#unfinished writing

[vodkakevinday]

me once again having feelings about the whole Choking™️ thing

cw: mention of bruises

Kevin Day, for all intents and purposes, is a man not easily changed. He’s steadfast, stubborn, and dedicated. He gives his all to everyone and everything. He’s loved exy since before he was born, he’s poured himself into the sport, dedicating every last piece of himself hoping to find a connection to both his mother and father. He poured himself into coaching the Foxes when he was at his lowest, poured himself into intensive physical therapy to regain the use of his left hand. He’s given everything to the people around him, even if it was done cruelly. He’s given everything he could. He’s lied and lied and lied again for the sake of others and himself.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself staring at the bruises that line his neck. The bruises blooming into an angry red, some parts already turning into a dark purple. It’s the outlines of the fingers that gets to him. It’s the distinct lines of his unbruised skin showing through the bruises that his eyes can’t stop tracing. His eyes roam over them, cataloging them into his brain, over and over again.

This isn’t the first time he’s had bruises there; he’s had possessive lovers and a cruel brother before. Even then, the bruises were never this ugly. Never this angry. Never this noticeable.

The hotel bathroom he finds himself in is blurring around him and suddenly it’s too hard to breathe, too hard to keep looking at the bruises given to him by yet another brother. He must make some type of sound because suddenly there’s a knock at the bathroom door and a quiet, “Kevin? Are you in there?”

Before he could even attempt to answer the door slowly opens where he can see a blurry Renee quietly closing the door behind her. He doesn’t know when he fell to the floor but she’s there, crouching by him, close enough to reach out to him and far enough to give him space.

He attempts to smile reassuringly, “I-” his voice is scratchy and it hurts to speak. More tears fall as he desperately tries to let Renee know he’s fine and nothings wrong.

“I think you need a friend, Kevin.”

Shaking his head no, he opens his mouth to disagree, but she cuts him off from even trying.

“Let me be your friend.” She slowly puts out her hand, steady and gentle, like she’s about to touch a skittish stray cat, and holds it there. Her face shows nothing but kindness and empathy, it almost makes him want to flinch.

She says it so earnestly, so kindly that Kevin can’t stop himself from taking her offered hand.

[nobodywritingao3]

unnamed monster & caretaker au

Tasked with feeding and caring for the king's resident monster, Tommy is constantly overworked and fully expects to die before he's twenty. He has an odd relationship with the beast and makes it a point to keep details about himself private, but it's difficult when the creature is the closest thing in the world he has to a friend.

wordcount: 2.3k 🕸 read it on AO3

CW: - hard vore mention - soft vore mention - mentioned abuse and dehumanization

‼️‼️‼️ Unfinished, unedited one shot. Proceed with caution

@gracideaviolet sent me a writing prompt and this is what i originally wrote for it. i like the concept but i wrote this at a not-good time and when i reread it, i didnt like the quality enough to fix it. if you like this story, let me know cuz that might give me motivation to properly finish this thing. feel free to take the idea but please credit and send it to me cuz i like this story and wanna see what someone else does with it

Tommy finished loading the cart and took a second to breathe.

He heard the beast shifting around in the dark. "Are you doing okay out there, Sunshine?"

Despite his tiredness, the sweet nickname made him smile.

"You know you eat a lot? It's a pain in the ass to load myself."

He meant it as a joke but silence hung in the air a second longer than it should have.

He cleared his throat. "I don't mind it. I'm compensated."

The beast snorted. "Not enough."

Tommy laughed awkwardly and didn't say anything.

He walked over to the control panel and started up the track.

The cart was big enough to fit a barn, and filled to the brim with various livestock, prisoners of war, and whoever else might have found themselves on the king's hit-list. Nothing sent to the monster was alive. It was a point the monster whined about a lot, but Tommy much preferred it that way. It was already disgusting having to spend hours upon hours piling the cart with bloody meat (sometimes human!) by himself, and the day he was handed a living person would be the day he faked his death and fled the kingdom.

He pressed a few buttons, tried not to cut himself on several rusty levers, and the rail obediently started itself up with a few revs and puffs.

The beast hummed contentedly at the noise.

The cart began to run along the track, disappearing from his view and descending into the inky black cave. He heard the gate creak open and he heard it creak close. And then he heard the beast begin to eat.

They weren't nice sounds by any stretch of the imagination - ugly rips and wet squelches of flesh - but Tommy had been at the job for a while and was long used to it. He settled in and waited for the creature to finish its meal.

"So how was your day, Keeper?"

Tommy hummed. "About the same as it always is. My master told me that the king will be coming in soon for a performance review, but I've no idea when that might be."

The beast paused its munching before hesitantly starting again a moment later. "I - why?"

He shrugged, assuming the monster could see him from the dark. "Something about me holding down this job the longest out of anyone before."

"Hm."

"I don't understand why that would intrigue the king. And no offense to you personally - "

"Uh huh," the monster sarcastically interjected -

" - but this isn't exactly the career path I'd have chosen. If I knew how to transfer I probably would have. Honestly - I have no idea how the others could have quit this job. I was under the impression that this is the sort of thing you do until you die."

It laughed at that.

Tommy sighed.

He was quiet for a few moments, a question sitting heavy on his tongue.

He shouldn't ask. It's impolite.

The monster shifted around. "Spit it out."

He gave the darkness an accusatory look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

There was a huff of laughter. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're doing that thing where you want to say something but are worried about what I'll think. It would be adorable if I wasn't desperate for decent conversation."

"Fuck you." He said it with a smile.

"Well? Are you going to say or not?"

He scrubbed at his face. Fuck it. "What were your other keepers like?"

The beast went silent for several long moments.

Shit. "You don't have to answer if you - "

"I didn't much care for them."

Tommy didn't say a word.

"The feeling was mutual." It sighed heavily. "You're a much better replacement, Sunshine."

"I'm sorry for asking."

The beast purred. "Don't be, dear. I pressed you. And I don't mind answering." It jostled the cart. "And I'm done eating."

Tommy nodded and powered up the control panel again. The cart began to recede. 

It appeared from the darkness, picked completely clean and shiny as if it never been covered in blood at all.

It scared him a little, how quickly the monster could eat such a large amount, but he dismissed those thoughts as easily as they came. When would that ever affect him?

He checked the clock. He still had a few hours before he had to report back. "Do you mind if I stay with you longer?"

The monster laughed conspiratorially. "Oh, but that's against the rules," it said in a high mockery of his voice.

He flushed.

He had been terrified of the monster when they first met. He gave any excuse to leave the beast as soon as he could, including that the rules specified that spending unnecessary time with it was prohibited. That was true, but no one would have known if he chose to linger. In hindsight, it had been terribly obvious how afraid he was and he's only embarrassed that the monster pretended to believe him.

"You're the worst."

"And you still want to spend time with me?"

Tommy blew a raspberry at the darkness, earning a few laughs.

It was comfortably quiet for a few seconds before the monster spoke again. "Why are you curious about my old keepers?"

He tugged at his fingers. "Do you know how I ended up here?"

"You never talk about it."

He frowned. "And I never will," he responded coldly. It never gave up asking. "But do you know, generally, how someone ends up working this kind of job?"

The monster was quiet. "Yes."

Tommy didn't say anything for a minute. "The king is very angry with me. I don't want to see him again. However the other keepers escaped..." He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying. If the king requests an audience with me, it isn't for any good reason."

~

When the king acquired his monster, he hired out help to feed the thing and keep it under control. He made sure the beast ate lavishly, but now matter what they fed it, it never seemed like to satiate the creature. But it hadn't died of starvation and that was good enough. When its caretakers started to disappear, it wasn't difficult to guess what happened.

But acknowledging the problem would mean addressing it too, and the king simply didn't care. In the end, he realized he had the perfect way to quietly do away with those he needed gone. He sourced this job, with its one hundred percent rate of 'job abandonment' to political adversaries or people growing affluent enough to take his throne.

Which takes him to the present day, and a rather interesting problem.

When some servant boy had spilled a bottle of red wine down his front during a gala several years prior, the king had been so angry that he threw the child in a dungeon and left him there. When the monster's then-keeper inevitably disappeared, the king came to the boy and grimly informed him of his punishment.

He hadn't expected the child to last more than a couple of days. He'd even picked out his replacements.

But lo and behold, the boy remained present at his job post for a week. And then that week became several, and those several became months, and those months became a year and a half.

The king couldn't understand why it hadn't eaten him yet. He was fifteen at this point, certainly the youngest to feed the monster. Was it waiting for him to grow up? Did it want to watch him sprout up before it made its attack? It was perfectly sentient, and the king knew this even though he denied it upfront. Shouldn't the monster trust that the sooner it finished its current keeper, the sooner he would be replaced by another?

Had there been someone who had managed to bring this creature to subservience? If so, then the king took special interest.

And if not, then it was long overdue that the servant boy be put to death.

~

Being a human's lapdog wasn't a dignified experience, but it was a fed one. Driders were megafauna, making it hard to get enough food. It certainly didn't help that the human kingdom believed everything was its rightful property and saw driders as a threat to them owning more than they could eat.

Wilbur certainly didn't enjoy his life, and he was almost always hungry anyway, but at least he was alive.

He lived in a dungeon below the castle, but he wasn't sure what a castle was and he barely understood the concept of a dungeon. He hadn't seen the sunshine in years, and his keeper was his only company.

He liked his keeper. The boy was kind. He didn't threaten to pee in Wilbur's food or throw rocks at him. He asked him how his day was, and even made it a point to handle the meat carefully as he transported it into the cart. He seemed lonely, and made up excuses to stay. He was a cute little thing, and Wilbur wanted to stick him into his brooding pouch and keep him there.

~

The cart rolled into Wilbur's enclosure, and he greedily snatched it up and began to eat.

His keeper sat at a table in the light.

Wilbur finished his food in a few seconds and toyed with the cart. He always made it seem as if it took him longer to eat than it did.

"Do you have a family?"

The boy froze at the question. "Why do you ask?"

Wilbur pouted even though he knew he couldn't be seen. "We've known each for so long. I don't even know what your name is. Can't I know just a little?"

His keeper awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with his fingers. "Oh... I guess you're right."

Wilbur's heart leapt.

"I don't have a family."

"Oh." Shit.

"Yeah."

What was he supposed to say?

"I don't have a family either."

His keeper peered into the darkness. "What are you?"

Wilbur smiled. He skittered to the bars of his cage and leaned against them, towering over the boy, though he had no idea. "Would you like to play twenty questions?"

"You're so lame, seriously, what are you? I don't even know what you look like."

I could show you, he wanted to say.

Coming out of his cage was easy. The king assumed it could hold him but no one actually checked. And aside from his keeper, no one had been in his dungeon for years. In reality, the bars had long been bent open and Wilbur could get out whenever he pleased.

It wouldn't be difficult to come through the bars and present himself to his keeper. Pick the little figure up in his hands and take him into his cage with him.

When he'd eaten his previous keepers, they'd always been replaced. If he captured his current keeper and stored him away in his brooding pouch, then he'd never be lonely again.

It was tempting.

"That's probably for the best," he said. He stepped away from the bars of his cage and curled up on the floor.

He liked his keeper. He wanted him to be happy. Just because Wilbur was stuck in a cage didn't mean he had to be as well.

"Do you think I'd be scared of you?"

Wilbur looked down at himself, at his large stature and eight legs. His fangs came down to his mid chin. "I think you'd be terrified, dear."

His keeper smiled. "I don't think so. I have a suspicion that you're just harmless."

His heart melted. Oh stars, he wanted to eat this kid.

He massaged his aching brood pouch. "You're sweet, Sunshine."

~

The cart was left in his cage while he was sleeping. He woke up confused, spying it in the corner of his enclosure and wondered why he'd been fed overnight. Where was his keeper? His mind jumped to the worst conclusions.

He found him inside the cart. Bound and gagged and looking terrified beyond all reason.

"Oh, Sunshine," he murmured.

His words had the opposite intended effect, his keeper starting to panic and writhe at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, hey... Calm down, okay? I'll get you out of there." He reached into the cart and picked him up in his hand.

Despite the circumstance, his heart soared. This was the closest they'd ever been.

The figure was tiny in his palm, and still struggling.

Wilbur quickly undid his bounds, being mindful of his sharp claws against the human's body. As soon as his hands were free, he was clawing at the gag around his mouth.

"Don't eat me! Please, do not eat me..."

Wilbur's stomach dropped.

"What? Sunshine, why would I eat you?"

The boy continued to sob.

Wilbur cupped him to his chest and headed towards the bars of his enclosure. He expertly clambered through and came out the other side, his skin exposed to the light for the first time in more than a year.

"Dear? Can you talk to me?" He stroked his head with his thumb and brought him eye level. "Why were you in my feeding cart?"

His keeper stared at him in shock, and it was then that he remembered his keeper had never truly seen him before.

A hot wave of embarassment and self consciousness overtook him.

He awkwardly set his little human on his table and receded back into his enclosure.

"Sunshine?" He prompted once back in his cage. "Are you..."

"Could - could you get out the whole time?"

Wilbur's mouth went dry. "I - well, yes, I could but - "

His keeper stumbled off the table and hit the ground with a nasty sounding crack.

Wilbur sprang to his claws and scrambled forward. He popped his head out between the bars and stared down at his little keeper. "Are you okay?"

The human stared up at him with terror on his face and scrambled backwards, running for the door.

"Shit, shit, wait, I'm sorry! Please stay, please, Sunshine - "

The door slammed behind him with a resounding crack and Wilbur flinched backwards.

~ ~ ~ 🕸

i used to love drider aus back in 2020 🕷️🕷️🕷️

just a freaky little guy whose half dude and half Fear. potential off the charts.

my tag list got lost when my computer was annihilated (</3) but let me know in replies if you want to get @'d and i'll make a new one

oh yeah link to the writing prompt and story i did fill out

[fluideli123]

No thoughts, just the next part of my fic I just can't stop thinking about because I think about Amy and Sonic's friendship so aggressively:

Sonic hated having to attend these gatherings, events that did nothing but suffocate him, like the tie around his throat and the pats on his back in congratulations. The music was too slow, loud, and mellow, grating on his ears and clawing down his back in all the ways that felt like it was shredding his senses. Mouths and bodies moved, and cameras flashed on all sides, photographing and recording this moment repeatedly as microphones were set in front of him, pleading for him to say something new, something meaningful, something they wanted to hear. These things always claimed to be in his honor, for all he's done over the years. But it wasn't for him in any way. If it were, he wouldn't even be here. He'd be at home with his friends, wearing nothing but his bandana and worn-down shoes. He'd be sent letters, cards, videos, and broadcasts about people's experiences with him and what he's done. He'd be in mom-and-pop shops, helping them defeat their competitors. He'd be outside with a bunch of ankle biters, ensuring they had fun and were treated fairly as they played together. Chaos, there would be actual good food he could stuff his mouth with. Music to go to the dance floor with, know the lyrics, and have it mean something. But no, this was for the press, the people who valued their status over actual people, to show off, following some tradition of acknowledgment for members of society. It made him sick to sit through every time. Yet here he was out of obligation. Again. At least he wasn't here alone. Gloved hands take his elbow, stealing him from the sight of an approaching woman in a dazzling dress, losing her in the passing crowd. Sonic can't help but grin, a relieved excitement echoing up and out of his throat with a chuckle as he turns to a beaming Amy. "You always know how to get me out of trouble, huh?" Amy rolls her eyes affectionately, hooking their arms together as they slow their pace, finally out of reach of pressing eyes and hands. "I've been getting you out of the worst situations since we were kids, Sonic. By this point, I think I'm the only one who knows how to." Sonic laughs, hugging Amy closer, bumping them together lovingly. "What would I do without you here to save me from these things?" "You'll probably run away and leave a trail of upset people who'll spread rumors about you just to be petty," Amy remarks. The clicking of her heels is a soothing noise against Sonic's overly sensitive ears, the familiar sound relaxing his perked quills and irritated mind. A hand grabs Sonic's, squeezing reassuringly as Amy's head tilts. "What were they doing with you for so long, anyway? I've been looking for you since the first interview ended. If I'd known a bunch of other media vultures were going to spring at you, I would have beat them back with my hammer and gotten your ass out." Warmth pulses, warming him from the inside out as Amy punches her fist into the palm of her other hand with a huff at the thought, arm still hooked with Sonic's. He adored her fierce protectiveness, especially toward himself. She and Sonic have endured more together than Tails and Knuckles combined, at least when it comes to the public's challenges. No one could ever see them innocently, even as kids. They had to fiend off gross remarks and expectations that messed with their friendship more than once, especially when Amy was raised in a heavily amatonormative town. But Sonic wouldn't trade her for the world; Amy was a firm, steady presence in his ever-changing life. He needed someone like her, but most importantly, he wanted not just anyone like her but Amy herself. Her charming, heart-wrenching smile, honest outlook, and natural knack for responsibility made life so much better. No one else in Sonic's life held such a large part of his heart so effortlessly with her endless understanding and kindness, the drive to help when needed, and endless backup when push came to shove in battle or just in life. Sonic loved her, just not in any of the ways people wanted.

[loveletterstoadirtybastard]

Sweetness on my tongue as I say your name My beloved, you are more than sugar You are honey You are nectar You are ambrosia Prayers on my lips when we are apart My dearest, you are more than heavenly You are angelic You are divine You are seraphim

[percicosoftcore]

“Like you still love me anyways.”

“I love you,” he said, chin propped up on his hand and smiling like this isn’t a big deal, like he has no care in this world. “I love you so much love almost becomes enough.”

[gtbutterfly]

Oh sh*t, mermay ends tomorrow and I've haven't posted anything mermaid related!

Sh*t, sh*t, um, quick, here, take this unfinished wip I made earlier this month, I know it's not finished, but I don't have anything else, hope you enjoy it anyway!

(Criticism appreciated)

CW: mild blood, shipwreck, implied death of crew, off screen hard vore(?) (death happens to the crew before the story starts, not the protagonist

__________________________________________________

Survival log, May 8th, 19XX,

Today is the day. I’ve been on this island for more than two weeks, today is the day I finally escape and make my way home. My attempts at fixing the broken radio from the shipwreck have failed, and my calls for help written in the sand have gone unanswered, so my only hope to return to civilization is to brave the seas myself. I’ve managed to patch up a life raft from the ship wreckage, and I’ve filled it with all the food and supplies I have left on this pit of sand. Tonight, I’ll set off and try to return to the mainland undetected. The creatures that stranded me here and left no remains of the rest of my crew have been lurking off the coast of this island waiting for me to go out there. I heard their singing trying to lure me out the previous nights, but their calls had been silent for the last three. I hope that means they’ve lost interest in me, and have left to find other prey to hunt, leaving me an opportunity to get away. This may very well be the last entry in this logbook. If I am to perish to the sea or to the beasts that lured our ship into the rocks, I only wish to be reunited with the rest of my crewmates, wherever they may be. If this book is found and I am assuming deceased, I ask my sons to forgive me for leaving them for the sea and leaving this world for the heavens.

Christopher closed the yellowed log book and dropped it onto the floor of the raft. It was sunset, the sky was clear but the usual fog was setting in around the rocks surrounding the island. Other than the sounds of waves crashing against the stone spikes and seagulls flying in the distance, it was completely silent. There weren’t any glowing eyes or shadows in the distant fog. There was no singing like there usually was around this time. It was getting dark fast, with the setting sun and the fog combined, there was hardly any visibility. That was when they liked to hunt. Ships would sail through the fog, and they would start singing while leaning on the massive rocks, putting the ship's crew into some kind of trance. The ships would be steered into the rocks and start sinking, and by the time the creature's prey would realize what was happening, they would be pulled into the water and devoured, leaving nothing left but the shipwreck against the rocks and a red tint in the water. Christopher didn’t know how he managed to survive. He fell into the water when the shipwreck happened, and everything went dark. When he woke up, he was on the coast of the island, 20 meters away from the rocks where his ship crashed. He was the only one there. There was no other debris on the island, nothing that could have floated him there as if something had plucked him out of the water, safely placed him on the beach, and left. For all he knew, he could’ve been dead and stuck on this island as a form of purgatory. But he would only find out if he tried escaping.

He’d spent the last two weeks on that island trying to survive. He’d been eating fruit from the few trees on the islands and drinking coconut water to stay hydrated. He made a poor shelter made up of branches and leaves for the night, and a campfire right next to it. During the day, the monsters would sleep. Christopher almost came face to face with one while he was swiming to the shipwreck to get supplies, luckily he was back at the island when it woke up. The water surrounding the island was too shallow for the creatures to swim it, so Christopher could swim and get fish there easily. At night, he would see the monster's glowing eyes and patterns in the fog, their dark shadows circling the island like vultures, and the sound of their song, though it didn’t have any effect on Christopher now. It didn’t sound beautiful and alluring like before, it was the same melody, but uncanny, and sadistic sounding. It was as if they weren’t trying to lure him out and were instead taunting him to get him to give up on survival, and let himself be consumed. But now those noises, those creatures, were gone, at least for this night. There was no telling how much longer they would be gone, no telling if they even were gone, or just lurking under the water. Assuming they were gone, though, Christopher couldn’t afford to wait any longer, he had to take this chance or risk dying on this island alone.

It was finally dark. There was a full moon that reflected brightly across the ocean water and a glass lantern Christopher had taken from one of the ship wreaks at the island that he put a bit of fire in acting as his only light source. Christopher pushed the raft into the water and kept pushing it until the water was to his waist. He climbed into the raft and started paddling it though the fog. It was silent as it could be, the only sound there was were the waves crashing into the rocks and the remains of ships. Without the threat of the beasts eating him whole, the environment was actually quite peaceful. The moon reflected in the crystal blue water, the stars filling up the whole of the night sky, the waves hitting the rocks and the shore behind him, it was all so surreal and beautiful, but now wasn’t the time to take in the location. Christopher kept rowing the small boat until he finally made it to where the water turned from a clear blue to a dark one, where the water was endlessly deep and empty. After two weeks, he made it off the coast of the island. He sighed in relief. This was finally it, he escaped the pile of sand trees and rocks where all his coworkers met their demise. There was a sliver of hope floating around in Christopher's gut, hoping he would make it to the mainland and see his family again. As he kept rowing past the rocks, his mind filled with plans for what he would do when he returned. He would publish the logbook he had been keeping, and use the profits to send his children to a good school. He would buy a new house for himself and his spouse, and never set foot on another cargo ship again. But as he was rowing, he noticed something in the water under him.

It was dark, darker than the rest of the dark blue water Christopher was surrounded by. It seemed like a shadow, or a silhouette of sorts, though it was hard to make out what the shape was, given how it was under the raft and covered by the fog. It was big, about twice the size of the raft, but it seemed to be getting bigger. Christopher leaned over the edge of the raft, hoping he was imagining what ever it was. The shilloette got bigger and closer until Christopher could just barley see two glowing yellow eyes in the water. They were only there for a second, and they were gone as soon as Christopher saw them. He thought he imagined them for a second, but he couldn’t have. They were to vivied, too real. The eyes were quite large, being perfect spheres, three feet in diameter. They had a yellowish glow that illuminated the surrounding green scales and the pounds of dead sea weed over the creatures head, that were otherwise completly hidden by the fog and the dark water. Christopher considered turning back and going back to the island, but he knew he was to far deep now, both literally and figuatively. He had to go through with it. So he kept rowing, albeit, with more urgency and panic than before. He quickly pushed the wooden oar through the water, trying to go as fast as he could. There were still something in the water, something following him. He saw just the tip of a sharp, massive dorsal fin peeking out the top of the water for a moment before going passed him. It had to belong to something atleast 30 feet long. He kepted rowing, trying to get away from whatever was lurking underneath. He was practically hyperventalating now. One of those monsters were right under him. He seemed to be seconds away from having his raft fliped over and being chewed to mush by the teeth of the creature below. Then, he heard it; the singing. Everything seemed to go still. Christopher stopped rowing for a moment. The singing was coming from the fog in front of him. It sounded beautiful and heartbreaking and kind and sad. It was a differnt melody than before, it was singular and quieter and more solem than the chorus he heard. Everything in Christophers mind was gone except for the singing. He started rowing towards the music. He couldn’t tell himself why, he just couldn’t stop himself from doing so, it was like it was all he knew. He kept rowing and rowing blindly through the fog, letting th esound guide him until it cam to a stop. Christorpher suddenly cam eto his senses and fell backwards in his raft as his face turned to absolute dread. There was something floating in the water infront of him. It was hard to see with the fog, except for its glowing perfect yellow eyes. It leaned closer to the boat as Christopher braced himself, and a giant, rough, wet feeling hand grabbing him from under his arms and pulled him upward.

It seemed about 30 feet tall, like christopher thought, though only two thirds of it was above the water. Its eyes were wide and its face was neutral. There was sea grass coming off of its head, it was hard to tell if it was just sitting on top or if it was growing from there somehow. Its scales were a blend of grey and green, and the moonlight shined off them like glass. Other than its eyes, there was nothing on this thing that was glowing, which was weird because all the other creatures that Christorpher had seen like this had glowing scales on their fins or in patterns on their bodies, similar to how predatory fish had glowing marks to attract their prey. This thing on the other hand only had its glowwing yellow eyes, simiar to a cat. Speaking of hands, Christopher noticed that this thing had them, he was being held in its hands after all. He didn’t remeber if the other creatures like this one had hands with human like opposable fingers like this one. He couldv’e sworn that they had fins at the ends of their arms, some with boney spikes coming out of them. He also couldv’e sworn that the other creatures were much bigger than this one. When the creature opened its mouth, Christopher braced himself to be chewed up, but instead, the creature seemed start talking, or at least trying to,

“H…….hu………hallu…..hell….hellu……” the sound creeped from the creatures mouth. Its voice was dry and raspy, yet young and feminine like that voice that christopher heard singing. It sounded like if a dog tried forming human words, they were just barely understandable, but still unhuman. The creatures teeth were flat and square,with rounded fangs before the molars like the teeth of an omnivore. Its mouth was red and fleshy and dark, ad smelled of seawater and kelp and small fish, but not of blood, not of humans. Christopher struggled to form words himself.

“H….h-hello?” he said, less so saying hello to the being that was holding him and more so asking if that was what the creature was trying to say.

“Hallo,” the creature said, its large face still netrally looking at Christopher. He gulped.

“Um…hello…” he said, looking at the entity in fear.

“Ewu….ee-uw hamam…ee-uw humon….human….” the creature said, still struggalling to speak correctly.

“Y-yes, I’m human…” Christopher said, “what….what are you?”

“S….sssssigh….ssssssigh when….” the creature said, “siiiiwhen…sighwen..”

“Siren?” Christopher asked. He had heard of siren before, but the name had slipped his mind when he was shpwrecked. The creature nodded.

“Sssiren….siren oar mmmurrmayed….” the creature said,

“Mermaid?” Christopher asked, the siren nodded, before it continued talking.

“eiiee….Eiess iz…Lamina…Lamina s….ssssav ewu, humon…”

“You’re…you’re name is…Lamina…and you saved me?” Christopher asked. It occurred to him how he ended up on the island instead of being killed with the rest of his crew, this siren, Lamina, took him from the water and put him there.

“Y-yez….” Lamina said, “ewus….ewur boat….wahs….” she made some kind of incomprehensible garling like sound, probrobly a word in siren langrauge that she didn’t have a translation for, “bye ssirens,,,,hoo…” it then opened it’s mouth and slammed it shut, making a loud sound with her teeth, startling christopher, “ewur frien humons,” Christopher just stared at them for a second, picing together what she meant.

“My ship was attack by sirens…other sirens…and they ate the other humans on it, and you saved me?” Christopher asked. Lamina nodded.

She made another weird gargling sound, before saying “siren” probably referring to the other sirens that attacked the ship, “wahn Lamina to…” she opened and slammed her mouth closed again, “...ewu…but Lamina…” The siren then just started making more gargling noises that christopher couldn’t understand. It was like she was trying to explain something, but was speaking in her native language and not broken english. It was impressive enough that she knew any english at all. Every so othen she would make some gesture with her free hand or her face. When she was done talking, Christopher looked up at her,

“Um….th-thank you…for not…letting me get eaten….” He said, smiling nervously. Lamina sunk deeper into the water and placed Christopher back in the raft he was in before. But instead of leaving, she started talking again.

“Sirens tat wahn…” she made the gesture where she opened and slammed her teeth close, it probably meant “eat,” “ewu coming bac tanight, humon go…” she made a gestured with her eyes closing and her head nodding downwards like she was sleeping, Christopher guessed it meant “home,” “naow, Lamina hep ewu,”

“You…you want to help me get home?” Christopher asked. Lamina nodded.

“Lamina hep ewu go homme,” she said, before dropping back under water, disappearing from the human’s sight. Suddenly, Christopher felt a bump in the bottom of the raft, and it started moving. The siren was pushing the Raft from under water. Christopher was skeptical of letting this…thing… help him, but it wasn’t like he could tell her not to, at least not now. He sat down in the raft as the siren pushed it from below him.

(yeah, that's all I have written. Let me know if you'd like to see this finished.)

[unfinwrite]

Scared Origin

Fable Smp

features Rae with wings, who is afraid to fly.

Written: 23.03.2022

Throughout the whole world, different beings exist, with the most different looks. Some may have a tail for legs, to glide on the floor or in the water more easily. Some may have horns to protect themselves from various things. Another may have wings, to sway through the sky and enjoy the freedom. Sometimes people can’t enjoy their origin through various reasons, maybe because they would get captured when they are found out. Perhaps their traits are not completely grown out yet, and need to wait a little bit longer to sharish themselves. In some other cases, they are scared.

“Come on Rae, it’s just gliding down. And it’s not even that far!” called someone out, from the bottom of the tree. Rae sighed and held even tighter on to the branches, slowly sitting down on the one he is standing on. Carefully he climbed down the tree, one step at the time. When he arrived at the bottom, he turned around and looked into mismatched eyes. “You know-” Sherbert’s starts “, if you never try to even glied, you will never come over your fear of flying” They crossed their arms and looked at him with a concerned gaze. On their back are two ta They crossed their arms and looked at him with a concerned look. On their back, two tall wings are sitting, going from a depp purple to a shining yellow. They twiched nervously around, fitting Sherberts mood. „Well, maybe I don’t want to be able to fly ?“ he shrugged and slightly turned away with his body. He doesn’t want to hear this all over again. You need to practice, get over your fear, that’s how you feel free, and whatever. Sherbert just sighed again and turned around to walk away, Rae following close behind. „Okay I know that flying is most likely very furfilling, but I just don’t need it. Just because you have something doesn’t mean that you need to use it“ Sherbert came to a sudden stop and grabbed Rae’s shoulder. Rae looked surprised, his dark blue wings with a few dull green feathers scatter throug them, folded on his back, as if they would want to hide from this confrontations. „Yes, you don’t need to, but you have the possibility to do it. You can fly and that takes time to learn-“ they let go of Rae’s shoulders „And I believe, that you can come over your fear of flying, but that needs you to be brave and you know fly“ they gave Rae a promising smile, as if they knew that everything would be okay one day. For a moment, Rae thought, that he could actually fly, start learning it and feel that freedom that the legend described, but then he insecure came toppling down. „Oh Sherbert, I… Gods I wish I could fly, but it’s…“ he paused and looked on the floor. „Hey Hey it’s fine. How about this night we can do little practice bits, how does that sound mhh ?“ they slightly panicked. Rae thought about the

proposal a bit and nodded after a while. Sherbert gave him an exciting smile and started to pull him down the path. Maybe they this could actually work. ————— Why does he even trust Sherbert anymore ? Sherbert thought it would be a great idea to jump down a mountain with wind currents, so that they just can flow on them. Rae hated that Idea. „You know ? I changed my mind. We’re going back“ „Hey no no no. If you are not doing this now, you while never do it“ piped in another voice. Not only did Sherbert thought that jumping of a mountain would be a great idea, they also brought Athena along, so that they can all practice together or something. He just held tighter to the railing which was installed up their. Sherbert and Athena walked up to the edge of the little platform they are standing on. While Serbert turned around facing Rae, Athena sat down and let their legs bumble other the abyss. „Well Rae, it’s actually really simple, you just need to open your wings, spread them out and then-“ and with that, they let themselves fall, into to the open mouth of Rae’s fear. Rae himself gapsed, letting go temporally from the railing to

[preciouslittletoonette]

Too Much Like Him

An unfinished piece that I'm not 100% sure I'm gonna finish. This is what I was talking about when I mentioned a while back about an angsty Hook siblings piece. This is from Harriet's story for the most part. I still liked what I wrote down so here's what I had for it.

Maybe some day I'll come back to this.

The entirety of Harriet's childhood could be watered down to one singular name.

Peter Pan

That name sprung a lot of very mixed feelings if you had to ask Harriet her true opinion of her father's 'arch nemesis' as he supposedly would reason he was. Somedays, the name sparked an unbearable, seething hatred that had her throw one bottle to the wall to vent out her frustration on something.

Other days, it made her feel... small. Confused. Perhaps a little warm.

Truly, she had extremely messy feelings regarding Pan.

And she completely blamed her parents for that.

Xxx

The first time she had ever heard of Peter Pan was ironically, not from either of her parents. Rather, it was something she learnt when hearing other Islanders talk about her father.

That night when she brought up the name, her father's glass shattered in his hand from the rage he felt just having the name uttered in his presence. It wasn't the first time her father had flown off the handle with his temper, but it was the first time her mother had actually gotten him to shut up.

Speaking of her mother.

Her mother was an interesting case indeed. Harriet never learnt her story to it's completion. Her father never told her, and no one else truly knew. All Harriet knew was that her mother was an accomplice of Hook once, regretted it but still punished for it.

(In that case, why isn't Tinkerbell on the Isle then, Harriet thought bitterly)

Compared to her father, her mother's reaction to Pan was much more... softer... fonder... sadder.

She didn't like how sad her mother looked when she thought of Peter Pan.

And since that faithful question, an unspoken rule was cast on not only the Hook household, but on the families of everyone remotely connected to the Jolly Roger and Neverland itself.

No one talk about Peter Pan.

XXX

Despite the rule being in place, it didn't stop the off-handed mentions of Peter, or as Harriet will learn his other names 'Pan' 'The Brat' 'King of the Fairies' (though Mother told her this was inaccurate. The fairies had no king and Pan would be their last choice) 'The Guardian' or as her father simply calls him 'The Boy'.

Her father was the biggest culprit of all these mentions.

And in all instances, it mainly had to do with what habits Harriet had that would simply remind Hook of 'The Boy'. And it was this way Harriet learned small little tidbits and factoids about Pan and the things they shared.

How she'd twirl around the ropes. How she landed gracefully from the tips of her feet after jumping from a high place. Their pride.

All of these things reminded her father of the boy. And she could see just how much it irritated him.

XXX

Her mother was pregnant and Harriet was all sorts of excited. Her ears rose up in happiness as she bounced around her pregnant mother, who laughed at her antics.

One yell from her father though and that all stopped. That did not mean Harriet's excitement was deterred all that much, however.

She was busy with a gift for the baby when she heard her mother chuckle.

"You look so much like him"

"Like who, ma?", Harriet asked curiously, though she felt she knew the answer already.

"Him", was all her mother had to say and Harriet's answer was confirmed.

Her father reentered the room and they didn't talk about it any further.

XXX

The birth of Harrison Garrett (named after some old man named Gary that her mother knew) Hook was a tremendous affair that had her father smiling for a whole day (a brand new record in her book, her father was usually frowning)

Her mother looked exhausted as Harriet watched her with interest as her father doted on Harrison (creatively dubbed as Harry). It was fascinating to see her father, who usually sneered and cursed at children (particularly boys or masculine-leaning kids), being so affectionate and doting to a child.

(She denied the fact she felt envious)

Her mother welcomed her into her arms, giving her a warm hug as she settled onto the now bloody bed.

"Ah love, he's perfect", Hook said fondly.

"Looks like he's going to take after you just like Harriet", her mother murmured, caressing said girl's hair as she watched her husband hold their son.

Hook grinned," Better luck next time", he teased and her mother chuckled, Harriet smiling at this rare intimate scene with her family.

"Next time will be the last one", her mother warned.

(It was almost painful how true that will turn out to be)

"Of course, of course", Hook said with a roll of his eyes," Couldn't have asked for more", he said as he looked down at little Harry with affection," My boy. Our very first son".

The sentiment was meant to be sweet. But it made her mother look very, very ill and very, very guilty.

XXX

Harriet had some trouble sleeping that night. What with Harry crying at every hour of the night. She leapt out of bed in order to check on him, and perhaps see her mother as well.

What she walked into that night, would be something that would puzzle her for many years to come.

She left her room and walked out onto the deck. The deck was empty as everyone had gone to sleep. Everyone except her mother and brother of course.

Harriet had meant to announce her presence. But she had heard her mother muttering to herself and her young, curious mind did what many would do if they heard something they shouldn't. Keep listening.

"I have to tell him. I have to tell him- I have to tell him. God- I can't believe- oooh", her mother muttered angrily to herself as she paced the deck, holding Harry as she rocked him to sleep.

"If only I hadn't listened to the Queen and the Ministers. If I hadn't listened to Tink and the others, I should've told James. And none of this would've happened".

"He wasn't even supposed to be alive. They removed him from my body for Second Star's sake. It must have been the island's doing"

"I have to tell James. I have to. He deserves to know"

"I can't keep this any longer. Its too much to hide. I have to tell him-"

Harriet was so enthralled with her mother's mad muttering she hadn't noticed someone approach her from behind.

"Lass, what are you doing out of bed?"

She jumped, hearing her father's voice from right behind her. Her mother's muttering stopped as she heard Hook's voice.

"James? Harriet?"

"Is Harry asleep yet? Get back inside", Hook said roughly.

"He's asleep", her mother said sighing," James, there's something I have to confess".

"Can it wait til morning, love? I'm exhausted", Hook asked tiredly," Besides, the lass is out of bed and needs to be put back".

Her mother sighed," Of course", she said tiredly," I'm... not up for much talking either".

Hook stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Go to bed", he told her, no room for arguing. Her mother went inside, going straight for her and Hook's shared bedroom.

Harriet, meanwhile, was escorted to her room by her father.

He didn't tuck her in like her mother would. He stood at the door and watched. No words were exchanged between them as it happened.

"I saw you jump earlier. A great pirate must always be aware of their surroundings, Harriet", Hook said sternly.

"Yes father. Sorry father", Harriet said as she sat awkwardly in bed.

"Don't let it happen again"

"Yes, father"

And usually that would be the end of it. But Hook continued to stand in the doorway of her room, eyes staring at her but... never truly looking at her. His eyes seemed unfocused for the longest time.

"Lass?"

The way he said it made it seem like he was questioning whether it truly was her on the bed. Which was ridiculous. Who else would it be?

"Father?", Harriet asked worriedly as he stared for too long.

He shook his head to get out of his sudden daze," Nothing, nothing...", he paused,".... Do you know what yer mother was muttering about outside?".

'I have to tell him

'If only I hadn't listened'

None of this would've happened

It must have been the island's doing

Harriet shook her head," No. But it sounded important", she added.

"Ah I see", Hook said quietly. He stood there, deep in thought for a moment before he began to move to close her room door.

"Goodnight... Harriet"

Harriet blinked. Why did it sound like he was hesitating on her name?

XXX

[mewintheflesh]

Scrapped Arven/Reader

I wrote this over a month ago and i realised I have no intention of finishing this anytime soon because I do not have faith in my ability to write characters correctly or emotional scenes 👍

Was originally loosely based on Coldplays “The Scientist” 

Readers kind of an ass in concept 

It stops very abruptly so uhh warning 

                                                           ———

 During a trip to Kalos the League had taken for a meeting, you had gone missing.  Months and months of searching turned into a whole year with no avail. Everyone except for a handful of people had given up on ever finding you again.  And included in that handful, was your partner, Arven.

 A pair of feet and two pairs of paws crushed the grass beneath them in the twilight. The moonlight shining on the dew in the grass, making it sparkle like fine gems.

 Arven yawned groggily as he walked alongside his bud, Mabosstiff.

 He would’ve preferred walking during the day, but Mabosstiff was practically begging to walk now. And well, he just couldn't say no to him.

 There was no real destination he had in mind, he thought it would just be a quick walk to nowhere and back to Mesagoza.  In fact, he had already tried several times to go back to Mesagoza, but Mabosstiff was not having it.

 Mabosstiff kept his nose practically buried in the ground the entire time too.

  Arven noticed that he kept going to the same area in Los Platos each time they went back out into the field. Maybe he’d just see what he might have wanted from there?

Mabosstiff’s head perked up from the ground as they crossed the small wooden bridge leading into Poco Path.

“Grrrbwoof!"

Mabosstiff took off to the lighthouse without warning.

"Mabosstiff— where are you going?!" As he ran after the pokemon, Arven yelled, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

When he reached the top of the incline, Mabosstiff was tackling somebody standing by the fence on the cliff edge—playfully tackling.

He grimaced and ran to gently pick Mabosstiff off of the person.

 “I'm so sorry, my bud never does this to strangers." He spoke through shallow breaths. "You okay?"

They looked at Arven for a second before tensing up and turning away from him. "Yes, I'm- alright, thank you."

Arven blinked.

The cogs in his brain turned on to overdrive, he could’ve sworn he recognized that voice.

No, he absolutely recognized it.

"Little bud…?"

They clammed up.

 Slowly, they turned around. Looking him directly in his eyes, their face somber as they nodded yes.

 Arvens body loosened, letting Mabosstiff out of his grip.

 He took a step forward, and ran into them, gripping them in the tightest hug he could muster.

 His head buried in their shoulder, his shoulders dropped as his breath caught in his throat, he gripped the back of their shirt like hell. Bringing them both to the ground.

 It took them a minute to register what happened.

 Unsure of what else to do, they hugged him back. Placing a hand on the back of his head and rubbing soothing circles with their thumb.

 Sitting there on the grass for what felt like an eternity.

 Arven pulled away from the hug, not quite letting them go. “Where… where were you?! Everyone was worried sick, we thought you– I thought–!” His own choked up sobs interrupted words.

 They stared into his eyes, a heavy wave of unbearable guilt washing over.   “I…��� 

                                                           ———

It was supposed to continue with Arven begging for them to come back with him and then they just refuse. And then it’s a whole thing and everyone’s like so fucking sad. 

Reader was supposed to have just abandoned the league while in Kalos and just kind of fucked around in Kalos for awhile under a new identity because why not :)

[everthewip]

based on a dream; unfinished

She smelled like smoke, like bonfires in the summer and the crisp burn of sweet wood. She smelled like spring water, a touch of cheap cologne that I'd never smelled on the men from my district. She smelled like heat and yearning, like summer nights and lazy mornings. Like everything I craved and needed.

I knew it was the fey wine giving me such fanciful thoughts. But it was not the wine that made me lean in and inhale her scent, my lips brushing against her neck as I whispered: “I love the way you smell.”

Something changed and my breath stilled. She remained silent, a tension rising that made me regret saying anything at all. It had been such a ridiculous thing to say, anyway, even if it was true. I lifted my head, an apology already on my tongue, but then she let out the softest of laughs.

“Are you a witch?”

“Am I a – no, of course not!” I didn't know a thing about witches beyond that they were powerful and terrifying, beautiful and deadly, mysterious and best left alone. I wasn't sure anyone even knew how to become one anymore, save for the witches themselves.

“I just had to be sure!” she said, her voice still light with laughter. “You are so unexpectedly… bewitching.”

“Says the woman who charmed me into her bed just to 'sleep', supposedly.”

“Well, what does one expect to do in bed besides sleep?”

Before I could answer, our eyes met and it seemed we both realized just how close we were. A gentle quiet settled over us. Her gaze held mine and then dropped, flitting over my face to settle on my lips. When they met mine again, there was a question lurking in the deep blue. I leaned in, my nose brushing against hers in answer.

Her lips were on me.

It was this, I realized, that I had been waiting for all night; perhaps even before I entered the festival. I could still taste the Sylvian wine on her lips and tongue… I drank it in, drank her in, and knew that nothing and no one would quench my thirst like this ever again. My hands were on her face and then in her hair, fingers caught in the short, golden strands. I shifted to straddle her and her hands found my thighs and squeezed. Nails scraped on bare skin and she dragged them higher, dipping her palms back and under my skirt.

I couldn't breathe.

I didn't want to breathe.

I wanted to inhale her, every bit of her, like the smoke of a festival witch's incense; filling my lungs, intoxicating every bit of my existence.

I didn't even know her name.

[kyorinrinswritingdump]

The scent of tea clings to the air like old perfume. Tins and bins and jars of tea — black, green, oolong, chamomile, masala, earl grey, and several herbal and flowery infusions — litter the floor and shelves. And in between, stacked rather precariously are a great number of tea cups and teapots, some together in sets or purposely separated and others individual loners. And yet, somehow, despite the disorderly array of the room, there is not a chip or crack in any of the porcelain or glass.

A great feat, indeed, considering their owner pays no mind or attention to their upkeep, sleeping the better part of the afternoon away dead to the world in a rather dreamless slumber until the kettle begins its familiar tune.

It’s an odd, little thing. Dreadfully ugly, too. But with a slap at its metallic, beaver-tail-like flap, the electronic bottom turns off, and the kettle shuts up.

“Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle,” the sleeping beauty sings in a groggy groan.

With a lazy roll, she’s about to continue her afternoon nap on the sisal rug, but she bumps — or rather, slightly taps with her forehead —a haphazardly stacked pile of six golden-rimmed teacups. One of her favorite sets, and so when it begins to topple away from her, she has no choice but to sit up and set the pile straight again.

Crisis diverted, but now she’s wide awake. What fun.

[foxtricksterwriting]

Unfinished Work

Author's Note: I wrote this, got stuck on it, then forgot about it. I still don't really know what to do with it, so I guess I'll publish it lol

Tags: @piece-of-the-pie-if

Elijah looks up at Jasmin as she sits down. "Morning," They murmur, returning to their game. "Mornin'. Still playin' Octopath?" She asks, peering at them. They furrow their thick brows, looking back up at her. "You remember the game I'm playing?" Their voice pitches with disbelief. "'Course I do, it's the only interesting thing in this fucking class," She smirks, gesturing dismissively to the rest of the class. Elijah blinks, then smiles, "If you say so.~ And yes, I'm still playing Octopath. On the last story mode boss fight."

[heritageposts]

What does life in North Korea look like outside of Pyongyang? 🇰🇵

Hey, I'm back again with a very scary "tankie" post that asks you to think of North Koreans as people, and to consider their country not as a cartoonish dystopia, but as a nation that, like any other place on earth, has culture, traditions, and history.

Below is a collection of pictures from various cities and places in North Korea, along with a brief dive into some of the historical events that informs life in the so-called "hermit kingdom."

Warning: very long post

Kaesong, the historic city

Beginning this post with Kaesong, one of the oldest cities in Korea. It's also one of the few major cities in the DPRK (i.e. "North Korea") that was not completely destroyed during the Korean war.

Every single city you'll see from this point on were victims of intense aerial bombardments from the U.S. and its allies, and had to be either partially or completely rebuilt after the war.

From 1951 to 1953, during what has now become known as the "forgotten war" in the West, the U.S. dropped 635,000 tons of bombs over Korea — most of it in the North, and on civilian population centers. An additional 32,000 tons of napalm was also deployed, engulfing whole cities in fire and inflicting people with horrific burns:

For such a simple thing to make, napalm had horrific human consequences. A bit of liquid fire, a sort of jellied gasoline, napalm clung to human skin on contact and melted off the flesh. Witnesses to napalm's impact described eyelids so burned they could not be shut and flesh that looked like "swollen, raw meat." - PBS

Ever wondered why North Koreans seem to hate the U.S so much? Well...

Keep in mind that only a few years prior to this, the U.S. had, as the first and only country in the world, used the atomic bomb as a weapon of war. Consider, too, the proximity between Japan and Korea — both geographically and as an "Other" in the Western imagination.

As the war dragged on, and it became clear the U.S. and its allies would not "win" in any conventional sense, the fear that the U.S. would resort to nuclear weapons again loomed large, adding another frightening dimension to the war that can probably go a long way in explaining the DPRK's later obsession with acquiring their own nuclear bomb.

But even without the use of nuclear weapons, the indiscriminate attack on civilians, particularly from U.S. saturation bombings, was still horrific:

"The number of Korean dead, injured or missing by war’s end approached three million, ten percent of the overall population. The majority of those killed were in the North, which had half of the population of the South; although the DPRK does not have official figures, possibly twelve to fifteen percent of the population was killed in the war, a figure close to or surpassing the proportion of Soviet citizens killed in World War II" - Charles K. Armstrong

On top of the loss of life, there's also the material damage. By the end of the war, the U.S. Air Force had, by its own estimations, destroyed somewhere around 85% of all buildings in the DPRK, leaving most cities in complete ruin. There are even stories of U.S. bombers dropping their loads into the ocean because they couldn't find any visible targets to bomb.

What you'll see below of Kaesong, then, provides both a rare glimpse of what life in North Korea looked like before the war, and a reminder of what was destroyed.

Kaesong's main street, pictured below.

Due the stifling sanctions imposed on the DPRK—which has, in various forms and intensities, been in effect since the 1950s—car ownership is still low throughout the country, with most people getting around either by walking or biking, or by bus or train for longer distances.

Kaesong, which is regarded as an educational center, is also notable for its many Koryŏ-era monuments. A group of twelve such sites were granted UNESCO world heritage status in 2013.

Included is the Hyonjongnung Royal Tomb, a 14th-century mausoleum located just outside the city of Kaesong.

One of the statues guarding the tomb.

Before moving on the other cities, I also wanted to showcase one more of the DPRK's historical sites: Pohyonsa, a thousand-year-old Buddhist temple complex located in the Myohyang Mountains.

Like many of DPRK's historic sites, the temple complex suffered extensive damage during the Korean war, with the U.S. led bombings destroying over half of its 24 pre-war buildings.

The complex has since been restored and is in use today both as a residence for Buddhist monks, and as a historic site open to visitors.

Hamhung, the second largest city in the DPRK.

A coastal city located in the South Hamgyŏng Province. It has long served as a major industrial hub in the DPRK, and has one of the largest and busiest ports in the country.

Hamhung, like most of the coastal cities in the DPRK, was hit particularly hard during the war. Through relentless aerial bombardments, the US and its allies destroyed somewhere around 80-90% percent of all buildings, roads, and other infrastructure in the city.

Now, more than seventy years later, unexploded bombs, mortars and pieces of live ammunition are still being unearthed by the thousands in the area. As recently as 2016, one of North Korea's bomb squads—there's one in every province, faced with the same cleanup task—retrieved 370 unexploded mortar rounds... from an elementary school playground.

Experts in the DPRK estimate it will probably take over a hundred years to clean up all the unexploded ordnance—and that's just in and around Hamhung.

Hamhung's fertilizer plant, the biggest in North Korea.

When the war broke out, Hamhung was home to the largest nitrogen fertilizer plant in Asia. Since its product could be used in the creation of explosives, the existence of the plant is considered to have made Hamhung a target for U.S. aggression (though it's worth repeating that the U.S. carried out saturation bombings of most population centers in the country, irrespective of any so-called 'military value').

The plant was immediately rebuilt after the war, and—beyond its practical use—serves now as a monument of resistance to U.S. imperialism, and as a functional and symbolic site of self-reliance.

Chongjin, the third largest city in the DPRK.

Another coastal city and industrial hub. It underwent a massive development prior to the Korean war, housing around 300,000 people by the time the war broke out.

By 1953, the U.S. had destroyed most of Chongjin's industry, bombed its harbors, and killed one third of the population.

Wonsan, a rebuilt seaside city.

The city of Wonsan is a vital link between the DPRK's east and west coasts, and acts today as both a popular holiday destination for North Koreans, and as a central location for the country's growing tourism industry.

Considered a strategically important location during the war, Wonsan is notable for having endured one of the longest naval blockades in modern history, lasting a total of 861 days.

By the end of the war, the U.S. estimated that they had destroyed around 80% of the city.

Masikryong Ski Resort, located close to Wonsan. It opened to the public in 2014 and is the first, I believe, that was built with foreign tourists in mind.

Sariwon, another rebuilt city

One of the worst hit cities during the Korean War, with an estimated destruction level of 95%.

I've written about its Wikipedia page here before, which used to mockingly describe its 'folk customs street'—a project built to preserve old Korean traditions and customs—as an "inaccurate romanticized recreation of an ancient Korean street."

No mention, of course, of the destruction caused by the US-led aerial bombings, or any historical context at all that could possibly even hint at why the preservation of old traditions might be particularly important for the city.

Life outside of the towns and cities

In the rural parts of the DPRK, life primarily revolves around agriculture. As the sanctions they're under make it difficult to acquire fuel, farming in the DPRK relies heavily on manual labour, which again, to avoid food shortages, requires that a large portion of the labour force resides in the countryside.

Unlike what many may think, the reliance on manual labour in farming is a relatively "new" development. Up until the crisis of the 1990s, the DPRK was a highly industrialized nation, with a modernized agricultural system and a high urbanization rate. But, as the access to cheap fuel from the USSR and China disappeared, and the sanctions placed upon them by Western nations heavily restricted their ability to import fuel from other sources, having a fuel-dependent agricultural industry became a recipe for disaster, and required an immediate and brutal restructuring.

For a more detailed breakdown of what lead to the crisis in the 90s, and how it reshaped the DPRKs approach to agriculture, check out this article by Zhun Xu.

Some typical newly built rural housing, surrounded by farmland.

Tumblr only allows 20 pictures per post, but if you want to see more pictures of life outside Pyongyang, check out this imgur album.

[loveletterstoadirtybastard]

Cracked limbs Missing pieces My thoughts have been misplaced Scattered throughout barren space Becoming one with the emptiness Defects and Deflections Faded Affection and Forgotten Collections A Festering Accumulation of Neglected Yearning

[arhvste]

“this is killing me.” kuroo mumbled as he tossed his phone to his side. “just trust me bro,” his best friend-turned roommate bokuto grinned. “this works everytime for me i swear!”

kuroo sighed before grabbing phone again to refresh his instagram story views once more. several people had already viewed the post-gym mirror selfie he’d taken in attempts to garner attention from one particular follower of his; you. “maybe it’s too cringe…” he muttered while over analysing the photo that had already gained a couple of likes within the twenty minutes it had already been up for. “nah.” bokuto reassured him and pat his friend on the shoulder. “you look sexy.” kuroo stared back at the two-toned haired boy. “… thanks bro.”

this isn’t something kuroo would typically post but times were tough and he was desperate. he’d seen you around campus but luck was not on his side when it came to scheduling and the two of you barely had class time together. yet the little class time you did share, kuroo hung onto it tightly and would let scenes of these weekly one hour classes replay in his head more often than he’d like to admit.

“i feel like a modern jay gatsby,” the ex volleyball captain huffed. “my selfie is the equivalent of the wild parties he’d throw in hopes to get daisy’s attention except i don’t want to post every night, i’ve already made myself cringe with this one post.” bokuto stared back at his friend blankly. “yeah… whatever that means.” kuroo frowned back “it’s a classic, you should know what i mean!”

how much longer was he going to have to wait? bokuto had promised him quick results with this method and so far he’d felt deceived and lied to. if talking to you when he got the chance wasn’t enough to get a conversation going outside the classroom, then social media seemed like the next best attempt to start interacting more.

what were you doing? why weren’t you viewing his story? could you even see his story? did he accidentally block you?

these questions ran through his mind as he quickly rushed to check to make sure he hadn’t for some reason blocked you from seeing his story. he half wished he did because then at least he’d know what on earth was taking you so damn long to see the photo he was increasingly starting to hate more the longer it was posted.

“this is stupid.” he stated as he faced bokuto who had zero concerns in his method in gaining someone’s attention. “it works you just have to wait, trust me.”

kuroo frowned as the little red hearts of others who weren’t you fluttered from the bottom corner of the photo. “look!” his best friend grinned as he leaned over kuroo’s shoulder and pointed to the screen of his phone. “you’re getting likes on it!”

“what’s the point if they’re not likes from the person i posted this for in the first place.” kuroo grumbled back in response. he couldn’t believe he’d been subjected to such an attempt to gain some attention from you. it was ridiculous.

it had been about forty five minutes since he’d posted it and he was slowly losing his mind. sure, the post was going to be up for twenty four hours (if he didn’t give into the voices in his head telling him to delete it) so forty five minutes was nothing, but the minutes were beginning to feel like hours and he was dying inside. why weren’t you viewing it already and what could possibly be keeping you off your phone right now?

“this is stupid.” he decided as notifications from his old team mates started to flash up on his screen. the last thing he needed was lev replying with ‘looksmaxing’ to a post that was secretly dedicated to you. “no, it’s barely been up!” bokuto whined. “you look hot so you should get some replies anyway what’s the big deal?”

pinching the bridge of his nose, kuroo huffed. “the big deal is the person i posted this for hasn’t replied!” what was the point in making sure to go to the gym during a rest day just to take this photo if he wasn’t going to at least make his existence more known to you? he’d even worked his legs enough to the point of managing to achieve the sweaty but sexy look. the muscles in his legs were dying, but his dignity sure as hell wouldn’t.

the college student opened up his phone with the intention to end the mental war inside his head once and for all by deleting the post altogether. bokuto watched his friend in defeat but his eyes flashed. “yes they did!” he yelled and pointed to the screen as your name flashed at the top of his screen.

kuroo’s heart jumped at the sight of your profile picture he’d made a daily routine of staring at and the now blue dot indicating a message from your profile in his inbox. to think he was going to delete this post just a second too, what were the chances?

psyching himself up, kuroo took a few quiet deep breathes before letting the time next to your message pass for a few minutes. he wasn’t an instagram warrior by any means, but he knew enough about general rules in order to not look desperate online.

bokuto watched over his friends shoulders as the two stared in anticipation awaiting the message kuroo had been dying for. this was it. leg day two times in a row was gruelling and he’d regret it for the next few days but it would have been worth it. the countless messages from his old teammates mocking his attempts at a thirst trap could be looked past now that you had finally given into the bait he’d so carefully laid. this is what he’d been waiting for. days of preparing and deciding how to gain your attention had finally paid off and he was about to reap the rewards he’d sown.

clicking the message with baited breath, his heart raced as bokuto’s grip of his shoulder tightened. finally.

‘the label on your shirt is sticking out, make sure to cut it’

“a wins a win.” bokuto filled the silence between the pair as kuroo stared at his phone with a blank expression. “… a wins a win…”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Look what we've become.

[First] Prev <–-> Next