twice their length as she grabbed Jakkon’s shirt and yanked him down a little, lowering her voice to a snarl. “You’re fucking worthless Jakkon. Why can’t you just get a grip on yourself and Let. It. Go.”

Jakkon’s eyes widened for a moment, stunned and hurt for a moment, before the heat of the moment took him back and he retaliated, slapping her hand away from him hard enough to make her cry out in pain. “Fuck off Rosenia! You don’t care about me. You didn’t care about them either. All you care about is running away from your guilt by pretending to care about me just to fix your own sad excuse for a fucking life.”

Rose froze this time, cradling her injured hand against her chest, but neither slowed from the hurt, the pain just fueling both of them in all of their unspoken emotions. “That’s because you’re a mistake, and everyone who loves you makes a mistake. A mistake that gets them killed. And what do you do? You don’t honor their memory one bit. You destroy yourself. Just be honest from once in your damn life and maybe someone would care!”

In that moment, with those words, any last shred of dishonesty and blame Jakkon had, which held him from telling Rose the truth snapped. He stopped caring about protecting her, about letting her believe what she had about his past and his family. And he told her everything.

His voice dropped everything but a solemn tone and the scratchy rasp of smoke. “You want honesty? Then have it. This is what you wanted.” His tone lifted to a high mocking tone as he made a nasty face. “Why, Rosenia? You and your little fragile little heart want to know why I can’t let go?” His voice fell back down. “Because Eveny, Rune and I were kidnapped for those two weeks we were missing. They were tortured while I was chained to a wall and forced to watch. Then he made me choose. Our Captor looked at my wife and my son and told me to choose which would die. I didn’t choose. So he injured both badly and let me free. Eveny was strong. She could handle it. She only fell unconscious. Rune couldn’t hear me when I talked to him, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.”

Jakkon paused to take a trembling breath as Rose stopped entirely, too horrified and confused to interrupt. “So I had to make a split second decision. He was going to die. Would I let him live for a finite more amount of time and endure all that pain? No. I took his pain away. That’s what I told myself Rosenia. ‘I'm taking his pain away. I'm giving him peace. I can only take one to get a healer and I can’t let his final moments be alone.’ that’s what I told myself, that’s what I still tell myself every time I remember driving the knife into his back.”

Jakkon looked like he wanted to stop, like he was about to be sick at any moment, but he choked back the tears and regret and pushed forward. “Then while Eveny was in a coma because she was tortured to hurt me. I was sent to war. All the friends I made, they broke. They couldn’t think either, shocked out of who they were by what they had done. I took care of them for 2 years. I never visited Rune’s grave, and for all I knew, Eveny would die any day and I wouldn’t be there. But they were all I had to talk to. Then they went missing. One by one. Eveny woke up. I thought things might go back to normal. But then… but then she… she… she burned. It was my fault. And… she didn't burn alone. I found that… if she'd been alive for 7 more months… I would have had a second child. Then someone stole her corpse.”

Rose flinched.

“But that’s not the end of it Rose. Listen to me very closely, you understand? This is the most important part. Why I can’t sleep. Why I can’t eat. I was taken two days after. I was sold. And I was bought by a Serial Killer. I worked for my freedom. But he tied me up Rosenia. He tied me to a post. I couldn't move. He gagged me, drugged me, tortured me. But worst of all, he took the corpses of my friends whom he had killed and cut them into tiny pieces in front of my eyes. Then he came over to me, and forced them down my throat, piece by bloody fucking piece. But that’s not it either Rosenia, is it? Because the final corpse wasn’t a friend. It was her. It was Eveny.”

Rose stopped, her eyes widening in horror as Jakkon began to shiver, wrapping his arms around himself. “I loved her more than anything in the world, Rose. Then she was taken from me. But then they gave her back, tiny piece by tiny piece. She was a person, my love, my life, my everything AND I FUCKING ATE HER ROSE!” His voice splintered, turning into a raspy screeching mess as he screamed and his hands flew to his head, tearing viciously at handfuls of his thick black curls.

Rose flinched back away from him as he began to mutter under her breath as his words previously from the argument and this new news all hit her like a mountain crumbling over her, as she stared at her brother-in-law in horror, and ran.

“Hey, what's all the shouting-” Finn froze in the doorway as Jakkon shook violently, muttering to himself.

“Eyes. Eyes. Eyes. Purple. Petals. Blood. Ash. Shadows… get it out… get it out… they already cut the exit, GET IT OUT OF ME! THEY’RE WATCHING ME FROM THE SHADOWS! THEY KNOW WHAT I AM! THEY KNOW WHAT IVE DONE! Drip drip, tick tock, crushed between my teeth. THEY KNOW EVERYTHING!”

“What-” Finn stopped. “What the fuck is going on? What are you talking about? What the fuck? Jakkon. Jakkon. Jakkon!”

But the Satyr didn’t respond, giggling maniacally as he ripped at more of his hair. “Petals, pretty flowers, sunset, sunrise, what does it matter? They watch me all the same and They know what I've done. I'M SORRY! I’M SORRY! I DIDN’T WANT TO! I DIDN’T MEAN TO! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE! Leave me alone. Leave me alone.” He whimpered softly, drawing his knees to his chest.

“Jakkon!” Finn suddenly stopped, remembering the phrase he'd overheard his old friend say to Rose when he'd walked by. ‘I’m more addicted than the sun is to rising.’ Withdrawals. Of course. How had he not suspected? With the limited supplies, he had prioritized everyone but himself. His shaky hands, his constant irritability since the supply shortage had begun, and now the hallucinations. Rose had told him everything and he still hadn't picked it up.

#wow #this is so raw #so evocative #the words and the formatting #it's clear that jakkon's been through so much #I am floored #this is really good

[aalinaaaaaa]

Birds of Not the Same Feather

For this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt!

Word count: 824

This piece is told through the perspective of one Charimone Eschredaine, the same character whose disappearance has been hinted to in a piece I wrote a few months ago. These are her reflections from some time after her whole ordeal.

—

I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. The ones where the crows steal your soul, and your wallet and your jewellery. “Don’t you mean seagulls?”

No, crows. Seagulls walk into shops and take sandwiches without paying for them. They also take your food while you’re eating it. Seagulls are evil, by way of pettiness. Crows, are complicated.

My friends, if they weren’t careful, lost their bracelet in the night. And maybe their earrings too. Others would have their food lost during lunch, should it be left lying around for long enough. But that’s what differentiates them. They don’t take your food, they take leftovers. They swoop down for crumbs and scraps scattered on the ground, and queue politely for pet food placed in dishes.

They also never go for my food. Nor my earrings, nor my bracelets. “How are they so nice to you?” One of my friends once asked me. That I did not know. It wasn’t as if they brought me gifts at that point, or sabotaged an enemy’s plans for me. All they’d do is fly away. Exit the doorway? Gone. Look out the window? Gone. Breathe in their general direction? Gone.

Upon further investigation, this is what I gathered. “The crows are scared of us.” My sister Sharigan said. “We’re too nice to them.” Larske, my eldest brother said to me. “Your part of the family must be blessed.” My great-great-great-great-grandmother mused. When I asked my father, he dodged the question, as if to usher me away.

On the eve of Solstice week, I’d watch the sky light up with two things: the golden hues of sunset and a long percussion of crows, their harsh and sibilant caws carried on the wind. Though I was young, I caught onto it quickly. The day after Solstice eve, my father would always disappear. He would leave for seven days and no longer, but also no less. Any questions we’d ask he deflected with ease, though accompanied by the occasional coughing fit. After the passing of my seventh birthday, I had enough of the dodged questions.

On that Solstice I decided to follow him. I followed him through the streets and the corridors and the archways, filtering through my sister’s school to where a mirror stood. I watched my father and five other Ministers chat, banter and bicker amongst themselves, pausing only to enter the mirror.

Upon entering the mirror, a day turned to a week turned to a year and a day. Well, more than a year and a day, but that doesn’t quite sound as poetic, does it? My shadowy form got caught out on the first day, though not by my father nor his comrades. Rather, the crows did. They believed me to be a spy, and chased me down to the bitter end. Only upon orders from that very lady, the head of them all, did they stand down. I got caught out by someone who saw right through me and my wispy guard, seeing the young girl who only wanted for attention and company. To be seen and heard, and even loved, but instead ignored by my father and drowned out by the noise of my many siblings and family members.

The year felt long, but not long enough. I saw and learned many things, the reason for my father’s disappearance only one of them. I don’t know if I’m proud to admit that I understand why he dodges some of our questions, or lands in a coughing fit should he venture too close to the truth.

Seeing him successfully fulfill the terms needed to bring me home broke my heart. It evoked the same feelings within me that I get after a sleepover, only worse. It’s the part when I must return to the ordinary world, where I’m ignored and washed out by the chaos and colour of our household.

My presence softened the heart of a lady known for being hardhearted and merciless. Or at least I hope it did. Should she or anyone else of her ilk so much as hear of this, the crows will whisk me back for all the wrong reasons.

Alas, in the aftermath of constant questions and wary glances, another facet emerges. The crows don’t fly away from me anymore. I leave them scraps on my windowsill, of which they take without question. They leave me jewellery and trinkets and money, though they say never to take a crow’s jewels for fear they are cursed. Thankfully nothing’s happened yet.

Over the months and years after my return, I took note of the crows that approached or watched me. Some had hoods, others speckles of white on their wings or blue feathers in their tail.

Even as I write this, there is a crow nearby with a little scar over its beak. I try not to look at it, for it’s quick to fly away. Perhaps some day I’ll find her again.

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Tagging @guessillcallitart @thelaughingstag @thereadingfoz @glassstardust22124 @the-ellia-west

#flash fiction friday #writeblr #writeblr community #fantasy #writing #watching birds #fff 248

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[#248 Watching Birds]

This prompt has been brought to you by someone who wishes to remain anonymous; thank you very much! Look up; what do you see? What dreams are carried on the birds' wings? What words are hidden in birdsong? Will your characters be content just watching the birds fly by or will they soar with them? Only you can tell us!

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