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theanonymousopossum · 4 months

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The Threads that Bind Us Part 3

@siriusleee It's here! Part 3 has arrived, and Elain and Azriel have officially met. Hope you love it!

TW: none

The sound of music filled the air, and the party was in full swing. Despite their apparent hostility towards the king, most of the kingdom had shown up for the party, wearing whatever the nicest thing they owned was. As such, there was a range from formal suits to overalls with only a few mud stains.

Azriel’s doulon had quickly briefed him on the course of the evening: all the guests would arrive, then would come the king and Princess Elain, dancing would occur, and then would come the banquet for the nobles and important personnel. Small trays piled high with small snacks were dotted around the edges of the room already, but apparently an entire feast had been planned afterwards, though only for the wealthy, at which point the king would give a speech in honour of his daughter, and then the guests were free to mingle as they pleased.

As honoured guests of the king, Azriel and the other men were provided with the formal attire they would need, as well as permissions to attend the banquet and afterparty. Dancing couples floated around the room, spinning and swaying to the sound of the violins playing a classic dancing song.

Azriel knew how to dance, given that his profession often required him to infiltrate very elegant settings, though he did not prefer to, and as such, he was hanging around the sides of the room, seeing if he could pick up on any important fragments of conversation.

So far his efforts had yielded nothing promising, only some vague palace gossip from the wealthy folk and complaints about harvest from the lower classes.

Azriel took a few steps backwards, intending to make another sweep, when he walked directly into someone behind him.

The person stumbled, and Azriel quickly reached out his hand to steady her. A noble, based on the dress she was wearing, though which one he couldn’t place until-

As the young woman looked up into his eyes, he realized he had accidentally crashed into Princess Elain, whom he presumed had been trying to escape the ball without being caught.

“My lady,” he said, bowing slightly, “my deepest apologies. I didn’t see you there.”

“Not at all,” she responded with a smile, accepting his proffered hand, “in fact, you were just the man I was hoping to speak with.”

Not trying to escape, then. Though why on earth was she speaking to him?

“What may I do for you, my lady?” he said, polite but with an air of confusion.

“You are aware of the monster that has been ravaging our cities?” she asked him.

“I am, lady. I was under the impression that our task would be to defeat this monster.”

“Yes. So far, all whom my father has sent to destroy it have failed. However, the gods have spoken to me. I believe it is you who will be able to lift my curse, and be able to defeat the Archetaur. However, you will not be able to do it without my help.”

Azriel’s mind was spinning. This was not at all what he had anticipated when he came down here into the ball. But the princess was offering him aid, and from all he could calculate, her offer was genuine. The part that stuck out to him was the part about a curse.

Stories of Princess Elain had of course floated around all the islands, most claiming her a shy, beautiful girl who kept largely to herself. Azriel was beginning to realize that there was a lot more to her than met the eye. So he decided to take a chance.

“You honour me, princess, with your confident words. Perhaps you would honour me further with a dance? I wish to know more about your curse, and about what it is that I must do,” he said, with a stoke of boldness. He hadn’t planned on asking her to dance, but as a smile graced her beautiful mouth, some tiny, irrational part of him would die to see her smile like that again.

“I would be delighted,” she said, and he led her out to the dance floor.

—---------------

Elain was very satisfied with herself. Having attracted the attention of the man-Azriel, she had learned- and having successfully said her piece, she was delighted that he was at least considering her help.

As she had rested before the ball, a dream had come to her. A man with dark skin, dark hair, and dressed in a white toga had spoken to her. His face was regal, but he spoke kindly to her.

“Elain,” he had said, “Elain my child. You have suffered much for a crime that you did not commit. Take heart, girl, for the favour of the gods is with you. There is a way your curse may be broken. The man that you have seen shall break your curse, if he should choose to accept your help. Trap the creature within its lair, and give him this. He will know what to do with it when the time is right.”

As soon as he finished, he pulled out of thin air a ball of what appeared to be soft yarn, golden in colour. She took it hesitantly.

“Good luck, child. Flee this island if your curse is broken. Flee, and do not look back.”

With all that said, the man in white vanished, and Elain awoke, confused about her dream. In her hand rested the yarn that had been given to her.

She took this as confirmation that whomever it was that she had spoken with, the man really was a god, and Elain know firsthand the consequences of angering a god. Besides, it wasn’t like she had much other option than to trust him.

With Azriel’s hand in hers, they swept out onto the dance floor, and for once the princess felt completely unbothered by the eyes that tracked her every movement. No longer were they foxes chasing a young dove. Elain was strong, and if everyone in this palace was too useless to break the curse, then she would just have to do it herself.

A/N: Thus concludes Part 3. Next chapter will be dance scene, and some more information on how exactly Azriel will be fighting this monster. Let me know what you think, I love comments from everyone!

#elriel fanfiction #elriel #theanonymousopossum #the threads that bind us #elain x azriel #pro elriel

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jc-martin-og · 7 months

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Take a Deep Breath

Another morning awakening, another daymare begins. In an instant, I wake up to confront the intense cold and inhale the stifling air, courtesy of the misty cloth shrouding the mud, moss, and wooden planks that have been my home for the past two years.

I wrap myself in the only clothing I've known during this time and swear by the rifle in my hands for protection against those on the other side of the front, looming above our necks. In these brief moments of standing, I sense an uncommon harmony within my own context, unsure whether to feel concern or gratitude. It's at times like these that my mind drifts to memories of home, seeking distraction from thoughts of the potential changes the day might bring in the event of a stand-off—not to escape my reality, but to fortify myself for more than I can endure.

Truth be told, I can no longer recall if I entered this hell of my own accord or if the call came to me, along with thousands of other young men who have become my brothers in pain. But at this point, it hardly matters. The only reward surpassing any medal or promotion is making it through another night alive in these trenches, praying the next day won't plunge us into engagement.

As I make my way to the nearest command post of the trench, a roar from the other side startles us all, akin to the awakening of an enraged beast rumbling through earth and noise.

In response, my mind instinctively seeks shelter at any gap or steep corner between the dirt floor and the earthen ramparts, praying that none of those projectiles will land on me. But when the shells finally drop, the shock of their fall brings only horror, not just for the destruction they cause but for the malevolent aftermath they unleash.

Soon, with no escape, a suffocating chemical cloud envelops us, a man-made enforcer hunting for our indiscriminate extermination within the walls that were meant to shield us. The poison advancing towards us compels me to stand up and search for the one salvation we were all anxiously prepared for—the gas mask, which I've safeguarded since the day it was issued to me. Frantically, I scramble to my pit, accelerating my steps before more cannon fire shatters the air.

Desperation drives everyone to run in search of escape from this menace, either seeking their own masks or attempting to flee the trenches in desperation, falling under fire the moment they become visible to our tormentors at the front.

I turn corners as fast as I can when, right before my eyes, another bomb falls, obstructing my path to the short trench route. I turn around, risking myself by taking the longer route, covering my face to prevent the gas from reaching me.

In my path, I watch as comrades fall, their slim hope of life extinguished once fully exposed to the gas. Others fight over the few masks left loose, stealing the chance of life from their peers after months of shared struggle. All to survive one more day in these troubled times.

After enduring all this hell, I manage to reach my belongings and rummage through the bag for my precious mask. As the somber silhouette of smoke surrounds the area, my hope fades away when I am unsuccessful.

Desperation leads me to tear at my bag like a brute, throwing everything to the ground, rummaging through the mud in a futile attempt to find it. Clinging to the only thing that could keep me alive and reunite me with my family, I tear one of my clothes lying on the floor and quickly urinate on it.

Disgusting as it is, we were instructed that this would be nothing more than a last resort against the chlorine, having faith that it will work against the gas as I place it against my face and pray that this makeshift solution will save me.

In my waiting, I lean against the mud, hoping this makeshift method will be enough to stop the chemicals. Simultaneously, I lean into the absolute darkness flooding my mind with fear. At that moment, something clings to my leg, and I'm pulled back into the awareness of the situation I must endure.

Suddenly, the hand of a young boy, not much younger than my eldest son, weakly clutches mine as his life fades from the gas on his unshielded face. Out of the depths of my consciousness, and with nothing more I can do once the toxic fumes invade his body, I hold his hand in his last moments, offering a pulse of relief on his journey to the heavens.

The look in his eyes, full of fear and misery, disturbs my heart as I contemplate the horror of my own children enduring situations like this and not returning after such a dreadful demise. Regardless of how perfect my life was before this, just by stepping into this strife, I've failed in my commitment to spend the rest of my days, anticipating that this conflict would be something easily overcome once it concluded, as my consciousness falls asleep in memories of peace.

As the hours pass, the gas gradually dissipates, carrying the mist that began the morning with it. I release the pale hand of the young man lying on the ground, closing his eyes as a sign of respect for what he endured in his final moments.

Physically and mentally exhausted, I wander the abandoned trenches in search of anyone else, unsuccessful in every corner, with nothing but corpses on the ground and a mess created by the shelling. Unconsciously, I venture outside against all rules, finding nothing but a desolate landscape mirroring the disaster we've caused, which, for the first time in months, I contemplate in greater depth.

In a small irony, the only thing I find on the dirt floor is an abandoned gas mask, buried in the mud. I pick it up with indifference, wondering if it might still be useful for a future I'm uncertain of.

My gaze turns to the front, where the smoking trail of shelling seems to answer what I failed to notice in the struggle for survival. At this point, I don't know which path to take—whether to return to the front with my comrades for a dire end or attempt to escape this on my own, losing myself in the nothingness of this battered land.

My chances are nil, and fate remains uncertain. Regardless of the decision I make, I'll have to face it alone. No matter how weary my soul may be, I've witnessed man's ignorance toward the suffering of others so often that, at this stage, my fears of what I might encounter along the way may linger long after the war ends.

But sometimes, it's not the fear of death that men like me fear most. Sometimes, it's the long-burning fear of living another day through the horrors of men that concerns me most about the fog shrouding not only my future but the future of those I care for.

Ps: A small update of this short story I wrote around January/February of this year.

Original date of publication: 20/02/2023 Made using MediBang

#art #artist #writer #writing #artist on tumblr #digital art #indie writer #painting #painter #ww1 #ww1 writing #military history #world war 1 #world war one #short story

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thenixkat · 1 month

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youtube

Prolific The Rapper x A Tribe Called Red - Black Snakes [Updated]

Lyrics:

[Intro] One family If we don't stand, who will? One Earth

[Verse 1] The wind comes in four corners Four directions, four colors And death rides on 4 horsemen A black snake with some black tanks (ugh) How much money do these companies need to make? They could drive their product But they want to save a buck Already extracted billions When is enough, enough? I used to be in the oil fields, getting paid But I quit, 'cause oil-water I can't drink Looked down and seen Kimimila die in the mud I looked up and told myself that enough's enough Money does not own my soul, living comfortable Is not in my plans, my hands in the sand Some things worth more than gold Some things they can't be sold Some things can't be replaced She is your mother, the fresh water is her veins

[Bridge] Turtle Island, not black snakes The fresh water is her veins What is going on have we all lost our minds? Every human needs clean water to survive

[Verse 2] Love is the strongest This path is the hardest But if we weren't strong enough to do it we wouldn't see it Our prayers would not be needed This movement's very needed Indigenous wisdom unheeded And sacred things depleted I'm Mexicano, ma Lakota, and I'm white, too I'm mixed with everyone So part of me's just like you Every group of human beings shares the same stars And if the earth is not your mother Are you from Mars?

[Bridge] This side of the planet's been in decline since 1492 500 years and counting Surviving the genocide they call "colonizing my Turtle Island" [Verse 3] What is a fossil fuel? Continued destruction, nothing new Live in a system Taking our children Shifting their feelings Till nothings true I had that money in front of me but I left it 'Cause oil money's dirty if my Mother gets disrespected We're disconnected, these times are hectic And feeling heavy But we still love all living beings And suffer for the many We are a peaceful people That's why we walk with prayer And if that wasn't true We wouldn't be standing here

[Outro] We're peaceful people Who walk with prayer Turtle Island, have no fear Despite what they show in the media We're kind people, hold your ground Change is coming now

#youtube #rap #prolific the rapper #tribe called red #standing rock protests #political music #flashing

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queentheweeb · 2 years

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Shota Aizawa X Male Reader X Hizashi Yamada Pt 2

You were getting the hang of this new job rapidly and in the span of almost 3 months, you had some of the kids in love with music and others who liked it. That was your goal as a music teacher, you wanted to give these children something fun to do. They're always stressed and worried about school work and their future and what it holds, it's like everyone else forgets that they are only 15-16 years old. They don't know everything and will make plenty of mistakes and it's good if they make it here instead of out there in the real world. The real world is cruel and you won't get a second chance if you make a mistake. You even managed to grow close with Aizawa and Yamada, especially after the USJ attack and Kamino Ward Incident. It also became excessively harder and harder to hide your growing feelings for them. Why were your feelings trying to be a homewrecker?

"Earth to Y/N." You jumped looking up from your paperwork to see who was talking to you and it was Nem.

"I-I heard absolutely nothing you said." She rolled her eyes grabbing a chair to pull up next to you forcing you to scoot over and make room for her.

"Oh, that much was clear darling." Without a warning, she pulled you into a hug you automatically returned it knowing how the woman got if you didn't hug her. You'll be lying if you said you didn't love the affection.

"Your hugs are nice Nem." I wish Aizawa and Yamada would hug you the way she does. You mentally shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. Honestly, it made no sense for you to like them in the first place. They were married for fucks sake! That didn't stop your wishful thinking though that maybe, just maybe they are polyamory.

"You disappeared on me again love." You jerked getting out of her arms but she left her hand on your shoulder to steady you

"I'm sorry Nem." You chuckled nervously tugging at your collar and feeling your face flush. You were trying to calm down but the way that she was looking at you as if scrutinizing you and looking for your deepest secrets made you flush brighter and squirm in your seat

"You didn't get affection growing up did you?" You felt yourself choking on spit fumbling for an answer but nothing but gibberish came out of you. Before you embarrass yourself further you opt to shut up. Was it a pro-hero thing to be able to read people this easily or did Nem have a secret quirk? "I figured as much." She tutted turning around and propping her feet up onto the desk wary of your homework and lesson plans spread out

"You're going to stay here?" You hoped your voice didn't sound too hopeful not wanting her to feel obligated to stay here but you wouldn't mind the company.

"Yeah, I don't have much to grade or do. I can save it for later on. Besides I have some business to take care of while I'm here." The grin that adorned her face spelled bad news so you went back to her paperwork unaware of the conversation she was having with two people.

The Power Trio

S: I will never understand why that's our group name (12:43 AM)

H: SHOUTA!!! Don't be a stick in the mud! (12:43 AM)

N: Name a better trio than us (12:44 AM)

S: My three cats, me my bed, and sleep (12:45 AM)

N: Honestly Shouta fuck you (12:46 AM)

H: This is exactly what I have to deal with on a daily basis. Do you see this? The disrespect is real (12:46 AM)

S: No one told you to say yes (12:49 AM)

N: Alright you love fucks, I didn't text you for this. I'm giving you some juicy gossip about your new boy toy. (12:50 AM)

S: Wanting a relationship with someone should not be called a 'boy toy' (12:52 AM)

H: Don't pay Shouta any mind, he just can't admit he's excited to hear what you got to say UNLIKE ME WHO WANTS EVERYTHING AS OF YESTERDAY!!!! (12:53 AM)

N: So your sunshine here loves affection. He's a whore for it. He got next to nothing growing up so now he craves it. You know what that means Hizashi (12:54 AM)

H: STEP 1: HUG HIM AT ANY TIME AND PLACE ESPECIALLY IF IT LOOKS LIKE HE NEEDS ONE. (12:56 AM)

S: Step 2: Actually make sure he doesn't go overboard and scare him (12:59 AM)

H: I AM NOT THAT EXTRA :((( (1:00 PM)

S: Yes you are (1:01 PM)

N: Yes you are (1:01 PM)

H: Alright you know something. I am DONE being ATTACKED and BULLIED by the two of you. I am going to do WHAT I WANT and watch me WORK MY MAGIC. (1:03 PM)

That was the end of the conversation as Nem glanced over to look at you while you were back and forth between grading ferociously and creating lesson plans.

"Hey, Nem what do you think about me doing this for the classes this week." She stopped thinking about scheming for a bit to help you with your lesson plans even if all she was able to do was listen and give support. "Well, I want to throw like a little music parade collab dancing thing for them. So I asked each person in each class to give me their number one favorite song. They have no idea why I want to do this but I thought that after everything happened with the USJ attack, sports festival, and the Kamino Incident that music would be a nice distraction. Everyone focuses on the hero classes but they're forgetting about the business, support, and general education classes. They were affected by all of this as well but no one thinks about it since it was the hero classes that faced it head-on. I also figured since there's no medical facility here to check the mental health of these 15 - 16 year old's I figured that music would bring them a sense of semblance and peace...I'm sorry I started rambling." You ducked your head blushing but, weren't prepared for the way that Nem jumped you squealing.

"I BEEN SO BLESSED TO HEAR SUCH WORDS. THE POWER OF YOUTH IS SO BEAUTIFUL." She started speaking gibberish after that not bothering you in the slightest. She was a lot to handle but, you saw why so many people loved her. She needed to be cherished despite her rambunctious personality. You hugged her back as much as you can before she let go standing up to make her leave "I have one more question for you love." You hummed giving her your full attention "Are you polyamorous? How do you feel about Polyamory?" Leave it to her to ask such an outlandish question.

"........I would usually lie about this answer but for some reason, I don't feel compelled to lie...I am poly-amorous so you can assume the answer for the other question..." You winced but refused to lose eye contact with her. You were used to the disgusted looks, being bullied, and being ostracized for your preferences.

"That's actually great that you're not judgmental. It's hard to find people like that nowadays." With that cryptic response, she took her to leave which left you with more questions than anything. You tried to take your mind away from it by throwing yourself into work and coming up with the perfect plan. You already had permission from the principal to use one of the gyms for class considering your quirk was both close-range and long-range.

"Fuck, I hope they like this." You didn't notice two people standing in the doorway until one of them spoke.

"Like what?" You let out an unmanly shriek losing slight control of your quirk. You looked at the notes that formed floating mid-air as you grabbed them swiftly crushing them into your palm where they'll eventually disappear from your skin. You were embarrassed turning to said person but your blood pressure sky-rocketed when you saw it was Aizawa and Yamada standing there. You gaped like a fish as they made their way inside getting comfortable around the desk and picking up your papers to read them. You felt your heart thumping hard in your chest from their proximity and you were getting drunk off of Yamada's cologne.

"U-uh, I wanna create like an m-music dance collab in the gym for each class using my quirk. I got permission from the principal to use the gym." You almost flinched when an arm fell across your waist and you turned to give Yamada a smile when he was beaming at you ready to talk a mile a minute. Were his eyes always that pretty?

"Speaking of quirk, what kind of quirk do you have? It's music-related I know that I can tell by that slip-up when Shouta scared you." You chanced a glance at the man and almost squeaked when you saw how close he was to you. Now that you think about it they both were invading your personal space and you had no qualms about it.

"Well it's literally called music, I am able to make whatever instrument noise I want by creating vibrations with my body, also when I sing the notes become 'real' in a sense like you two saw, and depending on how low or deep they are will determine what kind of note comes out. Now the fun part about the notes is that I can control their size and use them to carry people around and make them float and dance to the beat. It can also be used to pin someone to a wall and give them a massive headache if I make the vibration or note high enough." You were so caught up in talking and explaining your quirk that you didn't notice they both shifted and now you were somehow in between Yamada's legs and leaning against his back with Aizawa leaning forward his face a few inches from yours.

"You always had bright eyes but they shine when you're excited." Aizawa was too close, he was too close and your feelings just increased ten-fold and shot through the roof.

"Now who's playing it smoothly." Yamada's teasing voice vibrated in your ear and you couldn't suppress your shiver. Judging by the look Aizawa gave you before looking at Yamada it didn't go unnoticed.

"Forget smooth, straight to the point is the way." Straight to the point? Your eyes widen when he leaned completely in resting his forehead against yours and holding onto your hips. You would have been on the floor with a nosebleed if it wasn't for these two men holding you up. "I and Hizashi are polyamorous, always have been but we could never find someone to fit well with us."

"A little birdy told us that you were the perfect match." Fucking Nem was going to be the death of you if you weren't sent to the grave by these two.

".....You two are actually serious." You looked between the two of them even though it was kind of hard considering Aizawa was blocking 99 percent of your vision.

"Don't get time for lies..." Aizawa trailed off and you realized with bated breath that they both were waiting for you to say something. This opportunity was not going to present itself ever again.

"Can I call you Shouta and Hizashi?" You waited for Aizawa to respond but Hizashi beat him to it

"Only if you say yes." You smiled a bit finding this all surreal but you weren't one to look a gift horse in the mouth

"Why else would I be asking?" It took a minute but it got through their heads. You giggled but were left a stuttering mess when Aizawa placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

"Oh, that's not fair." You were forced to look up as Hizashi gave you a firmer kiss that didn't last but left you drunk nevertheless.

"You're both going to send me to an early grave." You felt more than heard Hizashi's chuckle.

"Oh, sweetheart this is only the beginning."

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This concludes it

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biigbiird · 23 days

Text

Clearing

The motherfuckers. It’s harsh on my breath, too harsh, and I see he hears it: the orange hat guy by the truck and the three mowers laid down like tired dogs in the dry stubble.

He looks up. I don’t mean for him to hear me say the motherfuckers. He’s not even one of the motherfuckers in question, though he may be an accomplice. I imagine them, pale and wealthy enemies of the meadow, ordering the field of bugs and baby squirrels mowed down. And for what.

Sweet husky Koda pants ahead. I march glumly behind her to our creek where she sticks her face in the muddy hole fit for her snout and scratches the shallows. A blue damselfly lands on the mud beside her attached to his gray mistress. How long will they fly like that, one long curling body?

I see the rock I chalked green with FREE GAZA weeks ago in a fit of anxious protest. Who reads it besides me and the damselflies? I was afraid I would be recorded and sent to prison somehow for saying anything anywhere at all. The GAZA is smudged but FREE is there still.

Worse things are happening to other people while my parents separate. Worse things are happening to other people while their roots rip apart. I tug Koda out of the creek. Slip on the eroding earth and fall sideways, palm and fingers leaving a little skin, a little blood behind.

She greets the meadow-enemy-accomplice like she greets every animal in the world. The guy’s hat is off and his hair is wet on his dirty forehead. He smiles at her. Lots of poison oak up there. You know what it looks like?

I do know what it looks like, I tell him, a little offended. I found out the hard way. The hard way is usually burning. My hard way was asking my ex over and over, is this it? Is this it? Will this hurt me? Will this? until I learned for myself what will hurt me and what will grow blackberries in September.

He pets Koda’s head gently. It’s a beautiful trail here. It connects to the quarry if you follow it all the way. He smiles like someone who has followed it all the way. I decide to ask him.

Do they mow it every year?

What I mean is, why cut it all down? Why make the knee tall grass bow low? Who brought the seeds down before they could blow away on their own? What happens to the animals who love this place when it all changes, all of it, in one afternoon? How often must it change without anyone small getting a say?

Every year, he says. To prevent wildfires. A small thing, but better than nothing. The fire might stop at a clearing. And if you don’t mow for three, five years, it will spread everywhere.

The fire? Or the meadow grass? I look past his shoulder while he talks and I see a silky thread on the hill behind him. Oh. I think I saw a snake!

He’s happy to hear it. I see them too, and lizards, ground squirrels…

I hate when I hit them, he says. Quiet. A confession. My mind sees blood and small bodies. He sees the same, I think. We are both so sad for the lizards and the snakes and the small things that meet spinning metal death as he flattens the hill like a storm.

The birds of prey come out. When I mow. They see an opportunity. I imagine it: hawks and turkey vultures floating over him. Lining up for the food truck. Little creatures running from one death to another. They must have run and fed when the fires came, too. Lightning the first gardener. Maybe Ohlone people set fires here too for the same reason. Now houses lurch up the hills and nothing big will move out of the way of a fire so the meadow is cut instead.

What do you do? the mower asks me, scratching Koda’s forehead with a careful hand. I write poems in my head when bad things happen. I write words with chalk where no one will see them. I see snakes and my fingers itch to pick them up and feel how real they are. I walk dogs. And I’m a personal attendant. I mumble the last part or he doesn’t hear me or doesn’t know what to say about that. Dog walker? Like a small business. I shift on my dirty sneakers and feel small and silly. I guess.

Watch out for ticks. Deer ticks here, they can give you Lyme disease. Jump from the top of a grass stalk if you brush it.

I’ll check for them. I won’t. I’ll hope we don’t get them and I’ll know I should do something about that instead of just hoping but I won’t. I’ll walk Koda back and take my $20 bill from her grandfather and I’ll sit in the car and write a poem on my phone. I’ll write a poem about the man in the broken grass who loves the snakes and lizards he kills by accident, by machine, by gardening, by trying, by clearing, by starving fire so the big houses can stay and never move.

#I haven’t posted my own work in a long long time #but here’s something #nothing like parent shit to get me writing again #fuck idk #biigbiird #poetry #clearing #meadow #ecology #poem #cw animal death #kind of

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naysaltysalmon · 5 months

Text

Words: 2,780 Genre: Tragedy/Drama Rating: M (blood, gore, violence)

Pairings: SongXueXiao (XueXiao and SongXiao focus)

Characters: Xiao Xingchen, Xue Chengmei/Xue Yang, Song Zichen/Song Lan Relationships: Xiao Xingchen & Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen & Song Lan, Xue Yang & Song Lan

Part of the SongXueXiao Exchange 2023! @sxx-exchange

Summary: Song Lan and Xue Yang killed each other in Yi City. So Xiao Xingchen ventures into the underworld to find them.

Preview:

Damp like the bowels of the earth, a single stick of incense burns over the censer in the mud before Yi City temple. That sandalwood-scented dream encloses Xiao Xingchen, cocooning, a wisp of smoke stroking their face with a licentious finger in the dark: the seductive slumber from which they would never awake. A-Qing’s voice echoes in Xingchen’s thoughts, urging them to reconsider. Her tear-stricken face gleaming in their mind’s eye – despite their blindness. But it is too late for that.

There is no other choice.

The heavy wetness of blood on the front of Xingchen’s robes fades, along with the thick film of sanguine tears, dried and ephebic on pale skin. It sloughs from their body, and all the weariness of the world is washed away like the cold waters of a grand, sacred waterfall, down the riverbed, with the ocean’s tide. The mouth of the world dwindles into almost nothing. Xingchen needs only to reach out their hand to grab that curtain to the next realm, whirl it away like a blanket shielding a child from the truth inside their parents’ room.

#been wanting to write smth like this for ages #SongXueXiao #SongXiao #XueXiao #Xiao Xingchen #Xue Yang #Song Lan #The Untamed #MDZS #Mo dao zu shi #CQL #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #nayraider #i hope i did the game this is based on justice

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aliendater-moved · 10 months

Text

i never thought, i didn't think twice

ship: viv/morden

word count: 990

summary: viv and morden and how their relationship is in two of the timelines seen in bab.ylon 5: the road home. spoilers for that movie!! these characters are a little evil

[ao3 link]

They win, as expected.

There are a few moments where ze thinks it is all over as ze watches at his side, from the interior of their ship — in the battle before the victory and in the historical pathway leading up to the battle. John Sheridan dropped a bomb on their planet's capital city when ze was off-world, and ze wasn't even there to—-

There are a few moments where ze feels that hopelessness ze felt on Earth slither into place again. The Army of Light calls in the other First Ones as backup, but they have been away for so long that they've grown softer, they've been gone for so long that they've forgotten the way the Shadows work, their strategies and methods in battle.

Even with the Vorlons, they were always going to win. That is evident, now.

Viv exhales. Watching the space around them on the ship's screens, debris of destroyed vessels floating around the Shadow ships like sick inverted halos, ze turns and watches Morden soak up their victory. He looks invigorated, only energized by the destruction they've witnessed -- entranced by it, almost, captivated by the suspense and relief. It has a certain beauty to it, ze thinks, and then: maybe that's not the right word, maybe that's the worst word possible to attribute to this kind of attitude, this affinity for decimation, but ze shed all tethers to morality long ago. Now, in the moment, ze can only feel hir fondness as ze witnesses him at the peak of his power.

On the other hand, ze knows, he never doubted their ultimate victory. Morden has - hm - an egotistical confidence in his efforts, but apparently it's not an unrealistic self-obsession. They won. Chaos prevailed. They brought themselves here, together, embracing in an eternal spar. They calculated their moves to the perfect algorithm, played the game against itself, secured their position in victory with their minds weaponized. It wouldn't have been this way without Viv and Morden.

He smiles when he sees Viv's gaze. Still it is a smile drenched in his power-drunkenness, but that's irrelevant now; he pulls Viv closer, kisses hir with a passion that could strip hir of every layer of flesh and muscle, kisses hir in a way that howls I NEVER DOUBTED. They're sharing their victory, passing it between the void where their souls should reside.

They can rebuild on Z'ha'dum. Nothing lasts forever -- most things don't last forever.

There's shrill Shadow discussion in the background, and when they pull themselves away long enough to parse it, the passion melts into desperation:

”Did they just say---“

”I can't believe they'd do that,“ Morden says, his disbelief shattering itself on the ship's floors. Of course they would do this. ”It's Earth. Billions of people. Even more than Centauri Prime.“

Viv puts hir arm around him. “They're being pathetic,“ ze offers. ”Like children who can't handle losing a game.“ Ze pats his shoulder. ”At least we won.”

Morden shrugs. “You're being awfully nonchalant about the Vorlons destroying Earth.”

“Nothing there for me anymore,” Viv responds, hir eyes darting to the side, studying the ship's paneling, studying the view of space again, studying everything except the reality. “Unfortunate that we'll be losing our allies, I guess.“

Viv hears him draw out a long, stressed sigh. ”No,“ he says. ”Nothing left on Earth for me, either.”

“Collateral damage.”

ii.

Viv puts down hir paintbrush, places it gently into hir cup of mud-brown paint water. He's calling hir again; it's the second time this week.

The first call had been - neutral. He had been informing hir of something he found when reviewing old research, an ancient language from a world with coordinates suspiciously near where ze remembered Curcul had been. The examples Viv provided had a lot of similarities, and he wanted Viv to be aware of it. He smiled the entire time as he went through slides, his voice smooth as he pronounced each word, and there's no way in hell Viv got even half of what he was saying. Which isn't conducive to completing the project, obviously, but at least he's sending a data crystal.

Viv tries to make hir appearance into something even slightly resembling composed, and then ze answers the call. Dr. Morden's face floods onto the screen, a bright patch of sunlight peering out from behind him.

“Well, hello,” Viv says. “What's going on?“

His expression is warm, but the exact mechanics of it are indecipherable; if ze had to guess, ze would say he looks almost nervous, but that isn't quite right, either.

“I'm sorry to bother you---”

“Never a bother.”

“---Right. Well. Looks like my data crystal got lost in the mail.”

Viv frowns. “Oh, how'd that happen?”

“They're calling it an 'unexplained mistake.'”

“Of course they are.”

He laughs. “But I thought this information might be important, so I was wondering if you'd like to meet me somewhere and I can give a new one to you in person?”

Viv feels hir face heat up, which is stupid. He's just being thorough, there's nothing else behind the gesture. But ze answers a bit too quickly: “Of course, I'd love that.”

“You can update me on, ah, your project, too. It's very interesting.”

“Thank you. I've dedicated most of my life to it, as you know, so I'm glad at least someone else out there cares.”

“You know, if you wanted, I could help get some of your work published. It really is rather impressive, and I'm sure other people would agree.”

“I... I'll think about it. It's really just something I'm doing for myself, but I've never really thought about any of that before... Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.”

He smiles again, again. “I'll send you the address and time. Let me know if it works for you.”

“I will.”

The screen flickers off.

It's starting to feel like there's something else behind the gesture.

#pepper.txt #my writing #ok to rb

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cryptidblossomd · 6 months

Text

Ignore me as I post my silly little story because I am insane

Errrm it's a god au thiggy? Of what ifs the Minecraft family was just deities LMAO...

Uhh also a Cw? I do mention dr**m but this has nothing to do with the actual dude. He is awful

A white light shined brightly as a tall figure came from it. Theseus’ form glowed for a second before he appeared in all his actual godly body. It wasn’t much different from the character he had just been playing as he modeled it after his actual looks after all. The golden locks and blue eyes that could rival the clear oceans and a slim figure that had slight muscle on it. The only difference is that instead of the normal one pair of wings “Tommy” had been known for Theseus had three pairs all as black as his parents.

Landing on his feet he blinked a few times, astonishment on his face “There is no way that green prick actually did it” his voice wavered a slight laugh in his tone.

“Afraid so Theseus” Kristin’s echoey voice rung out, her tone calm, a small smile on her face at the sight of her youngest son. Theseus turned to his mom with a look of anger on his face “MUM YOU SAW THAT PRICK!!? WHO THE FUCK DOES HE THINK HE IS??” Tommy growled smoke coming from his mouth “AND SAYING HE CONTROLS DEATH!!! WHO THE ACTUAL FUCK DOES HE THINK HE IS” Flames were now coming from the ground underneath Tommy’s feet. The ground turning into soft mud before immediately turning into obsidian. You see the smallest god here was in charge of all the elements in the three worlds; he could control Fire, Water, Air, and Earth. He was beyond angry now he didn’t mind the stupid green shit mocking him and maybe even his brothers but NO ONE talks about his mom like that. Theseus was furious, about to rain hell down upon that green fuck, but was soon cut short.

“Theseus the ground…” Kristin’s voice held no malice, just gentleness as she held kind eyes. The boy turned to his mother before looking down at the oasis before them “Oh….my bad mum..” His tone going soft but Tommy huffed, smoke coming out of his mouth but none of that anger was directed at his mother and they both knew that. Theseus spit in his hands, the spit a fiery red; lava he spat up the lava and used it to mold the now burnt-white space he and his family lived in. Kristin smiled at him “Thank you” She spoke the veil barely moving like she hadn’t even let air out her mouth.

Theseus just nodded as he now walked over to his mom and sat near her. “That fucking prick…I was just telling a joke stupid bitchboy can’t even handle that” Theseus growled. Soft chuckled left Kristin’s black covered lips “Mortals aren’t fond of our jokes now are they Toms~” You couldn’t see her face but Tommy felt the shit eating grin coming from her. “Ughhhh yeah yeah laugh it up, i thought it would be a fun one alright” Theseus puffed up his wings and threw himself back looking at his mom. Laugh she did, it was loud but also made no sound at all, his mom was always like that she basically had no presence. “Y’know I think it’s a cute name..it just fits” The goddess bend down to look at her son “What about making it your mortal name? I know you like your actual name but mortals don’t need to know that now do they”

Theseus opened his mouth to speak but suddenly another glow was in front of the duo. It turned a soft blue before the being split in two and then two boys with identical brown hair appeared. Appearing before them there stood Apollo and Pelios, Apollo had curly hair while on top sat a gold laurel along with his normal dark brown eyes. Pelios on the other hand also had those same curls but much longer hair with a deep blue flower crown, he had one brown eye and one icy blue. Apollo was the first to speak “Y’know Tubbo and Ranboo are freaking out over your death message” Apollo crossed his arms as Pelios waved him behind him. Theseus groaned once more “Oh there’s also that mum, them…they just AHHHRNSHSBD” he rolled onto his stomach and his wings fluttered nervously. Theseus has just completely ignored his older brothers, Apollo rolled his eyes and Pelios giggled “Tom…um Theseus you might want to go bad soon they and Dream are getting unstable. Dream isn’t happy staring at your limp body and sam….saw the messages and a-also isn’t happy…” Theseus groaned again “Mum why is trying to be human so hard..” The shapeshifter whined. Kristin just laughed again “I know my son but this is what you wanted” she hummed.

#dsmp #dsmp au #god au #usesage of greek code names #c!wilbur #c!tommy #c!ghostbur #c!kristin #cw: dream #Characters only

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indignantlemur · 7 months

Text

A mix for Anlenthoris th'Kor, the Andorian Ambassador to Earth and Tellar.

SPOTIFY LINK: HERE

Song list with lyric samples below the cut!

Ironfoot (Extended Edition) - Howard Shore [Instrumental]

From The North - Runrig & Paul Mounsey [From the north came a warrior Bearing burdens dark and deep I've a will and I've a wanting And miles to go before I sleep I have horses in my stable I have sons fit to fight I will bring this to your table If you ride with me this night]

As Cold As It Gets - Dustin Kensrue [To the end of the Earth, I'll search for your face For the one who laid all of our beauty to waste Threw our hope into Hell and our children in the fire I am the one who crawled through the wire I am the one who crawled through the wire There's a million sad stories by the side of the road Strange how we all just got used to the blood A million sad stories that'll never be told Silent and froze in the mud Silent and froze in the mud]

Crow On The Cradle - Show of Hands ["The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn, Now is the time for a child to be born. He'll laugh at the moon and he'll cry for the sun, And if it's a boy he will carry a gun," Sang the crow on the cradle

"And if it should be that this baby's a girl, Never you mind if her hair doesn't curl. With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, And a bomber above her wherever she goes," Sang the crow on the cradle]

The Wondersmith and His Sons - Astronautalis [A smile safe-crackers understand, Is rendering this steady hand, Obsolete. The charm and confidence of men, Can jam the bullets in your gun, And stop heartbeats]

World on Fire - Les Friction [I'll return from darkness and will save your precious skin I will end your suffering and let the healing light come in Sent by forces beyond salvation There can't be not one sensation World on fire with a smoking sun Stops everything and everyone Brace yourself for all will pay Help is on the way]

Who Are You, Really? - Mikky Ekko [So you feel entitled to a sense of control And make decisions that you think are your own You are a stranger here, why have you come? Why have you come, lift me higher, let me look at the sun Look at the sun and once I hear them clearly, say Who, who are you really? And where are you going? I have nothing left to prove 'Cause I have nothing left to lose See me bare my teeth for you Who, who are you?]

Brother, My Brother - Michael Lanning [And His eyes will look away For His heart will so be torn As His fields of gold turn scarlet From the rage of battle born And the silence of the night Will be broken with the cries Of the ones who've been forgotten On the quiet field where honor lies]

The War - SMYL [Here stands a man With a bullet in his clenched right hand Don't push him, son For he's got the power to crush this land Oh hear, hear him cry, boy]

Daniel in the Den - Bastille [And you thought the lions were bad Well, they tried to kill my brothers And felled in the night by the ones you think you love They will come for you]

Hurt - Johnny Cash [And you could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt]

Davy Jones' Theme - City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra [Instrumental]

#emigre by indignantlemur #Anlenthoris th'Kor #Ambassador Thoris #character playlist #fanmix #fan playlist #star trek #andorian

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kendrixtermina · 1 year

Text

(a contemplation of all that is – the country of death)

part 1: allegorica;

First of all there was death,

living in his house with his wife and his daughter,

first-ground of all being,

setting out to make the world like a little distraction for himself.

First there was death:

Nergal the fierce one,

Osiris, Lord of Silence,

Odinn the wanderer

Plouton the wealthy

Hades the unseen,

firstborn son of kronos,

who in another world should have been heir to all the world,

and all things will come to him still,

but for a little delay:

Helios the all seeing, from his vantage point,

was not so wrong in telling Demeter that there could be no worthier husband for her daughter;

And yet she still grieved and despaired

and let the green plentifulness of her days turn to cracking barrenness

for that’s what mothers do,

when death snatches their sweet maidens from their loving arms -

First there was death,

who patiently holds out his hands.

part 2: romantique;

flesh of alabaster, drowned in bacterial mats of green

a silhouette that is dead in the water:

I splay myself upon the grave, making love to the soft brown earth,

and I there I am seized by black hands,

pulling me under, just as promised.

For long my ghost has kept its watch beneath the gothic arches;

I was hoping, that in the last days,

you would lift me from my mausoleum to the tune of a world left in ruin,

a blackened sun,

spared only to let sink in the moment of last humiliation,

the chronology of a family

that is but children’s dolls with insect heards

monstrous vermin, scattered scales of butterfly wing

and bettle carapace feather, all the same light scattered

white specters emerging from a crimson sea of blood,

beneath a bare black sky and the unforgiving cosmos

corner-of-the-eye glipmse of white shapes:

I don’t want to look close enough to discern

if this be the shrouds of ghosts, or wings of angels

focussing on it would make the apparition real,

reinforce the neural pathway,

hints of motion, falling splotches of black

like glitches in a ruined phone monitor

don’t you know death is surveiling all this world on his flight?

Overlooking wan tepid waters infested with mosquitos,

flowing brackish pallor,

source of both life and disease.

My hands are still clawed around my wish, but surely yet slowly,

they are decomposing,

shriveled skin ripping like discount cloth

Soon I will be forced to let go:

It all goes to his tall black castle,

his vast, great realm

of pike-like unforgiving structures,

towers whose tips ought to draw blood from the crimson evening sky

Even casually wading into the waters,

still as a ripe fruit in bloom,

I know of all the souls that these waters have washed away,

and their greedy palms and mouth,

apt to rend in deprivation,

to devour an all the more endless supply

of what can no longer fill them.

My bathing in the moon is precarious:

Soon now, I understood,

we will be trodden in the very same mud,

and maybe the one I love and I will both be eaten by the same mushrooms,

sealed into one heavy hypheous mass,

or perhaps my remains will be as grime within machines,

dust clogging computer parts,

deceased alone amid a mountain of metal.

Mouth filled with pipe-tubes and yet taken in mid-dream

For both dreams and pain source their provenance from the heart,

from it flow both blood and flowers.

And this, I am to hold out to another person,

inducting them with a whisper?

(and stain our clothes with fruit juice, gore and tears)

All that either of us could share with us

is mired here in this country of death

part 3: metaphysicana;

the country of death can be a beautiful place.

For dreams are possible within it.

They always end, but they are possible

the physical laws do not forbid them,

though they do not preserve them for free.

It is possible to picture a hundred world that will never be

Even a country without death,

though it’s not a given that our minds could comprehend what this means.

We can imagine only that which we understand:

We understand nothing.

Just the deafening flayer-noise of utter confusion

There is nothing TO understand,

just the hard walls of the arbitrary when you’ve exhausted all the questions why:

The world is utter black night,

beneath which there’s a river lined with delightfully oversized mushroooms,

dimly illuminated by an uneasy light.

The world is a wall of red fog into which everything dissapears,

growing fainter and fainter the more you gaze after it into the distance,

suspended in air upon one of many crude polygonal platforms

covered in colorful textures, repeating patterns,

hanging as a circumscribed island in an unfinished void,

wide, but bare of anywhere else to go,

but the untouchable limits in this bubble of being,

invisible walls.

The world is like a bouquet arranged with a catch,

plastic stems and leaves artfully draped in an artful arangement,

and skewered upon their tips are gummies,

in a mockery of natural fruiting and growth

sweet bears and sour worms,

hair vitamins and omega 3

the kinds that make you sleep, and the kinds that make you high

paired with organ meats of that same, rubbery texture,

but we don’t like them as much since they are dripping and reeking,

since they have structure and undefinable bits,

strings, nerves vessels

that aren’t so convenient for ignoring the origins of the gelatine.

The world is a long black straight canal plowed through a flat barren field,

a sad dream of irrigation,

dreamt beneath a noxious red sky laced with heavy fumes,

streaked by band of rainbrow split in a distant prism,

what seems like a wonder but cannot be touched,

becoming just a beam that stains your hands,

the fluffy cloud but a vapor of mist.

And crawling here, at desolations cusp,

but chubby children, but curious toddlers,

small bodies not yet grown around their heavy brains,

drinking from the only water, dirty and tepid thought it be,

like an insect through its long curled beak.

The worls is like a great wide board of chess,

black and white stretching out far into the distance,

ringed by sharp bare mountains,

suspended under the heavy spheres of meaningful planets,

glistening there spinning in the icy void

lying dead foaming at the mouth is the horse that somehow got you there,

standing in your own in this desolations are you, the traveller,

dwarfed by the wide distances between everything that surrounds you.

You have two legs, you can walk freely,

but it’s unlikely that you can ever get anywhere.

You are not a figure of chess,

neither of their simple assigned characteristics could ever cover you

yet you still move across the paths as one of them,

ashering to the rules that you do not believe,

if only so you know how they will answer.

This world is like reaching out to touch,

sphaghetti pile of nerves that you are,

through a door to another door,

through a membrane to another membrane,

Feeling what you think is touch across it.

The world is objects in three dimensions,

highlighted or not through the shine of their inversions and bulges,

hoping for the three-dimensional angel,

that will bring to them some schema or mapping or ultimate systemic truth

of the pattern in which all the other three-domensional objects are arranged.

As if that could ever change that the learner of that truth,

and all that truth concerns,

yet remain but three dimensional objects.

part 4: sobering up;

So that is the world.

But what can we do about it?

There’s not a lick that we can.

The cosmos cares nothing.

And yet we still grieve and despair

and let the green plentifulness of her days turn to cracking barrenness

in awareness of death.

Realizing about the world is like a distorted flesh lounding on a couch,

in the uneasy light of of garish brightness,

a lone cone surrounded by black,

skinless shape, not even ugly, just bizzare, surreal,

casaully existing in images without meaning.

As absurd as those fragments of random phrases,

half-seen half-imagined shapes, or beepings.

The correct perception is no less absurd than the malfunctions.

Knowing about the world is like stuffed moose-heads hanging on walls,

for sale in a cramped small room that could not hold the full grown animal living,

seen as by a passerby on the street through the shop-window pane,

illuminated in the empty antiques show, in a jaundiced light,

standing out against the dark of night.

Experiencing this world is a sharp break in something like an old fine porcelain plate,

once a sig of opulent, now just yellowed wallpapers,

dustly clutter heaped up in a place that smells of its elderly residents’ decaying components,

replaced, where the tacky ends, with sharp barbed wires that wrap around the rusty old cutlery,

ready to prick all who might dare to disentanle it,

to fix it, out of some sentimental pain,

just so that it can catch dust on a shelf of their own.

Living in this world is like the dust-like fragility of precious dried butterfly wings;

Like the cakes of dust accumulating on every surface.

It is like a festival of clowns beneath a black sky of stars,

The satyrs all in costume, and between them, fitting right in,

The likeness of death, not a mask at all,

Not bothered by life, not hating it,

Come as a farmer comes to see the bounteous what field before the reaping

It is like looking at the essence of yourself,

And seeing only a sad mosaic of arbitrary disconnected parts,

No quintessential spark of being anywhere to be found.

Your very grace disintegrates you.

It is like finding that you are empty after you'd learned that nothing external can fill you,

like hearing you are false, but not believing those tales about truth.,

naught but new carnival-masks to replace the old,

naught but wishful thinking to fill what knowledge has torn down

Encountering others in this world is to be as a flayed giant,

all made up of veins and cabled, all swarmed over by the residents of its future city,

all the many little laborers and technicians who think that they have some business working on it,

tweaking, adjusting, burrowing their tiny tools into its flesh.

Waking up to the world,

(day after day!),

is like sitting upon a monument as a wizened, cloaked old woman,

surrounded by graves,

crowned by barren trees,

under a black sun:

It would be prudent not to bother leaving this your postures of lamentation,

for sooner than you know,

the graves will ever keep to increase in number,

and decrease they never will.

This world is the country of death.

It was never, ever ours.

#feelings #poetry #baby tries to art

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cockatrice-writers-guild · 2 years

Text

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better

warnings: swearing, guns, mentions of gore (some doesn’t actually happen), brief mentions of injury, threats, it takes place in the 1800s so you know

I look myself over as I wait for Jax to finish getting ready.

I feel horrible in this thing. It’s too tight. The skirt of it is so long I have to tie it up to prevent it from getting stained in the mud I’m currently standing in. And the memories it brings up are far from pleasant. But for now, the ex-keeper said to just grin and bear it. Show up, exchange pleasantries with the family to make them look good and then leave when everyone else does.

Simple. In and out. It would be over before I know it.

I find I’m already starting to pick apart the fabric of the gloves the family gave me by the time Jax finally reappears in front of me, beaming.

“So, how do I look?”

“…Jax?”

“…Mia?”

“It’s backwards.”

“…What is?”

“The dress. It’s backwards.”

“…oh.”

I hand him my gloves, grateful to feel the familiar sea breeze between my fingers before I start fixing it up for him. Once his dress has been properly tightened, I start working on his hair, racking my fingers through the thick blonde mane before I start braiding. Jax crouches down a bit to help me reach and after I finish securing it with a ribbon, I take a step back and look him over.

His dress is a pale pink and works to somehow make him look elegant despite the fact that he’s built like a house and we’re both standing in the middle of the woods. The elegance, however, is immediately thrown off by the sheer volume of jewelry he’s wearing. Luckily none of it’s really valuable, I would know since Jax is currently wearing my entire collection, which is admittedly not that much but still. I doubt it will attract unwanted attention at least. And to top it all off, I can just make out the crinkle in his eyes through the dark green tint of the sunglasses he insisted on bringing along, even though the sun is already starting to sink.

The articles of clothing clash with each other so violently it’s almost hard to look. But at the same time, the smile on his face is undeniable in it’s sincerity. Gloves back on, I reach for Jax’s hand and he takes it. I give it a squeeze, untie my dress and the 2 of us make our way to the town.

I can feel their gazes on me as we walk. And I can almost imagine what they’re thinking as the side eyes follow us along. I don’t even really have to, the whispers are more than enough, the room growing quiet in the same moment it practically deafens. What is she doing here her hair is too short how could anyone possibly appear in public looking like that why if it were me I’d simply die I heard the poor thing never got married how shameful how pathetic how embarrassing how wasteful is that mud she’s with that man again what on earth is he wearing how disgraceful do you think he do you think she do you think they-

Shut up.

I don’t say it out loud. I can’t. There’s no point. Not ever and especially not now. In and out. It’s as simple as that.

Jax pulls me along faster, his grip tightening and his face a mask of stone and in that moment, I’m glad he’s here with me.

There’s temporary solace in the main chambers, people more interested in trying to impress than the 2 wayward souls who managed to stumble in and Jax seems to almost physically deflate once we’re not the center of attention.

“You alright?” he asks quietly.

I offer a dry smile. “I’ll live. And you?”

He shrugs, looking off to the side “I don’t…do I really look that bad?”

His smile from the shore is still etched into my mind, a far cry from the man in front of me and I find my hands firmly planted on both his shoulders before I even realize what I’m doing. I must look ridiculous like this. Jax is considerably taller than me but the action still makes him jump and meet my gaze in an instant, nothing short of bewilderment on his face.

“Jax.”

“Mia?”

“You look amazing.”

“Oh.”

“Incredible.”

“Oh?”

“You look so impossibly you in that outfit it’s making me question who I even am by comparison.”

“Oh?”

There’s a moment of shared silence before the 2 of us burst into laughter, Jax eventually hoisting me into the air and spinning around for a bit before pulling me into a hug.

“Thanks,” he whispers before setting me down again.

I scan the room for a bit, not finding my employers anywhere before deciding to take it upon myself to follow the second piece of advice given to me by the old keeper.

“Eat. Dance if you want to. And if you just so happen to break something, take something, or act in a way that would otherwise be frowned upon,” the old man said with something like a sneer plastered on his wrinkled face, “well, what are they going to do? Fire you? In front of all those people?”

I don’t plan on breaking or taking anything but the food is too good to resist. Fancy choice cuts of meat and vegetables. Tables heaping with fruit and drinks and cakes that make my mouth water. Pickings at the lighthouse aren’t exactly bad, I mean, it’s still food, but it’s nothing compared to this. And I have no idea what the hell Jax eats but he seems equally as excited, if not more. It’s almost impossible to stop ourselves from jumping onto the tables and shoveling as many of the delicacies into our mouths as possible but we manage. Barely.

And it’s fun. Fun as I watch Jax struggle to eat with fancy cutlery, almost breaking his plate by stabbing down too hard. Fun as after we’ve had more than enough, we make our way out back to a beautiful pavilion overlooking the sea and the familiar sight provides me with a small comfort as the others start muttering once more. Fun as Jax pulls me onto the dance floor and attempts to spin me around to what we can only hope is in time with the music being played. Seeing the look in his eyes. The smile on his face as the 2 of us fly around. Fun until all the rich food we ate decides to make a reappearance.

Fun until we’re making our way back to the floor and we hear another noise. Different from the quiet mutters and polite laughter that filled the air before. The air is tense. People are looking out into the sea, crowds of them gathered at the barrier, their distressed voices reaching Jax’s ears before they reach mine. He tenses and the worry on his face makes me run, pushing my way through the crowd as he follows right behind me.

Once at the railing I lean out, looking out at the endless sea until I see the cause of the distress. A kid. A little boy flailing around in the water, being carried away by the tide. His head bobs under once, twice, three times and I immediately climb the railing. I just manage to catch Jax calling out behind me before I hit the water.

This stupid dress is getting in the way. Restricting my lungs from properly expanding as the shock of the cold water hits me. Tangles around my legs as I desperately kick forward. Jax has been trying to teach me to swim recently and although I know I’ve improved over the weeks, I can just barely propel myself forward. Still I try, desperately trying to push through the tide, making little progress, the kid getting farther and farther away. The weight of this fabric is dragging me down and the kid is barely visible anymore but I keep kicking regardless. It’s hopeless, had been for a while now but I don’t know what else to do.

And that’s when a new commotion starts. From the pavilion, a series of collective gasps and I turn just in time to see Jax climb the railing wearing nothing but his under clothes for some reason. There’s this look in his eyes and mine widen when they meet his.

He’s not going to…is he? If he touches even a drop of seawater he’ll…

“JAX WAIT-” I just manage to yell before he dives into the water.

And then…nothing.

Nothing, of course, until I feel a warmth appear beneath me. My legs touch down on a new surface and I find myself rising higher and higher into the air. Looking up, I see 2 now massive grey irises staring back down at me.

Because Jax is a merman.

A really fucked up huge one at that.

And judging by the commotion from the nearby terrace, people aren’t taking this information well.

Still, if any of what they’re saying is effecting him, Jax doesn’t show it. His eyes sweep over me for a second before he turns his head to the kid, reaching over and scooping him out of the water before bringing him over to me. He lets the water drain completely before tilting his hand, letting the kid slide off into the hand I’m on.

I rush over the moment he touches down and check him over. He’s coughing up water and currently looks beyond terrified but besides that, he seems fine. Still, I sit with him and make sure he’s completely okay before looking up at Jax and nodding.

Something akin to a smile grazes his lips before he turns back to the shore. Back to the voices. They die down almost immediately under his gaze and stay that way as he slowly brings his hand down to the terrace. People back away from the approaching appendage and I help the kid up and keep him steady as I help him over to the railing the moment Jax’s palm makes contact with it.

Countless gazes bore into me as I sit the kid down and the speed at which Jax withdraws his hand the moment we’re off tells me all I need to know. He’s not okay right now. I just hope we can both get through this.

In the long stretch that follows, I almost find myself wishing the murmurs were back. The stares are horrible and we remain locked in a stalemate, silently daring the other to make the first move before finally, someone comes forward. A lone woman, one I distantly recognize and then place as my fucking boss moves slowly, the crowd almost parting for her as she does. She’s eyeing Jax warily before her gaze lands on the kid.

Her kid, apparently.

I help him stand and walk him over to her. The moment he’s in reach, she collapses, falling onto her knees and pulling him into a hug.

The silence is broken as her relieved sobs fill the air. After a while, she finally looks up at me, hands still clutching her child tightly. She opens her mouth to say something but is cut off when-

a shot rings out

And the hiss of pain behind me that echoes through the now silent crowd is all it takes to break the almost peaceful atmosphere. A man steps forth from the crowd, clutching what looks to be some kind of rifle to his chest. He shot Jax. But his eyes seem to be fixed instead on me.

I hold my ground and glare at him.

“You,” is all he says as he comes forward, stopping a fair distance away. “You go galivanting around, doing a man’s job, dressing like you don’t care what people think about your family, bringing strange men into town and now this? A monster?” He turns to the crowd, not even waiting for an answer. “This woman has come to kill us all!”

My boss turns to look at me. She looks like she wants to say something but by then it’s too late. The crowd is already getting riled up and I don’t want her getting involved. I motion at her with my head and she nods in understanding, backing away until she and her son disappear into the ever growing sea of people.

I’m angry though. Angry at the man who shot Jax. Angry at the things the crowd is yelling at us. At him. I’m used to this treatment but Jax doesn’t deserve this.

And that’s when I start yelling, trying to defend him. Trying to defend myself. Knowing how pointless it is anyway. They won’t listen to me. Not after all I’ve done. Not after Jax first appeared with me in town.

Not as the man, with the approval of most of our audience, now raises the gun once more.

At me.

I have just enough time to realize what is about to happen when the gun fires. The bullets come flying towards me. And I’m thrown off my feet as something slams down in front of me.

It takes a second to get my bearings but…I’m fine?

And a look forward is all it takes to see what happened.

There’s a familiar wall that now blocks me from the crowd and it takes a second to register it as a massive hand. Jax’s hand. One look up is all it takes to confirm this. The man is as easy to read as a book at times, his already huge eyes widened at the scene below, his brows creased slightly as he takes me in. He’s worried. He might even be hurt.

But then he turns to the crowd. His eyes search for a second before settling on something. “Hey, if you have something to say to me then leave her out of-” But all at once he stops, the anger that had been on his features just a second prior melting into something else.

Fear.

Still separated by his hand, I can’t see what happened but the way Jax slowly looks away, face downcast…

…we should go.

I get up slowly and make my way over to the small pile of clothes nearby, all Jax’s treasured garments, and scoop them up before turning back to him, beaconing until he finally looks at me. Wordlessly, he brings his other hand close and I climb over the railing, settling on one of his fingertips. He takes a second to ready himself before quickly removing his hand and bringing us both beneath the surface.

I sit up in a panic, the horrible images from the nightmare still plaguing me as I try to get my breathing back under control.

Blood. Screams. Teeth. Flesh. Claws. Fear. Monster. Monster. Mon-

“Hey!” a familiar, and as of right now moderately annoyed, voice calls out and I look down. And there, tumbled halfway down my chest and looking a bit worse for wear is Mia, staring right back up. Her expression softens when my eyes meet hers and she’s quiet for a moment. “…hey are you alright, big guy? How’s your hand?”

My hand?

My fingers twitch at the mention and the movement causes a slight sting. I turn my hand and see bandages riddling the back of it, with another few on my chest. It takes a few seconds to remember what happened last night.

The party. That kid. The insults. They were going to shoot Mia but I intervened. Got shot. Tried to tell them off but the moment I started speaking they…they covered their ears. Had I been loud? They were scared of me, even that jackass with the weapon was backing away. I…me and Mia left. She dug the bullets out of me with her knife and bandaged the wounds. Asked if I was okay and I lied. And then that nightmare. It was horrible. Just the flashes are too much for me to recall and as I stare down at Mia I…can’t help but notice how…how small she is.

She’s tiny. She’s absurdly tiny. And my hands, my clawed hands could so easily just-

“JAX!” I snap back to the present. “You spaced out there for a second. Everything okay?”

I don’t know what to say and after a second, Mia seems to get the message.

“Can you get me down from here, at least? We can talk when you’re ready to.”

I look at her, at my hands. I can’t.

Instead I just stare at her, not knowing what else to do.

She stares back incredulously for a moment before starting to make her way down on her own.

And I just keep watching her.

As she walks down the length of my tail until she finally finds a place to safely get off. As she mills around the land, tending to the lighthouse and curing the collected rainwater and checking the machinery. As she disappears for hours into that structure that’s shorter than one of my fingers, carefully carrying out her assigned duties in a building I could so easily just…

I feel disgusting. Horrible. The words and the looks and the screams, both from the nightmare and from last night playing over and over as I watch her in silence. Eventually, Mia starts tending to the little garden she set up, moving so close to me that once little shift on my part would be all it would take to…

That particular image flashes into my head so abruptly as Mia carelessly walks around my fingers that I…

I can’t take this anymore.

“Mia,” I nearly whisper and she stops, turning to look at me. The face she makes, it makes my voice die for a second. There’s real concern there. Concern for a monster like me. I don’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve this either. “Mia, I…”

She raises a brow and waits. I feel bad for her but it’s better to just shatter the illusion and get it over with. I’m not human. She isn’t safe around me and I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it sooner. I take a deep breath.

“Mia, I could kill you.”

The silence is horrible.

Mia’s face is unreadable but I force myself to continue. “Mia, look at me! I’m a monster! I…I could rip the lighthouse of the ground while you were still in it and keep you trapped in there! Take you places you don’t want to go! I could crush the boat you use to travel to the mainland so you have no choice but to rely on me to take you anywhere! It wouldn’t even be hard to do. Mia, I could kill you!”

Mia’s expression surprisingly doesn’t budge. Instead, her brows crease just slightly before she takes a step forward. “Do it then.”

“What?”

“If that’s what you want to do then go ahead. What am I going to do about it? Stop you?”

She’s kidding right?

Mia just stands there, crossing her arms. Waiting.

I don’t think she’s kidding.

…but if this is what it takes to convince her that I’m dangerous then…fine.

I reach forward and position my hand over the lighthouse, the shadow of it already engulfing the small building. I look down. Mia takes a few steps back but otherwise just watches. I have to do this. After a lot of hesitation, I close my fingers around the lighthouse, brushing against the smooth surface with my fingertips. Starting to tighten my grip when a noise makes me jerk my hand back.

Panicked, I look over the lighthouse and am relieved to find I only succeeded in making a small scratch in the paint with my claws. Mia’s voice causes me to jump.

“Oh no,” she sounds incredibly calm all things considered. “Not the paint job. How could you? It’ll take me like,” she thinks about it, “10 minutes to fix that. Oh, the horror.” Then she turns back to me, a light smile now on her lips. “Wanna try that again, big guy?”

So she’s mocking me now.

“What does that leave? …oh yeah. The boat. My life. Go ahead. …unless you’re done, of course.”

I just frown at her for a second before leaning forward and picking up the boat docked at the small pier, pinching the vessel between 2 fingers and bringing it over. I set the little thing down in my palm and take some time to just…look it over. All the little scratches and imperfections in the wood. The vessel had probably been expertly crafted to withstand all sorts of heavy storms. Battered over and over by strong waves as it carried its passengers where they needed to go. It’s probably been through a lot. Passed down from keeper to keeper until it finally ended up in Mia’s care. Just like the lighthouse. Running a thumb over it to feel the worn texture of the thing, I can’t help but think about all those times Mia and I went to the mainland together, her in this little boat and me swimming along next to it. The 2 of us talking about everything and nothing and the small smile I would sometimes catch on her face.

I pick up the boat once more and try to apply pressure to it. To destroy the tiny thing once and for all.

And I…can’t.

“Well?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“…what?”

Mia sighs at this. “…just bring me over to the boat.”

I carefully pinch her between my fingers and bring her up.

“By the way,” she continues. “You said you could kill me. Twice. And right now it looks to me like you’re passing up on what could be a prime opportunity.”

I say nothing, setting her down next to the boat and waiting.

Mia just shrugs at the lack of response and casually makes her way over to the boat. She leans in and picks up the long wooden stick I’ve seen her use on occasion to push the boat out of rock formations in the ocean. She then turns and hoists it up with both hands, holding it out to me. “Do you know what this is?”

“…that thing you use to move the boat sometimes?”

Mia nods. “It’s called a paddle.” She drops her arms, still looking up at me. “…look, you sleep curled around the lighthouse sometimes, yes?”

“…yes?”

“And you know sometimes I don’t sleep well either.”

I nod, still not sure where she’s going with this.

“So, what’s to prevent me one day, after another bought of insomnia, from simply grabbing a knife and heading off to the old girl? What if I climb into old reliable while you snore away, grab this paddle and start hacking away at the wood until it’s sharp? What’s to stop me from taking the crude weapon I just made, walking all the way up to your face and simply driving it through your eyelid while you were completely defenceless?”

My eyes widen and I can’t bite back the gasp that escapes me.

“I mean, could you imagine the pain that would cause you? Even if your thrashing killed me the blinding would be permanent. Oh and while you’re at it, don’t forget to think about how the sheer force of the impalement would probably cause the wood to splinter right into your eye and-“

I hadn’t realized how heavy my breathing had gotten until Mia cuts herself off and just watches me for a moment. I take the opportunity to try calming down.

“Alright alright I’m done. But think for a second. That fear you’re feeling? That’s how I felt when I first met you. I was terrified of you, of what you could do to me. You get it right? I want you to put yourself in my shoes from back then.”

I nod, my heart still racing.

Mia nods back. “Now I want you to look at me, Jax. What am I doing right now?”

It’s all I can do to not start tearing up. “Actively threatening me?”

“No! …I mean, yeah. I…probably should have picked a better analogy.” She pauses for a second. “…okay pretend I didn’t just say all that but like…besides that, what am I doing?”

“…nothing.”

Mia nods at this. “Do you get it yet?

I shake my head.

“…it’s like…maybe think about it this way, then. While you worry about this possibility, just as I did. While you think about the pain I could potentially cause you, just like I did. While you fear me just as I feared you, you forget something important.

I take a few more breaths before answering. “…and what’s that, Mia?

Mia shakes her head and drops the paddle. “Jax, why the fuck would I do that?”

I completely blank at this

“Look, what I’m trying to say here is that just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you will, alright? You can tear me limb from limb just like I can gouge your eye out but obviously neither of us are going to do that.”

I just blink at her.

“Jax, you may be huge and kind of a jerk at times but you’re still genuinely the kindest, most gentle person I’ve ever met. Like, this is going to sound insane but I’ve literally never felt safer around anyone else. And I used to be terrified of you. You remember that. All that stuff you were rambling about, of what you could do to me, was just lingering in the back of my mind whenever I tried to interact with you back then. But…you always went out of your way to show me time and time again that you wouldn’t ever do anything like that. You…you actually make me feel like I matter, Jax! You listen to me and respect me and I’ve…never…never in my life been more honoured to be someone’s friend.”

She looks up at me then and I can see the start of tears glistening in her eyes. She sniffs and a small smile makes its way onto her face. “Plus, to be honest, I don’t think monsters usually save people. And you did that twice yesterday.”

It’s all I can do to warn her before I knock her over with my nose and gently press her into the surface of my palm. I can just feel her try to return the gesture and close my eyes, quietly enjoying the moment before pulling away.

I set her down on the ground next to the lighthouse and smile at her before it fades just slightly. “I think…I think I might need some time to think about this. But…thanks.”

She offers a small wordless nod and I carefully push myself back into the ocean, taking a second to look at her standing on the shore before disappearing below the waves.

I lay in bed, mentally checking off my list of tasks for the day as I try to force myself to rest but it’s no good. Insomnia’s being more of a bitch than usual and, having run through the list, I know I can’t even kill time during my off hours. Though I know there’s something else that’s been keeping me up as well.

Jax.

He’s been missing for days now. I haven’t seen his stupid gaudy ass orange yellow tail anywhere as of late, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. I’m getting kind of worried I actually drove him off for good with my ‘I could horribly disfigure you in your sleep’ talk. I probably should have gone easier on him but I was trying to make a point, dammit! Worse, he could have actually believed all that stuff the townspeople said about him and decided that he was a danger to everything around him. I hope that’s not the case either.

In his absence, I’ve gone and fixed the garden he accidently flattened and the paint job. It did take roughly 10 minutes to fix! I just…wish I could tell him that. The old keeper gave me a letter and a bag of my usual supplies when I tried going back to town. Said I wasn’t fired. That maybe kindness sometimes repays kindness after all but for now it might be better to avoid the crowds until things calmed down. He shrugged and I gave him one of the fresher fruit in the bag for his service.

The letter was a surprisingly heartfelt thank you from my boss and reading over the words, I couldn’t help but think it was a bit misplaced. I tried to help, sure, but Jax was the one who succeeded. …though I guess it was me who checked on the kid. It was a combined effort, in the end and yet I’m the only one left to reap the rewards.

The bed is noticeably colder tonight.

…I’m not getting anywhere like this.

A good look at the stars might help get through the night. Some scenery. Some fresh air. I sigh and begrudgingly get out of bed, throwing on my work clothes from the previous day before making my way to the door and opening it.

And I almost scream.

Instead of the somewhat nice view of the tall trees of the nearby forest bathed in moonlight, I’m instead met with what looks to be a massive wall of flesh. Almost automatically, my head whips to the right and I just manage to catch movement in the man’s eyes as they snap shut.

I can’t help but smile at the sight.

I clear my throat to warm it up after the days of near disuse before speaking as loud as I can. “Well, I might as well go back inside since there seems to be some kind of…invisible wall blocking me.”

I theatrically turn to go back inside and have to bite back a laugh as massive digits close around me, pulling me into the air. Jax sets me down on his chest and sets a finger down on top of me, pressing down slightly to give me his equivalent of a hug. I hear him sigh and bury my face in his chest, doing my best to hug him back.

There’s a moment of peaceful silence before I finally raise my head to look at him. “…so, what conclusion did you come to?”

“Well, after thinking about everything you said and weighing out my options, I realized that…well, I missed you.”

I smile at that. And I know I shouldn’t but I can’t really help it. “Damn, really? I didn’t even notice you were gone.”

The consequences of this are unfortunately immediate. The whole world blurs and before I know it, I’m being dangled over the freezing black ocean while Jax grins at me.

“You wouldn’t.”

Jax just tilts his head slightly. “Correction. In this moment, I am fully capable of dropping you.” He shakes his hand a bit. “…but will I?”

I can’t help but frown at that. Using my own teachings against me. “Alright, alright. I missed you too, you asshole.”

He laughs at this before pulling me back and pressing me into his nose.

And feeling the warmth, the intimacy I missed all those days, the way his hand presses into me just slightly, its nice.

Or at least it would be nice if I couldn’t literally feel the man shaking with silent laughter.

“Actually, I take back everything I said. You’re horrible and I hate you,” I mutter into the shaking giant.

Jax simply responds by pulling me closer. “Love you too, M.”

#writeblr #original writing #original story #Jax and Mia #lighthouse au #ocs #the rooster crows

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with-love-a-b · 2 months

Text

We didn’t bloom together the way we should have. We never eyed each other across neat soil; both self-conscious and self-righteous as we sipped the sun and, in quiet bursts, raced to touch the sky.

We weren’t planted by gentle hands in soft plots with room to stretch our limbs and shield our eyes, nor to bud in peace and thrive and find identity in both our own bold blossoms and as a pulsing piece of the whole lavish garden.

We didn’t bloom because we erupted. We running-start-swan-dived into stale dirt and were too close from the very beginning. We didn’t sprout up straight; we snaked and lurked and left no bit of earth untouched by our vibrant, stencil weed fingers declaring ourselves alive.

By harvest we were tangled beyond repair. By harvest I didn’t know me from you, and I liked it.

To be so entwined is lovely but depends on a balance we could only begin to grasp. To expand but not uproot requires perfect synchronicity maybe not beyond our years but certainly beyond our maturity. We spread out our emotions like tarot cards on a towel in the grass, and reflected in your sunglasses I met the silent pieces of me. In colorful, grim drawings those quiet, ugly bits floated up veins and settled under ribs. They stayed silent. Until they began to scream.

And you and I — we didn’t have the words, not our own words that we earned and burned while stumbling across months and plains, tripping over potholes and finding our feet quicker each time. We had place-holder words we sang back and forth and splashed around and bathed in. The words we spoke were profound and cardboard. We were just reading lines, sharing identical scripts and an ache to be seen so deep and desperate it was sinful.

We shared the humid cling of regret, which hung heavy in stuck-air auditoriums; its beaded sweat echoed, rolling down spines and turning blood to sticky wax as we whispered in the corner about the things we could say aloud while our minds never left the things we wouldn’t dare.

We were mostly ill-equipped. We joked about hurricanes; We didn’t survive the first storm.

I want you to know you really hurt my feelings. I want you to know you’re the first guy I’ve given my feelings to hurt. I want you to know I was terrible towards the end. And I know that. But you gave up on me.

You gave up on me at the exact moment I was giving up on myself. Even as my tongue stung metallic and veins pulsed so hot and loud through my eardrums that I felt I would explode — it was clean. It was all remarkably clean and sterile. There were no explosions. No shattered plates, bloody knuckles, or blown-out voices that scratched and rose in time with the sun.

Just a quick slash of rope — an anchor cut loose and left to sink; our secrets were set free to rust over and collect algae. We were suddenly off the hook for any vulnerability we might have spilled on each other in our fits of laughter and hours of sleep. A deep sigh of relief. A deeper sigh of desolation.

The moment exists in sad yellow lighting that must have been added in retrospect. I tweaked the floor of my memory too: at that moment I was not wearing flip flops on linoleum — but sinking, slowly and barefoot, into chilly riverbed mud as it turned to ice.

I opened the door, and there you stood. You knew I had been crying, and I didn’t try to hide it; it was too exhausting — running on fumes.

And I did expect something from you, anything from you, that might dull the singed-dagger plunging stab to my chest with each breath I gulped and spat . I wanted anything that might reel me in from the cliffs edge where my thoughts had carried me on horseback.

But you had nothing. I watched your eyes glaze over my swollen lips and pinced, glassy eyes. You threw back the melted, Picasso-esque mask where my face once was, like a quick, sharp shot of warm whiskey. Careful to avoid eye contact you slipped “fuck this” under your breath and started to reach for my hand.

You started to, but then after a second suspended, you let your arm fall back to your body. Head lowered, jaw clenched and you turned and fled with a new heaviness pushing down on your posture. It looked painful and adult. It looked like you finally felt the weight of our season. And watching you go, I shrank in lighter and thicker because I felt it too.

We are not going to get a happy ending — not with each other and not right now. Maybe not ever. And that will have to do. (Though I will miss your hand in mine. I hope one day you’ll remember being tangled with me, and it will make you laugh before you cringe because I didn’t like to be alone.)

If I wanted to be alone, I would just go home.

-Kiernan Norman

#poetry #favorite poem #love poetry #love poem #Kiernan Norman #germ magazine

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unicyclehippo · 7 months

Note

"warmth" for the writing prompt :)

i have written so much abt that first durge scene i will now write abt smth else i promise 🥺 u can trust me 🥺🥺☺️🔪

there’s a snake curled around the shoulders of a weeping child. there’s a snake in the heart of the grove. there’s a poison, dripping into the hearts of these wild folk, that makes them wilder. feral.

on another day, dante might have admired it.

today, however, they are of the opinion that one mind lost is more than enough. dante eyed the woman draped in her poison green, envy green, her perfect hair and sneer. they lifted their hand from their blade.

‘there’s still time to stop this.’

kagha’s sneer deepened. ‘why would i do that? you devils—we didn’t ask for you to come here, we didn’t want you.’ she’s so furious that spittle bubbles at her lips as she hisses the words. magic bubbles at her fingertips.

‘kagha, what is the meaning of this? does the rite do what they say it does? you cannot… you must see reason,’ the horned druid pleads. he falls silent as the added curls around his boot.

‘reason? you think i do not see reason?’ the words left her with the deadly quiet of a winding serpent. ‘i ssee the weight of these interlopers on us every day. our people go hungry. risk discovery and destruction to protect these strangers who do nothing but ssteal and sslink about our most ssacred pool.’ the snake had now wound up to proud-horned rath’s knee. ‘i ssee that halssin left us with the duty to protect ourselves—abandoned his post, his people, to play hero in the mud ssearching for worms. i am protecting our people. you are the one who ought see reason, rath.’

they were pretty enough words. dante could see how they would sway someone who was already falling from their path.

‘you are a druid of silvanus,’ they reminded her. was it their imagination, or did some confusion flicker in those poisonous eyes? ‘you hold to the tenets he left.’

‘of course!’

‘then you are not a shadow druid,’ dante told her simply. ‘you do not have to obey them. you shouldn’t.’

the words of the plaques were easily to summon; songs, stories, were their bread and butter. they recited them easily—and watched the horror creep across kagha’s face. what were these druids but protectors against the dark? since the beginning, they had opposed the shadow. poor thing. yet better still than dante, with her hands unstained.

‘the rite…we could cleanse it. the power - it - it is meant to protect us!’

‘you’ll be very safe,’ dante allowed. ‘in your grove of shadow and thorns. believe me when i say that some description is worse than mere death.’

kagha flinched. her eyes flickered from dante to the pack of rats to the deep green shade of her vine-wrapped grove. could she see the horror that would break through her world? thorns like blades slicing through the earth, the pillars cracking, the blood spilled. the beautiful screams.

‘i—by the oak, what have i done?’

betrayer, the monster crooned. kill. eat the heart of the heartless one.

go fuck yourself, dante thought back as powerfully as they were able.

a smile flickered at the corner of dante’s mouth. it was starting to be truly fun, ignoring the monster within. how it howled, tearing at their soft insides.

‘end the ritual. hold the path until i bring halsin back. keep the refugees safe. and kagha,’ dante waited until she met their eyes. ‘no more names. not foul blood, not devil, not hellspawn. refugees, if you do not know their names.’

‘y-yes. yes you’re right.’

‘believe me when i say it is harder to resist killing you than it would be to end your life.’ she did not look comforted by their words. good. dante hadn’t meant to be comforting. they could not forget tiny arabella, shaking, fangs at her throat. ‘and if you mean to prove your change of heart, i believe these rats are about to try and kill us. you as well.’

they were quite drenched in blood and mud when they walked from the grove, boots slapping wet against the stone. arabella’s parents had that look about them where they could see nothing awful about dante at all—just a hero standing in front of them, the one who saved their daughter.

a tiny spark of something kindled in their chest.

dante’s fingers pressed to the padding of their jerkin. to disguise the gesture, they bowed to the grateful pair.

‘thank you, oh thank you—i swear she’ll never steal again, we were terrified—she could have killed you, arabella! oh please—’

the mother grabbed dante’s hand. a bold move. they held very still. she had lovely horns and kind eyes. loathing clawed at their throat. if she knew what they were… hero? ha!

‘you saved my baby,’ she told them. ‘take this. please.’

a locket dropped into dante’s palm. it had the glimmer of magic, and the metal rasp of age.

‘what-‘ dante cleared their throat. ‘what is this?’

‘a pittance. in return for her life.’

‘i didn’t do it for a reward.’

the mother smiled. squeezed their hand. and then the father—who also didn’t have any cautionary sense not to approach and touch the very bloodied murderer—grabbed their shoulder and pulled them into a hug.

‘it is not payment, my friend. this is our thanks—a meagre offering. you cannot know how grateful we are.’ he ruffled his daughters hair.

dante stared. had anyone ever touched them that gently? had they had a father? a mother?

‘thank you,’ they croaked, and reached out with their magic to explore it. watched as lights like fireflies began to pour from the latch of the locket. ‘oh,’ they murmured. ‘beautiful.’

arabella laughed, as one of the lights buzzed past her ear. she followed the path of the dancing orbs with clear delight.

dante frowned. knelt.

arabella swayed forward to smile, fanged, right in their face. ‘hi! thanks for saving me! i promise,’ she lied, with a glance back to her parents, ‘I’ll never steal anything every again.’

‘i’m sure,’ dante agreed, trying not to laugh. they turned the locket over in their hand. ‘this is a very kind gift,’ they said, making sure her parents could hear. ‘but i cannot accept it.’ they picked it up by the chain and carefully, slowly, passed it over the nubs of her horns and over her head, letting it rest around her neck. ‘there are things we do because we are heroes and fighters and all those things are very fun and we get lots of treasure. and there are things we do because we are alive, and have hearts in our chests,’ dante said, and cuffed her very gently about the ear. ‘saving naughty child in over their heads is one of those. so you keep this close. and be careful. and check for traps.’

her parents sighed.

arabella grinned. ‘thank you!’

‘you’re welcome, little one. be smarter.’

‘i will!’

#you can ignore this #my bg3 tag

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schattenschreiberin · 7 months

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Disora - Fire and Shadows

Prologue

October 28th – Friday – 15:20

Opinions vary on what Dubatirs’ society is built on.

It is one of few countries seeing humans, dragons, phoenixes and every other intelligent and sentient being as ‘equal’. The quite different species came to an agreement after trying to dominate each other for centuries.

Most of the youngest generations, after two thousand years of equality, base their interactions on respect and judging people on their actions and personalities. Historians know that this isn’t what Dubatir was founded on.

Dubatir was founded on the same way of living that big parts of the world are still functioning in today. Endless fights and wars for complete domination over every single other species in a particular area.

In the area that eventually became the country, dragons and phoenixes put a gruesome end to a war that was bothering them like a day to day person would be bothered by loud music from their neighbors’ apartment.

The event just being an annoyance to the now dominant beings was what lead to what the country is today.

Allowing the small groups that were already getting along with each other, regardless of what species they belonged to, to thrive. While everyone attempting to start another war was dying in fires.

This country is built on fear and forced compliance in some eyes.

Those same eyes belong to people who aim for the top now, two thousand years later.

While most dragons and phoenixes don’t take part in forming the country, allowing a functioning democracy to form, they are still the backbone of Dubatir. Deflecting the threats their peers from around the globe pose to their little terrarium of a peaceful society with their mere presence and superiority. Even among the rest of their species, these are the elite specimens.

But even in a modern and civilized country, everyone trying to physically fight to put someone, or something, else on top, would be burned into the ground by the elders.

The only way to satisfy ones need for supremacy could be achieved through becoming head of the country in a political sense. Getting a big enough part of the population to bring you to the top and after that…

Winning this generations approval takes more than just vague promises and a seemingly open mind though.

It was raining, like it had the past few days.

Big puddles on the streets and sidewalks, every bit of exposed earth a bear trap of mud for everyone who tried to set foot on it.

And even though any vehicle would get hopelessly stuck, there were several trucks parked in front of a gate to a field full of gravestones. An old cemetery.

“Have they been here the whole day?”, Natascha pulled up her scarf, looking over to the other side of the street “Did you see them this morning?”

Between the gate and the trucks was a crowd of people. Holding signs and blocking the whole sidewalk and all access to the lot behind them. Trying to get past them was a group of workers and a handful of people who looked like they just came out of a business meeting. Probably not too far off.

The taller man next to her squinted his eyes before shrugging “… Recognize a few. But they’re stubborn students, they probably worked out a whole timetable, so there’s always a group sitting around here”

“How are they still allowed there?” “They’re just standing on the sidewalk. There’s nothing illegal about that”, he chuckled “You can’t win that easily against people who study the laws of our country”

Natascha stopped at the bus stop and leaned against the sign “They’ve been stalling for weeks now… You’d think Glow Corp would find a way around them eventually”

The rain and traffic was too loud to understand what was said on the other side of the street but it seemed like arguments were getting heated between one of the university students and one of the suits. It was impossible to tell what they were, but they were something non-human, judging by how the suit took a few steps back and…

“That’s exactly why they’re struggling”, while Natascha almost choked on the breath she was taking in, Raphael was amused as the suits’ security started a physical argument with the protesters “Because someone always loses their nerves” “… Should we help?” “Uhm…”

A few cars were already stopping but quickly continued once a full sized dragon emerged from the crowd.

“I don’t think they need our help”

“Agreed…” she looked awkwardly down on her phone. The bus they were waiting on was still about fifteen minutes away. In those fifteen minutes the pavement was charred, the dragon turned back, someone shouted very loudly about self-defense and the police arrived.

It wasn’t against the law to turn in public. Everyone had the right to be themselves, as long as it didn’t negatively affect the rights of others.

It was against the law to ‘preemptively detain’ someone who had not expressed any intention of doing harm. Especially if you were not part of any kind of public emergency service.

A small crowd had congregated around the scene, on both sides of the street, and more voices joined the students side.

“Maybe we should just walk, Tascha” “Don’t you want to see how it ends?” “It’s gonna end like it always does”, he silently huffed when he spotted someone with a microphone walking through the crowd not too far away from them “It’s not exactly something news-worthy” As if she had heard him the grey-haired woman turned around. A pair of bright purple eyes immediately locked with his.

“Damn… I thought we got less like animalistic predators…” Natascha just gave a very uncomfortable chuckle at his remark while the purple-eyed woman smiled as she walked over. “Nothing predatorily about trying to find a good opinion”, she had to look up at him, speaking into her microphone “There are not many pars in this crowd, sir. Would you be willing to tell me what you think about Glow Corps’ Cemetery-Disaster?”

“… I don’t care. So ‘No’”

“This burial ground was reserved for pars till they were allowed to be buried next to everyone else. Do you happen to have family over there?”

Natascha internally groaned at the reporter trying to get some reaction out of her roommate. She did get one. Probably not the one she expected though. “What you’re talking about is a slum for the dead, not a sacred burial ground”, Raphael pulled one of his hands out of his pockets to grab the reporters hand, the one that was holding the microphone “You’re a reporter. You’re a fine, nosey, Sereno-Lady. If we walk south, I would be stoned for being so close to you. If we cross the ocean, we would both be hunted down. I do not care about if a mall gets built over a slum full of corpses. You know what these people over there want to make clear, so why don’t you go over there and talk to them? Or even better, go to Schröder and tell him, how disrespectful everyone thinks his actions are and how much this little group of students care. I don’t care. But they do”

Her pupils slightly contracted to a more cat-like form and she smiled again. “That is a strong opinion… You see this as a drop on a hot stone?”

“It’s a nail in a coffin, sereno. Look at who is over there. Glow Corp is digging a grave. And I don’t care when they’re going to throw the box in, cause everything happens eventually” he let go of her hand and she took a step back, her hands on her hips. “A fan of karma, I see”

“Karma isn’t a thing, lady. There’s only ignorant people making too many enemies. Now go and sniff out a phoenix or something”

She chuckled and grinned as he turned and walked away with Natascha behind him. “… So another one of you…”

The brunet looked back over her shoulder, feeling the serenos’ eyes on her. “Don’t bother. She’s not gonna jump you” “That’s not what I’m worried about… I’ve never heard you talking like that” Raphael just shrugged before changing the topic “Hey, the bus has found the stop between all the gawkers”

“That’s not an answer” “You did not ask me a question, Tascha”

After boarding the bus and sitting down, Natascha pulled off her wet scarf before continuing “Normal people wouldn’t finish a conversation just like that”

“What do you want me to say?”, Raphael crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back in his seat “I think I already said enough back there”

“Yeah. And it didn’t sound like an ‘I don’t care’-statement”, she looked out the window at the people who were still standing in front of the cemetery “And calling it a ‘slum for the dead’ isn’t very respectful on your part, if you want to criticize someone else for that”

“I didn’t”, he grinned “Other people do. That wasn’t a lie” “You and your weird tick…”

#original writing #Book #Disora #chapter

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