#it spins like a wheel inside you green yellow green blue green beautiful green. it’s simple it isn’t over it’s just begun
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Happiness is a butterfly
A/N: Inspired by Lana Del Rey's song, this one is for all you bad bitches out there with commitment issues <3
Summary: Chan proposes to you in a butterfly garden, but the two of you want different things.
Genre: Heavy angst without a happy ending.
Word Count: 1.8K
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The moment Chan got down on one knee, you knew you were screwed. Of course, he had mentioned marriage before here and there, but it was always in passing conversations. The two of you had never sat down and had a proper conversation about it. This whole situation was entirely your fault and you knew it.
So there the two of you stood in the middle of the butterfly garden. You had always had a soft spot for butterflies. You spent childhood with grass stained feet. Running through the hot summer days with your grubby hands outstretched for the beautiful winged creatures.
Monarch butterflies, cabbage butterflies, the Swallowtails. You spent countless hours sprinting through the humidity gently catching them in your hands. Peeking into your hand-crafted caverns to study the creatures. Soft wings fluttered against your skin and their antennas tickled.
You’d grin down at them with a mouth full of missing baby teeth. A sunburn plastered across the tops of your nose and cheeks. You’d open your hands and watch them fly away. Some would leave your hands instantly while others tended to stick around. You’d stay there cooing at their beauty until they flew away.
Up, up, up into the bright blue sky with the sun high up in the air. Right now, you wish you had wings. You wished you could have gotten yourself out of this situation, but here you were now, and the truth was going to finally come out whether you liked it or not.
Chan had taken you out to a local butterfly garden. The inside area was filled with a wide variety of colorful butterflies. Reds and oranges that hurt your eyes. Royal purple that you caught out of the corner of your eye. Bright yellows that made the sun seem dull. Greens that blended in with the plants and melancholy blues.
Melancholy blue. There was no better way to describe what you were feeling right now. One moment, the two of you had been holding hands admiring the butterflies, and the next thing you knew, Chan walked off to find an employee.
You knew there was nobody inside the area when you came in, but you figured that the two of you had arrived at a time when the place was less busy. Plenty of people had a fear of bugs and that included butterflies. It had never crossed your mind that he rented the place out to propose.
You were admiring a Purple Emperor Butterfly. There was a sign about them in the area. You were staring at it when you felt a tickle on your hand. You glanced down to see one of them on your hands. Very slowly, you moved your hand up to your face to get a better view.
With a fuzzy black body and antennas, they had plump purple wings streaked with white. Their wings were outlined in black and some were occasionally speckled with a soft orange. Chan had mumbled something about going to ask a staff member where the bathroom was. He had disappeared right before the butterfly landed on your hand.
You watched the butterfly walk along your hand with a smile. You were taken back to the days of freshly mowed grass, sticky popsicles, and loud squeals as you ran through the cold outdoor sprinklers. Back when all you had to worry about was scrapes from falling from your bicycle as you tried to learn how to ride without training wheels. Back when you had never understood how it felt to have your heart shatter within seconds.
The butterfly flew off and you watched it fly away. It disappeared a few feet ahead into a plethora of plants. The corners of your mouth were still upright as you briefly remembered the brighter side of childhood. It had been years since you experienced summer as a child.
A noise from behind you caused you to spin around. Your eyes lit up at once. Did Chan see the butterfly on your hand? Maybe he took a photo of it. When you didn’t spot him, your gaze moved down. The smile fell from your face.
There Chan sat kneeled on one knee with a grin. Dimples carved out on both sides of his face. His face was filled with joy as he held open the black box. A golden band sat in the box with a small gemstone welded into it. You recognized the color immediately because it just so happened to be the color of your birthstone.
Chan continued to grin as he waited for you to say something. Your face had gone pale. He figured that it was because you were shocked. He couldn’t let go of the smile. “I know it’s so sudden, but we’ve been dating for a couple of years now. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while now.”
“I even had some of our friends help pick out the colors.” He chuckled and looked away with red cheeks. “I know, I know. I could have picked something out without help, but I wanted to make sure it was perfect. So what do you say? Will you marry me?” He looked back up at you with a sparkle in his eyes.
You took a step back and tried to compose yourself. You forced yourself to swallow the lump in your throat. You shook your head and it pained you to say the words, but you got them out anyway. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
His grin slowly turned into a frown. “Oh? I suppose I should have sat you down and talked to you about it first.” His voice was laced with obvious disappointment. “Is it the ring? If you don’t like it, we can get another one. Was the proposal not good enough?”
He looked up at you with hope. “I can redo it in front of everyone. We can invite our friends and our families and we can tr-”
“No,” you shook your head.
“I can wait a few more months or another year or I-”
“Chan?”
He glanced up at you confused.
“I don’t want to marry you.”
“W-what?” His face dropped entirely. “You don’t want to marry me?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Why? D-do you not want to marry me because I’m not good enough? I’ll be a better man. I’ll be home more and I’ll try to take you on more dates. I’ll put my career aside and I-”
“That’s not it. I don’t want you to push your career aside for me. I love you. I love you so much, but I will not marry you.”
“What?” He was on the verge of tears. “What do you mean? You can’t possibly be serious, can you?”
“I can’t,” you shook your head again. “I just can’t.”
You didn’t want to talk about it. Your fear of commitment. Your fear of abandonment. The sweet summer days from your childhood hadn’t lasted forever. You’d love him forever, but you’d never sign a marriage certificate. There was too much of a risk.
What if it all went wrong? What if something happened and you became trapped? What if he married you and then regretted it? There were too many unknowns and they terrified you.
“But I brought it up occasionally and you just…” Chan trailed off. He paused for a moment. His demeanor changed within seconds. His eyebrows furrowed in anger. “You just let me believe I was going to marry you? Why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“I-”
“Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of our wedding? I’ve always had this dream that we’d sit down and plan our wedding. The guys could sing there and we’d have our first dance together. I’ve spent months planning this out. I’ve wanted to marry you for the past two years. Now you’re telling me no? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He felt the red hot knife of betrayal pierce his back. He didn’t understand it. Why hadn’t you said something all the times he mentioned weddings? The few times the two of you attended weddings as guests and you went together as a couple. Chan always joked that the two of you would be next to tie the knot and you didn’t object.
“How could you? Why would I date you if I didn’t want to marry you? Why would I waste my time?”
Tears pricked up in your eyes. You forced yourself to speak. Swallow that lump and speak your truth no matter how much it hurts. “I-I can explain. I love you and I’ll be with you as long as you want me to, I promise.”
“You promise?” He scoffed and shook his head. He pushed himself off the ground and slammed the box shut. “That’s not good enough.”
“Chan, p-please…” Tears blurred your vision now. You couldn’t see anything, but the outline of his body.
“Do you want me or do you not? Will you marry me? Yes or no?”
“No.”
“Then I think we’re done here.”
“Wait, I can explain.”
“No!” Chan snapped. “You strung me along thinking I was going to marry the love of my life and now you’re telling me no? Do you have any idea how much that hurts? I wanted to marry you! I wanted to be with you forever and you’re telling me you don’t want that by rejecting my proposal!”
“That’s not fair and you know it!”
“You know what’s not fair?” His nostrils flared as you blinked away your tears. “Being told by the love of your life that they can’t commit to you. Believing you’ll have a fairytale ending when that will never happen.”
You stood in silence as you realized how much you had truly fucked up. You knew he mentioned marriage, but you never thought he would have considered proposing before talking to you. The two of you stood in silence amidst the fluttering of the butterfly wings.
You watched with tears dripping down your cheeks as a Purple Emperor Butterfly landed on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and turned around. You watched the butterfly fly off high into the air. Chan’s fingers gripped the boxed ring so hard that they turned white.
“Chan, can’t we talk about this?” Your voice came out in a near whisper.
“There is nothing more to talk about. I wanted to marry you and be with you forever and you don’t want that.” He didn’t turn around to face you. His shoulders dropped as the anger disappeared from his voice. He was left with grueling disappointment. “There’s no reason for us to continue our relationship if the two of us want different things.”
You watched in silence as he walked out the exit. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t offer to drive you back to your shared apartment. He left you along the butterflies and all you wished to do was flap your non-existent wings and fly away.
#stray kids#stray kids fanfic#stray kids drabbles#skz angst#skz imagines#skz fanfic#bang chan fic#bang chan fanfic#bang chan angst#fanfic writing#fanfiction#fanficwriter#kpop fanfic#stray kids angst
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Meanwhile (natasha romanoff x reader)
teaser:
“I’m Natalie,” she’d said, “I just moved in next door.” You peeked over her shoulder to see the large, pristine cardboard boxes labeled ‘clothes’ and ‘books’ and a beat up old couch with a large wine stain, a couch that you know you saw Linda in apartment 307 throw out the day before.
You scoffed. “Bullsh*t, you’re the Black Widow.”
warning(s): reader has a bit of a potty mouth but that’s it, i think
quotes referenced:
“I sleep. I dream. I make up things that I would never say. I say them very quietly.”
“It spins like a wheel inside of you: green yellow, green blue, green beautiful green. It’s simple: it isn’t over, it’s just begun.”
- Richard Siken, “Meanwhile”
It’s a fickle thing. The human will. Once upon a time, you had considered yourself a relatively strong-willed person. You grew up low-income. Your parents absent. Your existence is, while not entirely joyless, not entirely extraordinary either. Yet, you scrounged up the funds for shoes, for books, for a dingy studio apartment in Bed-Stuy. You will your bike to not fall apart. You will your checks not to bounce. You will.
Natalie Rushman showed up on your doorstep one day with a handgun covertly strapped to her hip and a whisper of plausible deniability on her lips.
“I’m Natalie,” she’d said, “I just moved in next door.” You peeked over her shoulder to see the large, pristine cardboard boxes labeled ‘clothes’ and ‘books’ and a beat up old couch with a large wine stain, a couch that you know you saw Linda in apartment 307 throw out the day before.
You scoffed. “Bullshit, you’re the Black Widow.”
She had you in a headlock in half a second. You heard the safety of her handgun release.
It was a misunderstanding of course.
“Tracksuit mafia? What kind of dumb name is that?” you asked her. Your wrists chaffed from the cold steel locked around them; the interrogation room air conditioning blasting every inch of exposed skin didn’t help.
The Black Widow was silent for a moment before the corner of her lip twitched slightly and she nodded, as if confirming that yes, it was a dumb name. She leaned back into the cold steel of her seat back and crossed her arms.
“Do you often rent from suspicious men who make questionable fashion choices?”
You shrugged, the links of the handcuffs clanging on the metal table between you two, “Rent under two-thousand dollars in this city? I’ve learned not to ask questions that I do not want the answers to, Miss Black Widow.”
“Fair enough. You’re free to go.”
You looked skeptically at her. Her green eyes unblinking at your gaze. You shook your wrist pointedly, the chains clinking together, somehow not sounding like the violation of personal and civil liberties that you knew them to be.
She looked amused as she reached for the key hidden in her blazer sleeve and amused as she leaned over the table and amused as she gently removed the cold steel from your slightly-less cold hands. You are less so.
Fast forward a few weeks, and you’re sneakily drafting an essay for your international relations course behind the counter of the twenty-four hour diner subsidizing your bachelor’s degree. You don’t think Luka, the line cook working the graveyard shift with you, would care. But Luka’s vaguely Eastern European accent and backwards Adidas baseball cap has you reluctant to share too much personal information with him. You had been all but chased out of your apartment a few days after your run in with the Avengers, forced to leave behind most of your earthly possessions. Linda from apartment 307, the Tracksuit mafia’s accountant as it turns out, is likely cursing the resale value of your out of season wardrobe. All you have to your name now is a few dozen general education credits and a duffel bag of necessities. You don’t need any more trouble.
Unfortunately, trouble walks in not too long after. The diner’s door chime rings out and you reluctantly step away from your laptop. You pluck the check pad out of the worn apron tied around your waist and make your way towards the back booth. If you had picked your head up sooner, maybe you would have seen her iconic red hair and maybe had a chance to book it out the back door. Too late now.
She makes eye contact with you and your spine straightens. You grip the pen in your left hand and ask her what she what she wants.
She smiles at you. She speaks and you cannot will yourself to say no.
You move into the Avengers tower, albeit reluctantly. Yesterday, you were living paycheck to paycheck, no permanent mailing address and no prospects. Today, you’re an intern at Stark Industries with a 401k and very good dental insurance. Today, you bring the Avengers coffee. It’s reparations, says Tony Stark, for ignoring your constitutional rights and detaining you without probable cause. You think Tony Stark is full of guilt and full of shit. But like you told the Black Widow, you’ve learned to not ask questions.
Natasha, as you’ve been invited to call her, is quite entertained by your presence in the tower. With your newly acquired free time, Steve suggests you participate in the Avengers’ training. With your recent unintentional dabble in organized crime fresh on your mind, you agree.
On your first run with Captain America, you decide that this is a very, very big mistake. Natasha greets you as you return from your run and hands you a bottle of water. You chug half and dump the other half on your head. The slight breeze feels heavenly on your damp skin. Steve daintily pats his neck with a dry towel. Natasha tells you to dry off and then meet her in the gym.
“Do you wanna kill me, Romanoff?” you huff, still trying to catch your breath. The Captain chuckles and tells you he’ll see you tomorrow. You give him a weak thumbs up.
“Don’t worry, kotenok, you will know if I wanted you dead.”
Your back slams onto the training mat for the umpteenth time. She definitely wants you dead.
Before you know it, the trees around the tower turn orange then red then brown then bare. You notice a slight definition in your thighs, but you are still regularly getting your ass beat by Natasha. Tony buys the fancy hot cocoa and you disappoint him by dumping obscene amounts of cinnamon and whipped cream into your cup. Bruce and his favorite red pen proofreads your essays ruthlessly. Both your gpa and your checking account rise at truly startling rates.
Sometimes Nat joins you in the kitchen, late at night when it’s just you, your thoughts, and a cup of cocoa with an obscene amount of cinnamon but no whipped cream. She’s all gentle smiles and soft glances then – nothing like the ruthless agent that sweeps your legs from under you. Yet, you still feel unsteady in these moments. You don’t dislike it.
When the two of you finally retire to bed, she leads you to her room. It’s not a thing. It’s simple. You lay in her bed, warm and lulled to sleep by the softness she exudes. You wake up in her firm hold and smile. You know that she knows that you know that you’re both awake, but neither of you are ready to leave just yet. You will. Eventually. You snuggle deeper into the sheets. Maybe.
She doesn’t label it, so neither do you. All you know is that it feels right. Your mind works for her genuine, unrestrained laughter. Your heart warms for her soft touches and quiet secrets. You sleep. You dream. You make up things you would never say. You say them very quietly, so that Natasha does not hear.
The trees outside the tower go from white to brown to green. You swap out the the hot cocoa for iced coffee. On the anniversary of your brief stint as a criminal suspect, Tony throws a party for you. Nat works the bar and tonight, you swap out the coffee for a vodka cranberry. She reaches under the bar for a hidden bottle of clear liquor. When you crane your head to see the label, she quickly turns the bottle, pours the shot, and re-caps the bottle in one smooth move. Seeing your pout, she teases, “what is it that you say, kotenok?”
“Don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to,” you mumble over the lip of the chilled glass she hands to you.
“Good girl.”
The drink rushes down your grateful throat as Natasha watches.
You manage to choke down another, unbelievably smooth, cocktail before deciding to call it a night. You meet Nat’s eyes as you say goodnight to the boys, and Tony waves you off with a knowing smile. You roll your eyes but don’t deny the implication.
In retrospect, you probably should have because it all goes to shit that night:
Nat kisses you. She pulls you in and you let her. How could you say no. You’re flushed and warm and lost in a haze of Natasha Natasha Natasha. You hold onto her strong arms, every point of contact between the two of you sparking and overstimulated. She mumbles praises into your skin and asks you if you’re sure you want this. You say yes.
Yes, you want this.
Yes, you want her.
You’re awake. It’s not a dream. You say things you would never say sober, too loudly for her not to hear.
Yes, you want this.
Yes, you want her.
Yes.
“I love you.”
She stops immediately but the world is spinning faster than ever. She stutters. The Black Widow never stutters, you think. Your world is spinning. She leaves. Fuck.
The next day, Clint takes over your training session. You don’t ask questions that you do not want the answer to. That night, you sit in the kitchen alone with a cup of cocoa with an obscene amount of cinnamon but no whipped cream.
The world continues to spin around you. Green yellow. Green blue. Green beautiful green. It’s simple. It’s fickle. It’s not a thing.
It can’t be over, you think. It’s just begun, you will. It’s green. It’s still green.
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woohoo my first fic on here! thought i’d visit the tried and true trope of the cutest emotionally unavailable assassin :)
not much of a plot here, just a vibe; i was trying to match that of the poem. i feel like maybe the repetition here was too much, too obvious? idk lmk.
also go check out the siken poem “meanwhile” if you haven’t already!
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“It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue, green beautiful green. It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green.”
Meanwhile by Richard Siken
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"tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake / and dress them in warm clothes again."
scheherazade
"He had green eyes, / so I wanted to sleep with him / green eyes flicked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool- / You could drown in those eyes, I said."
"You could drown in those eyes, I said, / so it's summer, so it's suicide, / so we're helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool."
"But damn if there isn't anything sexier / than a slender boy with a handgun, / a fast car, a bottle of pills."
little beast
"Your want a better story. Who wouldn't? / A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing. / Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on. / What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon. / Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly / flames everywhere."
litany in which certain things are crossed out
"The blond boy in the red trunks is holding your head underwater / because he is trying to kill you, / and you deserve it, you do, and you know this, / and you are ready to die in this swimming pool / because you wanted to touch his hands and lips and this means / your life is over anyway."
"The green-eyed boy in the powder-blue t-shirt standing / next to you in the supermarket recoils as if hit, / repeatedly, by a lot of men, as if he has a history of it. / This is not your problem. / You have your own body to deal with. / The lamp by the bed is broken. / You are feeling things he's no longer in touch with. / And everyone is speaking softly, / so as not to wake one another."
a primer for the small weird loves
"You were crying and eating rice. / The surface of the water was still and bright. / Your feet were burning so I put my hands on them, but my hands / were buring too. / You had a bottle of pills but I wouldn't let you swallow them. / You said Will you love me even more when im dead? / And I said No, and I threw the pills on the sand, / Look at them, you said. They look like emeralds."
i had a dream about you
"He's on top of you. He's next to you, right next to you in fact. / He has the softest skin wrapped entirely around him. / It isn't him. / It isn't you. You're falling now. You're swimming. This is not / harmless. You are not / breathing. You're climbing out of the chlorinated pool again."
the dislocated room
"The trees in wind, the streetlights on, / the click and flash of cigarettes / being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight. / It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue, / green beautiful green / It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green."
meanwhile
crush by richard siken, on the colour green, drowning / water, and pills
#poem#poetry#richard siken#crush#queer poetry#crush richard siken#green#pills#water#drowning#academia#it gets me so good. man. im so.#aughhghg#i mean? come on?? for real?? you're reading this and feel normal about it?? come on!??? for real right now??#ghhhhhhhh#i love gay people art#the thought queue...#i love when a theme is recurring!! i love a recurring symbolism!!!!! fuck yeah!!#posts that are for nobody but myself tbh#if there's any typos in this PLEASE let me know so i can fix them !
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hii ! we are peony gardens. see the linked posts below for more information : )
🌿 system & body info
🌷 our headmates
🏔️ interests & misc info
❀ taken by our partner system @neon-vocalist !
previously bloodiedpeonies ! @/peonies on cohost
join our pro-endo, plural discord server for introjects (non-introjects welcome!!!)
ICON ID: a white cat stuffed animal over a pink background. an abstract, green pink and yellow design with flowers and hills border it on 2 corners. /end ID
BANNER ID: an abstract green, pink and yellow design with flowers and hills. in the center is the poem "meanwhile" by richard siken. /end ID
(transcript of header poem is under the cut)
Driving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make
the new streets yours.
Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like
everything's okay,
a feeling that lasts for one song maybe,
the parentheses all clicking shut behind you.
The way we move through time and space, or only time.
The way it's night for many miles, and then suddenly
it's not, it's breakfast
and you're standing in the shower for over an hour,
holding the bar of soap up to the light.
I will keep watch. I will water the yard.
Knot the tie and go to work. Unknot the tie and go to sleep.
I sleep. I dream. I make up things
that I would never say. I say them very quietly.
The trees in the wind, the streetlights on,
the click and flash of cigarettes
being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight.
It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
green beautiful green.
It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green.
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The trees in wind, the streetlights on,
the click and flash of cigarettes
being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight.
It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
green beautiful green.
It’s simple: it isn’t over, it’s just begun. It’s green. It’s still green.
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You could say green / forever and not be lying.
Meghan O’Rourke, from “Sun In Days”
#it spins like a wheel inside you green yellow green blue green beautiful green. it’s simple it isn’t over it’s just begun#it’s green. it’s still green#w#poetry#spring is the season of the heart
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virgo as the hermit
"It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue, / green beautiful green. / It’s simple: it isn’t over, it’s just begun. It’s green. It’s still green." Richard Siken, "Meanwhile"
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Volume 8 is eerily similar to Sleeping Beauty
So I was reading @magicaltimelady44‘s wonderful post about How Volume 8 is following Mulan and I got to thinking about Nora (like you do) and I came to realization that Volume 8 is eerily similar to sleeping beauty. (also please note that this is just an observation so if i get things wrong I'm sorry)
Here me out:
First, I want to get this out of the way: Nora’s outfits correspond with Sleeping beauty’s dresses. to any of you who have never have watched sleeping beauty or it’s been a long time since you’ve watched it: don't know, In the Disney movie Sleeping Beauty, there’s a running gag where 2 of the 3 fairies that watch over Sleeping Beauty cant decide whether or not to make Sleeping Beauty’s Dress pink or blue. One wants it to be pink, the other wants it to be blue. Its a constant gag in the movie right up until the end. I bring this up because Nora is the only one in the cast that has this flip-flopping color scheme. In volumes 1-3, her outfit is mostly baby pink with a small midsection of Icy blue. In volumes 4-6, her outfit is mostly bright hot pink--hardly any trace of blue in sight.(except for her eyes). Now in volumes 7-8, its that warm baby pink again with that icy blue. Also if you notice, there’s blue underneath the pink (like the undercoat part is dyed blue, which could mean that if Nora wanted to, she could just turn her outfit inside out and have blue on the outside and pink on the little coller flap-things, which is a cleaver nod to “make it pink-make it blue”. )
Another thing that I’ve noticed is that when Nora becomes unconscious. I know this could be chocked up to just the writing in that the entire volume takes place over 1-2 days, but in Sleeping Beauty there’s a very iconic line said by the villian: “Before the Sun sets on her Sixteenth Birthday, she will prick her finger on the spindle of the spinning wheel and fall into a deep sleep.” Now I know that in this case there is no spindle or spinning wheel, but we all know that CRWBY loves to subvert the tropes and items used in their fairy tales. If Cinder’s glass slipper can be a sword than I’m sure Sleeping Beauty Spinning Wheel can be a fully-connected electric door that gives you electrical scars.
Now am I saying that it’s Nora sixteenth birthday when all of this is taking place? (no). Nora’s sixteenth birthday has already been passed. But the “before the sun sets” part is interesting. Mostly because of the whole “Volume 8 takes place in 1-2 days” part. Need I remind you that Nora became unconscious a little before the sun began to fully set on day one.
and when Team RNBW arrived at the Schnee Manor, You can tell that by the time that they got there, the sun had just began to set and the sky was turning that nice Ombre pinkish-purply-yellow color that it does just before the sun fully dips below the horizon.
Another thing that I’ve noticed is that the characters that are surrounding Nora very much connect with Sleeping Beauty’s 3 fairies: Flora, Fauna, and Merriweather.
Flora (flower) wears Red. Flora is the name of the general classification of plants and flowers. She shares similarities to Ruby mostly due to her being the leader and coming up with ideas that very much help the situation.
Fauna wears Green. Her name is usually given to the general classification of animals. The two characters that pertain to this are Penny and Blake. Penny is mostly seen wearing green and is very happy-go-lucky, and while Blake mostly wears monochrome/purple colors, she is generally classified as a “Faunus”.
And Merriweather wears Blue. Weiss now wears very deep rich blue colors. SHe’s the one who’s very outspoken and usually tells it how it is. and is not afaid to call people out on their bullshit. I also point that who’s the one character (besides Nora) that’s commonly associated with a certain type of weather? Weiss Schnee (her last name literally means Snow and her emblem is literally a snowflake)
All 3 of them guard and watch Sleeping Beauty as she sleeps.
Now, you may be thinking: what does this have to do with Atlas and Mantle? I’m glad you asked. As we know, Atlas and Mantle are currently being over-run by Grimm (thanks Salem) and now the entire kingdom is in mortal peril and fear because of it. And now the big question right now is “How are we going to protect people now that both Mantle and Atlas are over-run with Grimm.
Well, you pull a Brunswick farms and put everyone within the Kingdom to sleep. think about it: If everyone was asleep, the Grimm would think that both Mantle and Atlas are abandoned, and would possibly try to wander off. Or would most likely (after a few hours of destruction) think that they’ve killed everyone in the kingdom and then try to move on somewhere else.(or Salem would think that she had won and try to retrieve the relic from the rumble of a destroyed Atlas)
But how the hell are you going to do that? There’s no one in Remnant (currently) that has a semblance that can put people to sleep. We could use the Staff of Creation but then Atlas would fall right out of the sky, smashing the crater down below.
Well, luckily for you my friend, you don't need to because there is already someone who can give you that same outcome with less sleepy-time goodness.
And who has a very similar semblance that can mask an entire group of people and hide them from the Grimm???
This angsty bitch right here.
And need I remind you all that he literally shrouds people in grey when using his semblance, just like how the fairies literally shroud people in that deep seaweed green color when they’re putting people to sleep in the movie.
ALSO: In order for Sleeping Beauty to be rescued, her brave prince needed to fight against the forces of evil to get to her bedside.
Where’s Nora’s Prince? Outside of the kingdom, willing and able to brave the incoming Grimm to get to her.
And where’s Nora? In the castle, waiting for her (estranged) Prince to rescue her.
#rwby#rwby volume 8#rwby volume 8 spoilers#Nora Valkyrie#Lie Ren#Ruby Rose#Blake Belladonna#yang xiao long#penny polendina#Weiss Schnee
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Meanwhile
Driving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make
the new street yours.
Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like
everything's okay,
a feeling that lasts for one song maybe,
the parentheses all clicking shut behind you.
The way we move through time and space, or only time.
The way it's night for many miles, and then suddenly
it's not, it's breakfast
and you're standing in the shower for over an hour,
holding the bar of soap up to the light.
I will keep watch. I will water the yard.
Knot the tie and go to work. Unknot the tie and go to sleep.
I sleep. I dream. I make up things
that I would never say. I say them very quietly.
The trees in wind, the streetlights on,
the click and flash of cigarettes
being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight.
It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
green beautiful green.
It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green.
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Happy belated birthday @aka-indulgence! I initially intended to get this out two days ago but I lost the flow a little. Luckily, it came back... hope you had a good day!
Nightmare!Sans/Reader
... It was so quiet. Dark... but you could hear something. It sounded like...
...
... Waves. Gentle ocean waves.
Something warm washed over your toes, and it made you open your eyes in surprise, looking down at your feet- water. Crystal clear water, streaming over perfect white sand... bubbles of foam popping in sparkles of light.
You looked up, confused... and found yourself looking out onto a gorgeous sea under a clear glowing lavender and orange sunset sky. You gasped, quietly, without even realising- it was so beautiful. The ocean, mild and clean, faded from sandy yellow where you were standing to green to a brilliant turquoise, and the deeper waters were a warm pink as they reflected the sky that seemed to stretch for infinity... your lips parted, awe overtaking everything. You could see little silhouettes of seabirds wheeling in the distance... Directly above you, where the sky was lilac and purples and deep blues, a few lone faint stars were beginning to make themselves known.
... It was so beautiful.
You inhaled through your nose and sighed, happily; fresh, salty sea air. The sound of calling gulls and water... the glow of the sunset on your skin, the lapping ocean at your feet... you closed your eyes, happy, calm...
You could just stay here forever... you should stay here forever...
...
Something was wrong.
You opened your eyes again, confused, turning around to look behind you. Some trees, tropical-looking, palms... nothing out of the ordinary. But why did you feel... wrong? It wasn’t a feeling you could put your finger on. Something was off. You stepped away from the water’s edge and began to walk up the beach, the sand pleasantly warm and soft underfoot, not loose enough to stick between your toes and not clumpy enough to feel damp and gross...
...
Something was wrong.
You had a terrible feeling in your chest, your eyes kept darting around to look at the scenery as if expecting to catch something. You couldn’t stop here, your heart was pounding- like something was out there, something awful would happen if you gave in here and rested. Maybe you were just being stupid... maybe you were just panicking... something’s wrong, something’s wrong-
... A noise.
... It was a sigh. A deep, breathy sigh; it sounded frustrated, but amused. And it wasn’t coming from behind you, or next to you, or in front of you... it was inside your head.
Someone else was inside your own mind- someone else was speaking to you, echoing in your head.
“every time.” It said, in a long-suffering tone. The voice was dark, silky... almost too soft. Like he was patronising you. “i’m getting tired of this, darling.”
... You froze.
Not willingly. Your feet sank into the sand the moment you stopped, and suddenly it was as hard as concrete- you let out a little frightened sound and tried to pull your legs, with no luck whatsoever. What the hell is going on!? You couldn’t think straight, your head was fuzzy, like someone had thrown a woollen blanket over your mind- over your ability to process what was going on. You were confused, nonplussed, things that should be making sense just weren’t connecting.
“nothing’s ever enough...” It whispered.
The landscape began to cycle, warp, stretch around where your feet were locked in place. You desperately wanted to stagger back... An empty roof restaurant overlooking a glowing city, you barely had a moment to appreciate it because after a second’s wait it changed again, a mirror-flat lake at sunrise speckled with pink petals from a flowering tree, giant misty emerald-topped mountains that seemed to defy the laws of physics, a waterfall as wide as the grand canyon that roared with power, your head was spinning, it hurt...
... It stopped on what seemed to be a salt flat after rain; a perfectly blue sky peppered with cotton candy clouds, everything reflected below you in the world’s largest mirror. Nobody around for miles.
“i can control this world down to each molecule.” The voice continued. It seemed almost gleeful... showing off, enjoying boasting about all he could do. “i can give you anything you want. i could take you anywhere, show you anything... there’s nothing we can’t do together, here.”
... You felt something on your stomach.
The scenery changed again; a flower field, at night. An endless galaxy overhead, purple and blue and pink blooms shifting in the gentlest of breezes.
But you couldn’t concentrate. The fear that had suddenly gripped you was icy; and it wasn’t just the fear that had a hold of you. Something wrapped around your middle, your waist, something thick and long, you looked down...
... You had no idea what it was. A tentacle of some kind? It was as if someone had coated the body of a giant snake in a viscous, gooey, tar-like substance. Thick, black, slimy, it was cold where it touched the skin that wasn’t covered by your riding-up shirt, so cold... you wanted to shove it off you but you didn’t want to touch it, you were scared you’d put your hands on it and they’d just sink straight in and stick.
“... i could give you anything...” The voice wasn’t inside your mind anymore. It was behind you, like it’d escaped from your head, whispering into your ear so close you could feel hot breath against the skin. Another thing, appendage, tentacle, curled around your neck; it was so cold you sharply inhaled, a harsh contrast from the warmth of his breath. And when you tried to reach your hands up to it to grasp at it, to pull it off in a blind panic, no longer caring about the consistency... more curled around your wrists, snatching them back and holding them tight by your shoulders.
“and yet...” ... It shifted from playfully teasing... to something else. Something... angry.
A growl.
“you just keep on defying me.”
The tentacles around you squeezed- your neck, your stomach, your wrists- you cried out, but you weren’t sure whether it was in pain or in terror as a squeak-like sound was forced out of you when your breath escaped. You didn’t understand what was going on, you could barely focus on not losing yourself in pure, unadulterated terror.
“i could be doing anything right now.” He continued. The landscape started to change again; but not into something beautiful. The stars started to flicker out and die one by one, flowers began to brown and rot and wilt, sinking into the grassless slick dirt and triggering a foul smell that invaded your nostrils and made you cringe. The gentle breeze vanished, replaced with a thick, uncomfortable heat that only worsened the smell.
“i could be destroying whole universes- amusing myself by making them all bend to my will...” He squeezed tighter, you were starting to struggle for breath, wheezing and tearing up, you could feel more wet slimy tentacles curling around you... your legs, over your hips, across your chest... he was going to choke you, squeeze you to death. “billions of lives begging for mercy at my feet.”
You expelled a precious breath in a weak sob.
...
... The tentacles loosened. But they didn’t let go. You gasped in air and gagged, the awful smell making your eyes water and stinging the back of your throat... You didn’t understand, nothing made sense, your mind felt fuzzy and confused and lost. As you sucked in breath after breath, you didn’t notice the smell fading... the air becoming clean again, the mud and rot fading away like...
... like a bad dream.
Instead, it was pitch black. The kind of darkness that pressed in on all sides, that made you somehow feel both hopelessly lonely and like something was watching you.
He moved, the voice moved. In front of you, in the darkness... a ring appeared. A ring of blue light; cold light, unfeeling, unfriendly... a single eye, partnered with a smile of giant ice-white teeth.
“but instead of all that...” The face came closer. And as it did, you could see more... you could see the ooze-covered skeletal face, the slick black substance all over him, even his clothes... you could see the way the tentacles restraining you came from his back. He didn’t stop approaching until he was inches away from your face again... smile looming over you, close enough to kiss your forehead... cold, cold hands pressed against your ribs and slid around to your back. Like he was holding you. “instead of ruling universes, i’m here again. playing with you. making intricate worlds for an ungrateful little human who won’t just give in to me... every night, something new. every night, something beautiful. and every night, you resist...”
One icy hand stayed on your back, the other... drifted up, cupping your head, weaving his giant phalanges through your hair at the scalp.
“it’s infuriating.”
You felt terror clench your chest again, harder than before. What was he going to do? Was he going to tear it out? Snap your neck, dig those slimy claws into the back of your head and kill you? You felt your lip trembling, your eyes welling up with hot tears...
He was so close to you, pressed so flush, that when he shuddered you felt it. His grin only spread wider, inhumanly wide, that bright blue eye contracting like a snake squeezing a kill...
“that’s right, pet...” He said, voice a purr that barely hid his glee, tentacles beginning to squeeze again like the claws of an excited cat. “that’s it, fear me... i could squeeze you until you snap, i could tear you into bloody ribbons...”
His hand tilted your head upward, toward the face that took up your whole vision. In a strange way, it was a good thing he was holding your legs... you were certain that your feet wouldn’t hold you up any longer.
Whatever patience was holding him back seemed to snap when you pressed your lips together- the moment his glowing eye moved to your mouth, it twitched, and he closed the precious distance you had from him. A predator striking, a monster moving to eat you whole...
... He kissed you.
...
You startled awake, heaving in breaths and slick with cold sweat, staring up at your ceiling while gripping your mattress with white knuckles.
...
Oh fuck...
The sigh you breathed in relief racked your entire body from head to toe. Shaking, close to tears... Like you were expelling the tainted, fearful air from your lungs.
Just a dream. Just a nightmare.
The tentacles were just your bedsheets twisted around you, as you’d turned in a panic. The cold and ice was just your bare, sweat-dotted skin meeting air... even as you laid there, bathing in your own relief, you began to forget the terrible dream.
Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.
... You sorted out your sheets, turning your pillow over to the cold side to nestle back into it, calm once again. You still had a few hours before your alarm would set off... now the bad dream was out of the way, you’d surely sleep peacefully.
It didn’t take very long for you to drift back into unconsciousness.
...
...
The shadows by your bed started to thicken, gathering into a form sitting by you on the bed. He stroked your hair behind your ear... icy blue eye watching silently. Adoringly.
He... had planned to make that encounter a little bit... softer. He’d gone into your dreams intending to keep you calm, keep you open to influence; and then he’d make himself known to you gently, acclimating you to his presence in your mind. Maybe strike up some nice conversation... He had it all planned so neatly...
... But your fear was just so... delicious. Your terror when he held you, those wide, doe-like eyes staring up at him with you totally under his control, at his mercy... what was supposed to be one of the lighter encounters quickly spiralled as he lost himself in your skin and breath and warmth and life, feeding like a parasite on the negativity pouring out of your Soul.
... He sighed. He’d let you sleep, for tonight... he had to think of a new place to take you to. A new world to make for you... hopefully, this time, it would be enough to keep you under his spell.
“... sleep tight, doll.” He purred, leaning down to press a toothy kiss to your forehead... before his form melted into the shadows of your room, like a ghost.
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Hear me out: Reddie on a “date” to a fair (it’s a date in eddies mind but richie is clueless) [i will die on the Richie being clueless on occasion hill if I have to ]
i see you AND i hear you, anon. 100%
tbh i HC richie is pretty oblivious when it comes to dating, dates and eddie’s blatantly obvious feelings for him LMAOO
so i kinda set it in HS?? and its like 1992-1993, so they’re about 16-17.
i hope you enjoy anon! i’m sorry if it sucks a little bit (or a lot)
i haven't written anything publicly for a HOT minute and definitely need to brush up a little bit on my writing skills
and i’m also sorry if they’re really OOC, i’m still learning and trying my best.
NONE OF THIS WAS PROOFREAD SORRY LMAO
---
Eddie invites him to the towns annual fall festival. Just the two of us, he’d said on the phone yesterday.
Richie could never deny Eddie much of anything, so he immediately agreed. The idea of the two of them hanging out alone, oddly enough, makes him feel like there are butterflies in his stomach. He shrugs it off, as he’s done for the past three or four years, and he goes through the rest of his day, anxiously awaiting the next.
And that’s where he is now. With Eddie, at the festival.
Everything’s fine, so he doesn’t know why he’s freaking out so bad. Honestly, everything’s more than fine. Richie buys him an ice cream, and for once, Eddie doesn’t go on a full-blown rant about Richie spending his money on him when he’s perfectly capable of paying for himself.
Eddie doesn’t shrug his arm off when Richie throws it around his shoulders while they’re walking towards the games, either. He leans in a little closer, actually, which feels like it sends a jolt of lightning straight through every fiber of Richie’s being.
He’s just... all smiles, no rants, no freak-outs. A few insults or two, though, because that’s just how Eddie is, and Richie wouldn’t have it any other way. But... it’s weird not to see him reaching for his fake inhaler to ease his nerves, or thoroughly sanitizing his hands after he touches everything. He’s been like that all day, too. Didn’t even complain about the god awful mess in Richie’s car when he got in.
Now, as it begins to get darker outside, he’s sitting down right across from him at a picnic table, sharing a funnel cake. Their hands have brushed once or twice, and Eddie’s even wiped some powdered sugar off of the side of Richie’s mouth, and he isn’t even going to think about how red his face fucking got when that happened.
“Earth to Richie!” he hears Eddie yell.
He blinks once, twice, three times, trying to rid his mind of the thoughts that kept him so in his head, and turns and flashes a big smile in Eddie’s direction.
“What ‘s it, Spaghetti?” Richie replies, reaching for several pieces of the funnel cake and plopping all of them in his mouth at once. “‘S there anything you wanna do?” he asks in-between chewing, and Eddie visibly grimaces.
“Say it, don’t fucking spray it, dickwad. You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” Eddie complains, and Richie would’ve laughed if he wasn’t chewing his food. “And chew with your mouth closed! Jesus Christ, who taught you your table manners?”
After Richie swallows his food, he takes a large gulp from his Coca Cola and shrugs. “I was raised by apes, they taught me everything I know about manners, Eds.” he teases.
He gets a small laugh out of Eddie at that one, along with an eye-roll. “Very funny. And don’t call me that, Richie!” Eddie replies, reaching across the table to give Richie’s shoulder a small shove. Richie laughs, now that his mouth isn’t full, and shakes his head.
“Don’t lie, you like when I call you Eds.”
Eddie blushes? Richie thinks he is, anyways. But why the hell would Eddie be blushing?
Eddie’s voice snaps him out of it before he can dwell too much into it. “Whatever you say.” he grumbles, reaching and grabbing the last piece of their shared funnel cake. He grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth when he’s done, and he doesn’t even give Richie time to speak before he’s talking again.
“Do you want to get on the ferris wheel? It’s getting darker, so we can see all the lights better.” he speaks hurriedly, pointing over towards where the ferris wheel sits, spinning as they sit a little ways away from it. The lights are coming on, now, on all the attractions. Shades of pink and purple, red and blue, green and yellow. They’re bright, but they light up Eddie’s face in just the right way to make Richie think god, he’s beautiful.
“Sure, let’s get to it, Eduardo!” Richie replies, loudly, standing on his feet. He grabs their trash and throws it away in the nearest trashcan, and walks back over towards Eddie, who grabs his fucking hand and starts walking towards the ferris wheel.
He starts to wonder if this is even Eddie, because it dawns on him that Eddie doesn’t even like festival rides. They’re covered in bacteria and germs, dumbass, he’d usually say. But that isn’t the case this evening, apparently, because Eddie is smiling as they approach it, grabbing his tickets from his back pocket and handing two to Richie.
“You know I have my own, right?” Richie asks, but Eddie just shakes his head.
“You used at least ten tickets on that darts game until you won me that stuffed Kirby. Shut up and let me be nice to you.” Eddie retorts, and Richie does as he’s asked. He mimics zipping up his mouth, locking it and throwing the key away, which gets a small chuckle out of Eddie. He counts that as a win, so long as he sees Eddie laughing, at least.
Spoiler alert: he doesn’t shut up. He doesn’t know how.
Eventually, after bickering back in forth in line about everything they could think of, they’re finally getting on the ferris wheel, being seated and secured in before they take off and are stopped again.
Eddie turns to Richie, his hands on the handlebar, looking as content as ever. “Thank you for saying yes when I asked you out on this date. I know it was kinda stupid to ask you over the phone, but-- whatever. Thank you, asshole. I’m having a great time.”
Richie feels like his jaw has dropped.
Asked him out on what?
“You-- me-- date? What? Since when?” Richie stammers, and Eddie’s brows furrow. His face becomes redder than the top of the haunted house’s tent.
“You didn’t know this was a date?” Eddie asks, and Richie shakes his head repeatedly.
“No! You didn’t say anything about a date!”
“I literally fucking said it was!”
“No, you said ‘Hey, do you want to go out with me to the festival tomorrow, just the two of us’ and that is not asking me out on a date!”
“I said ‘Do you want to go out with me to the festival tomorrow, just the two of us,’ emphasis on go out with me, and that was literally me asking you on a date, dumbass!”
Richie processes.
And processes.
And processes some more.
“Holy fucking shit, I’m on a date with you.” Richie says, blank faced. On the inside he’s screaming with absolute joy.
“Yeah, you are, dumbass. You-- forget I said anything--”
Richie interrupts him, quickly, “No, no! I’m not like-- freaked out about it or anything. I’m happy to go on a date with a cutie like you, Eds!” he says, leaning towards Eddie and pinching his cheek affectionately.
Eddie swats his hand away, blushing and grumbling, but he’s smiling nonetheless. “Do you-- fuck, do you like me, Rich? I mean, I-- I’m obviously into you.”
Richie nods, very enthusiastically, and smiles wider than he ever has when one of Eddie’s hands come off of the handlebar to grab one of his. “Absolutely, Eds, I mean-- how could I not? You’re my best friend. And, also, you’re so easy to piss off and rile up. It’s fuckin’ cute!” he says, smile never falling from his face.
“I am not easy to rile up, you dick.” Eddie argues, but his tone holds no distaste or actual anger within it.
So Richie, being Richie, shakes the passenger car they’re in as soon as the wheel takes motion again to prove a point, and Eddie screeches. “You fucking dick! Why the hell would you do that? Do you know how many deaths have happened because of people rocking these fucking things?” he yells, and Richie lets out a full belly laugh.
“Oh, it’s so fucking funny, isn’t it? Do you want to die on a ferris wheel in this shit town? Do you--”
Richie finally makes a move, and decides to shut Eddie up with a kiss.
It works.
#reddie#reddie prompts#kt's shitty writing#please don't come at me it's 4AM and i tried to get this done quickly#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#it fandom#it 2017#teen reddie
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“The trees in wind, the streetlights on, the click and flash of cigarettes being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight. It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue, green beautiful green.”
Meanwhile by Richard Siken
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Driving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make
the new street yours.
Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like
everything's okay,
a feeling that lasts for one song maybe,
the parentheses all clicking shut behind you.
The way we move through time and space, or only time.
The way it's night for many miles, and then suddenly
it's not, it's breakfast
and you're standing in the shower for over an hour,
holding the bar of soap up to the light.
I will keep watch. I will water the yard.
Knot the tie and go to work. Unknot the tie and go to sleep.
I sleep. I dream. I make up things
that I would never say. I say them very quietly.
The trees in wind, the streetlights on,
the click and flash of cigarettes
being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight.
It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
green beautiful green.
It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green.
_Richard Siken; Crush(Yale Series of Younger Poets)_
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P r i s m
Sorry they’re all different sizes! I couldn’t get the formatting on tumblr to work so I took screenshots lol. The typed words/image description is under the cut!
Red broken softly through the tainted morning light, seeping into the room like diamonds with their throats cut from ear to ear, spraying a glistening crown across the dingy bedroom wall like someone was still there to see it. Sticky fabric overflows into a splattering waterfall that runs down a crevice in the hardwood as if the surface-tension riverbed had only been dry for a season. The oversaturated silence pulls time from the walls and the window and the Bedspread Ocean and the little buttons on the back of her dress until only frost remains to carry her to the last syllable of recorded time and beyond to where this half-shattered spectacle doesn’t matter so much anymore.
Orange screams burst forth and flicker over my eyes long before my ears can hear them. The parched air like desert sand smothers my lips, cascading down my face rubbed raw from nightmares come to life all over again— crackle crackle crackle and the begging gets louder until I can feel the heat licking my own cheeks, not searing but dripping lucky me but this crusted salt mask can’t keep it out, the hazy gray smoke twirling up like a dancer in a perfect pirouette (she’s always a beautiful dancer, you know) and my soul is in the sky with her, twisting through the sunrise too gentle and gloriously pure for the sickening moment the torn morning goes silent.
Yellow flowers run like smooth silk across the hills that hold my soul in their hands, cradled deep among the stems that snap softly as I walk toward her— goddess of spring called again into the cold. again and again and again and again and— A sun-kissed breeze lifts the hair on her forehead and does nothing to warm her hands, bright fuchsia nail polish wrapped around daffodils, like they could save her bright fuchsia nail polish wrapped around the steering wheel, like it could save her but nothing ever can, this time and all the times before. I grip her stiff cardboard fingers and I promise next time next time next time I won’t let you go. The hills that hold her soul in their hands whisper softly over us, like they understand our bodies are our gardens and hers belongs to them now, wrapped up in delicate lace petals and a piece of me. Take good care of her, until time brings us crashing together again.
Green like her eyes, sparkling with the light of a thousand galaxies that spin into infinite time and drench me in Heaven itself. Liquefied jewels of her breath brush past my fingertips, hopes making my cosmic heart pound with fierce determination, keeping me going through the sour agony of fighting and overheating my soul that comes from the dust of hers. awake, dear heart full of molten life, as it all begins again, rebirth into a two-faced world of pain overheating my soul that comes from the dust of his; keeping me going through the sour agony of fighting and making my cosmic heart pound with fierce determination. Liquefied jewels of his breath brush past my fingertips, hopes that spin into infinite time and drench me in Heaven itself, green like his eyes, sparkling with the light of a thousand galaxies.
Blue crashing together again in a swirl of bubbly brilliance, buffeting me with a war-torn tide of needles and tears. The fire inside my chest rages through the tips of my fingers that claw like broken mirrors toward something, anything. he’s here he’ll help me he’s calling my name he’s screaming, muffled he’s fading away. The crushing vise gets tighter until I snap with his name on my lips and cut him out in little stars of living memory that float slowly away into his heart, I hope— we are a thousand shattered pictures glued together with next time, next time.
Indigo morning goes silent as the soft sunrise pours down from the horizon like thick paint coming to coat me from the inside out. The viscous moonlight sludges down to greet us, the world a snow globe of fading starlight, a dreamspace that runs through our fingers like sugar-coated snow, and I can feel in my bones that it’s time. I think he feels it too. Our hands strangle the blood from our fingers and run run we can make it but the sky is getting thinner, dripping down in watery grey custard that explodes over our heads into a riot of beautiful veins like cracked pottery made whole. My body is fretted with golden fire the instant his hand slips from my grasp, a firefly flitting alone in a torrent that seems to whisper his name in electric sparks and shock my lips into a silent burning so like the one before that I can nearly taste the smoke on my tongue.
Violet doesn’t matter so much anymore when the swollen blotches spilling down arms, legs, face of gold-leaf glass are a façade to hide with sweeps of delicate destruction the fragmented life inside. I pool to the surface in a rushing gasp of gravity, I sink to the bottom of my organic ocean like an ancient relic of kings left adrift until sand has worn the truth away. He frames himself above me in a golden halo of promises—the earth sings when he touches it and my heart joins in for the chorus of interwoven rivers that meet in the prism at the end of the universe’s beginning.
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It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue, / green beautiful green. / It’s simple: it isn’t over, it’s just begun. It’s green. It’s still green.
Richard Siken, from “Meanwhile”
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