#˗ˏˋ ( ✞ ) ━━━ i want to make this violence a stranger in my mouth / verse.

[godstains]

∗ 31﹕ sender  runs  and  jumps  into  receiver’s  arms . surely they will catch her.

 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺  ( accepting! )

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤand   there   was   no   true   way   for   one   to   prepare   for   what   was   to   come   :   andres   entering   the   home,   basket   of   oranges   in   arms   to   offer   other   in   their   lodging,   expecting   nothing   less   than   to   see   the   shining   face   of   their   familiar   waiting   for   their   return.   door   opens   and   the hunter   pushes   way   inside,   shuffling   between   movement   and   balancing   fruit   basket   in   grasp   —   and   then   it   happens.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤrapid   padding   of   feet   come   almost   too   fast   for   andres   to   process,   golden   beams   of   light   rush   towards   them   at   lightning   fast   speed   ;   there's   barely   time   to   react   now   and   andres   makes   a   rash   decision,   dropping   orange   basket   onto   the   floor   to   hold   out   free   arms   in   order   to   catch   the   girl.   tumbling   of   oranges   are   harsh   on   hunter's   ears,   but   are   quick   to   be   usurped   by   melodious   laughter   that   follows.   weight   in   arms   is   steady   again and they hold girl's form secure to theirs —   andres   gives a wide look  at   the   familiar   nestled   scarily   comfortable   in   their   arms.   how unfortunate for the oranges.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝   you don't plan on making this a habit whenever i return from the market, do you?   ❞

[godstains]

∗ 35﹕ sender  curls  up  against  receiver  in  their  sleep . she’s just a kittie cat ur honor

 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺  ( accepting! )

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤsun   peaks   it's   curious   head   through   curtains   of   their   bedroom.  beams dance across wooden floors, gives flash of warning — reprimanding them   :   these   hours   do   not   belong   to   a   monster,   it   says-   rays   of   light   burn   deep   into   andres'   back   as   if   to   punish   them   for   this   mistake.   i   know-   they   answer-   but   i   cannot   close   my   eyes.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤthis   much   rings   true.   eternal   dweller   of   night   all   but   shunned   by   those   blessed   by   daytime's   kiss,   favoured   by   divinity   that   has   long   cast   this   dreary   soul   to   damnation.   these   hours   do   not   belong   to   a   monster.   they   do   not   belong   to   andres,   not   anymore.   curse   surges   through   breathless   veins   —   the   moon   is   their   lover   now,   forevermore.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤandres   had become a   sheep   with   no   direction   of   a   shepherd.   open   game   to   the   BIG   BAD   WOLF   that   will   no   doubt   swallow   them   whole in the night.   young   being   once   cried   and   cried,   praying   to   the   heavens   and   the   angels   and   to their   god,   asking   why.   after   all   this   time,   why   is   it   andres who must suffer?

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤwhy   can’t   they   know   the   truth,   what   is   the   truth?   it's   origin,   it's   master-   where   was   the   sun,   who   would   never   reprimand   them?   the   light,   who   would   guide   them   through   the   dark?   where   was   it?   where   was   she now?   (   she? what becomes of their god?   )–   dead?   they   had   to   scoff-   but   it   doesn't   come   out   at   all.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤandres   used   to   ask   anyone   above   for   mercy   upon   long-time   servant,   but   they   won’t   hear   it,   they   know   that.   SHE   won’t   hear   it,   of   that   they   are   sure.   andre   was   lost,   with   nowhere   to   turn.   broken,   with   no   guiding   hand. none other than the one so daintily clutching bedsheets at their side — ever so free of worry, it seemed.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤlips   pull   back,   if   only   by   a   fraction,   and   andres   points   gaze   toward   body   at   foot   of   their   bed.   desperate   cries   have   fallen   on   deaf   ears   for   so   long,   prayers   have   long   died   on   the   tongue   of   a   sinner   —   and   yet,   there   appeared   one   being   who   reached   out   a   hand,   guiding   this   lost   sheep   back   from   own   darkness.   a   savior,   springing   forth   heretical   ideals   that   andres   would   not   mind   adopting.   wouldn't   mind   if   they   had   led   them   astray.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤthese   hours   do   not   belong   to   a   monster.   perhaps,   the   daunting   sun   in   the   sky   speaks   truth   in   that   regard.   but   as   the   light   dances   freely   upon   golden   locks   of   familiar,   andres   cannot   help   but   agree.   they   do   not   belong   to   a   monster-   but   an angel such as she, should be able to ascend. become that light. covet those hours and bask freely, as her master could no more.

[godstains]

i don't know what to do with my hands when you're not near me.

𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃   𝐀𝐒𝐊 ( accepting! )

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤa   lamb   to   slaughter,   that   is   how   andres   remains   in   cosmos'   light   —   own   shepherd   long   lost   in   sea   of   darkness   and   deaf   to   its   prayers   and   cries   for   mercy. it's a cruel beast that andres feeds, desolation leading them to this moment here : cold and unfeeling hands somehow warmed by those unlike own.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤthis   shepherd   of   theirs-   for   whom   andres   bares   its   neck,   for   whom   andres   welcomes   the   slaughter-   with   hands   warm   as   heart   once   was,   only   further   leads   them   deeper   into   the   abattoir   of   such   love. it is cruel and it is messy. it is one such love its own god refused them for so long — and so to bask in the shadows of someone like cosmos, holy witness to this damned being's despair, andres will gladly turn away from the light.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤhands   are   clasped   in   each   other,   dweller   brings   them   to   its   face   and   cheeks   are   cupped   tenderly   by   the   palms   of   lover.   they   press   them   close   and   lids   slide   shut   to   revere   in   feeling   —   to   cherish   gentle   touch.   heavy   lungs   release   a   breath   unneeded   and   andres   returns   steadfast   gaze   to   other-   maintaining   contact   between   eyes   and   skin   and   body-   and   it   bites.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤblunt   teeth   graze   skin   of   cosmos'   left   hand,   softly   first.   eyes   are   unwavering   in   their   shared   meeting   as   it   parts   lips   against   supple   flesh,   mouth   closing   over   the   mount   of   cosmos'   palm.   teeth   bury   themselves   in   skin   of   the   other,   making   home   in   the   dip   of   his   hand.   they   do   not   penetrate, but press deeply enough only to engrave andres' devotion to this god into patient flesh.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤonly   after   a   heated   moment   does   andres   release   cosmos,   fingers   pressing   into   the   indentions   left   behind.   they   are   warm   in   their   wake,   but   not   permanent.   andres   turns   head   once   more   and   allows   lips   to   graze   surface,   leaving   trails   of   phantom   kisses   along   the   wells   of   dentitions.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝   when i am not with you, count the headstones of my teeth in your hand. when they disappear, i will find you again — and i will remind your flesh of who it is that worships each inch, and every crevice of you.    ❞

[godstains]

❛  so don’t speak . just stay here with me , just breathe. ❜

 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄   𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇   𝐘𝐎𝐔   𝐈𝐍   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑  ( accepting! )

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤyoung dweller   of the night is on   its   hands   and   knees,   is   this   an   act   of   worship?   so   familiar;   how   many   times   has   it   found   itself   in   this   position?   only   for   their  god   do they throw themselves   so   lowly   to   utter   praise,   pretty   little   hymns   dancing   on   tongues   of   those   who   bare   their   very   soul   to   high   divinity;   what   an   honor   it   is   to   be   loved   by   them.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤthis   love,   however,   burns ever   hot   —   and   andres   wishes   to   worship   no   more.   ( wishes? why do they wish such thing? when has their faith become so damned fragile? ) vocal cords were ripped out and replaced with metal tubes in order to continue their praise, skin on hands now leather and rough to the touch in order to cradle so gently a crucifix at their chest.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤandres is not as they were before ; they have become unworthy to continue this path. they have fallen so far from god's good grace.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤwords come out in wavers, hands reach for hers and head is bowed. andres doesn't look up- can't- refuses to. if there were any tears left to cry, they would be shed- instead now, between them, andres is on its knees. heaving breaths unneeded for undead body and lungs without life. heart- though archaic- breaks in this reality.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝   i am . . scared, my lady. to whom do i ask these questions? to what degree do i speak my damning truth   —  ❞

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤandres   pauses   at   the   sensation   of   a   hand   resting   atop   its   head,   hears   her   voice   ring   some   soft-   melodic-   flowing   its   way   through   own   ears.   (   so   don’t   speak.   just   stay   here   with   me,   just   breathe.   )   and   so   they   do   just   that   —   breathes   until   lungs   can   home   anything   more.   comfort   doesn't   come   in   waves   like   they   expect,   doesn't   come   close   .   .   .   but   there   comes   choked   silence   from   the   hunter   who   still   refuses   to   meet   maiden's   gaze-   surely   undeserving   of   even   that.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤthe silence continues — and yet it continues to ring so loudly.

[godstains]

∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be .

 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺  ( accepting! )

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤgut   wrenches   ;   there's   a   foreign   feeling   that   plagues   the   depths   of   the   hunter's   being   —   one   that   feels   entirely   too   unpleasant   for   its   liking.   too   human.   one   foot   moves   closer   to   dwelling-   closer   again-   and   every   step   taken   towards   borrowed   home   sends   another   TICK   under   its   skin   and   slowly,   they're   festered.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤhow   many   times   already   has   andres   faced   mortality   in   this   fragile meat   box?   how   many   beasts   has   it   stared   down,   how   many   monsters   perceivably   stronger   then   they   have   already   been   butchered?   too   many   to   count,   none   that   matter   in   its journey   toward   repentance   —   and   yet,   none   have   sent   such   wavering   tracks   down   dweller's   spine   than   this.   than   them.   than   .   .   .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤthere's   a   hand   that   reaches   towards   doorknob,   it's   unlocked.   guard   is   further   standing   now   as   dominant   rests   ready   and   able   on   hilt   of   silver   blade   at   its   waist,   and   andres   pushes   through.   one   steady   step,   another   ahead   .   .   .   empty   as   far   as   eye   can   see.   andres   passes   living   area   with   feet   light   on   the   ground-   blade   drawn   now-   and   gaze   is   careful   to   sweep   premise.   it's   a   small   abode,   how   they   prefer   for   moments   such   as   this   ;   bedroom   is   all   that   is   left   now   and   andres   carries   on.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤdoor   to   chamber   is   agape   and   the   hunter   continues   on   with   swift   lurch   forward.   andres   no   longer   hesitates   and   passes   through   aperture   with   a   quickness,   confronting   figure   that   is   of   no   familiarity   to   them.   they   die,   then,   andres   thinks,   blade   deftly   lifted   to   the   neck   of   other.   that   knot   in   their   gut   tightens   tenfold   now,   sending   a   rare   hesitance   through   hunter's   hand.   it's   a   sickening   feeling,   one   that   pushes   forward   low   words   through   grimaced   lips.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝   you . . . who are you?   ❞