#being unconfined to flesh and bone?

[burrbeast]

You ever just. Not want to be in a human body.

It's too restricting. I don't belong in this fleshy prison.

Must SHAPESHIFT.

[protectmypeople]

The outcry of pain was enough for his anger to trickle in, confusion had been his dominant emotion but now- now seeing Life gasp for breath, the imbalance toyed with their realms an unimaginable degree. Bellamy could only picture what Daenery's heavenly realm appeared as in this moment, while his pulsed, and bolstered with unconfined power. The sob shattered any protective wall he may have built to prevent further entanglement. Fingers reached for her, his skin heating, chest cracking as burning lava spilt into his lungs. Bellamy could barely get his footing, power and pleasure swirling into a sea that was effectively drowning him. The accusation furthered his sinking, wrapping stones around his frame, submerging him into the depths. Dark eyes snapped towards Asmodeus, whose own fear was palpable in the room. Two Gods in the midst of pain and power, opposite ends, a deadly room to find oneself in. "A s m o d e u s." The words thundered past his lips, his feet no longer touching the ground as he rose. The threat of eradication hung in the air. "War- my Lord, there is War in the earthly realm, t-two of the largest continents- at war." Bellamy snapped his fingers and Asmodeus disappeared, sent back towards the depths of his realm. Safe. Unlike the goddess whose strangled cries tore through his being with a searing force. "I have not done this. You must believe me." Even to himself, his own words sounded pleading, hollow, yet they were true. The desire to suffocate the doubt evident within her features overpowered him, and with little effort, he was gone. Death reappeared in the Earthly realms, at the heart of the chaos in which his power flowed. Asmodeus had been correct. War. Thousands of humans flooded the fields, soaked in crimson, as sword met flesh and bone. At its core sat Antoine, whose own powers flooded, cackling in amusement as he gained further authority. Wrath filled his being, and he snapped himself to Antoine, fingers curling around the lesser gods throat, searing the skin beneath as dark eyes met the pathetic weasel who had undermined him. "Well! Look who joined for the show! I can see you're reaping the reward-" The god wheezed his last words, fingers curling over Bellamy's palm. Death should have known the moment the god of war had showed himself in his realm without invite. Charming, begging, for his assistance in a war he would not partake in. "This is an unsanctioned war, the realms will have your head in payment for this." And for Daenerys suffering.

Her time with the God of Death had been spend bed bound, tangled in his sheets, their powers weaving and binding with one another. It wasn’t unheard of for gods of opposite reign to be drawn to one another, one might dare say that it is fate that would entwine their very essence because by the gods rights it was written that way. Daenerys indulged in every part of the darkness he had to offer, the utter bliss had her forgetting her duties just for the small time that she needed, the gods were allowed to have that grace aren’t they? Finding herself nestled against Bellamy's bare chest she hummed softly as he played with her hair as she placed a kiss to his chest before resting her head again. “If only you could manage my radiance.”  Dany slipped herself from his body before dancing her fingers along his jaw, teasing. “You are more than capable of keeping my company as long as you will have me.” Whatever was blooming between them felt calm, two pieces coming together. The beauty of the moon eclipsing the sun, a mountain making way for a river to pass through its hard exterior.  A smirk danced across her lips, a teasing come back ready to fall from them before he stood abruptly. There was the familiar feeling of loss of life, usually she was able to put a wall up inside herself against the tether of her magic before the pain became overwhelming, the skill was useful during wars, natural disasters or should a rapid disease take out a large population but this... This felt different. It felt like it was draining her light. Staying wrapped in his sheets the pain inside her was building as she watched her Dark God lose control for a moment and call upon his underling. Reaching for him her hand stopped mid air as the realisation hit her. "Bellamy--" Before she had the chance to question the influx of power, or even materialise some clothes on, the pain in her chest felt like it was going to explode, with the effort to contain her scream it came as a strangled sob instead as she clawed at her chest. "What have you done?" The pain lanced at her again in waves, it felt like a dozen burning knives were being stabbed into her chest. So many souls... Too many souls ripped from the human realm at once, by the masses resulted in unimaginable pain, the scales were being tipped too far to one side, balance no longer serving them.

[yours-anonymously]

A Little Ode To The One Always On My Mind

I was waist deep in the shit of life when I met him. I didn’t feel the same way he did when we met. Or probably was afraid to put a label on it. But out of the all the intermediate people, I connected to him the most. He has one of those eyes which you can look at while telling him about your life and rest assured he is listening to listen, not to tell. (Does that even make sense?)

I remember when we first met. He had a navy blue shirt on, left untucked. He looked beautiful, in a casual your-shirt-is-untucked kind of way. I wanted to tell him that he looked good in the shirt but I didn’t. Sometimes I can be a little upfront. I wish I remembered what shoes he wore though.

And then there was me.

I had to wake up early and was completely disinterested to dress up. I was sneaking out so people wouldn’t know I was still in the city. I had to lie about my absence to escape some unwanted unproductive responsibility. I was dating one of the most toxic persons having walked on the surface of Earth. His existence has been poisoning lives for a couple years now, with his whimsical and irrational depression dragging down soaring spirits and making them believe that things are wrong, that he is the most depressed and desolate soul walking and comparing himself to Dr. Gregory House and Sherlock Holmes as if their fictional being justified his non-fictional one. When I told him I’d be going out with my ‘new’ friends, we had an icy conversation but no direct confrontation. I am glad now.

It was supposed to be our eighth month anniversary and to be honest, I wasn’t thrilled about it. To me it was not just our eight months of togetherness, but also my eight months of low self esteem, over an year of writer’s block & eight months of sacrificing all the things I held dear to me (my self respect, my self worth) for him. For me it was just 23rd of a month, nothing else.

Anyway, I wore this full sleeved t-shirt with a really vague quote saying, “CLASS OF 98″. I wasn’t even born in ‘98. Although now I wish I was. I had zero makeup on, probably a little bit of kohl. Early mornings disgust me more than makeup.

He called me to coordinate our journey to the rendezvous point and that was the first time I heard his voice. It surprised me because it was unlike any male voice I’ve ever heard. It wasn’t heavy, the kind of heavy that scares you and wets your panties at the same time. It wasn’t full of authority and order. It was like air. I don’t know how to explain the… I dunno…beauty of it? I am using that word way too often. And when we got down from our train at the rendezvous point, he was the first one I saw. Now that can be considered a romantic symbolism or a very unflattering thing because he was the tallest out of the boys and I, out of the girls. And when we went to the movie, I wanted to sit beside him. Of course I couldn’t and did not let that phase me. But during lunch at Pizza hut when he sat across me and I was thankful the tables weren’t as big. And then at KFC, he sat right beside me and they gave an excuse of “trying to break the sexism” among us girls (We were three guys and three girls).

Sometimes when I am just sitting idle and wondering, reminiscing what I did in my past years or more specifically the past year, I recall all the way I let love take me on.

The day my grandfather passed away and I let myself get tortured by my curiosity and saw him slide straight into the incinerator, the man I had seen in flesh and bones to be reduced to bones in his final hours, to immediately catch fire before the doors could shut on us forever. I will never see him again, I thought. We were fighting that day and I still called him. I called him so he could calm me down, tell me it’s okay. I opened up to him to realise it would’ve been better if I only shut myself further down. He was ice-cold, his voice seared into my ears. And when I couldn’t take it anymore, I told him I’d talk to him later to which he said something like, “Yeah, when do we talk nowadays?” I realised he wasn’t interested in talking about me that day. All he was interested in was talking about himself and his misery. I will always remember what my best friend I recently lost told me after I called her after hanging up on him. “Trust me, if he let’s you go that will be the worst mistake of his life. No one will tolerate his tantrums the way you do.” I am thankful he let me go. Or else I would’ve never known what love feels like.

You know, they tell you that when you are out with a person you love all you are supposed to feel are butterflies in your stomach? It’s a goddamn lie. Because when I am out with the person I love, I feel free. To laugh loudly, to hum, to walk like a favourite cartoon character. I feel like, look, there is my best friend. But then Bollywood scares me, making me question if that is love or not. But when my friends talk about him and tease me about him when he is not there, the pink blush of my cheeks put all doubts to rest.

And him. God, him.

He feels different. When I look at him, I see things. I see colours, like green and brown (not trying to be racist, no). And his smell. He smells…normal. He smells like sunshine. He, I don’t know, smells like me. And his taste (no pun intended). When he kisses me, he tastes like me, the kind I’ve always dreamt my kisses would taste like. Even the deep breath that slightly kisses my lips after we break away sends shivers down my spine, all how I’ve always dreamt of it.

And all these things compiled together does the most important thing the universe can do to me. It calms me down. The green in him makes me feel unconfined and the brown in him reminds me of the strong big mountains, Earth, that I can crash into him without looking if he is there and he will always catch me. And the fact that I scribbled this little note on my little notepad right above a part with my amateur colour pencil strokes with the hope of stroking out a masterpiece and spiteful words like ‘worthless’, ‘ugly’, ‘freak’ written over it to silver line my failure says a lot .A hell of a lot.

I am ready. Sweep me off my feet.