#.indeath

[ingolds]

‘ in the wood, even songbirds must be survivors. ’

     they could see themselves growing old in the woods. for centuries, that was all they knew: how the pines reached straight and jagged towards gray skies, how the streams would froth louder when the ice began to melt, where rabbits would dart quick and light to avoid their keen eye. adjusting back to civilization had been vastly more laborious than embracing the craggy mountains and weeping ferns of the wilderness around them.

     “ it's not as cruel as you make it sound. the forest can be unkind, of course - most places are. ” they feel nour's stare on them across the clearing, glittering gold and thoughtful in the air purpled by the promise of the sun rising. theo drags their fingertips down dew-dappled leaves, listens to where the birds have begun to whistle above. “ but they're not survivors here. they're inhabitants. it's their home, right? ” theo muses, mostly to themselves. “ i'm more a survivor of the wood than they are. i came and somehow made it back out. they have no desire to leave. that's not survival. ”

     they glance sidelong at nour, watching where he trails curious fingers over lichen bursting over a whittled trunk. though he no longer holds theo in the breadth of his vision, they know his attention is still on them. they speak a little quieter, cicadas beginning to croon in the spaces between branches.

     “ to me, that's living - not surviving. they flourish here. there's a difference. ”

@indeath

[chateautangerine]

@indeath asked: ❛ do you think a life has any value if one doesn’t leave some mark upon the world? ❜

Teenagers light up cigarettes by a beat-up car, three dots glowing across the street. Cliff stops reading what they wrote, and he turns his head.

“Quite profound,” he says, tepid.

When did they show up? He isn’t sure. It’s like trying to remember the start of a dream, Cliff one moment scribbling back to a fan letter; the next, inexplicably in the presence of this ghostly-haired stranger, a torn piece of paper on the table between them.

Does life have value if you don't leave a mark?

Royal blue ink and philosophical topics. Cliff thinks of his book—later, of a woman with his foggy blue eyes—and watches as someone climbs out of a window. The kids circle below, rooting.

“Well" —Cliff sips at lemonade. He swallows it— "that depends on whose world?" he ponders, the words floating like a bubble in the air. There's a far-off look to his face, and you can hear the inhales though his nose. "I'm celebrated, you know,” he says, then, with a heavy breath. "...Or he seems to think so."

He means the letter that was sent to him, currently on the table. It was written by a fourteen-year-old from Charlotte.

[vindicain]

‘ oh, and when this is over, remind me to give you a kiss. ’

“ promise? ” cain purrs, and it's sickly sweet, like hard candy left to melt on white-hot cement, like flower petals rotting where they've fallen off the stem. the arc of their blade is practiced, measured, restrained in a way that took years of practice. nour is intimately aware of the grace and speed cain is capable of, a watchful, silent presence over cain's shoulder on particularly interesting targets, but they find themselves wanting to show off for him anyway. surely, as someone that commits his own lion's share of violence, his opinion is worth considering.

blood gurgles from an open throat, oozing down either side of a wrinkled, brown neck, and the rattle of breath through fractured ribs is loud, perfect, like music to cain's ears. the stake he'd laughably tried to lunge at nour with harmlessly clatters out of his fingers. they drag the tip of their knife down the man's jaw, a caress in another world, and cut heavy-lidded, gleaming eyes to nour.

“ last time you didn't come through. it's not very nice to get my hopes up. ”

@indeath

[ebonyforged]

@indeath​​: ' i don’t think about the past, it’s always there anyway. '

     “I — that’s a very creative way of avoiding my question, Nour.” Ebony scoffs while she carefully strokes the velvety petals of the red rose that Nour gave her. She doesn’t quite know what to do with it yet, she only has one small plant in her entire apartment, and even that she struggles to keep alive during her long periods away from home. What does one do with a single red rose? Should she find a tall glass or vase to put it in?

     “Also, I’m sure you didn’t mean it, but it’s a little insensitive to say that to me.” She hopes her pout will be enough to sway him. The loss of her memories doesn’t bother her as much as it once did, but it remains that the past is not as much of a sure thing to her as it is to everyone else. “Come on, with what you are I’m sure you’ve experienced enough to fill multiple lifetimes. I just want to hear about some of the things you’ve seen. Consider it me living vicariously through you!”

[sorcerwar]

@indeath asked: but i feel like we have some kind of connection, right?

The show's over at the Metropolitan. People bustle about heading for exits, some loitering at the main hall. Others, hailing rides. Stephen is in a suit.

It could have been a disaster. It should have been, really. A serpent demon had suddenly stormed the city just hours before, Stephen on his way. Nour was there, too—a coincidence. They fought, the struggle smacking and launching Nour's case in the air, and he finally sliced it into quarters, catching the violin before it shattered and splintered over the street. He punched a portal for them just before the concert started. Now, it's over.

"Yyeah. Funny you mention that," he says with a dry sort of irony, croaky. His head barely bobs. "Third time's the charm." And this is only the second time they've met.

Stephen has not mentioned that they ran into each other in another universe; his hair was white there, not black. People come by to sing Nour's praises. "Anyway," Strange says, looking back from the admirers, "pretty sure what you're feeling is the 'thanks for saving the show' thing."

[riddlethat]

@indeath asked: ‘ put the gun down, dearest. i have news ! ’ more random dialogue prompts (accepting)

Footsteps approaching. No one is supposed to be here. Hands moving and hyperaware; it could be Batman or Robin. Edward takes the gun and whips around.

Nour suddenly appears from under the doorway. Edward reels.

"Riddle me this," he says. He sets the gun down, wired, with a distinct and audible clack. He never looks away. "What do you call Two-Face at the end of a gun?" he asks. His computer chugs. "...A no-face."

Not that Nour is Harvey. But he gets the message across.

Edward sighs, still exasperated and partly strung-out, and could possibly launch into an inexhaustible tirade because that’s what the Riddler does. But Nour is resplendent. Nour looks like he can make it to dinner after all. He assumes that’s what this is about. Edward taps his finger against his desk, blueprints rolling back up, like a parent entertaining a child.

"Very well, dearest darling of mine," he finally sighs, heavy, perching backwards against his desk. Edward looks head on. Then, Edward looks sly. “I hope this means we’ll have dessert.”

[fukouhei]

look, i'm not the one with the problem, okay? 🔥 shrek

“ YEAH? COULDA' FOOLED me, ” renji grunts, displeasure clear in the gravel scraping through the back of his throat. his day had started off pleasantly, too—the sun rose warm and inviting, unusually pleasant for this time of year, and he'd tasted spring on the breeze. even the night had crept soft and slow, like being wrapped in a blanket from home, like a lover's arms draped about his waist. moonless, but no dimmer for it, the stars twinkling bright and constant.

AND NOW THIS. renji's shoulders rise in a deep inhale, curving on a deeper sigh, and they glance sidelong at the man to their left. the body in front of them is still fresh, steam rising from pooled blood.

“ YOU GONNA' HELP me clean up your mess or just stand there and watch? ”

@indeath

[firstspawn-moved]

What use is a broken mirror to a man who has not seen his reflection for the past 200 hundred years since he has been rebirthed into something truly unforgiving. The cracked glass and her thousands of portraits painting the stars and the blackened sky with an Astarion staring down harshly at his non-existing view. Sanguine hues flickering from the stars to the other man who wasn't paying him any mind, thick lashes of white fluttering close and lips forming into that of an unsatisfied pout. A cute one he is, that Nour. Flirtatious remarks pinning each other in their tents and a heavy heart turning itself away in the rays of his own warming, pitiful heart. He is only here to satisfy your needs and to keep your bedroll warm, Astarion, if you dare speak about your feelings then you should brand yourself as the weak one just as he is to you. Such thoughts taunt him, aggravation nesting and birthing itself bare in his bones. A single eye twitch and the grip on that mirror, it is no wonder that he finds himself standing in the way of Nour.

" Tell me if I'm cute. Is there any sign of aging? Any sign of life? Something? Am I all... all what others fear? A monster of sorts? A devil that is wanted by millions. A one-eyed fool with a heart of gold and a tongue as sharp and cunning as well... just tell me if I look gorgeous at least or at least what you think of me. " Pitiful, pitiful clown. The mirror in both hands now as he leans in. Eyes wide, brows lifted and the flickering of his elven ears. " Be honest. Be very, very honest and I will do the same, my dear Nour. "

@indeath.

[monstriiss]

✿ !

𝐏𝐑𝐄-𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 || accepting

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other 

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight club  /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other 

@indeath

[ingolds]

my only demand is that you have to love me unconditionally.

“ there's no need for demands, ” theo says quietly, lowly, gravel in the back of their throat. the moon cuts a sharp angle across their brow, pupil highlighting yellow-white as they tip their chin down. with the sun sunk below the horizon, an abyss of blue-black above broken only by the moon's watchful eye and the tiny pinpricks of glittering stars, the confession is seamless, weighing almost nothing at all on their chest. it's all too easy to open their ribs up for nour and feel their heart trip, squeeze, stutter.

they already gave blood and body to nour, all too happy to melt in his capable hands. those fingertips drag up their bicep, over their shoulder, thumb pressing into the hollow above their collarbones. nour's eyes gleam, a predator hunting in the night.

“ ask, and i'll answer that i already do. ”

@indeath

[chateautangerine]

@indeath asked: [ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender gives receiver flowers 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒 (accepting)

At precisely 9PM on the dot, his Austin-Healey purred and cruised into a mostly-empty parking lot, a welcome sign buzzing up above. 

It is here where they’ll stay. 

How long has it been? Four days. Better to say nights. By some inexplicable manner of fate, earlier this week and Cliff perhaps made impressionable by isolation, the pair of them had agreed to pack what they could and jam it into the three-by-three of his trunk and backseat, the speedometer set to 65 over the I-81—New York as close to him now as the moon. 

They checked into a small motel in the middle of somewhere, the only sounds the humming of the vending machines. A lapping pool, steam billowing. Cliff by the second-floor railing playing with sparklers. 

He lights one up. 

“I always wished someone would've done this with me,” he starts, every word weightless, gone. The stick sizzles red and orange and bright, Cliff holding his arm out shoulder-height. He gazes up. Then, breathily, ”It means a lot to me that you came along."

Above his head, he sees a clear amalgamation of stars. It could be the Big Dipper. Maybe it's the Little.

Nour’s shadow stretches over, and Cliff turns his head.

There he is, all resplendent in white. Nour with his baby powder hair. Nour with his ever-soft laugh. Cliff thinks he remembers every inch of his face now—the slight crease beside his mouth when he smiles. The exact length of his eyelashes when he turns to sleep—a familiarity that can only be born from sharing the inescapable days and nights, nights and days with another conscious being, the moon like pupils, now, in his eyes. Nour reminds him of nights spent in an indoor tent; the childlike wonder and sanctuary it gave him. Nour stands with a handful of flowers. 

"Now who's that for?" he asks, high and curious.

As if there were anyone else here.

Cliff doesn't know what they are. Just that they're blue and that Nour gave them, the fireworks illuminating his face like a birthday cake. Birthday candles. Making a wish. He takes them, observing, and they're eye-to-eye.

"I don't think anyone's given me flowers..." he wonders aloud, still wispy and croaky, Cliff somewhere in another world, or maybe right here. He thinks of car rides spent with someone jostling the radio on. Someone sharing an unfamiliar room beside him. Of birthday candles and late-night company.

He hands his sparkler over. The pool ebbs below them, foggy, cloudy. Cliff looks just the same. "Would you like to keep riding with me?" he asks.

[dadukos]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — a city street where music is playing. 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — nour iskander.

𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. books stacked by her bed, flowers on the window sill —— and music. the radio breaks her heart, reminds her of another life, but now and then she’ll hear the sound of a piano, the faint echo of a guitar string, and follow it in a trance, caught in a spell, and for a moment free: it was a violin this time, its notes gently wrapped around her wrists like strings, beckoning her inside an alley where people stand, as mesmerized as her. a life out in the open frightens her these days, so glaring her presence can be these days. in the dark, does she not burn like a beacon warning her demons, telling them i’m here, come, i’m waiting ? and yet she stays. enraptured, each note carrying much more than just sound — seemingly coming from far away, far in space, even further in time. ❝ your melodies… they’re haunting. they’re beautiful ❞, she says later, her voice quiet as if not to startle the harmony lingering in the air. he, otherworldly, could fool her into believing him just a man: she knows better, so she keeps her distance. — @indeath.

[vindicain]

how did you get this scar? ✖ morbid curiosity

they don't fault him his curiosity. the scars that litter his forearms are obvious and ugly, mottled tissue that only healed halfway perfect. the doctors did their best, of course, but who knows how long it'd taken for them to stitch him up and pump him full of the blood he'd poured out on the kitchen floor? if only he could see the jagged slashes mapped over his sternum.

nour's touch is light on their skin, the pad of one fingertip tracing the irregular notches left behind by the staples. cain studies the pink of nour's mouth visible between parted lips, feels goosebumps tighten beneath the cool press of his fingerprint.

“ sorry, ” he says, not sorry in the slightest. they slip their arm out from under his searching hands and fold it over their chest. “ you have to be a level five friend to unlock that story. ”

@indeath

[lynnsenpai]

💓 hello, we just finished rain a few days ago (i think it was a few days ago i forgot) and i wanna say rain is a good series, yeah idk what to say other then that

though im curious, idk if it said what happened or not but do you know maria's and rudy's parents, idk how to go indeath about it without spoiling so ima leave it there

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it! ^_^ It's very loosely alluded to in the online pages, and elaborated a little in one of the print-only bonus chapters. But the short version is that their mom divorced their dad over everything that happened with Maria. Mrs. Strongwell still has a lot to learn, but she cares about her kids and wants to protect them at all costs.

[mel-0n-earth]

@mythrae tagged me in the last sentence challenge, so here is the last sentence I wrote:

I was lucky to walk out of that temple with my mortal coil intact.

[It's for little a gortash x durge thing that I've been picking at]

So that's 14 words which means I need to tag 14 other writers, but I don't follow many here so I didn't quite make that number. A few here aren't mutuals, hope that's okay:

@verai-marcel @darethshirl @textsfromthefifthbasement @bluerose5 @fergus-cousland @dreadfutures @cheeseandstrawberrytartlover @oxygenforthewicked @indeath-sacrifice @fuzzyizmit @imfoldingstuff-andthatsok

[heartate]

ahri,       of riot’s league of legends,       as written       &       adored by rina.       this blog is independent,       extremely selective,       private,       &       for the most part,       mutuals only.       my blog is 18+,       i will only ship with writers who are 21+,       &       you should expect mentions of blood,       gore,       violence,       the occasional sexually charged energy or post,       etc. please only use the beta editor for me!

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don't interact with me if you write with @/indeath or their friends. thanks! if you need to see why, the callout is linked in my carrd. they're an abusive piece of shit <3

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