I Will Tell this Story to the Sun Until You Remember that You are the Sun, Erin Slaughter
"Sometimes what a stranger might call sacrifice is embracing the thankless bramble, sometimes what wants to rot you feels the most like home."
Tell your body grow
smaller so it folds
into tinier spaces.
You could be an airplane
’s cargo hold. Sitting
on his starched couch,
you could be a ventriloquist
of limbs. Tangle yourself
over yourself. & only
revolt when they look
away — such proximity
is sticky. Sickly. Wear flesh
like a gown of other people
’s lizard prayers.
- Erin Slaughter, Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge, after Marty McConnell
I worry I’m not looking for love, that I’m looking
for a religion to have sex with.
— Erin Slaughter, from “Notes on Un-Apology,” published in Split Lip Magazine
Meaning karma has failed
and I return no venomous
pregnancy narrative spitting
orange at the shattered
horizon Slept in my car
to avoid intimacy with a man
who once sobbed on my belly lifted
my hair in the shower
while I giggling washed
from me his saccharine
pheromone Each minute touching
him new-citied felt a dutiful favor
to younger selves On TV
Illinois is devastated littered
with vagrant wood There are fires
tonight in Paris The president claims
to care about farmers In America’s
forgotten earlobe I lack
resolve and cigarettes I desire
to be sentimental
violently Like moths
against a light fixture
in a rainstorm If there’s a pool
table why not lay
your body across it let townies
with sticks enact whatever
they deem justice The lamps
so generous spilling
blue I’m ashamed at my own
craving for myth Woke
in the parking lot parallel
to an old life and mist
pooling the crick in my neck
Friend tells me stories of people took
fingernail scars on their faces
under the weary guise
of livelihood performed
as compassion I ask him teach me
how to destroy something and get
away with it We like to
believe we are sympathetic
villains we can sometimes stare
so hard we forget language
is a sandwich of graves So what
I loved wrong hoof-trampled I folded
like a collapsed star told no one broke
words like plates with my ceramic fists
A man called me by my body I tilted
my jaw to the sky
and laughed out a field of crows
Erin Slaughter, Christmas Day Blackblooded I Get Everything I Want
I am not calling you a wolf, but. Carelessness sneaks up quiet and beastly and has sorry teeth. And leaves no footprints in its path, hidden ashes littering tall grass.
from “BEASTLY” by Erin Slaughter
First game of the Challenge Cup!
I'm tired of Warriors fans acting like everyone in the fandom hates the books.
I'll admit, some of them are boring (looking at you Omen of the Stars), but honestly?
I love the books.
I'm 13 so I'm still a child. These books are literally my childhood.
90's kids who read books grew up with Harry Potter, meanwhile I'm over here growing up with Firestar and Graystripe.
In short, not everyone hates the books. I personally LOVE them, and love the Broken Code! Even if I feel like the fandom sometimes comes up with better stuff than the authors.
I Will Tell this Story to the Sun Until You Remember that You are the Sun, Erin Slaughter
Féile Shamhna Shona!
Tis said that on Samhain morning a desperate battle was fought on the plain of Maigh Tuireadh for the fate of Erin between the old gods and the dreaded Fomori, the “un-gods” ... The gods rode into battle in their war chariots with Lugh of the Long Arm in the lead, hundreds of them, men and women, chanting their great death-songs .... The Fomori advanced out of the mists to meet them, silent and relentless .... the battle was a close-fought thing, and the tide was turning against the gods ... suddenly there was a great, roaring cheer, and Lugh turned to see The Morrigan charging onto the battlefield, honoring her Samhain Eve promise to her lover, The Dagda, to join the battle at the moment of crisis ... she rampaged across the battlefield like a force of nature, killing every living thing in her path ... and at the end, the battle won, ‘tis said that The Morrigan, her fists and arms dripping gore, her belt festooned with gruesome “trophies,” danced and reveled among the mounds of slaughtered dead ...
has anything changed, have I? are there new constellations in the night sky? do I dare to show you my maps, am I too shy?
no, not too shy, just a tad resigned, for I, hopeless case that I am, still have many pages left graying in the dark, and even as I write in the margins they must be preceded by the first beats of a living heart, and since I love the middle of a thing, those first beats remain largely the same, as I continue to write verses yet sing the same refrain.
@talesofsorrowandofruin tagged me in a first lines tag
Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line, then tag some of your favourite authors!
I love that this tag was clearly created by someone who has a multitude of stories or just expects that even if writers talk about one or two on the regular, that they have others in their backlog just waiting to be mentioned.
and yeah, I have a backlog. I did this a while ago but I might have deleted the post, so here's to dredging up as many first lines as I can!
Summon Story or Blood Bonds (temporary title)
She stood on scorched earth and breathed in the smoke. It filtered through her lungs by way of pain, and she thought she deserved it. She probably did; the list of her faults was long. One by one, the lingering symbols inked into the earth lazily faded from existence, like there had never been a slaughter, like there had never been fear.
current earliest chapter:
“You realize that this ritual requires more than one sacrifice, right? Of the human variety?”
“You say that like you’re surprised.” Erin wasn’t even looking at him. “I thought you understood how this works.”
Zan slammed his fist against the door. It didn't budge in the slightest and he shook his hand out, annoyed. "Yes, I understand how it works. But this is case in particular is more dangerous and advanced than the others we’ve picked up. There’s nothing holding us to it. Why can’t we choose an easier bounty?”
Magick Story or Spider Silk
current earliest scene:
“Martin,” Natalie says when she breezes into the stationary shop at half-past eleven with an enormous tote bag slung over one arm and a tiny coffee in the other, “Can you sell a me dozen insincere apologies to go? I have no time to write them myself.”
After a pause where the both of them pretend like Natalie’s bag isn’t moving, Martin presses his lips together and turns to grab some of the offensively pink paper his most frequent customer likes. “Shall I leave the names blank?”
“That’s fine.” Natalie adjusts her wide-brimmed hat with a finger and scowls at the tote bag. It stills, but Martin can hear a faint growl from inside.
Space Story or It's a Big Universe
For as long as he can remember, Myr has been drifting around the universe in his little spaceship, all alone.
The universe is a big place. There is a lot to see.
Myr visits all the sights in the Melodron System, where they’ve built a city out of a planet and there were tunnels through space with trains that ran faster than the speed of light. Myr went on one of them. It felt like he blinked and missed out on a whole year. But space can feel like that sometimes. It gets a little confusing. His own spaceship can go pretty fast; it can even spatial-switch if he wants it to, but mostly he doesn't bother. It's not like he needs to go so fast anyway. Hyper-X is fast enough, like a blink itself, faster than light.
Youth Story or Youth: The Ephemeral Infinite
If it had been any other day, R would have been fist to face with Mark at this very moment, but it was Nyks’ birthday. It was also the first of September, a month that nobody really liked while they were still in school, but it was Nyks’ birthday. It was also a rather grey day, not raining but not sunny, with an odd chill in the air for summer not being over yet, but it was Nyks’ birthday.
It wasn’t any other day, and so R was behaving himself.
Anxiety Story or Every Other Star is Silent
Aiden's first memory consisted of singing and warmth. He could recall his dad's arms holding him close to his chest, the vibrations of his voice thrumming against his own. A unique sound followed the singing, one that Aiden couldn't place anywhere else: his mother's laughter, carefree and happy. If Aiden had any experience with love and comfort, he knew it came from those very young days. Something about them was different, a lack of shadows, a lack of sadness. It was hard to think about how he used to see the world as someplace exciting and colorful. It was hard to remember any of it and not feel so desperately abandoned.
Heartbeat/Beating Hearts (fanfic au that I keep writing more of)
He isn’t anticipating it, so when the rocks stop falling around them and Liu Sang still hears the rumble of stone on stone echoing deeper and deeper into his body, it pulls him completely out of the present.
He’s uneasy before they’ve even set foot in the tunnels, and for once his anxiety do has nothing to do with the weather. A storm might unsettle him for a moment but it doesn’t bleed dread through his nerves like it used to. So, even though the sky is threatening rain and the clouds are promising to cause a ruckus, Liu Sang isn’t worried about the thunder. It won’t make him panic, but that doesn’t mean nothing else will today. He can’t shake this feeling that’s been building up in him ever since they started out from their camp. He also can’t completely trust in it - his propensity to see the worst in situations has gradually become less of a habit, but even though he’s working on favoring a good attitude, the change comes slowly.
Meta-Portal (fanfic crossover au that keeps my brain working)
Our story starts with a lively cast of characters who absolutely did not predict that they were about to be involved in a multi-world crisis when they woke up this morning.
Rain Story or The Search for Petrichor
Prince Jaino had always been told that nothing was his fault. If the curtains of his bedroom suddenly caught on fire, it wasn't his fault. If he shook hands with a visiting dignitary and the man's hand got burned, it wasn't his fault. If he ran a fever so high he burned through his sheets and endangered the healers, it wasn't his fault.
a bunch of first lines that I will not give context for:
I stood before my captains in silence.
Eventually, Caden just stopped telling people his warlock path was Death.
They weren’t dead yet, but Violet called them her ghosts anyway.
“The glow wore off, Mama,” I tell her one evening.
“I’m the chosen one.���
Ben watches Ty scrub the grit out of the scratches on his shin and waits for his heart to stop tumbling around in his chest.
that ought to be enough for now. @writingamongther0ses @the-finch-address @writingonesdreams @dustylovelyrun @mecharose @mel-writes-with-her-dragons OR ANYBODY or nobody
The Threat of Pumpkin
Day twenty-six Ectoberhaunt: Autopsy vs Pumpkin
Part of the Explore the Zone Series
They had gone back to the old ruins where they had found the camcorder. This time, of course, they had brought Sam.
“You found it here?” She asked, looking around and studying what was still standing of the ruins. “This was further than the Far Frozen…”
“That’s because the Barrens are closer to the Far Frozen than the middle of the Realms,” Danny said. He was trying to update his map, but the ink was proving stubborn. Something about it wouldn’t let him draw in straight lines, only slight curves. By the time he was done it looked like he’d just sketched a bunch of webs over everything.
Sam was right to be worried though, if it had fallen through the portal, or any of Amity Park’s portals, it shouldn’t have gotten this far. Couldn’t have, on its own. So that left two options: either some ghost had taken it and left it here at some point, or it hadn’t been in Amity Park at all when it fell through. Which, considering what had been on the tape and how old it must be, was entirely possible.
“I thought Pariah’s Keep was the middle of the Zone?” Tucker asked.
Danny shook his head. “It was a long time ago. But the center of the Realms changes based on things like population, strength of the average ghost and emotional energies.”
“Stability as well,” said a new voice.
The trio’s heads all snapped up in unison. Floating confident and poised at the other side of the ruined coliseum was Erinyes. She was holding a pumpkin with a bird carved into it.
“Miss Erin,” Danny said, lighting up a bit. She always seemed so cool, and every time they ran into her she was busy with one thing or another. In fact, her wanderings were so varied and her countenance so collected Danny actually couldn’t tell what her obsession was.
At first Danny had thought it was a bird thing, what with the cage he’d found her in and the general bird aesthetic. But that didn’t turn out to be it at all, she never mentioned birds, or wanting to fly. It was more likely she had taken on the appearance she had due to feeling some kind of kin or similarity to a bird. Then he thought it was some kind of protection or pride obsession when she started to flicker that time they first met, but that hadn’t really seemed to be the case either. Her offer to have him call her if he needed vengeance or a promise kept had him confused too. Because if that was her obsession she wouldn’t offer it as if it were a service, she’d just do it. And for anyone.
He’d talked about it with Sam and Tucker on the down-low a few times, just so they could try and add it to their ghost database, but nothing fit. The poem was part of Sam’s big theory, but Tucker said that was more what her daughters were known to do. Especially since The Mother Fury herself hadn’t been seen in eons.
Then again she was trapped. And even trapped her obsession hadn’t destroyed her. It was a conundrum. Danny didn’t think he’d survive that long, unable to feed his obsession and he was half human. So either her obsession was something she could do alone, or something in the trap was tricking her into thinking she was fulfilling her obsession. And considering how she couldn’t seem to stay in one place for longer than a conversation, Danny had to wonder what that might be.
Erin herself was cool though.
“Hello Danny and his mortal friends,” she said, smiling a bit. She wiped pumpkin guts off her sword before dissolving it back inside of her and setting the pumpkin on her hip. “What are you doing in Misery’s Ruins?”
“Is that what this place is?” Danny asked, casting another glance around. Did this Misery have something to do with the spiderwebs they kept running into? Danny frowned, was this another one of those lessons Clockwork was trying to teach him?
“It is. Once this was a grand coliseum where champions of more revered and bloodthirsty ghosts would fight until ruin. My brother had long been against feeding ghosts into slaughter like this and was able to get it shut down entirely.” She smiled, and Danny felt a slight chill run down his spine. The smile was hardly pleasant. “Many ghosts had their Obsessions wrapped up in the business though. Betting was popular too. It made him many enemies, too many enemies.”
Erin raised an eyebrow. “Well yes, that is one that stands out. But Misery was always on the lookout for worthy prey. It seems I had long ago caught her eye, and am a part of her games.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked, stepping closer to the two ghosts. “Her games?”
Erin shifted the pumpkin to her other side and drew out a chunk of her broken cage, crushing it in her hand as easily as a child might crush a bug. The parts, instead of crumbling or turning to rubble, seemed to peel and fall away, fading into long thin strands of webbing.
“She likes setting traps. She likes catching powerful ghosts in her traps even more. I seek to inform her that she should turn her attentions elsewhere or face my wrath. I do not appreciate what she had done, and what effect it might have had on my brother.”
“Is that what the pumpkin is for?” Tucker asked. Erin softened and brought the beautifully carved pumpkin up to better show. The bird she had carved into it was flying through the pumpkin sky, the wings actually moving as if caught in a draft. It was mesmerizing.
“The pumpkin is a part of it. I have questions I need answers and the trail I have followed points to one and only one that might have the answers.”
Danny furrowed his brow. “What does the pumpkin have to do with that?”
This time when Erin smiled it was all teeth. “The pumpkin is a threat.”
“You’re going to threaten Fright Knight?” Danny couldn’t believe it! That guy was literally the ghost of Fear!! Who threatened the ghost of fear?!
“Yes. It shouldn’t take long.” She turned away to continue walking into the ruins. “And be careful Danny and Friends, there are Eyes watching you now.”
what a stranger might call sacrifice is embracing
the thankless bramble, sometimes what wants to rot you
feels the most like home
— Erin Slaughter, from “THE TRUTH ABOUT MEN & MOSQUITOES,” published in Crab Fat Magazine
there’s a witch grave in Tallahassee altar for tea-thimbles pennies I tell you her wedding date carved into the pillar sandwiched between birth & death & 100 years to the day before my own parents married you glance at the sky like you’re waiting for a cloud to bruise you god-fisted these days I am remarkably sunlit absorbing & considering tenderness a verb hold breath to walk past a cemetery find wishing instead a collapsed lung a word loses meaning the more you imagine how it would move in front of you sincerity unbearable as squinting into the wet open throat of summer people like us aren’t looking for happiness but these trees might be enough Pisces moon & sentimental fern shadow burn away clean as brushfire nobody loves a city nobody loves what can’t love them back but if I sit still enough & let my voice play painter in the cave if I’m hermit & gin-soaked it’s all language of possession the only difference between selfishness & love is who gets to walk away from what I tell you I once stumbled on a wedding photo was shocked to see my parents holding each other ’s gaze my mother’s eyes fearsome blue & wide how finding that grave was the thriftshop version of a capsized magic I always meant to get around to feeling & you tell me as a kid you were made to stuff poison into meats feed to dogs on the other side of the fence not knowing why it shouldn’t be victory walking into a room & feeling just one thing at a time life such terrific sandpaper vaporous crosshatch of limbs on the other side of the page some boy in some lake floats in the nailed-shut window of what his heart doesn’t know will leave him unscathed the difference between empathy & fidelity is who presses what words into whose skin who pretends to or to not swell with narrative who carries story like a clung rot tooth nobody can bear to pull
Late September Early October Hemorrhage by Erin Slaughter
365 DC Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…
July 18th - Element Lad
The thirty-first century hero known as Element Lad is Jan Arrah of the planet Trom. He possesses the ability to chemically transmute the elemental properties of any matter within his immediate vicinity. This was a power that all citizens of Trom possessed, yet they were all wiped out in a massacre orchestrated by the villainous space pirate known as Roxxas. The space pirate had slaughtered the populace because they refused to transmute valuable elements for him.
As the last surviver of his people, Jan fled to earth and sought out refuge as a member of The Legion of Superheroes. Assuming the alias of ‘Element Lad,’ Jan’s abilities made him a valued member of the team and he even acted as leader and deputy leader of the Legion on a number of occasions. With The Legion’s help, Jan was ultimately able to bring Roxxas to justice.
Some of the specifics of Jan’s backstory and powers have changed with the various reboots and times shifts in DC’s continuity while the general beats have remained consistent. In one of these continuities, Jan has a longstanding romance with the Legion’s Science Police's liaison, Shvaughn Erin. Shvaughn is transgender and utilized an advanced scientific elixir to facilitate her transition. It was a matter that she chose to keep hidden from Jan in the fears that he might not still love her were he to discover this about her. Circumstances led to the elixir no longer being available and Shvaughn physically reverted her former body. Jan was ultimately unfazed and continued his romance with Shvaughn.
Following another retcon, Element Lad became lost in the time stream and was trapped in the formless limbo for eons. The experience drove him mad and he finally emerged having become the terrible villain known as The Progenitor. This development was once more undone in still another retcon and Element Lad has once more become a heroic member of the Legion.
The hero first appeared in Adventure Comics #307 (1963).
I have so many feelings about Voight and Kim and the way he knows what she’s been going through but here let’s talk about it. This isn’t gonna be nearly as scientific as my normal posts cause on a train but here we GOOOOO.
Like I think the biggest and most obvious similarity is they’ve both taken in traumatised girls. Erin may not have had her family slaughtered in front of her, but her trauma can’t be understated with growing up with Bunny caring for her. So it’s two girls who were raised by cops.
And he knows what it’s like to lose a child. Remember he’s lost three children - Justin’s stillborn twin sister, Justin, and Erin really. If there’s anybody in this show who knows the scale of loss Kim and Adam are facing, it’s Voight. He gets it. He knows what they’ll face. He knows what it’s like to lose the centre of your universe.
I could draw attention to the parallels and the way he’s been positioned as Kim and Adam’s pseudo father since s7, but lads I’ve written about that a million times. But look. If I don’t get a moment of him talking to the two of them about parenting? I might sob. And if it happens I will.