#Gnash and Wren

[beltart]

Late mermay because I got a sudden urge in the very last week of May, rigggghhht before starting a week of 10-hour work shifts.

Belatedly realized that mermaid Gnash is just a walrus with hands.

[prometheusinitiative]

Kezia | Ch 4.2 | Breaking Point ATTN: WREN

Wren’s reaction to the necklace makes her eyebrows furl, as she lets out a heavy sigh, shrugging.

“I don’t… know what it means, just what it feels like… Like a shard of a star, a soul, complex, strong, but not fully enough to be a person… It’s complicated.” 

Her voice softens and she shakes her head before dragging downwards to rub her temples. Wren seems to go silent, and she resigns herself to listen to the rest of the group speak and present the evidence.

So, the newspaper article was also related to Wren... Though the additional details Hinrik knew was concerning. If this was someone else related to the group on the board… After trying little by little to reach out and let him be part of the group at his own pace, it still didn’t seem to be enough to fully understand him. The last real encounter was him standing as a stern, silent guard over herself and Michiya as they tried to help Hinrik through their own hell… And then, sweet Morph speaks. Her head pulls back to look at him with a glimmer of hope, nodding.

‘Royce, I hope you’re listening. I told you so.’

Emmeline seems so cool and collective, and Kezia watches with intent as she speaks, pulling the evidence into her mind and turning it over like a coin. How much everyone must be feeling right now, the tension was so thick…

Wait. The Blood. The Board.

“Hang on—” She snaps her fingers, pointing at Emmeline, then to Morph and Hinrik.

“The blood. Royce, Ridley, and Wren all have blood stains on them and their hands, but the only two who have wounds are Ridley and Royce. Wren is bruised.” 

“Morph is right. That black stuff—the tar—seemed tied to Ridley, and paranormal. It might have sent her into a frenzy, but Royce knows how to handle her during those times. The blood Emmeline pointed out is stained into his cardigan and shirt from the front and not from a wound, right? He likely held Ridley back, meaning she already had the back wounds when he did so. You know, like locked her arms behind her back?”

She’s pointing to the pieces of evidence to show, seeing if they line up, following up by flexing her arms upwards to mimic the action.

"But the axe handle doesn’t have any blood.”

Kezia hands are tapping erratically on the desk as she thinks, biting her lower lip.

“Fuckin'—damn it.”

Something desperate and innocent in the back of her mind wanted to still believe, seeing that Wren that stood to protect them, or raced brilliantly, or played rounds of snake trying to beat each other's score. She loved Ridley and Royce so much and would fight mercilessly for them with all her soul... but this place was disgusting, and complicated, and painful. She wasn't about to gnash her teeth without knowing for certain this was of ill intent.

“Wren, listen. You mumbled something to me about a score to settle a few days ago. I don’t want to keep pointing fingers, but you’ve seen how this can go in trials before, and I think you know why I’m hesitating.”

She remembers when he didn’t vote against her, despite her coveralls clearly coated in Tracy’s blood. Is it accusatory? She’s trying not to sound so—but she’s hoping something else might spill under the pressure.

“Please, we've got a choice here. If we know what’s up, we can debate how we make this go down—Maybe even change the output with the board! But we’re running out of time.”

[goddamnbats]

And that’s it!  Planning on writing something longer for these two characters, but it’ll be awhile before I start on that. 

[catchyoulaterhotdog]

now playing last one standing ▶

Side A:  I. Saturn, Sleeping At Last II. Empty chairs at empty tables, Eddie Redmayne III. Is there anybody out there? , Pink Floyd IV. Under my skin, Jukebox the Ghost V. Iris, The GooGoo Dolls VI. In case you don’t live forever, Ben Platt VII. Lonely, Son Lux VIII. How to save a life, The Fray IX. Who wants to live forever, Queen X. Aquatic, Son Lux XI. Smother, Daughter XII. Missing you, All Time Low XIII. Soon you’ll get better, Taylor Swift XIV. I lost a friend, FINNEAS XV. Ghost of you, Five Seconds of Summer XVI. Dancing with your ghost, Sasha Sloan XVII. The night we met, Lord Huron XXVIII. Remember that night? , Sara Kays XIX. Lonely people, Orla Gartland XX. I wish I was the moon, Ewan J Phillips XXI. Not about angels, Birdie XXII. Sound of silence, Disturbed XXIII. Don’t look back in anger, Oasis XXIV. Sympathy for the martyr, Straylight Run XXV. This song is about nobody, Boston Manor XXVI. Good riddance (time of your life), Green Day XXVII. Drops of Jupiter, With Confidence XXVIII. Taxi cab, Twenty One Pilots XXIX. Now or never, Sunset Curve XXX. spaceland, chloe moriondo XXXI. Already gone, Sleeping At Last XXXII. The end of all things, Panic! at The Disco XXXIII. Dancing after death, Matt Maeson XXXIV. Cancer, My Chemical Romance XXXV. Funeral, Phoebe Bridgers XXXVI. Chasing Cars, Sleeping At Last XXXVII. Total Eclipse of The Heart, Sleeping At Last XXVIII. Lover please stay, Nothing But Thieves XXXIX. Die Alone, FINNEAS XL. Hospital hymns, Corey Kilgannon XLI. The good in goodbye, Alexander Wren XLII. Getting over you, Jake Etheridge XLIII. All I ever wanted was you, Nick Wilson XLIV. After the rain, Nick Wilson XLV. I’ll be fine, Johnny Stimson XLVI. She lays down, The 1975 XLVII. Flume, Bon Iver XLVIII. Video killed the radio star, The Buggles XLIX. Oblivion, Bastille L. In my veins, Andrew Belle

Side B: I. Echo, Jason Walker II. Sound the bugle, Bryan Adams III. As the world caves in, Matt Maltese IV. I can’t handle change, Roar V. Class of 2013, Mitski VI. Nobody, Mitski VII. Wish you were here, Avril Lavigne VIII. Alligator skin boots, Mcafferty IX. Typical story, Hobo Johnson X. Survivor’s guilt, Coma Cinema XI. Suffocate, Hayde XII. Too good at goodbyes, Sam Smith XIII. Heard your voice, Telehope XIV. I don’t feel it anymore (song of the sparrow), William Fitzsimmons XV. I was an island, John-Allison Weiss XVI. How to never stop being sad, dandelion hands XVII. Please never fall in love again, Ollie MN XXVIII. I exist, I exist, I exist, Flatsound XIX. Long night, With Confidence XX. It only gets much worse, Nate Ruess XXI. You wrote ‘don't forget’ on your arm, Flatsound XXII. Heal, Tom Odell XXIII. If we could just pretend, Flatsound XXIV. the broken hearts club, gnash XXV. I can’t carry this anymore, Anson Seabra XXVI. It’s okay, I wouldn’t remember me either, Crywank XXVII. West, Sleeping At Last XXVIII. Hurts like hell, Fleurie XXIX. How could I have known, Keaton Hensen XXX. Song for the sleepless, Ollie MN XXXI. Hug all ur friends, Cavetown XXXII. Today has been okay, Sleeping At Last XXXIII. Loving & Losing, Delaney Bailey XXXIV. Where’s my love, SYML XXXV. Sun, Sleeping At Last XXXVI. Youth, Daughter XXXVII. silhouettes of you, isaac gracie XXVIII. Agoraphobia, Autoheart XXXIX. Rubik’s cube, Athlete XL. Addict with a pen, Twenty one pilots XLI. Milennia, Crown The Empire XLII. Heart, Sleeping At Last XLIII. Six Feet Under, Billie Eilish XLIV. February 15th, Hobo Johnson XLV. Hymn for the missing, Red XLVI. Too sad to cry, Sasha Sloan XLVII. Dear friend, , Dayglow XLVIII. Please don’t go, Abbey Glover XLIX. Someone to stay, Vancouver Sleep Clinic L. Falling apart, Michael Shculte

[wordofrecall]

character playlists: ori

so. let’s do this. my playlists are long and scattered, but they make me happy, so i might as well share them and the thoughts behind song choices. so. here’s some songs for runaway knights & wannabe witches, and what have you.

something holy - childhood & riches & wonders

pearl diver - mitski - oh hunter, if you didn’t want the beautiful so badly, perhaps you would’ve found it in your spirit singing softly - look. it's on the nose, considering that her title is "the pearl hunter," but also, like, that rules. this is a song for wren, i think; ori in the present reflecting on her mother and the similarities between them.

icicles - the scary jokes - i can only be forgiven if i’m giving myself up to you on a silver serving tray / must i bare myself to the stabbing of your knife & gnashing teeth while our lovely company appears so entertained? - aaand a song for childhood. 99% of ori's socialization came from her parents having important guests over, so. uh. yeah. show off your reclusive child prodigy like a pageant whenever you have the opportunity. she probably won't grow to loathe you.

life: the cruel interlude (on god) - kilo kish - why do i dare believe in me when i bleed? - questioning was. always a big thing for ori. i don't think she ever believed that the mirzha was god, and i known that she never truster her father's patron, but. in her studies, in her passions, there's always this tiny sense of desperation for something to have faith in something. not herself.

bluejays & cardinals - the mountain goats - the stars come out of hiding for you, & i would too - there is. a lot, in ori's relationship with her brother. she was the favorite child, yeah, the one destined for great things in spite of her... troubles. but he never had those troubles! she didn't, doesn't understand how he went through life so unafraid. there's envy there. i also think that the line i quoted is terribly true, like, canonically. because. she sure did do that stupid shit.

be calm - fun. - take it from me, i’ve been there a thousand times--you hate your pulse because it thinks you’re still alive! - sometimes you have intense social phobia. and that's okay!

country death song - violent femmes - kiss your mother goodnight & remember that God saves, kiss your mother goodnight & remember that God saves - i think andrei is a much less pitiable or even sympathetic man than the narrator of this song, but. like. it's a country song about a father killing his daughter while preaching godliness. i had to.

i’m all bloody inside - liam lynch - inside me, well, it’s dark & gross as hell, i’m not a pretty sight - the family business!

the hazards of love 3 (revenge!) - the decemberists - but father, don’t you fear, your children are all here - fantasies. part of the fantasy is imagining a world where she doesn't feel terrible about the thought.

shankill butchers - sarah jarosz - they used to be just like me & you, they used to be sweet little boys - "blood hunters are ghost stories." "and also, they're fucking terrible. violent, cruel, zealous. the worst."

sparrow - st. vincent - & no eyes are on the sparrow, eyes are on the sparrow, how could that be the case? the lark keeps whistling his number, silly little number, as if he isn't prey - pity for the boy. sort of retrospective, but it's a thought that's been there since she was a child.

something burning - rituals & fire & running

starchild - ghost quartet - but i will transcend & vomit this loser out of me; i will become the next big thing, i will light myself on fire - maybe she is some kind of angel? bursting with radiance and terrifying to look upon.

arsonist’s lullabye - hozier - don’t you ever tame your demons, always keep them on a leash / when i was sixteen, my senses fooled me - oooor maybe she is a sixteen year-old who is having a panic attack and setting everything in sight on fire by accident.

blood - my chemical romance - i’m the kind of human wreckage that you love! - so she's broken.

girl anachronism - the dresden dolls - it’s not the way i’m meant to be, it’s just the way the operation made me - so she's failed and she's broken and she's sick, and there's no time to fucking think.

when the chips are down - anais mitchell - cast your eyes to heaven, you’ll get a knife in the back. - so she does what her mother did before her, and she runs from that which she has always known.

body terror song - ajj - i’m so sorry that you have to have a body / one that will hurt you, & be the subject of so much of your fear - feelings on being built Wrong; feelings on your mind's undue control upon your body.

in corolla - the mountain goats - & no one was gonna come & get me, there wasn't anybody gonna know, even though i leave a trail of burnt things in my wake every single place i go - very good as an ori song in general but this is her justification to herself in the water. under the docks, she says this to herself.

the harrowed & the haunted - the decemberists - will i be so brave? - just to get that oceanic vibe up.

luna - the mountain goats - rise through the flames & end again in flames at last - an inexplicable feeling.

unwhere - reeder - a song for leaving what you've always known.

something lonely - years & woods & dreaming

runs in the family - amanda palmer - run from their pity, from responsibility, run from the country & run from the city, i can run from the law, i can run from myself, i can run for my life, i can run into debt, i can run from it all, i can run 'till I'm gone - she is broken and all she can think to do is get as far away as possible

panic attack - liza anne - i hate that i can be seen like this

black eyes - david wirsig - my hammering heart hears the voices of spirits that tempt us, the scorn that they’ve spoken

for the departed - shayfer james - they will bury me alive, but i’m not inclined to care; i am too far gone now

hurt - johnny cash - everyone i know goes away in the end; you can have it all, my empire of dirt

my body’s made of crushed little stars - mitski - i work better under a deadline! i work better under a deadline!

blood in the cut - k. flay - guess i’m contagious; it’d be safest if you ran--fuck, that’s what they all just end up doing in the end

little pistol - mother mother - i think i might be scared of the world & the way it makes you feel afraid & how it gets in the way

villains pt. 1 - emma blackery - built to create, designed to destroy

the beer - kimya dawson - & the christians gave me comic books as if i would be scared of burning in hell while i was already there [...] i tried to scream fuck you but blood was pouring out my mouth

something safe - family & finding it & fighting together

haunted house - sir babygirl - i’m running just to hide & i’m hiding just to breathe & around every corner is the same night on repeat

your heart is a muscle the size of your fist - ramshackle glory - i love you & you make me glad to be alive; i promise that i’m gonna pay you back / you always know how funny everything is, even when i’m so serious that it’s gonna be the death of me

medicines - the taxpayers - o, but our rotting corpses lying there soon began to leak & grow these lesions that all smelled just like a rose / & all the blood & guts inside us germinated into timeless pages stained with lines of lovely prose

autoclave - the mountain goats - i am this great unstable mass of blood & foam

alligator skin boots - mccafferty - i’m cool to the touch, leap to my death, i’ll die for you all, i’ll die for my friends, it goes like this

100 years - florence + the machine - lord, don’t let me break this, let me hold it lightly, give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly

tomorrow will be kinder - the secret sisters - but i feel warmth on my skin, the stars have all aligned

armour - rae spoon - you know i placed was to build a life for you

amy aka spent gladiator 1 - the mountain goats - play with matches if you think you need to play with matches; seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot & bright / find where the heat’s unbearable & stay there if you have to--don’t hurt anybody on your way up to the light, and stay alive

curses - the crane wives - won’t you stay with me, my darling, when my walls start burning down?

something daring - islands & visions & loss

jane’s dream - janelle monáe

beekeeper - keaton henson - hear me, o woman that has gone astray, gone astray

fire - kimya dawson - i’m reading books about how they’re corrupt [...] as long as i’m burning, i’ll keep on yearning to save the world, not sure how, but i’m learning

cosmic hero - car seat headrest - i love you, but i can’t stand the touch, & of course i’m alright with death

turn the lights off - tally hall - everbody likes to get taken for turns to see how bright the fire inside of us burns [...] should be stronger, books abandoned

eat you alive - the oh hellos - child, i’m afraid for your soul; these things that you’re after, they can’t be controlled

cry for judas - the mountain goats - hallucinate a shady grove where judas went to die

o death - monica martin - no wealth, no land, no silver, no gold, nothing satisfies me but your soul

blood of angels - brown bird - and i would wage my soul to bet that there ain’t no one throwing lightning anyhow

the universe is going to catch you - the antlers - the arms of the universe kept you from falling [...] those arms did not come back

a burning hill - mitski - i am the fire & i am the forest & i am the witness watching it / i stand in the valley watching it

something terrifying - conversations & selfhood & divination

the lamb - dessa - but blood is blood, & what’s done is done; blood is blood, & its burden is a beast

going invisible 2 - the mountain goats - i’m gonna burn it all down today & sweep all the ashes away

the lion’s roar - first aid kit - she plays a tune for those who wish to overlook the fact that they’ve been blindly deceived by those who preach & pray & teach, but she falls short & the night explodes in laughter

the villain i appear to be - connor spiotto - even if you can’t see the good inside me, i don’t have the time to tell you why i do the things that i do, just please hold on & soon you’ll seem

up the wolves - the mountain goats - there’s bound to be a ghost at the back of closet, no matter where you live; there’ll be a few things, maybe several things that you’re gonna find really difficult to forgive

thursday girl - mitski - glory, glory, glory to the night that shows me what i am

at the bottom of everything - bright eyes - we must take all of the medicines to expensive now to sel; set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell

everybody does - julien baker - i know i’m a pile of filthy wreckage you will wish you’d never touched, but you’re gonna run when you find out who i am

tongues & teeth - the crane wives - i know that you mean so well, but i am not a vessel for your good intent 

a pearl - mitski - you’re growing tired of me and all the things i don’t talk about / sorry, i don’t want your touch--it’s not that i don’t want you

[torajira]

I FORGOT TO RB THIS BECAUSE I WANTED TO DRAW STUFF FOR IT FJGHGB......... saving for later >:3

🌈🌸🍁 for saturnsight?? owo and etc

saturn my friend saturn!!

🌈 i feel like this is my answer for every cat but i think saturnsight deserves a little rest. spa day. cucumbers on the eyes. idk what goes on in riverclan but also they deserve a BFF <3

🌸 i mean. whom can resist the joy of saturnsight and the rest of the rc meddie gang but also especially lil grackle!!!!!!!!!! genuinely adore how the three of them are like...not all to similar but do their best to make it work out

🍁 beets 'n saturn have had some conversing in ye old moonstone cave but i did rly enjoy their med cat ceremony, i felt it was a real good show of their character yk?

[scrumpygoat]

did another screenshot redraw for practice! (and artfight revenge!)

>:O I need to learn how to blend the figures into the bg, and be more bold with lighting. Luckily I just signed up to art school so hopefully that’ll help lmao

Gnash and Wren belong to @beltaguise!

[catnip-smuggler-radio]

Throat by Throat: Part 1

(So, for this post, I ended up going a little bit darker and graphic than my normal posts.  It’s nothing excessive but wanted to drop it behind a wall just in case people weren’t feeling that currently. :D )

Red. There was red everywhere. Some was his own.  Some were his companions.  And much of it was a mixture of them all.  Red coated the walls, and the stones of the alley; puddles of red slowly growing as more and more blood drained from the three, motionless bodies on the ground. The closest body was starring with wide-eyes and a terrified expression was sprawled across his mouth, which was open in a silent scream.  Alec Wren, Garlean infiltrator and father, pushed himself back, looking away from the unseeing eyes of his deceased colleague.  He was sitting, his back against the dark alley wall, his right hand clutching a deep savage gash in his left side.  He could feel his blood slipping through his fingers as he tried to desperately hold back the flow. -clack- Alec swallowed.  The sounds of metal jackboots slowly approaching him seemed like the tolling of funeral bells.  His funeral bells. Slowly, he turned, seeing the thing that had ambushed them as they had returned to the Goblet and taken back roads towards their residency. A lone, blue eye, blazing with bloodlust and anger, greeted his him and Alec whimpered as he saw the sneer creasing the kneeling miqo’te’s face. The miqo’te’s hair was as red as the blood that stained his face and clothes and, as their lips pulled back, Alec could see his teeth were coated in red as well. Whose throat had felt those teeth? A wicked, hooked knife made of bone slowly twirled through the miqo’te’s fingers as he opened his mouth to speak: “Hello, Garlean.” Tray cooed.   “Ye aware ye got some red on ye?” “What,” Alec wheezed, the act of talking causing pain to course his body.  “do ye want?” Tray leaned in and Alec recoiled as far as he could from where he sat. “Almost two cycles ago, yer organization lost a vital asset in the Monetarist and traitor named Frandrin Mandrin to meh and meh crew.  From what I know, that didn’t sit well with yer superiors and they sent a bunch of ya’ll round to make sure the problem was solved.”  The miqo’te’s grin turned into a mask of hatred and rage.  “Ye lot almost did teh job right. Almost.  But ye left a few loose ends.  And now, I’m gonna give ye lot the gifts of gift of fire and pain as I started pickin’  yer organization apart throat by-” Tray gnashed his teeth.  “Throat.” Alec swallowed. “Why are ye telling me this?  Do you want me to deliver a message?” he wheezed, hoping for a way out of death. “No.” Tray cackled, flicking his tail, the pierced, red appendage smearing blood as it moved.  “No, I just wanted to tell ye before ye died so when ye get to teh hells ye can tell yer mates why yer there.” “Please.” Alec chocked, almost sobbed.  “I have a family, a wife and little boy!” “Oh, ye have a son?”  Tray paused, his face faltering. The memory of his son rolled through him.  “Yeah?” Alec stammered, hoping for a chance to live.  But Tray’s face twisted into a mocking sneer. “I don’t care. And ye know why?” Tray growled, bloody saliva splattering Alec’s face as Tray continued.  “Cause yer organization didn’t care about mine when they killed him!” Tray surged forward and Alec tried to scream but all he managed was a horrible gargle as the knife cut his throat first and then went to work on the rest of him.  Alec died, but it was not well. - - - Tray emerged from the alley, dripping and coated from head to toe.  He swayed slightly, as if waking up from a dream as his vision came into focus.  His chest was heaving and he appeared utterly relaxed, as if a great weight had left him.  He looked around the empty, Goblet street and felt his tongue running over his lips.  “I-” he looked down at his hands, dyed red.  He began to chuckle softly.  “I am what ye made meh, Frandrin.”  “You give me far too much credit.” Frandrin’s exact words played through Tray’s head.  Tray could almost see the lalafel again before him, as he was just before Tray ended his life.  “This ‘beast’ was always inside of you.  I just never saw it.”  Frandrin gave Tray a stern look.  “I still recall the day I met you.  Sobbing and willing to spend the rest of your life in prison for your crime. There was something noble in you once, Tray.  Clearly you’ve killed it.” Tray lurched forward, swings his arms at the apparition of Frandrin to dispel it.  He snarled, gnashing his teeth. “Shut up!  If I am a beast, it was ye that sent meh down this path, not meh!  Not meh!” the red-head snarled and spat red at his feet.  He collapsed onto his knees suddenly and panted.  He watched red drops falling like sweat from his face to stain the ground.  He shook his head and rolled over onto his back to gaze up at the night sky. The miqo’te wished desperately he could just fall upwards into the black abyss and sail among those far, cold balls of light and leave this world behind. He felt blood slowly sliding down his cheeks and he closed his uncovered eye. “I am what I am.” he ran his hands through his hair and felt himself trembling as the adrenaline left his body and the beast retreated once more into the depths of his soul.  “By my hand and deed, I am, what I am.”

[beltart]

Another small comic with these two. 

God what happened to me.  I used to be the monster guy.  The gratuitous blood guy.  What have I become?

[calamityeden]

They collided, bodies bruising, fist and bone and blood gnashing together against the twisted metal of the causeway. Fire streamed in rivers around the ruined ship. Wren threw his hands up too late, too late, too late, and Marek tore his defense down and caught him ruthlessly by his throat, knifing into what little breath he had left as they slammed backward into the hull.

“Is this what you wanted, Wren?” Marek asked, pushing their foreheads together. “Is this what you knew you were asking for all those centuries ago? If you’d known, would you have ever offered me your hand?” 

Wren snarled. 

“Don’t make this about what I would and wouldn’t have done for you,” he snapped. “You’re going to destroy everything we sacrificed our goddamn lives for and you - “

“That’s right,” Marek said, and Wren shoved him away, slammed his fist into Marek’s jaw and heard the satisfying whiplash crunch of tooth and bone.

 Marek stumbled back and raised himself, shoulders thrown back, fangs bared, with a smile that was empty and miserable and wanting for something Wren knew he couldn’t give.

“I’m going to burn it all,” he said, the fire gilding the dark shape of him in crimson, in a halo of light made unholy by the vastness of space. “Until there’s nothing left but the stars and the darkness, and god too, maybe. And then I’ll ruin him too.” 

tag list:@theguildedtypewriter @endlesshourglass 

[so-very-small]

I know you have a huge amount of ocs do you have a master list of them all?

yeah! it’s a hella long list, because i currently have 210 OCs, but here’s a list of em! if you’re curious about any of them, feel free to ask bc i love talking about them ^^;;

they’re organized by story name, with that being in bold. the rest are OCs. also, the ones with stars by their names are my favs

DDH Squad

Natalie White

Thomas Wood

Brenn Baker

Reg Rider

Tinna Flitt

Rani Rivers

Ny Elden ★

Gnash Tiwst ★

Moriain Winters

Dieanias Knight

Atmos

Malien

Lorien

Annia Elden

Quill

Friea

Dianna Queens

Tieanna P'tal

Myla Cesca

Damien Brunt

Talvasin

Dreya Moorose

Spark Theim

Briar Rose

Roland Wood

Mace

Rav AmiAmi

Polaris Asuran

Floaty

Artim Lore

Diah Eli

Jobal Theim

Khalen

Falling

Atlas Jones //Jamie Door

Key // Nalo Obi

Claire/Clint Smith

Stewart Stevens

Della Nova

Gemma Brown ★

Alistair Queen

ESN

4674

Russ

Takumi

Will

Louis

VID

Lou Walker

Max Moore

Sarah McKinley

Sven Winstrom

Noah Smith

Matt Loupe

Anneasa Loupe

Emra

Nyra

Absalom Stoltzfus

GSP

Elliot Fobb

Vim Coast

Spia

SJQ

Lizzy Gloss //Ellieas Gossill

Geoff

PI

Her

Him

The Witch

Fandom OC's

Pirouette ★

Neria Surana

Ny Tabris

Eyre ★

Bronte ★

Zoltan ★

Smol Nano

Stockinette

Sparrow

Red

Leiana

Car

Car

The Inventor

Tuck

MichaelPowell

Delilah Story

Delilah Weston ★

Jasper Levi ★

Melody Montrose

Felix Ace

Ruma Ord

Winston Everett

Allnatha

Fiona Ace

Marnie Ace

Second Gen DDH

Becca Baker-Rider

Nan Wood

Sonya Flitt

Thesaurus Busters

Molly

Jim

Matt

Ben

Ashton

GAV

Vinea

Oppineus

AGCH

Hanson

Caden James

Mr. Charles

Mr. Benson

Various

Callisto

Wilbur

Lih ★

Jamie Citrus

Lambert 'Lamby'Jameson

Nova Story

Nova

Louis

Kurt

George

Penn

Lottavan

Lottie/Charlotte ★

Donovan ★

The Hero

The Elder

Wizard

Georgia

Caine

Penn

Lance

Franklin

Moragana

Air Masks

Jace Jordan

Jefferson

Sebastain

Pirate

Reese Collette

Orville Zabala

Timm Collette

Bonnie Read

Viola Stuart

Jack Jayjay

Tia Ramos

Mary Fabre

Jim Jackson

Saffy Lous

Dill Lous

Ari Oliver

Sanny Jackson

Luis Jackson

Tree Jackson

Maci

Pen Percival

Ro Rolland

Marionette Wills

Marnya Rise

Regin Wills

Marrian Wills

Marius Sweet

Louise Pointe

Mathias

FairyTale

Raoul

Bennett

Flitt

Demini

Druids

Azare Moorose

Ocie

In The Midst

Leo Lance

Azriah Blanc

Debbie Wright

Iris Issa

Jane Martoffski

Pascal Rodin

Pupper

Road Trip

Alexandrite

Frank

Ares

Ares One (Shiloh Teer)

Captain (Wren Patton)

Ziah Lallo

Pogg Strom

G-lo (Gregory Lowell)

Sash Skai (Stazhk Skaitruvezt)

Annette (A-N3TT)

Knick/Seam

Knick

Seam

Nyami

Mourners

Mar Soot ★

Loc

Whill

Acci

Pevensie

Hands

Dot

Norman

Foster

Pole

Peach

Band-aid

Lion

Tater

Aline

Nevvy

Naruto

Sibling

Bekkett

Thot

What you Made Me

Lihs ★

Arlo ★

Time Travel

Barbra

Matter

Tock

Evelet

Nofie

Cloven Spire

Nan Issti

Hawke Dawnson // Hai

Boof

Tiki

Sian

Reys

Schrood

Bennedette

Marscapone “Mars” Pel

Wells

Books

Booker // Lambert “Lucky” Stravarious

Vic

Tekka

Parki

[iinctrll]

                            @x-reaper cont. ( x ) 

“Isn’t that kind of a crucial detail to just fucking leave out?! Jesus Christ, Yohei,         you act like I’m asking your goddamn blood type!”

     He’d snapped back almost before Yohei had a chance to finish speaking, venom stinging on his lips where it still lingered. Fury was burning in his throat, but it was nothing compared to the agonizing ache in his chest. The betrayal. How long had this been going on? Was Wren one of the strains that CHO was holding captive like cattle while Yohei just stood by? How long until Abel himself became one of them? Would Yohei’ve stayed quiet then? He was right - this would’ve been a Hell of a lot easier on them both if he’d kept to himself. Maybe if he had, he could breathe. He could look at Yohei without a wave of nausea sloshing around in his stomach, without having to look away.

      If he’d just stayed away in the first place, things would’ve been easy.

Don’t fucking tell me you like me. He wanted to spit the words at his feet, because goddamn if it didn’t make this harder than it already was.

                                Don’t you fucking dare.

     The words never came, instead giving way to a hiss of air between his teeth as his back hit the wall behind him, arms crossing over his chest to hide the trembling in his fingers. How much good when it do when that burning in his eyes actually gave way to tears? Keh. How stupid.

‘Even I couldn’t blame you if you took off and turned me in.’ 

     For a moment, Abel smiled, curt and bitter, teeth gnashing all of the broken pieces. Turn him in. He should’ve - he should’ve turned every last one of them in, but -- You really don’t know me at all. 

”I’m not going to turn you in. I can’t do that. Not...” Not to you. His voice gave before he could finish his sentence, wiping out any false shred of courage that had been brewing beneath the surface. There was so much open space around him - how did it still feel like everything was caving in? “But I can’t just stand by while you let it happen.” Every word came closer to breaking, and despite his best efforts, a tear had found its way to his chin.

     I should’ve listened when you tried to push me away. Maybe this wouldn’t be so painful. 

     “This’ll be the last you see of me.”

[goddamnbats]

Pls tumblr just let me post this

[nostroviapress]

"Passion is a dirty thumbnail peeling into the ripe flesh of a plum: it is tainted with human and is sometimes a process of revealing layers of something that would grow anyway. Passion is the painter at rest, daydreaming of days to come. Passion is the new moon but the expectation that in two weeks it will be luminous once again. Passion should come at no price: it should be free."

Samuel J. Fox is a bisexual poet living in BFE, North Carolina. He will blur your social norms/he will slur your binaries into nonsense. He has lyric essays appearing in Muse/A Journal, (b)OINK, and The Avenue; he has poems appearing in (b)OINK, Luna Luna Magazine, and Maudlin House. He is also a guitarist/vocalist with Fox & the Vineyards. You can find him on Twitter / Facebook.

THE LITTLE LORD OF VERMIN

**I. **Scabs and fleas. The wildling dreams of magic that can turn him into a fox. He plays with rodents behind the house that sits on a small hill. An angel guards a fountain empty of robins. In the house is a drunkard and man who cannot believe in magic or love. That is how most myths begin: whether in magic or in love. The man sleeps most days, works most nights. His boy, a darkling-eyed dreamer, names all the creatures in the grove. Twin rabbits: spit and spackle. A murder of ravens: night-shed, claw-spark, thresher. The family of deer: purity and her doe little mercy. Then there is the fox: the boy calls the vixen his mother’s name.

II.

The trees lean in to gossip about how the boy is growing. He has not yet learned to ignore the world and see it as the circus he will have to enter. He plays in the riverbed searching for emeralds. He finds them engraved in the minnows’ shallow armor.

III.

The drunk man loses everything one day; at least, everything he would care to lose. His job; money to keep liquor and the lights running; he breaks the television, the same he tuned into God every evening, falling into an exodus of dreams while the televangelist screams. He even loses his shadow: it does not wish to follow him anymore. He returns home to find the boy asleep, a small wren singing in his throat.

IV.

Have you figured out yet where this is going? Have you reconsidered reading? There is no such thing as happy endings. Everyone likes to be lied to – pretend such things, like magic, like miracles, exist – but I don’t prefer to lie. I can believe in miracles the same way I can believe in death: only when it occurs.

V.

The father begins drinking during the day. The boy begins asking birds how to fly. The boy realizes his father has a badger lodged in his gut. The father realizes his boy has no grip on reality. The father gets angry and hits the boy in his steeple white mouth. The boy runs out of the house, crimson and crying. The boy wishes his father was dead: just like how he has no mother because of death. The birds wish they could teach him to flee.

VI.

A vixen will take in a cub from any liter because she, though fierce, is not cruel. She washes the boys knuckles chapped from his father’s blows. She shines them like they were shields. The boy asks her name. When she tells him, he hears the ghost of a voice, the echo of his mother.

VII.

Would you believe me if I told you that birds learn to fly the same way we learn to speak? We watch, we listen, we learn, we fail, and then we, one day while muttering into the future, discover how our lips move over our own breath.

VIII.

The father grows old. He calls his son a rat. One day the father decides to show his son that pain is the only thing that can make a man become real. He takes a cigarette and burns a hole in his son’s wrist. The son doesn’t cry. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t blink; and the father falls asleep to the season and sounds of gnashing teeth.

IX.

The father dies several years later. He dies of a lack of dreams and magic (or by falling into the liquor cabinet and drowning). The boy is old enough by then to leave. The boy takes the mother vixen’s body, the one he found curled under their tree with an exit wound in her heart. He cuts off her paw. He preserves it. He wears it like a new heart. He wears it so the world can’t take his magic without seeing it first.

X.

What if I told you I lied about everything? What if I told you there was no father? No empty space where shadow should be? No liquor cabinet, no grove, no lack of dreams? However, there was a boy. The boy was me.

THE KID

I was born: made of gunpowder and exit wounds. Didn’t know my daddy much save what he left behind: knuckle-marks stained on walls day old cologne still stuck in halls beard trimmings clogged in his sink footprints fading down a sidewalk in the snow and an old shirt I swore I’d never grow into.

Doctor said momma drowned in her sleep, called it tuberculosis. I left the next day; stumbled away from that rotten apple that was only good for holding worms anymore. I headed west past the frontier country into my own manifest destiny, seeking God. But God don’t say much these days, at least not to boys like me.

The devil’s greatest stunt isn’t that he tricks you into thinking he don’t exist: it’s that he does and he’ll shake your hand firm like a friend. I learned that your enemies stab you in the back like cowards, but that your friends look you in the eye as they stab you in the heart. I still got a pitch fork in my spine where I should have grown a living from.

I started thieving, robbing, laid down with women not old enough to know weddings but not young enough to be stupid. I joined a militia: I learned to shoot a pistol in the dark and hit the cherry of a cigarette from thirty yards. My finger was brave but I don’t ever think I learned what a man is.

The soldiers . . . they called me a kid. Still eighteen, they didn’t know I’d be a legend at twenty-one. I showed them. Sometimes you got to switch opinions even if that means you betray a man: at least I had the decency to look him in the eyes when I done it.

I became the youngest outlaw there ever was. People chased me down, but I left them laying in red dust; that is, until Sherriff Garrett tracked me down snuck around the back of my hideout. I asked Bucky who is it? Turns out God had been looking for me since my mother died. He filled me with lead. The hell was too full inside me: like a saguaro that don’t know how to keep in its water.

There was this one time . . . I stood before the prison guard who begged for life as I pressed my barrel to his nose. He asked me my name: said he would hold me accountable for my actions before God. He asked me what my father done named me. I said that my name was William and it means desire or conqueror: but that I didn’t have a father and I didn’t want one either. How can a boy know how to be a man if a man never teaches him how to shed the rattlesnake skin of his youth?

Damnation is the easy part. It happens before you die. So when that Sherriff stood over me to watch me let all the fire out to burn the wretched earth I wanted to thank him. Hell is all I ever known: and I assure you, it’s much cooler under the ground. I never did wear that shirt, not at least til my funeral where I was buried covered with gunpowder and exit wounds

“The Kid” + “The Little Lord of Vermin” are both previously published in Fuck Art, Let’s Dance Issue #014

"The Kid" was recorded as a collaboration with several artists under the name Fox and the Vineyards, namely Matt Graham from Raleigh, NC who plays guitar on this track as well as having produced it for distribution. Samuel J Fox is the author and vocalist.

[goddamnbats]

Weird things like, coyotes. 

[goddamnbats]

I forgot I even finished these.  Not going to up post these on a regular schedule, just as I finish them.  USUALLY that’ll be on the weekend. 

Weird things in the woods here.