#in case that wasn't abundandly clear the dude that twists human beings into artwork isn't a rolemodel and doesn't portray my views

[mischievous-tree]

With Open Arms

"Honey, you have no idea what I can do at places like this." "What is it, then, that you can do?" "I can make pretty little boys like you scream and beg me to destroy them and when I am done they will thank me for my work and smile as they whither beneath my gaze." "Sounds creepy, interesting, fascinating. How do you do that?" "Naïve little boy. You'd walk into any knife with open arms and widened eyes as long as it's my hand closing down around the handle. I could tell you to go. Scream warnings at your face until my throat is hoarse and hit you before the chest to try to make you turn, but you'd walk into my blade willingly, like a moth to the flame." "You blade is quite wooing, your dark nature too fascinating." "I am of excessive beauty indeed, not pompous like those tiny mortals wrapped in golden-laced fabric und painted in colours of peacocks and gardens, but beautiful like the glitter in a jaguars eye before it rips you limb to limb, beautiful like a butterfly dancing through the air on burning wings, beautiful like the ocean. There are days when the waves of old can be restful and kind, but the sea sees nights where it knows neither laws nor mercy, and like the beauty of a wave reaching its highest point, just seconds from crashing down on you, my beauty will bring you only pain. Run away little boy, run while you may think you still can, and scream my name into the void at night, praying you do not get an answer." "I... I cannot run from such beauty, I am too fascinated by it, chained to it. I'm not strong enough to run, and I wouldn't be if i wanted to. I'm a magnet attracted by your knife, a moth attracted by the light, life attracted by death. I will welcome the wave crashing down on me, the cold refreshment before I fall." "You would let me rip you apart just to see the blood rich rubin glitter, let me make you into a piece of art, seeing with your dying breath the beauty I can twist your bones into? You would welcome the pain, the sharp sting, the agony that follows, only to have my hands roaming over your skin be the thing to doom you? You would make yourself a sacrifice just to see the way the light catches in rivers of your tears?" "It... it would be an honor to be extincted by something so perfect, wouldn't it be? And for a short moment, nothing compared to my life and what could follow, I will reach your beauty - a dying artwork yet still living. The perfect moment, the infinite beauty of the things that elapse." "Then you're a fool. Trading your life for a moment of bliss like so many before you, but then again, there are no atheists in the trenches, not a wise man on the battlefield, and no man not worthy of the title fool finding his way into my pretty little domicile." "Why am I here then? What led me to you, offering my eyes such beauty, and then denies my disappearing in a dual way? What instance offered my this chance just to see it get destroyed by you? And yet I am standing here, can't go farther nor nearer, waiting for the gorgeous art that you will not make of me?" "Your choice ahs been stripped away from you the second you laid your eyes on the curve of my lashed, the glint in my eyes and the way my hands drive through the air as if guided by an artform older than time itself. You cannot rip your eyes from me any more than you could rip the part of your mind that loves your mother out of your head. I could gently ask of you to go on your knees and ram your head into the floor until your teeth crack and you'd give me a smile as you bend your leg, but I couldn't let you leave if I screamed to you and the old gods and the firmament to banish you from this cursed place. You are here because you can't for the life of you not be." "I'll have some fun then, it seems, beautiful creature. What are you going to do to me? Shall I stand here forever, waiting for roots to grow from me and becoming the dirt I once have been? Or shall I serve you happily. I am chained to you, thus I can't go. Whatever will I do?" "I have nurtured pretty little boys like you until there were roots piercing their feet and

wrapping around their bones, have kept them breathing and crying under my skillful hands until flowers in the colours of the sun kissing the sea grew out of their eyes and skull and their mouths were tear-filled ponds for fairies riding on frogs to rest their feet, vines and ranks that blossom in ways the words to describe have long since been muttered for the last time by beings that would make both of us go mad in horror. I have made pretty little boys like you blossom and grow into divine shapes, but that is not your fate. You are not here to die, nor are you here to live for me." "What is my purpose then?" "You are here because there is a want, a need in your stomach that might as well be barbed wire clutching its arms around you like the mother you left for me. You are here, because there is a whisper in your head that might as well be a banshee screeching in your skull, a whisper that this is the only way. The blood and the flesh and the minds I make into art need to be broken down to dust before I can weave them into the old gods themselves, but all beauty I could find in your shards doesn't stay hidden in your blood or bones or flesh or mind. You yearn for this, but like a moth can only stand aflame for seconds before it falls apart by the love for the fire it apes, you can never become the fire, become the dance so beautiful it kills." "What is it that is special about me? What makes me inflammable, so that my ashes shan't be formed into art?" "There is nothing of value to be found in your ashes, no bone curved in a way to make gods weep with bliss upon seeing it. There are no secret shining marbles hidden in your head, to be found by tearing it apart, there is no shine to your skin that would make the world stop and hold its breath. I told you, I told you to run, I told you that there is nothing but pain found for you here, and I meant it. You are worthless to me, sweetheart. You are not the one to be taken apart under my hands and dying with bliss on their mind. You're a toy for me to throw away at best, something to keep my occupied between the rushes of artists blood filling my veins and making me create. You'll perish with nothing to be, nothing to be seen as, nothing to prove, just a stupid child that didn't run when it was told to." "You think you can just do that? Do you really think there is nothing more than a pretty face not pure enough to become art in front of you? I came here honestly and with a wish laying on my lips - a wish that's been blown away by you as if it was nothing, and yet it was just a tiny, silly wish, and not a destiny given to me, was it? You did not grant my wish, but that does not give you the position of ruling over me, possessing me." "A pretty little child that may even be pretty enough to toy with on a day the stars are not in the right position to shine over my work, a stupid little kid with stupid little dreams looks me in the eyes and tells me it believes that I am powerless over it. I could make you scratch out your eyes and laugh about it with but a small, gentle suggestion if i wanted to, yet here you stand, thinking you have a right to what I do." "Do I not? It is my right to be possessed by me, and by me, it is my right to go. But rules seem to be a little different up here, don't they? Your rules may be different to mine, yet rules live from being broken, rejected, questions, and I challenge your rules, shadow." "Then walk away from me. Come on, try it, don't be shy." . . . "... yet your beauty is irresistible... ... yet your mastery is undeniable... ... yet your art is untouchable... ... I-I have to leave, I h-h-ha-have t-to go. I... I will go. Now." "Tell yourself that often enough, and maybe you will almost believe to have ever actually left this place." "Tsk... monster... Another beautiful night up here. We will see each other again after all the dreams are over - or never." "Dream about old stones and older paths, dream about seeing the skies part and leaving this place, dream about walking out of my grip and seeing your family again, dream about whatever

pretty puny things you had when you still were a real person, but know that at any time I could decide that you have dreamt enough and that now is the time to play until I can feel your bones under my tongue. Know that anything you choose to believe is freedom you will know only at my mercy. You're lost, little child, because you couldn't run when you were told to."

#writing #creative writing #writers of tumblr #original work #fictional #in case that wasn't abundandly clear the dude that twists human beings into artwork isn't a rolemodel and doesn't portray my views #btw this started out as a chat dialogue between a friend of mine and me #diversity win #the guy dying a horrible death at the hands of a creature of beauty and madness is gay #body horror tw #gore tw #death tw #slight humiliation i guess but that sounds kinky as i type it out #this is my first time be gentle #oh god i'm doing it again #please give feedback i am in desperate need of it