#the old world is dying and the new world is struggling to be born

[olden-towne]

being in your 20s in the 2020s is so bizarre. Like, as a kid, I was not sure whether or not my hometown would be above sea level by the time I entered the job market, but it didn't really matter, because my top priority was having fun in middle school, followed by just trying to survive high school. "have fun with friends" is a short term goal. "don't step in front of a subway train or slit your wrists in the bathtub, today" is a short term goal. Now that I'm in my 20s I'm expected to plan for my long term future. Getting schooling and internships in areas I think I might enjoy having a career in. However it's all pervaded by this ever-present sense that I will see society as we know it crash and burn in my lifetime.

How do you do career planning when you feel like you might outlive capitalism? How are we living in an atmosphere where writing may be a safer long-term career path than accounting?

[valtsv]

can't believe it took me this long to realise, but "last word" is a double meaning. "last word" as in getting the last word, yes, but also as in the last words of the dying. dying people, dying gods, dying world.

[mishacakes]

being a kid and growing up and realizing your mom was always kinda awful and…what do you do now… is hard. it’s hard and no one understands

[andthentheywilleatthestars]

The old world is dying. The new world is struggling to be born. Now is the time of monsters. *unzips pants*

[pochapal]

the conference is presented as being at this kind of psycho-temporal threshold where the spectres that have haunted and tormented them are on their way out and everyone wants them to leave but also nobody seems to be able to let them go. in this way kinzo cannot die because while many people would benefit from him being dead, the structures ghosts and memories that sustain kinzo beyond the physical persist with such intensity that it allows the body to continue long past the point at which it should have stopped.

[ezpegs]

Image ID in Alt

Da babes!!!! And Malas hah.

These characters are from @/derinthescarletpescatarian's books "Curse Words" which you can read at derinstories.com and I highly suggest it!

It's a treat, with magic, cool world building, fascinating characters making awful decisions and bumbling prophecies (with love <3)

[ijustcantfigureout]

.

[valtsv]

the old world is dying? fuck yes. and the new world struggles to be born? even better. now is the time of monsters? well now you're just spoiling me

[effemimaniac]

it's always hard to get to sleep when you stay up past the "old world dying" part of the night and have to sleep through the sounds of the new world struggling to be born. like aagggh fuck it's the time of monsters again, god damn it

[reallyreallyreallytrying]

"the old world is dying" sad but it had a good run "the new world struggles to be born" not ideal but the situation seems salvageable. let's give it a hand "now is the time of monsters" <- why the fuck is this 3rd

[branwinged]

seeing some prophecy discourse which has once again reminded me why i personally find the prospect of dany as the prince that was promised really compelling. and it makes the targaryens so much thematically richer. like, they only survived the doom through the power of prophecy and then the visions marked them forever and this thing, this blessing which gave generations of targaryens some existential meaning eventually morphed into a curse which brought so many of them great misery—"my brothers dreamed of dragons too, and the dreams killed them, every one." (aemon, affc) and in due course almost ended their line once again with rhaegar. but then dany happened.

almost four hundred years since the doom when prophecy saved them and nearly killed them again on the trident, dany was born. dany who carries echoes of all her targaryen ancestors within her. she's aegon the conqueror come again but she's also maegor the cruel when she promises the khals who had hurt her khalasar would die screaming. she's rhaenyra in her struggles to wield power and establish legitimacy as a woman, she shares her sense of egalitarianism with egg, and she drinks from the cup passed from rhaegar, i.e. inherits (what he once thought of) his narrative destiny to help defend the realms during the long night.

dany who is both their beginning, since she's the first targaryen created and introduced to us on page and the narrative end point of their dynasty. which reflects all the way into her arc being cyclical by design as it calls back to the foundation of the valyrian empire in essos—during the fifth war the freehold torched old ghis with dragonfire so nothing would grow there again and centuries later this girl, the last dragon, is going to help plant trees there again. it's not about retreading old ground or rejecting her house words but about redefining what it means to be the blood of the dragon. which is not to say all that came before her was meaningless since this recontextualisation is only possible through the three centuries of ancestral history weighing on her. and dany's very existence echoes back in time because the prophecy itself has influenced the lives of generations of targaryens. three hundred years of history, all the glory and the horror concentrated in this one person-point. the prince that was promised not simply as a figure of the long night but as someone who is the apotheosis of their house. dany as both their beginning and their end, because the iron throne is presently a symbol of stagnation, a world in stasis, and it has to go. no restoration, instead the old world dying in fire and a new world being born in the aftermath.

[kaylacrush]

I'm at the old world dying, I'm at the new world struggling to be born, I'm at the combination old world dying and new world struggling to be born

[napoleonicanimus]

“This is a time for beasts, Jaime reflected, for lions and wolves and angry dogs, for ravens and carrion crows”

- Jaime Lannister, Jaime IV, A Feast For Crows

“The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born. Now is the time of monsters.”

- Antonio Gramsci

[cator99]

what we understand to be the cultural concept of Butch Lesbian is but a memory of a fading time and context....... The old world is dying... the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of tiktok

[sorrysisx]

i yearn for the day where i can feel my big sister pick me up—to feel like a toy in her arms, gently scooped up and out of the way as she makes her way into bed. i cant wait to feel her hands settle into place around mine as we drift off, quietly sharing her bed.

it wouldn't matter how she treats me otherwise, i wouldn't care if my days were filled with exasperated sighs, cold shoulders, and bitter looks. it wouldn't matter if i was a stupid little kid again, it wouldn't matter how the smell of her cigarettes settled into my clothes and blankets, it wouldn't matter if me or my stuffies got a kiss on the head—it would all be dashed away even if just for one small moment, just for one fucking moment, if only to finally feel warm at night, if only to finally get some sleep.

being in love with her would be okay if just for the moments of rest and certainty. the old world is dying, the new world is struggling to be born, but i would be the one in bed with my sister at night.

[reddesires]

RUINS.

Prologue : Promising Prospect.

Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader

Rating: No Warning.

Summary: Could there be a world that would be accepting of kinship between an ape and a human? It's only by chance that you came across him, an ape who craves more of the outside world beyond his clans borders. Will there be common ground, or will your past prevent you from making the same mistakes?

A/N: Hi, hello. Welcome to Prologue of Ruins, a story consisting of healing trauma and finding love within a world that's working against you. I'm proud of what I've written so far, i hope you like it❤️

The desolate structures that surrounded you held no warmth, the thoughts of life that cohabited this lonely formation of stone clouded your mind, images of people like you and their families going about their lives with no idea of the demise of their towering future crumbling into rubble with you sitting right in the middle of what remains.

You had no idea what life was like when your species ruled the earth but you knew of the things they left behind, the history that was ingrained into the minds of humans and apes alike, you knew of the shared hatred that you took no part in between the groups.

You’ve struggled between the tides of the world surrounding you. You were born in a time that held no home for you, a world that will tear every strand of familiarity that resembles humankind.

You've seen the ragged savagery between humankind and apes alike, the fighting and the ash that chokes out every hope that could possibly breathe life into the hatred that lies between them. The deep slash on your palm a reminder that you bleed the same, he bled the same, his blood seeped into yours as you promised that you would never resort to the tragedies that befell him and his people, the light in eyes flickering and dying out like the fires that surrounded you.

He told you to run and to never look back, and you didn’t. How could you trail back to a home that was no longer in existence, the once welcoming arms of those who sunk in death's embrace, you only wish you went with them but you pushed on with no destination in mind or heart, only the will to survive.

You rode on horseback for hours until you reached this monolith graveyard, a headstone of a past long lost that would serve you, hiding within its crumbling walls lined with mother earth’s vine-like embrace.

You only wished for peace, a life without hardship and bloodshed, but there was hardly any space like that for a human. That place was burned to cinders.

No place for a human like you.

                    •°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Life in the ruins is excruciatingly lonely. It's the same routine for you. You don't allow yourself to get too comfortable within this space. You are not only exposed to the elements but to whoever else who decides to explore the structure.

You aren't afraid of defending yourself, you just don't want it to come down to that again, you hide in the shadows of these old structures making sure to leave little to no evidence of you behind wherever you decide to hunker down for the night. You clean up the fireplaces, alternate between two sheets you use to sleep, washing them after use to rid of your natural smell.

You bathe in the nearby lake daily and use natural mint leaves to mask your scent, pulling the smell onto your everyday clothes. You make sure not to leave behind any food scrapes and no fires into the dead of night. You'd rather not be found by any wanderers that way.

You struggle with this new life, you used to have community and protection but now it's all gone, the ringing in your ears from the silence surrounding you damn near pulling you into a psychosis, you barely even recognize the sound of your voice at this point.

The only company you have is your dream and nightmares, they both kill you in very different ways, your dreams consist of the life you had before, the people you loved before, the memories of them flashing before you, the way you loved them and their undying devotion to you but your nightmares held the memories of the loss, how you lost them. Fire and Ash coating the realms of your mind, their blood on your hands, the screams encapsulating you, and it seems never ending, was this the life you were meant to have? Was there something more?

You were afraid to find out, the fear of the unknown too great for you now, you craved companionship, but the trepidation was far too great, the hovering possibility of losing them clouding your mind. As you sat with your back to the wall looking through the hallowed hole in the barrier across from you, observing all the constellations of the stars in a sky so far from you, a sky that was unattainable just like the life you had no choice of leaving behind.

The bodies that you have buried deep in the earth's soil, their souls extending out into the celestial body that you've admired your whole life, cradling those you held dear.

The cragged edge of the spear head in your hand grounding you and your nomadic thoughts, a calm wave of acceptance rounding the anger and helplessness that was held hostage in your mind, there was no fighting it, with time it'll pass but the grief will withhold no matter what.

There is no turning back, no going back to the times before, those who were there are no longer meddling on this earth, it will only be you with the burden of moving on.

The chill in the air sends a harsh shiver down your spine,you pull your jacket closer into your body as you lay on your makeshift bed your eyes still graced onto the sky far beyond you, you remember those before you and how he would've wanted you to survive, no matter what it took. Just survive.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The rays of daybreak skim over your eyelids, the flutter of your eyelashes as you squint brushing the tops of your cheeks, a deep exhale exiting your lungs, the ache of the action traveling through your body as you slowly unwind yourself from the balled up position you fell asleep in.

Another morning, the same routine. Rinse and repeat. While standing you gather the sheet from your corner, rolling it around it around your forearms kicking the remnants of the fireplace over the ledge, watching the burnt coals twirl into the air below, the charred remains disappearing within the winds that blew through. Rinse and repeat.

By the time you've done your routine, the wet sheet sticking to your skin as did your clothes, a new layering of distinct mint covering your scent, you hang the sheet to be dried in your hidden designated spot, out of sight to anyone who may be passing through.

The berries you collected on the way weighed heavy in your knapsack, your stomach rumbling in lingering hunger. You'll head back to your shelter to eat before you did anything else for the day, there wasn't much to do around the area, you've already explored all around the ruins and you've come across all kinds of human trinkets but you didn't care enough to carry them with you.

you didn't have much of a attachment to anything anymore but the spear head that seemed to burn a hole in your pocket, the size of it having a feeling of bigger much than it actually is, it loomed over you like a shadow just waiting to stab in to the tender skin of your palm.. it held more meaning than you actually liked to admit. It was too hard to admit.

When placing your clean sheet in the corner of the room, a huff exudes from your bronchi, and the ache still settled deep within your bones. You can feel the droop of your shoulders as you dig your hand into your new batch of freshly harvested berries, you didn't exactly have a plethora of food options, mainly sticking to the local berries and if you were lucky a fish from the lake.

You have thought of hunting but put it from your mind. It was too risky. The native animals worth hunting for were much too far from the ruins for your liking.

A heaving sigh escapes you as plop a berry into your mouth. This is intensely boring..

The silence encircling you was abruptly broken, voices echoing throughout the cavernous openings of the structures, hurriedly grabbing your belongings you scurry into an ajoin room squeezing into the crawl way with no notice of the missing stone falling from your pocket, the panic grasping onto your senses with merciless vigor.

The resonate voices bounce off your eardrums as you push yourself into the wall behind you, making yourself as small as possible. Here's to hoping you won't be found out. There's no knowing what could come from it.