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Original Work - Blog Posts
I wanted to post this cuz I think it's awesome. Lemme know what you think plz!!
Aindreas truly didn’t mean to catch the eye of Eiran. But now, facing down the bastard, Calen, panting and kneeling over his stomach where Aindreas knows he had hit Calen with acid, he can’t find it in themselves to regret it. Eiran had caught his eye at a neutral ground's nightclub, and they orbited each other like stars for months before Eiran had made the first move. Enemies to lovers was not something Aindreas had ever predicted for himself, but the gentle demeanor and sunshine exterior of Eiran was irresistible.
Hero and villain stand on opposite sides of a ruined street. Sand decorated the ground and parts of the road had holes melted into them; some of them were still sizzling. Buildings are leveled around them, sirens blaring somewhere off in the distance. Most of the leveled buildings are covered in sand, Calen had struck out wildly in the desperate hope of hitting Aindreas; they were equally matched in long range combat, Aindreas’ acid proved an effective shield for the sand Calen threw around. Aindreas himself had not been very careful either, kneeling on both knees on the pavement of the leveled city, he knew that several buildings, especially foundations, had been melted through when Aindreas’ aim had been off. Calen had the wonderful ability to infuriate Aindreas into carelessness.
The sun was setting, fiery rays of red and orange light spilling across the leveled city. Light was dimming in the world, like the light of Aindreas’ eyes. They are at a standstill, after throwing magic at each other for what felt like hours, neither of them making any substantial ground on the other. The sounds of emergency services rushing towards the crumpled buildings were the only sounds in the otherwise still street besides the panting of both hero and villain. An unspoken agreement hung in the air. One of them would not feel the summer sun again.
Calen is the first to rise, stumbling to his feet, unstable from the injuries and exhaustion. Aindreas doesn’t move, he doesn’t need to, acid had been pooling in his palms since he stopped moving, just like the copper taste of blood in his mouth. He knows his only hope of surviving the battle was taking out Calen in one fell swoop. There isn’t much hope for him, he didn’t have the proper training that Calen did. Maybe if he did, Aindreas could win.
“How could you?” Calen says as his voice cracks. “Eiran is mine! He belongs to me.”
“He’s not property,” Aindreas says back, shouting over the distance that separated the two. “I’m sorry that it came at the cost of your friendship, but he chose me!”
Calen’s face turns red over the white sheen of exhaustion. The sand surrounding Aindreas rises as Calen raises his trembling arms, and even as far as Aindreas is, he can hear the muttered spells Calen whispers, pleading with the magic in his spirit to give him energy. Aindreas, limbs protesting, rises out of his kneeling position to his feet as well, calling upon the ever-faithful magic inside him to defend himself from the attacks that he knows are forthcoming.
“Veniat ad me, virtus mea defendat me,” Aindreas chants, the acid that had been pooling in his hands rises, twisting and writhing in his palms, suddenly alive. The magic is slower, writhing through his arms, sluggish where it had been quick before. When he quit St. Henry’s School for Magicked Boys, he never expected to end up here. He wanted to change the world, reform society on the whole and for the better, not spend his days fighting meaningless battles. What a waste of a career.
Calen could taste his fury, the palpable need for revenge tingled on his skin and seeped into his brain. Eiran had always been his, they had been friends since high school. They’d sworn a blood oath to each other when they graduated from St. Henry’s, they were as close as brothers. Then, out of nowhere, Eiran had started to pull away from him, from their mission.
They had always vowed to protect the city, to preserve it just the way it had always been. Aindreas had swayed Eiran to the wrong side of the decades long battle. Calen would win if it meant the end of him; maybe Eiran would see where he had been wrong when Calen was gone. Because they were wrong.
Calen began to chant louder, his voice coming out clearer as the magic in his spirit responded to his plea for strength. His feet lifted off the ground, sand whipping itself into a frenzy around him. He shot a hand out in front of him, shooting magic, wind, and sand towards Aindreas. Aindreas’ mouth was moving, and a wave of liquid acid shot from his palms, protecting his body and melting the sand onto the ground. Calen threw another wave of sand, this one washing down from the sky like the waves of an ocean crashing down onto a beach.
Aindreas barely blocks the second wave, his arm pushing itself up from where he stood, trembling as it is raised. Calen grins; gotcha. He summons everything he has in him; time to end this, once and for all. He shoots sand as fast as he can: up, under, on the left and right. Even as the amount of sand tapers off with each wave, the acidic defense is also. Exhaustion seeps into Calen’s bones, his arms lag and the magic answers his calls slower, the blasts sluggishly making their way through the air, falling where Aindreas stands. But where Calen is weaking slowly, Aindreas weakens faster. Sand begins creeping its way behind Aindreas’ defenses. Then, a wave of sand isn’t met with a wall of acid. The weight of the sand brings Aindreas to his knees. Calen has the briefest notion that he should stop, Aindreas is down, but the niggling feeling that Aindreas deserves death refuses Calen’s small attempts to quit the battle now and run for his life.
Aindreas groans, a pained sound winding its way through the air as he hunches over his side, blood pooling in the fabric of his clothing. Sand was sharp, all the better for cutting the dog, the filth, the cretin. His own wound throbs, as time passed on the defensive, the biting wounds ate away at his skin. The burning and sizzling also cauterized the wound, stopping any bleeding before it started. As Aindreas would bleed, Calen would retain his strength.
Calen mustered one more effort, even as his knees trembled, and his vision foggy. Calen piles up sand above the cowering man, dumping pounds of sand on him, burying him in sharp rocks, cushioning his dying body in earth. As his vision goes black, he grins, sharp corners and blood leaking through his teeth. He had won, and now it was time for him to rule.
(A call is placed when two super-powered individuals are found collapsed on the same street. One of them would spend the rest of their life in prison. But for now, first responders load them into separate vehicles. Digging into a pile of sand was lent to the fire fighters, the task difficult. The man buried underneath could hardly be classified as human, but if anyone was the monster, it was the intact body on the other side of the street. The buried man’s skin was more cuts and bruises than anything else, and the blood rapidly pooling out of several large injuries had the paramedics scrambling for emergency blood bags. He would be lucky to survive with severe scarring.)
Aindreas had the briefest recollection of flashing lights and pain, so much pain. A finger forced his eye open, and a bright line shone into it, and as he flinched away, he could hear the shouts of “Survivor! I have a survivor here!” There was movement, Aindreas wasn’t sure if it was the ground beneath him or himself. Maybe both, probably both. He came back to himself, blinking crusty eyes open to a white hospital room. Shit. He couldn’t be here. It’s dark, the blinds drawn closed and the lights dimmed. The kindness is not lost to him, especially because of his eyes’ sensitivity.
He opened his mouth to do, what? A hoarse, croaking sound forced its way out as Aindreas leaned his head up, the rest of his body held down by some immovable force. His vision was still blurry and spotty. A plastic cup of cold, so cold but so so refreshing water was pressed to his lips. He drunk it greedily, trying not to gasp or choke. There was a person holding the cup, someone important, who was it? He tilted the cup slowly, allowing Aindreas only a few sips at a time. Blinking away the exhaustion and the confusion, Aindreas turned his head to look at the person next to him and proceeded to choke on the water flowing down his parched throat.
“Careful there, Addy,” Eiran said as he chuckled softly, wiping the spilt water on Aindreas’ chin. “I really don’t want you to go out via drowning after surviving your fight.”
“What are you doing here?” Aindreas asked, his voice was hoarse, and his throat ached from the small effort. Eiran leaned back into his small plastic hospital chair and smiled sadly, not looking him in the eyes.
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“Why aren’t you with Calen? He’s your best friend.”
“Calen almost killed you; he was ruthless and used too much force. How could I support him after that?” Calen spoke softly, a hand coming up to cradle his chin. He was looking at Aindreas with soft and loving eyes. Aindreas knows that he is a bad person for it. Eiran was happier without him, but Aindreas couldn’t stay away.
“So did I, we were both fighting for our lives, intent on killing each other.” Maybe Aindreas was wrong for doing so, killing was never something he ever wanted to make himself believe he could do; but after the first time someone died in his arms, the system itself and the rules he ascribed himself too seemed broken. His mother had been diagnosed with cancer, her body was weak from working two jobs to support Aindreas, so the treatment only drained her more. Dropping out of school to help pay the bills was the only way they would continue to survive. Since then, life had become a game of survival, and he was really bad at it.
Eiran searched Aindreas’ gaze, his eyes unwavering in their intensity. “I don’t blame you for what you had to do to survive, I know Calen is wrong.”
“So was I,” Aindreas said weakly, dropping Eiran’s gaze to where his hand met Aindreas’. “I wasn’t just defending myself. I was attacking him.” The unspoken repercussions of his actions hung in the air like a fog, waiting to devour Aindreas in a flawed system. He wouldn’t fight it, dragging Eiran through years of court appearances and witness stands just for him to be condemned.
After Aindreas’ mother died, his father always absent from his life, going back to school was impossible. He wanted nothing more than to be a hero, gallivanting through the city and saving people, people like him. It seemed almost impossible, until it wasn’t. Aindreas wanted to think his mother would have been proud of him, but he wasn’t sure.
Aindreas wanted to change the world for the better, improve the broken system. Everyone deserved a chance, right?
(Outside, the police gathered. Heroes are called and a gathering of magic so great it pales in comparison to the Council of Mages and Magicked Folk begins to collect. They were preparing. The villain inside the hospital was dangerous. Even injured, the magical capabilities of any scared and cornered mage were worth the extra protection. A group of protection mages lift spells around the whole hospital, and a group of offensive mages begin to discuss strategy. The villain inside the hospital will not surrender easily.)
Calen was pissed. He had been awake for almost two days, and nobody had come for him. The midday sun filtered through the window, heating his room and his blood. His mother and father had called, insisting they were busy with the upcoming semester. The group of freshman mages were apparently more difficult than previous years. His mother and father ran the top university for magicked folk. They supported him through high school and college, he earned his way into the college that they ran, no matter who said it was rigged. His whole family worked for what they got, just like everybody who succeeded in this world.
The people who didn’t obviously just didn’t work hard enough. His parents had made sure he knew that from the beginning. When he questioned it, they had brought him to the camp of free loaders underneath the city bridge. It was clear, well, they made it clear, that no one there had a job, nor would they ever contribute to society. They deserved to be homeless; they deserved to suffer.
When Aindreas dropped out of school to help his mother, as stupid as that was, Calen could maybe understand. But then Aindreas had to come back up from the weeds of the unworthy to try to revamp society as a whole; how stupid. His mother was poor because she just didn’t try hard enough. Calen thought Eiran understood that, until Aindreas just had to come in and manipulate him into thinking he was in love. How ridiculous. Eiran had always and should always be loyal to Calen.
Calen could understand why his parents didn’t visit him; they were busy, too busy for their injured son. But the fact that Calen had yet to Eiran made a vein pulse in his forehead and an uncomfortable feeling settle in his chest. It never went away, the disgusting feeling festering in his chest and often crawling up to the base of his throat. As Calen sat in the hospital bed, covered in bandages and casts, his fists refused to relax from their clenched position and Calen began to believe Eiran was a traitor.
When they met in high school, Calen thought they would be together forever. A stupid idea, now that he thinks about it. Calen only ever wanted to improve an already wonderful society. Everyone who was successful worked hard for it, and those who didn’t weren’t. He thought Eiran understood that.
Eiran came from a family that painstakingly worked their way up the social and capital ladder to end up at the top. Eiran wasn’t always rich, yet somehow Calen understood him. But then Aindreas came in with his sob story about how he didn’t need to work for power or influence. Like he expected things to just be handed to him. And frustratingly enough, it was. He never finished high school, never worked his way through college, never put his everything into getting an apprenticeship like Calen did.
Why? Why did he succeed? Why did Calen fail? He worked so hard. The burning in Calen’s nose refused to make its way to tears tracking down his face, he would not cry. So instead, he sat in a hospital bed, alone, with his fists clenched at his sides and his glare directed at a small patch of the wall in front of him. Feelings were weakness, if his father were here, he would be boxed over the head. Yet the feelings rushed in, unbidden and unwanted, boiling inside of him, clogging his brain and his senses until all he could think about was his rage. Cold fury like a frozen blade, a ruthless thought of revenge, cut through the fog in his head. Aindreas was always going to be tried for the destruction he wreaked on the city, but without the lawyer support that Calen and his parents had, he would end up in more trouble.
What better way to get back at Aindreas than to prove to him that Eiran never changed. Calen would swoop in at the right time, being sweet and promising that he had changed. Eiran would never know until it was too late. Eiran would never leave him again. A cold grin stretched across Calen’s face, seeds of malice being planted into his head in the fury and open wound of Eiran’s betrayal. Yes, everything had to go to plan.
Aindreas would rot forever, like he was always supposed to. Calen would rise to power, just like he knew he was always going to as well. Eiran would make a wonderful first war trophy. Proof of Calen’s superiority. Calen even bet that Eiran would look amazing in chains, tied down like the traitorous dog he was at the foot of Calen’s throne.
(The police and heroes finally begin their invasion into the hospital. Cries of alarm go out from scared nurses and startled doctors, but the invading forces don’t stop until they come to a door. The chief of police and the most powerful hero in attendance are the first to enter, drawing a cry of alarm from the inhabitants. The sun sets behind the mountains in the distance as a villain is packed into the back of a police van, never to see the light of day again.)
Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Original Work Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary:
Games are made to be fun, to bring joy, but not this game, this game is here to tell you more than just the story in the script. But it's only up to you to know the truth, do you want to participate? If so, join Sasha Taylor in this story that begins with three little Soldiers and an old house, in a world where, in the hands of the right people, toys aren't just for playing with.
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First story is already here! I hope you like it and if there's anything strange in the writing, let me know and I'll fix it quickly!
NEW BOOK DROP
We stood still in the garden, holding our breaths as the foul stench of rotting bodies emitted from The Oracle invaded our nostrils. We heard the ancient whisperings from her, and watched in horror as the dark smog weaved it's way past us, images flashing in our head- bright stars, the sky falling and exploding, the ground ripping open beneath us and clawing us down into a fiery pit- And a girl sitting on the shores of an island. It made all of our heads spin. None of us have seen a prophecy this extreme in our entire lives, they were always so small. Now this? The sky falling? What did it mean?
Empyrean is a story about royalty and magic, pain, loss, and growth. Loosely based on Greek Mythology, the characters will be pushed to their extreme and struggle to get back up again. If you like Percy Jackson but want something original that covers serious topics of loss, depression, and other topics, this is the book for you.
HERE IT IS!
You should totally read this becauseeee there's a new chapter probably dropping today at 10:00 pm ADT <333
Ninth house/Hellbent fic blurb
This takes many creative liberates and expands the Lethe concept but i wanted to float it out there.
When Daniel ended up in the hospital, Alfie tried to reconcile why he would do that to himself. He never found a good answer but vowed to help Daniel put his interest to rest - to solve the mysterious allure of magics with him. When they were freshman in college, Daniel and Alfie were approached by Dean Sandow. They were given an address, a time, and a promise that everything would be explained and they had seemingly been waiting for the opportunity. When they had arrived - Daniel drove them - a woman and the Dean were arguing softly. “I thought we only did one Dante! This will screw everything up. What about when they get to my age, huh? Will there be two that year, two Virgils?” “We’ll see who makes it.” “They’re boys, Sandow!” “We need a Dante, and we should consider opening more spots. Maybe just three people aren't enough. It's dangerous, maybe we need someone with a medical job. The trustees agree.” The dean's attention turned to the two, ignoring the woman. She seemed upset, and Alfie wondered if she truly was interested in protecting the values of whatever they were doing or keeping herself protected from future issues. You see, while Daniel had his interest in the magic world all his life, Alfie had nothing worthy of being chosen for an office that he knew of. Sure, he had a knack for patching up people and volunteered at the hospital since he was 14, but that wasn't anything special he thought. “Welcome,” Sandow smiled at them. “I’m glad you could make it, Daniel, Alfie.” “Thank you for the invitation,” Daniel said - diplomatic. Alfie twitches his neck to the side, hearing dogs? under the porch. “Are there dogs under the porch?” he asked, taking a step closer. He clicks his tongue gently, coaxingly. Slowly, a beast steps into the fall light. He was beautiful, almost skeletal with thick black coats and sharp teeth. “There you are.” the hound sniffed his hand before nudging it. “Hungry, boy?” he asked, offering a piece of jerky from his bag. The hound takes it. Sandow gives a clear whistle and the dog retreats. Alfie frowned, peeking under the porch. There was certainly not much space, but more than six pairs of eyes stared at him. He hummed and tossed a few more pieces of jerky into the hole before he stood. “Why do they sleep under the porch? Do you feed them?” “They’re spirits, Mr. Quincy. Bound to protect the house, as well as the delegates of Lethe,” the woman tells him. “Lethe?” Daniel asked. “Spirits? What is this?” “We’re aware of your interest in magic, Daniel, Alfie, and were hoping you would accept our proposition. Michelle here is Virgil, a member of Lethe who keeps watch over the other 8 magical societies,” Sandow explains. “Daniel, your attempted elixir was the closest anyone outside of Lethe has ever gotten, and we would like to offer you the position of Dante, her student.” “And Alfie?” “Asclepius, a new position to look after the delegates and those affected by the rituals. He would learn and watch beside Dante, of course, if you accept.” Daniel looked ready to jump with glee, and Alfie smiled gently. Daniel looked at him, wanting so to join but wanting Alfie with him. Alfie nodded. “Yes.” Dean Sandow offered a hand, and Daniel shook it. Something wiggled in Alfie’s chest like his body was trying to tell him this was a bad idea.
" BEACON 44 " - WORK IN PROGRESS/STAGES
Hello, I am making this comic, so I want to share it here, I also say it on different platforms, I know that the drawings do not look good or that perhaps it is not understood but I promise that I will improve it in the future
A little teaser ;))
Do you like reading fanfiction? Do you like original stories? What about D&D? If so, then you’re in luck! I just posted a story on ao3, and you should check go check it out if it interests you ;)
Made a book. Need thoughts. Tell me what y'all think. Please. (^._.^)ﾉ
A Chance Meeting
Fandoms: Original Work & Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Rating: General Audiences
No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Frankenstein’s Creature & Original Character
Summary: “In the 23rd century, another strange creature meets and befriends Frankenstein's monster.”
Additional Context: I wrote this as a Halloween-themed sequel/revival of an original Wattpad story I wrote many years ago. If anyone is interested in reading it in PDF form or would like further context/information, feel free to shoot me an ask or message!
La prima pagina di M.A.S.K., a crossover adventure, facilmente leggibile
The first page of M.A.S.K., a crossover adventure, easier to read
That's my original work, M.A.S.K., a crossover adventure. hope you enjoy and tell me if I should continue this series.
Hi!!! I loved the fifth chapter of Rakul and the third chapter of Shimsiam. I'm so happy that you are writing them, and I'm always excited when I see you upload a new chapter 🥰 I was wondering what stories inspired you to start writing about demons. Can you recommend some? 👀
Hello and thank you so much for the Ask! While I can’t think of any one story that inspired my Demon original characters, in my notes from 1/31/22 just over one year ago, I reference a few movies as story and place inspirations: Maleficent, Legend (1985), and The Last Unicorn. I’d written a little over 1k of a story, inspired by the dark and romantic lyrics of the song “The Killing Moon”, about a demon Thrawn who finds a teenage girl, Elise (female Eli) in the forest, captures and seduces her, then takes her to the Black Fortress as an offering to the evil Demon King there (demon Emperor Palpatine), but in the last minute lets Elise escape from the rest of the demons and he is imprisoned. Elise helps him escape his prison cell, but she is severely injured and near death as he flies her away from the Fortress. So there are several elements of that story that DID end up becoming part of Rakul, but that specific story is one of my few truly abandoned ideas. And it was reborn into Rakul and the sequel to Rakul, which will feature demon Thrawn and demon Thrass, as well as Elise as female Eli once again (which is at least half written, but the exact ending point is undetermined at the moment). That sequel was begun on Feb. 2, 2022, and the first chapter of Rakul was begun Feb. 23, 2022 and published on AO3 2/25/22. Anyway, most of the inspiration for all of these stories was simply some dark song lyrics and a certain mood. I actually didn’t start reading a lot of romance novels until later in 2022, and I actually haven’t read any demon stories like mine before, so there isn’t any specific novel I could recommend that inspired my demons unfortunately.
Finally, there IS a very lovely romantic fanfic about demon!Thrawn and human Eli already on AO3:
yes get ready for my oc / oc fanfic bitches
You are allowed to write about any character you want.
You are allowed to write your shitty OC.
You are allowed to write entire novels about your shitty OC.
You are allowed to do meme fills for your shitty OC.
You are allowed to play Mary Sue Bingo where your shitty OC wins every row.
You are allowed to continue extending your shitty OC’s life whichever way you want.
You are allowed to say “OC” and not mentally prepend “shitty.”
You are allowed to enjoy this creative process even if the entire output is a fat soggy word count for your unimpressive, inconsistent character.
You are allowed to like writing whatever the hell you want.
But let’s pretend this is about this OC.
You are allowed to give her boyfriends, hobbies, quirks, superpowers, crappy AUs…all of it. Totally available.
You are allowed to write. People who don’t want to read it know where the “back” button is.
Thanks for giving me a chance ❤
Konner and Kelly from this thing I'm writing called 'The Traffic Light Island', a story where two kids move to this island and "get roped" into the hero/villain system, except the system isnt normal, some of the "good" guys arnt good and some of the "bad guys arnt bad. I'll explain it more in the future but these are their morning designs
The night hung heavy with anticipation as the neon glow of the city's underbelly illuminated the makeshift racetrack. The air crackled with the energy of imminent competition, and the distant hum of engines hinted at the approaching storm.
Amidst the throng of racers, Diana revved the engine of her cherry pink Chevrolet Corvette, the sleek curves of the sports car gleaming under the neon lights. The scent of burning rubber permeated the air as she eyed her opponent, the legendary 'Tyrant' known for his burned orange Toyota Supra MK IV.
Engines roared to life, and the racers edged to the starting line, the anticipation mounting with each passing second. Nick, masked and clad in the shadows of his reputation, revved his Supra's engine, the orange glow of the tail lights casting an eerie aura around the car.
With a signal, the race exploded into motion. Tires screeched as the two vehicles catapulted into the night, streaks of cherry pink and burned orange leaving trails of color in their wake. The city became a blur as they navigated the winding streets, each turn a test of skill and nerve.
Diana's Corvette, agile and daring, hugged the curves with precision. The roar of her engine harmonized with the pulsating beat of the city, creating a symphony of speed. Nick's Supra, a manifestation of controlled power, surged forward like a burning comet, the orange glow illuminating the darkness.
The roar of engines intertwined with the pulsating beat of the city, and amidst the chaos, Nick's Supra and Diana's Corvette danced, each maneuver a carefully calculated step in their high-speed ballet. The neon-lit streets became their canvas, and the race, their masterpiece.
As the racers hurtled through the urban labyrinth, each strategically timed drift and acceleration became a subtle exchange of wits. The neon-lit streets transformed into a high-stakes chessboard, where every move could be the difference between victory and defeat.
The crowd lining the racetrack erupted into cheers, their voices blending with the roar of the engines. In the heart of the race, amidst the adrenaline and rivalry, Diana and Nick pushed their cars to the limit. The finish line loomed, a distant beacon in the chaos.
As the finish line neared, the air crackled with the tension of uncertainty. In a photo finish, the two cars crossed the line simultaneously, leaving the outcome hanging in the balance. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even in the anonymity of their masks, the exchange of glances between Diana and Nick spoke volumes.
The silence that followed was broken by the announcement, "It's a tie!" The racetrack echoed with the revelation, and in that moment, Diana earned her moniker as 'the Empress.' The mysterious 'Tyrant' had found an equal, and the legend of their rivalry had begun.
if today was my last
If today was my last How would I spend it? would I take in all the little things, gathering all those little details that I have always missed, my head has always been too full of all these things that keep me up at night. Or would I still just float through it all Still just a shell of the kid I once was, all the vibrancy and wonder having left years ago.
Would I go to the library? to collect a few last lines Letting them live on the tip of my tongue. only to set them free with my last breath. letting the feeling of ink on the page, be the last thing my fingertips will feel. the smell of paper and secrets, invading my senses and welcoming me home at last.
Would I go to the school that has hallways I have haunted? having drifted through them, my eyes empty and my brain always too full with all those thoughts. stopping in the classes to whisper a few final goodbyes even though nobody would notice or hear me pausing the disorder and energy in those hallways, for just a few moments, finally letting myself take it all in.
would I go to the forest wherein the deepest part I could lie on its soft grass floor, in the utter calm of it letting my lungs finally breathe in the crisp air, the feeling of its coldness expanding within them. closing my eyes for the last time, finally letting myself feel at peace and safe, hearing the bird's singing floating around me, their cries being the last thing I will ever hear.
My last words will be uttered so softly that not even the wind would hear them, when they escape this prison of my mind, floating away with my final exhale. My last breath will flow out feeling free for the first time, escaping into the world seeing it all.
child of grey
My father was of ebony. My mother of ivory I am the child of grey. Not enough ebony to be of my father To little ivory to be with my mother
My heart was of half-ice. A cold so unfeeling So a cold almost to the point of burning, never enough feeling to care my head half of snakes calculating and cruel always planning and waiting for the perfect moment to strike
My heart is made of half gold. Tender and caring beautiful and full of love, perfect to suit you my head half made of fire burning hot, always craving for something to fuel it unpredictable and starving for its next game
I am the child of grey. With the head of flame and scales calculating and unpredictable, Ready to strike and always to keep you on edge. And my heart of ice and gold blinding you with its beauty, while slowing killing you with its burning ice
i love you
I have loved you since We were young. barely old enough to even understand what love even was. the feeling of pure and utter devotion I had felt for you before I fully realized How much love would ruin me. How much it would kill me Tearing me apart, never letting me go Stealing away my heart, never giving it back
haunted
I can still feel your fingers drifting down my skin as I still sit here after what seems like hours later they crawl down my neck, and back up my arms, through my hair. While your words, echo in through my ears with subtle warnings and orders no to be crossed.
dear adora, from elliott
To the little girl, I used to be do you remember all those nights when you would stay awake Thinking and dreaming up all those far away hopes and dreams You would stare up at the ceiling planning out how you would do it all
All those late nights Planning on how you would save the day Becoming that perfect superhero Swooping in to rescue everyone, Saving all the kittens from trees, Putting out fires Freeing your family from that living nightmare they would never wake from
Remember all those promises you would use to make Between you and the world outside that shitty apartment window Telling yourself it would get better, rehearsing it so much it was branded in your heart and brain Telling yourself those thoughts would go away That you could wake up And be the perfect daughter You would wake up and be a girl and believe it Your body would no longer feel so wrong
Spending all those nights and early mornings Praying to that god you were so hopelessly clinging to Begging him to make it all make sense Those thoughts stuck circling in your head All the worries and fears that had kept piling up Tangling themselves together
What would you think of me now if you saw who you became Would you be proud? Proud that I finally found myself That I had finally realized who I was Would you be happy? Happy that I had made it this far, Being able to finally make it to sixteen, even though you didn’t?
I guess you had been right when you thought you wouldn’t make it For me to make it, you had to die That I had to kill everything that you were Stealing away your name Cutting off those long curly locks, everyone had adored scarring that beautiful skin, that used to be your pride and joy
mama don’t you know
Mama, don’t you know your little baby is sitting in their room? Crying their eyes out screaming for help Screaming for you to help them Begging for you to love them for who they are
Mama, can’t you see the way they're pleading? How their pleading for you to love them For you to finally tell them they're good enough For you to please noticed this once how much they need you.
Mama, do you ignore the blank stares and the emptiness? The way they wear barcodes on their body How no matter how much they try, they can't get you to love them
Mama, do you ignore all the blood and tears? Pretending you don't hear them crying out at night Acting like you don't notice the blood and bandages.
Mama do you spend your days looking for new ways to hurt them? You filled their heart with all your spite and hatred. Poisoning your little baby before they had a chance to grow Making them believe they were a weed Never let them be able to believe in anything else.
side show mirrors
You call me an attention whore. Only because my heart screams out for any type of love something you never gave look me in the eyes. And tell me. "I'm always craving attention." All I could do was Laugh. what you call craving attention I call a cry for help. Haven't you noticed that? You never taught me. how to ask for help
my anger
my anger is a cigarette with every hit, it pulls me in the rage fills my lungs like smoke killing me a little each time disdain exhaling like smoke disgust clinging like the smell of stale cigarette contempt lingers in my mouth and on my tongue like the bitterness of menthol repulsion circling around the air, smothering those around me like the smoke
her cravings
The girl craved depravity. She loved it in her twisted way. Loved how it made her feel The way it felt as the darkness consumed her. How it crept through her veins stealing its way into her heart making it's self its own little home inside her heart. Whispering their tales of the demented and cursed screaming the depths of its madness into her heart. Corrupting her, molding her, stealing her Twisting her into a demented shell of her once pure self.
darling
Darling, I see your eyes sparkle with the light of a thousand stars They shine light in my darkest night. Darling, I see the gold in your veins It glows with the ichor of our old gods. Dripping down your fingertips From the gashes, you made into them. Darling, I see the night sky in your hair the way it shines and moves with the utter darkness of the stars darling, I see the sea in your mind the way your mood changes like the tides You rage like the sea. And you hold your desire like the sea holds the creatures.
excerpt from a poem i'm writing
Reason 1 to finish your manuscript:
You can’t read fanfiction of your work unless you, actually, y’know, finish and publish it.
I was going to do some more art for Obey Me fun things, but I have no ideas right now so I’m sharing these now instead. Maybe more soon though. April 26th, 2023