squishyfancyunicorn

[squishyfancyunicorn]

another akali 🐉

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[squishyfancyunicorn]

K/DA · AKALI

[squishyfancyunicorn]

[squishyfancyunicorn]

I had a sudden urge to paint Chinese porcelain snakes with plants. Not exactly holiday themed but who knows how inspiration works anyway lol Merry Christmas! 

[squishyfancyunicorn]

“We're conditioned to love what we know

and if all we know is pain

this is what we tend to choose”

[squishyfancyunicorn]

“It is perfectly okay to write garbage—as long as you edit brilliantly.”

— C. J. Cherryh

[squishyfancyunicorn]

[squishyfancyunicorn]

“The strongest people have a past filled with chaos, heart break and disappointment.”

— r.h. Sin

[squishyfancyunicorn]

my village is chasing a siren. 

they say she is as heavenly as sin, with wide eyes and a soft voice that sticks in your bones. they say their love is hungry for the curve of her hips, the blush of her skin, and they say she has a body you want to devour. but my mother refuses to talk about her. she thinks it’s bad luck because, years ago, the siren left us and the air turned icy. the villagers used to worship the face of her, and still she bared her teeth. so the men set out to capture the siren with beauty buried on her lips. they wanted her back. they sailed their boats into the ribs of the ocean just to claim their beloved treasure. when they returned, empty-handed, their lives grew as cold as their hearts. 

my father swears that is the day it began. the vanishing. even now, people disappear with the hum of the wind, under the glow of a full moon. again and again. we all know it’s the siren, but no one is sure exactly where these people go. some say she takes them to the ocean, and she sings until their ears fill with blood, and she keeps singing until they’re falling. they say she chases them into oblivion. and for the men of the village, their love for her curled into a fist and rotted away. they’re still angry the siren left them, and their anger is a dark stain that fills them up to their fingertips, and forces thunder into the bend of their spines. 

sometimes, when my father gets a storm in his eyes and hunts for her face at the bottom of a bottle, he tells me of her beauty. how she is a fever dream you’ll spend your whole life reaching for, how she holds holy in her eyes. and that if you ever found yourself close enough, you could pluck the magic from her skin. i want to ask, when he says this, how he knows the siren wants to be touched at all. but the question sits heavy in my throat and my father falls down a black hole and i am left, alone. 

xxx

i find her on a particularly sharp night when the night is sore and i leave my father and his fists and climb down to a rocky cove, wondering if the tide is kind enough to carry me away if i ask nicely. there i sit, legs dangling close to the water and oblivion. and i spot her, drifting closer, closer. and i am falling at the sight of her. later, when the moon is flush with promise, i ask her why she was drawn to me so, and she whispers back, you looked like you wanted to be found.

i think of rushing back to the village then, back to my father and his midnight storm. but the water is warmer than my father’s eyes and i decide i would rather vanish with the siren than be seen by him tonight. “hello,” i say, softly, “i’ve heard alot about you.” she stays wrapped up in silence, watching. so i ask, “do you have a name?”

when she answers, my ears melt. her voice is a dim melody drawing me closer, closer, you can call me beautiful. her face is blinding and lovely and i want to dive in, it’s an anchor pulling me back from the edge and pushing me forwards all at once. i say her eyes look like the endless blue of the ocean. 

ocean, she echoes, and her face is brighter than stars. home. i want her to swim closer, closer, and i want her to sing to me. but she reels away from me fiercely. then she buries herself in the water. slips away, leaving me on my own again, with the image of her beauty rooted in the palm of my hand. 

i don’t know why i keep our meeting a secret, but the next morning at breakfast i taste the sin in my mouth like a rotten tooth, and swallow it down, down, concealing it behind my ribs. instead, i ask my mother about her plans for the day and if she slept well. we keep talking until she leaves and i am left with the scent of seaweed caught in the curl of my hair. 

Keep reading

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[squishyfancyunicorn]

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[squishyfancyunicorn]

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[squishyfancyunicorn]

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[squishyfancyunicorn]

Sometimes when I think about love it scares me... It scares me to think that I've never really had it and all my life has just been me chasing something that doesn't really exist. The concept that someone can love you untill your last breath or someone you can love but never have the realization that your view on it will never be the same as others because of this realization does love even exist or is it something we tell ourselves to make life worth living.

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[squishyfancyunicorn]

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[squishyfancyunicorn]

I always cry when I'm anxious, sometimes more than most.

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