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#old writing
blackrosesandwhump · 18 hours ago
Throwback Whump Story
Here's a short snippet I wrote over 11 years ago, long before I ever knew there was a word for the kind of thing I liked to write...
Silvan lay immotile in the blackness and listened to the pounding of his heart in his ears. The cold metal of the iron bands bit through his skin. His hands were growing numb from being so still, but he could barely move them. His feet too were beginning to ache from the strain. They had taken all possible measures to ensure that he could not escape. The iron band at his neck seemed to grow tighter and he had to force himself not to panic.
"Breathe, Silvan, breathe," he told himself silently. He tried to wriggle his limbs even slightly, but it was no use. Besides, he didn't have enough strength anymore.
"I won't die," he hissed into the dark void of the chamber. "I won't die. They will not kill me. I won't surrender to them. Never! Do you hear that, Silvan? Never!" Suddenly he smiled at his attempt to boost his own morale. Really, there was not much reason to even bother; the outlook for him seemed to all but spell out the impending promise of death. But there was still a shred of hope. And he intended to hang onto that until he was past being able to.
From his frozen position on the angled platform, he could see the twin moons. They blazed their cold blue light down on his body as if trying to warm him. It was so cold in the experimenting chamber. If he had the strength, Silvan would have shivered. As it was he could only feel a sort of aching chill around him like fog. He struggled to keep his senses clear. He must stay lucid. At least enough to speak to them when they returned. He shuddered as he recalled their gold eyes peering vilely at his limbs and head and their grey hands as they touched his skin.
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lurkdragonstuff · a day ago
I’m mining my old LiveJournal for my ancient Ecco the Dolphin fics and I found a poem I have no memory of.
Apparently it was a collection of mondegreens (misheard song lyrics), misreadings, and other injokes. Does... that make it at least partially a found text poem?  
I recognise a good percentage of these but others are an utter mystery. I’m not sure if it would really be fannish and so for now I’ll keep it off AO3 and merely present it to you under the cut. The date of the entry was October 23, 2005. I would have been 16, and it was the year before I graduated highschool.
I am not sure how to tag this, so... written by a teenager, offhand mentions of slavery, abortion, and pornography? Let’s just put a general little content warning here.
"Green Tree, Drop Your Legs" A poem by various people Green tree, drop your legs Aliens to sedate I drink red wine And jars of sodie pie I want to Jake-ski On I Saw a Satellite Dish on a Tree Back There Lake This is the Ultimate Toedown Of Ultimate Dentistry Leg of Unicorn - Now in orifice carrot flavor You found the dead body Of the pornographic barbarian of the month System help the me It cool team let's bus go It study for freshmen Seniors: we're so today Trade and slave Fish, pandas, & more Teach me with diligence and eight We man the good swords make Suddenly had her the feeling As if a icy heart to her heart grabbed! Around 10:30, she home again Precise in the moment of the roaring engine! The poodle of despair Pigs on the dollar Drug bear today Let the popsicle go Pirates of interaction Rabies is spelled G-R-A-V-Y The apples are pregnant Abortion green cheese civil rights The child made the Fanta To the mosquito in my heart Chicken awards! Want Toilet Princess Crow's testosterone A million darkened kittens My mother is a shame... Pornography! I much! The knee spreads it wide! I want a beetle warrior A soldier and a Mothra fighting to be free
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flavoured-soul · a day ago
I was flibbing through a book am reading
Given to me by a lovely friend
Stopped after a while and searched around
For a bookmark
A twist in the upper corner of the page
Earned my attention
Made me think for moments,
About you.
If you love reading or not
What's you favorite book?
Your favourite author?
Last book you read?
Do you twist the page to mark it
Or do you use a bookmark?
Quickly, remembered some bookmarks
I made for a friend
Excitedly, I decided to make you a couple
Before I start to Think
About their shape and colors
I noticed that my friend's twist
Left a warm feeling in my chest
And comfort
Decided for me, heartened me
Changed my mind about the bookmarks.
Because my heart will dance gladly
When it sees the twisted pages in books
Which I will gift to you, happily
Seething my fingertips to touch it
And letting the idea of your fingertips,
Been there, touching it gently
drown in me.
Smoothing my heart so widely.
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letterst0n00ne · 5 days ago
dark hole
In the darkness the girl lived, hoping the shadows would erase her shape. That was the only way she survived, for she was too scared to see what wasn’t hidden. But not even the night brought her sleep, not even the blindness brought her comfort. Even though she knew nothing stayed the same, she told herself it would. With that illusion of safety, she rested.
But it was in one of those endless nights, with only her and her headaches, that she saw him. Clear and bright, he spoke to her. Under the spell of his deep and soothing voice she fell in love. Red was his desire, her blood, and his color.
He taught her to see in shades of grey, for even when she thought impossible, there were depths in oblivion. There were shadows lighter and others darker, which made it possible for her to move around and explore her den like never before. This exciting new knowledge got her out of bed, but as she proceeded to naively reach for the door to the outside world, she collapsed. No longer was she aware of what was out there, and the headache that took her was unforgivably stronger.
She lied catatonic, blinking rapidly at the lights that stroke her. He sensed her despair, searched, found, and came for her. By singing a lullaby he put her in a coma, and she gave in, with no strength to resist. Shapeless as he was, he commanded her anesthetized body to crawl to where she came from. She closed her eyes in a smile, feeling the comfort from his smell, which guided her instincts.
When she woke up again, she found herself at her home. He was there beside her, only waiting for her to reawaken. Taking but a minute to recollect from what just happened, she cried from her pain, remembering how cruel and uninviting the world was. Whispering to her ear, he said, I know. He then embraced her, and from that she finally understood. Her only home was with him. He welcomed her, accepted her, and tried to help her. No one else did that. There was no one else but him.
Together they stayed in her dark hole, longer than she remembered her existence to be. Time was unknown to her, a constant she had no memory of. Countless nights they spent together, becoming one. That was his wish, the proof of his love. And that was all she longed for, to be closer to her only one. The possibility of sharing his essence made her heart race, in a point that she thought possible to be able to love herself once more.
As they merged, the girl noticed her hands and fingers became two dimensional, like him. Her movement changed along with her shape. She noticed that she got slimmer, flexible as a puddle, but there was barely no dominance or control for smaller, marginal, movements. She tried moving her thumb, without success. She did it again, with all the force she had left, unable to accept defeat. Her bony hand cracked, and from it came the only color that she recognized. His own. Confused, she looked at him, exasperated. He looked at her undisturbed. Hush. When we are together, you won’t feel it. This won’t matter.
With every shift she lost a part of herself. No longer was she able to keep track of her breaths. Her heart rate was still, quiet. Almost unnoticeable. Seasons changed, but no difference in light was observed trespassing through her curtains. No transpiration or drops of sweat emerged in her skin. The ability to react was removed from her existence.
Closing her eyes and opening them appeared equal. No smell contaminated her nostrils. No music, no birdsong, and no conversation could be detected. All she could her was his breath. How do you feel?
She formulated an answer, but no sound came out from her lips.
Who are you?
She thought it, she heard it, she said it.
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garden-of-paper · 9 days ago
Grief Wought
Aiden looked up from the fireplace to the sound of his son. The young dragon was peeking around the wall of their small cabin, watching his father with wide eyes. The older dragon gulped-- he knew this conversation would be coming. The atmosphere in the house had been so tense recently, of course it wouldn't go unnoticed by the child. With a heavy sigh, Aiden patted the wooden stool next to him. "Come." He spoke gently.
It was dark and outside they could hear the crickets chirping. Everything in the house was quiet and pitch black, save for the crackling fireplace or the creaking of wood. Wilbur glanced behind him down the hallway he stood in, and spoke up with a trembling voice. "Uhm…." He glanced at his father's helmet and flinched at the bright eyes illuminated underneath of it. Aiden, subconsciously, touched a claw to his head. The crown of bones that covered his face was dark and callous. Yet… it was against tradition to take it off, he mused, and so it stayed. Aiden figured it would serve to make the hatchling more resilient in the long run, with some encouragement. Especially right now. He shook his head and once again gently patted the stool. Willbur, hesitant, skittered forwards and clambered up next to the larger dragon.
Leaning down, Aiden nuzzled his small sons head, eliciting a giggle from the child. "Now, what has you up at this hour?"
Wilbur looked away, digging his claws into the wood. The fire light shone on his face and one could see the gears turning in his head. Aiden waited patiently. It didn't take much to know what this was about. Yet not even a minute passed when the small dragon looked up at him. "Where did brother and sister go?" His voice dripped with curiosity.
But that question smacked the other right in the face. A lump fell in Aiden's stomach. Flashbacks of that conniving snake-blooded lieutenant flew through his mind-- he grit his teeth. His body language didn't go unnoticed by Wilbur, the spark in his eyes vanishing, and his nerves started to spike. "Papa? What happened to them?"
No words could express the grief in his eyes, nor could he explain it with any. Tears blurred his vision, hiding him from seeing the horrified look on his son's face from what he said next.
Only two words fell from his mouth.
"They're gone."
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garden-of-paper · 10 days ago
The Sentinels of Downroe
Arisen from ashes came The Sentinels of Downroe. A once glorious empire revered for their strong warriors, bards, forgesmiths, and diverse traditions. Their kind was widespread across the Ashfall Wastes in ancient days. Their sharp wit-- and claws-- made the empire one of the front lines for battle in the war against the other flights. Vast territories were filled with Downroe Banescales, with sentinel towers lining every border, and cities that would make even the Lightweaver blush. For a long time they lived in peace. Celebrating their festivals, playing songs, and decorating their city with the most colorful of tapestries, with many none the wiser to what happened outside their massive iron walls. Yet it couldn't last forever, and when the land ruptured in the great reform, many were lost deep in the earth. Others were fossilized underground, forgotten from the world like the many others of their kind. Those that survived were just a few members from the lower council and some of their finest guards. Until the awakening.
After the Bounty shook the earth and ancients started rising, so too did they. Not only did Banescales hatch from long forgotten eggs, but many-- like Downroe-- rose from the ashes the Flamecaller left behind. Waking with such power and anger they started to ravage the land. However, their ancient magic was no match for modern weaponry.
The new council of Downroe gathered and forged their plan. From the earthen depths, their spellcasters brought forth ancient scrolls from the dawn of dragonkind. Ones that the Flamecaller thought she had burned every last trace of. This powerful magick, passed down through generations of elder ancients, was magick to be of use even now. The council of Downroe agreed they would draw back and wait until everything calmed, and then their plan would begin. Soon the Banescales had quelled their fire and most settled into new, comfortable lives. A wary peace once again fell over Sornieth.
In the dead of night came their opening. Eris-- the High Warlord-- ordered their militia to descend upon the scarred wastes-- their target a large, ancient grove blooming near the Wyrmwound. Their scouts confirmed it days back. The clan living there was sick, starving, and weak. No amount of magic or lush territory could change it. The land awoke at their assault. It fought back-- to the surprise of the army-- but even the very living earth was no match for their determined forces and old magick. Beaten, the clan of Runach surrendered, and was spared. The council came forward and offered them a choice. Join their cause as equals, or work under them to serve the spread of their new empire. Some dragons agreed wholeheartedly. Others, while nervous, caved and agreed. Many stayed defiant and refused to take the breed changing magic. But, they agreed to stay and work, not wishing to upset the ones they used to call family. Agreeing to meet halfway, the Banescales kept their new ranks heavily guarded in camps, and begun to build their city.
Walls and forts were built over the course of many moons. More and more Banescales came to them for shelter, and joined their cause as helping hands. Alchemists, tailors, botanists, divers, and more. Now armed with a plethora of new occupations in their ranks the empire grew. Soon the entirety of the ancient grove was surrounded by their walls, hidden from eyes. Three circular walls, to be exact. The innermost circle was reserved for anyone in the lower council or above. The second ring, reserved for the army and subsequent workers, such as the scientists. On the outermost ring lived the citizens and Downroe's non-banescale recruits. Stationed on the outer walls are the sentinel's, on watch for any danger. The empire is named after them for their bravery on the front lines of defense.
They set to work cultivating the grove and using it for research. All the while teaching others about their old traditions in hopes to celebrate them again. Their new forgesmiths began crafting, and updating their old plans. Whilst their generals trained new warriors, witches, bards, and various other ranks for their army. What was left of the Runach clan was sent to the outer ring of Downroe to live among the citizens. They were granted permission to open their own cafe to cope with their new way of life, on the condition they'd be advertising to make the empire seem friendly to wandering dragons, and the agreement that a guard would be routinely checking in on them. Occasionally the Banescales themselves hang out there with them.
The Sentinels of Downroe continue to grow their assets even now, wishing to regain their lost treasure and land. Eris, believing herself to be the most capable warrior of them all, elected herself as acting empress to see this end goal through, and is willing to tear apart anyone that stands in the way of sending her people to greatness.
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garden-of-paper · 10 days ago
In the midst of a forgotten battlefield. Woken from the depths of the earth in a spectacular display, having wrought havoc on the unmarked graves that stirred their spirit. They burst forth-- the inky black mist exploded and screamed over the howling wind. From the earth, bones cascaded around their spirit, and made them whole again. The bone thief with a new skeleton. Taking on the name Tola, they wandered across the wastes for lost souls to bring to their final resting place. A murder of crows rests on their wings at every moment, and they are very protective of their flock.
The magickal scent of the Oasis lured them to the dragons that resided there. They struck a deal with the leader: Tola would offer protection and easy disposal of dragons they didn't want, as long as they were continuously fed. The leader, while wary, agreed. Nobody knows quite where Tola takes the dragons they are given, but they are never seen again. Occasionally they return with new leather additions to their cloak, or new bones to add to their skeleton. Some speculate the dragons go to the Plaguebringer, some speculate they go straight into the Wyrmwound, or that they're eaten by Tola themselves. One thing is for sure however, their reputation as a wraith and a grim reaper has spread across the wasteland. Those that know the tales of these creatures know not to disturb Tola when they're spotted. Instead, they just let Tola pass, with the clouded spirits of their army making their final trip.
Tola isn't known to talk much. Brave dragons who try to strike up conversation get few words in response. The wind always picks up around the reaper, and no matter what way they are looking it's common to feel watched.
When the clan of Runach was taken over and rebuilt into Downroe, not much changed in Tola's deal. They easily changed their form-- much to the awe of the new leaders-- and brought up the deal. The council agreed whole-heartedly, and spoke of how war would be much simpler, to Tola's delight. Them and their crows are fed more often now. But even the council keeps their distance, knowing that Tola is powerful, and not quite a dragon, despite the form they take.
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garden-of-paper · 10 days ago
High Warlord of Downroe. Eris is the leader of the ancient council, and the acting monarch of the empire. Cold and calculating, she has a strong aura that even the most war hardened veterans have come to respect. Her stone gaze is only fractured during business negotiations, which she handles with an unnerving glee. Even when angered she acquits herself with a terrifying calmness. One can feel the seethe leaking through her scales, hungering, and targeted with a purpose.
Taking great pride in her work and what she does, she typically does not stay in her fortress, like many others in the council. Instead preferring to work and walk among the other Banescales. She travels with her assistant and scribe Pluto, who she makes sure writes down all notes on daily happenings, important affairs, and the like. She prides herself and her empire on efficiency. Nothing is left unchecked in her leadership. After all, when preparing for war to feed a rapidly growing city capital, one mustn't have any mistakes.
She does however have a bit of a coy side, and you'll occasionally find her poking fun at her workers, or scaring the non-banescales. Humor isn't lost on her-- although her preference is darker, but she quite enjoys light-hearted jokes. Puns especially. They are of great annoyance to her, but also to others, and she enjoys making her co-workers cringe on a good day. Just be sure not to anger her, and all is well in the Empire.
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garden-of-paper · 10 days ago
Not many know the true story of Findatur. Those who do know are the ones who witnessed it with their own eyes, yet it is locked deep within their souls. Memories of better days when she was her true self. When she was a bright-- beautiful entity, with scales as white as the clouds she flew and lived in, flying among the blue sky. The light shone down upon her and favored her every whim, with the essence of the sun itself shimmering through her very scales. Her wings were once a bright pastel yellow and pure. As pure as an angel.
That was what she used to be-- an angel.
An angel that resided in the Celestial Plane. A place far, far out of every living dragons reach. Even the deities could not touch it, nor did they know it even exists-- who could say it did? Places like these only exist within draconian legend and faith. Faith… the very thing that drove Findatur's existence.
You see, among many others of her kind she was rather spectacular. Able to perform miracles of the highest caliber, to weave threads of light into her stitches of creation. Many other angels were in awe at this power. That was her job after all, to spread light and faith into the wayward souls of the world in spectacular displays. A smile on every dragons face was her goal. Crafting gifts, bringing opportunities, spreading joy, all whilst the receiving dragons would never know she was there. They never thought to question the sweaters and socks they'd find under their nests. Or the toys their hatchlings would get their claws on. Whispers of her power spread, all the way to the top. The other archangels under the guide of the sun agreed to one thing: she was ready to join their council. She was strong, energetic, eternally optimistic. With a song in her voice and a story in her heart ready to tell. Ready to help the most down on their luck dragon reach their dreams. It was her calling, and she enjoyed every second of it.
However, that was millennia in the past. What happened, you ask? She met up with a demon, a trickster in everyone's eyes. He was charming, knew card tricks, and wound himself into her heart. With soft words he strung her chords just right. He showed her all it was to be a demon; a slithering spirit of the underworld. The opposite side of her coin. He wrought chaos to all the dragons he whispered to. As the days passed, they spent more and more time together. Findatur became enraptured by him and did all she could to impress him, to his amusement. Truly, he did care for her. He showered her with gifts, praise, and like many others marveled at her power. She knew he was not evil. Demons, after all, are not inherently bad. Rather they just exist to keep the balance.
It was she herself who dove too far. His unique demonic gifts struck her fancy in a way it was never meant to. She started asking him questions, and when she went back into the clouds at night, she started researching nefarious things. There had been no word from the archangels in so long after all, who knew what they were up to? Would she get the position? And, my, imagine what she could do for her clients and the other angels if she just dug a little bit… deeper.
Downward she went. Researching incantations, blood rituals, learning to work and weave with the fires of the underworld. The things she could do, the joy she would bring to the downward souls she watched over.
The demon's excited praise turned to worry as the days passed. He'd check on her, wondering what would become of her and what she had been up to. Only to find her neck deep in books and terrible curses. Worried coos, requests-- eventually even pleas went into one ear, and out the other. Her once pristine, white and prismatic scales slowly started to shadow into a grey. Once she had a bright, and gold aura, now being muddled with the power she was working with.
Not soon after the other angels started to notice. They cowered in her presence and shied away from her. Nobody would talk to her, they started distancing themselves. Word got back to the archangels and they decided to intervene. This of course was not the first time an angel decided to delve onto an unruly path, and it would not be the last. Perhaps, they thought, it could still be corrected. When the sun was high over the celestial plane, Findatur found herself surrounded by the archangels. Poised carefully, she spoke dutifully and cautiously, assuring them everything was fine. This was of course a change from her usual attitude, which was once bubbly. Behind her she carved runes with her tail and an illusion was cast. Her scales once again a pristine glow. Of course, an aura is harder to mask and the other angels took note of this. But the sense of unbalance was not strong, not yet, and they left her to rest-- to decide what course of action to take. Findatur broke many rules and this was a crime not to go unpunished. However everyone knew, it must be handled carefully.
Unease fell over the celestial plane. The dark matter that touched Findatur took great pleasure with it. Findatur herself went along with it, diving deeper into her studies. She obtained scrolls from her-- rather concerned-- demon. Scrolls that would allow her to venture to a place that was forbidden by all costs, in an effort to improve her magick. The void is an unruly place.
In the void, findatur found great and terrible things. It was the in between, the unholy unbalance that hid far away from the other planes-- one could say it was an entire element of its own. In the back of the angels mind all she could think of was the joy she could bring. Yet the thought crossed her mind. Hadn't she seen enough? Acquired enough? It was risky going any further, and her old friends were becoming wary.
She had to know more.
Taking the essence of the void, even such a small fragment as she had, would be her downfall. She left the void gate a changed dragon. She held power now, power and knowledge that could shake whatever she touched. The power to destroy so easily twisted its way into her scales. The demon was there on her arrival, and seeing her state, decided that was enough.
It is not often a demon presents themselves to the archangels. Especially not on a note of peace and concern. He told them everything. How Findatur's scales were turning shades darker. The cracks of pure light that ran through her veins now tainted with the underworlds fire. All of the scrolls, research, everything. Of course he was to blame for this initial downward spiral, but he didn't realize.
She had such good intentions.
Shaken to their core, the council forgave him and sent him home. They had more pressing matters to attend to.
Deep inside her fortress of clouds a storm brewed. Findatur reveled in the new power she had obtained. Yet, she didn't notice how her scales were no longer white. Or the rippling of lightning and thunder that rose from her home. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears.
Inky blackness covered her vision,
and before she knew it,
she was hurtling towards the ground.
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impala-dreamer · 11 days ago
started rewatching Parenthood and... good lord, first of all- one of the greatest, most honest shows ever. So many things hit you where it hurts in this. But also... I'm reminded of one of the very first fanfictions I ever wrote... It was a Joel Smut for my friend Jenna where they did it on a construction site. lol. I can't find it, thank god. I'm sure it's terrible!
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ladytp · 14 days ago
You know the fabled commenter of the fandom myths; someone who reads your old fic and comments practically on every chapter?
Well, recently I had the absolute pleasure of experiencing this amazing thing: A lovely commenter left 53 comments within one week to a 57-chapter fic of mine, “The Triangle”, written all the way back in 2012-2013...
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Thank you so much, KatMorgan, you made my day, my week, my month! 😍😍😍
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eruanna1875 · 15 days ago
Face of a Friend (Short Story)
Originally written on Good Friday, March 25, 2016.
    I ran wildly through the city streets, searching the faces of passersby, asking each person: "Where is Jesus?"
    Where could He be? He must've come to Jerusalem for the Passover. I'd heard so many things... I had to know the Truth. We'd been friends as children, in Nazareth. We'd played together, as David and Jonathan, battling the Philistines; sometimes as Abraham, saving Lot from wicked kings. Jesus played David most often. He did it quite well.
    My way was barred by immense crowds. What was going on? Someone said there was a man to be crucified ahead, and they wanted to see. I didn't want to see another man crucified, perhaps falsely accused. But the crowds closed in, and I could but follow.
    My thoughts turned to Jesus. I remembered the stories His parents told: the tale of His birth we asked for repeatedly. We told stories too, but Jesus told the best ones. Very good with words, was Jesus. Once we came to Jerusalem for Passover. When we left, He was missing, so His parents went back to find Him. Days later, they found Him, and what do you think He was doing? Talking, with priests and elders, who listened to His words! Jesus studied the Scriptures often. He spoke strangely about them, saying they might soon be fulfilled. I never understood that.
    A child was running beside me, trying to get to the front of the crowd. He stumbled and fell. I stooped to help him. He was crying, because he couldn't find his Friend. He thought they were going to kill Him. I told him it would be alright, and he followed me.
    Somehow, he reminded me of my Friend. Jesus wouldn't stand for any wrongdoing, among us or others. He might only say a word, and the sin would be driven away. When any of us were hurt or ill, His healing presence raised our spirits the moment we saw Him. He was the kindest person I'd ever known.
    We were now out of Jerusalem, near the hill. In front of us, two men spoke.
    "Who they crucifying now?"
    "That Nazarene everyone's talking about!"
    "Hm. Heard He's a blasphemer."
    "Whoever told you that knows nothing. He's-"
    "Well, they're accusing Him of blasphemy. Treason too. And false or not, you're going to see Jesus of Nazareth dead before nightfall."
    "What?!" I looked up at the hill. Three crosses stood there, faintly outlined against the darkening sky. I ran towards the hill, the boy close behind. How could this be? I had heard about things He'd done. He healed the sick and lame. Drove out demons with a word. Brought sinners to God. He had raised the very dead, and they killed Him for that?
    I stumbled, regained my footing quick as possible and ran to find my Friend. What had He done? He'd told stories to the people, and taught them righteous ways. He said nothing against Scripture! He that knew and loved it so well, how could He blaspheme God? Who believed so strongly in the Promise... of the Messiah...
    Now at the front of the crowd, I looked up at the cross on which my Friend hung. Soldiers barred my way. I could get no nearer. Tears filled my eyes as I looked on Jesus. The boy who had followed me was weeping for his Friend and mine. The sky, like that day's deeds, was dark.
    I finally understood my Friend's words about the prophecies. Why He had done things He did. Why He was born at all. He spoke of the prophecies as if they were soon to be fulfilled because He had come to do it! He was the Messiah, promised to our people. Promised to David, to Abraham. Perhaps Jesus had known that before anything else. What was it He said? Did you not know I must be in my Father's House? 
    All was clear to me. He has come; a light to the Gentiles, the glory of His people. To take all sins--my sins--upon Himself. Yet, if He was dead... but wasn't it the same with Abraham? His son was to die, but he didn't give up hope. As the stars of the heavens shall his children be. Now I know God meant all people who believe in the Messiah. In Jesus.
    "He was the Son of God," the boy said sadly. "Now He's dead."
    "Yes, but don't lose hope. He's also the Son of Promise, and God's promises always come true. Not even Death can stop that. I have faith we'll see Him alive again, soon."
    Time stood still, as did we, standing there, looking into the face of a Friend. The search is ended. Here is Jesus. Here is life.
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eruanna1875 · 17 days ago
Messengers of the King (Short Story)
Based on 2 Samuel 17:17-21
    "Where are they?" Jonathan said impatiently. "They should be here by now."
    "Just be patient," Ahimaaz replied. "Father said they would send a messenger, who would tell us which counsel Absalom took. Then we go." He rolled his eyes. Jonathan was always impatient.
     The two men were staying at Enrogel. They couldn't be seen coming into Jerusalem, so they waited there for the message they were to take back to the king.
     "Psst!" They both heard the sound. They turned, and saw a young girl near the corner. She beckoned them to come. "Greetings," she began, "Jonathan, son of Abiathar, and Ahimaaz, son of Zadok."
     "You know who we are?" Jonathon asked.
     "And your purpose here in Enrogel. Come—these matters aren't for marketplace discussion." They went into an alleyway where no one was in sight, and she told them everything she'd been given to say.
     "This is Absalom's plan, then? We are to tell King David these very words?"
     "Yes sir."
     "Then we must be quick. But I'm curious as to who you are."
     "A servant in the house where Zadok and Abiathar the priests stay. I'm loyal to King David, so when the priests asked me to help, I was only too happy to do so. Now you must hurry, sirs!" And they started off for King David's camp, failing to notice a lad peeking round the corner as they left.
     "How close are we to the camp?" Jonathon asked. They were on a little hill topped with a clump of trees.
     "We're near Bahurim, so fairly close." Ahimaaz paused. "Jonathon, we should stop in these woods."
     "Why? You just said we were close. We—hey!" Ahimaaz pulled Jonathon into the trees.
     "Listen, Jonathon. We're being followed."
     "Yes. Look, there. On top of that hill."
     "Those are soldiers!"
     "Someone must have overheard us in Enrogel and told Absalom."
     "There aren't that many. We can outrun them."
     "But what if one does manage to follow us back to King David's camp? He might tell Absalom the King's whereabouts, or even try to kill the King! No, we can't go straight there. We have to lead them away from the camp."
     "Alright then, Ahimaaz," Jonathon said. "King David's camp's at Jordan, and that's nowhere in sight. Let's run that way, towards the village. That should be good for our purpose."
     "Let's hurry and get away from here!"
     The two men ran down the hill into the village of Bahurim. They were fast, but far outnumbered. Ahimaaz and Jonathon ran down an alley, trying to evade the soldiers. They stopped suddenly, as two soldiers walked past the alley.
     "This can't go on!" Jonathon whispered. "If we don't find a place to hide from these soldiers, we're sure to get caught, and King David won't get the message!"
     "I know, I know..."
     "But where can we go?"
     "Umm... there. See that house with the well in the courtyard?"
     "Yes. Let's hurry!" The pair ran across the street into the court, where a woman supervised servants moving sacks. They looked up in surprise at the strangers.
     "What's going on here?" the woman asked.
     "We are messengers for the King."
     "We're being followed by Absalom's soldiers, ma'am," Jonathon explained. "We need help."
     "My husband's away on business, but if he were here, he'd tell you we'll do anything for the King."
     "We need somewhere to hide, and quickly!" Ahimaaz said.
     "I know just the place!"
     Jonathon and Ahimaaz climbed down the courtyard well. They stepped into the water and stayed very still. The woman spread a covering over the well, took some ground corn from a sack, and spread it on top. Minutes passed. The soldiers came into the courtyard. The King's messengers hardly dared to breathe, listening to their enemies walking around, searching for them.
     "Where are Ahimaaz and Jonathon?"
     "Who?" the woman asked, pretending not to know. "You mean, those two men that came in here a while ago? Ah, they be gone over the brook of water."
     "You're certain?"
     "Course I am. They told me so themselves. You'd best be off if you want to catch them." Jonathon and Ahimaaz listened as the soldiers departed, waited a few moments, then came up out of the well.
     "When those soldiers don't find you, they'll go right back where they came from."
     "We'd best be off, then." The two thanked the woman for her help, and left for David's camp. They got there before nightfall, and told David Absalom's plan. The King and his followers arose and passed quickly over the water. Thus the King avoided death at the hands of Absalom, and his promised kingship was preserved by God, through the hands of Ahimaaz and Jonathon, messengers of the King.
(Also written years ago)
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hanniepee · 17 days ago
reading some of my baby writing out loud! good ol nanowrimo 
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ghost-in-love · 20 days ago
Blue Levi Ackerman x Reader
this is a fic i wrote in may 2015 (i was 14, im 20 now) but i thofuht it would be funny to post it here since SNK is ending and it’s back to being popular now haha) enjoy the cringe! also i’m so sorry the formatting is weird ...i’ll fix it once i get to my laptop, i’m on my phone atm
Masterlist | Requests? open
Man, remeber when songfics were all the rage? Song is “Blue Lips” by Regina Spektor.
WC: 815
He stumbled into faith and thought,
"God, this is all there is."
He was Levi Ackerman.
Humanity's strongest soldier.
The pictures in his mind arose
And began to breathe
And all the gods and all the worlds
Began colliding on a backdrop of blue
Blue lips, blue veins
You were just plain [Y/N], who had a tendency to make snarky remarks, fight, and procrastinate.
He took a step but then felt tired
He said, "I'll rest a little while"
Luckily for you, Levi wasn't too harsh on you. You had known him underground and followed him when he was taken hostage.
But when he tried to walk again
He wasn't a child
You both had to grow up too soon; too fast. It was dangerous there. He became a successful soldier, ranking number one, and earning him the title of Lance Corporal.
And all the people hurried fast, real fast
And no one ever smiled
You had come in a close second, surprising your fellow cadets.
Just to become enslaved in the assembly lines
Levi was infatuated by you. He loved the way your [color] hair would flow in the wind, or how your [color] eyes sparkled as they drifted up to meet his own steel eyes. He loved they way you would whisper 'I love you' in his ear before you'd fall asleep. Yes, the Corporal did have a heart.
But only for you.
"Ne, Levi-"
"Corporal," he responded, not looking towards the young girl.
"Whatever, Dwarf. But are you excited for our mission?"
"Tch. It's the same as all the other missions. Did you just call me a dwarf?"
"No. Whelp, there's Erwin," you laughed.
Levi watched as the taller commander rode to the front of the formation.
"Ready soldiers? FORWARD!" He commanded and everyone yelled with adrenaline. It had been only a short while when a red flare was spotted.
"Damn, and we were so close to the base in the woods," Levi snorted.
"Don't worry, Shortie, we'll get there," [Y/N] assured him.
"Don't call me shortie. You're not even that taller than me."
"The only inch that actually counts, might I add," you snickered.
Now, everyone was safely in the protection of the trees. There were some casualties, only mourned by close friends.
Thump, thump
"Did you hear that?" you asked.
"Hear what?" Levi questioned.
Thump, thump
"That. It sounds like running."
"Hm, be on the lookout for titans."
"[Y/N]! Look out!" Petra screamed. You looked up as a titan came out of nowhere and stared at you. You froze as it opened is large mouth, dripping with saliva.
"Brat! Move your ass!" You heard Levi scream. You turned to move, but alas, the titan swatted you away like a fly and went to grab your broken body.
Then-suddenly, you were falling, then flying. You opened your eyes to meet your savior's.
"Don't be stupid. Humanity doesn't want its strongest soldier to be dead," you whispered.
"Don't be stupid, I don't want you to be dead!" A tear leaked from Levi's eye as he set you on a tree branch. "You'll be okay. We just have to seal your wound at get you back to the walls."
He stumbled into faith and thought,
"God, this is all there is."
"Levi, I'm already dying," you laughed harshly. "I see Mom...and Dad."
The pictures in his mind arose
"No, you don't. It's me, your boyfriend."
"I'm glad that we were together, Midget."
"We still are together!" Levi said, applying pressure to your gushing wound.
"Levi. Before I die, I...I want you to forget me."
And began to breathe
"Forget me."
Blue lips, blue veins
Blue, the color of our planet
From far, far away
Blue lips, blue veins
Blue, the color of our planet
From far, far away
"Blue is such a pretty color. I want bluebells for my funeral. Can you remember that?"
"Stop talking like you're dying. That's an order." The others gathered around, all saddened with the knowledge that they're loosing a great friend. A great soldier. A great lover.
"I love you, Levi Ac-" your hand dropped, and your eyes lost their bright [color] hue.
"Don't leave me, [Y/N]! [Y/N]?" Levi frowned. How was he going to live?
Blue, the most human color
Blue, the most human color
Blue, the most human color
The color blue was everywhere: the skies, a flare, the Survey Corps symbol, and most of all, the bluebells. How could he forget someone as precious as you?
Blue lips, blue veins
Blue, the color of our planet
Levi placed a chaste kiss to your cold forehead. He removed your jacket and traded your unused blades with his old ones. He folded your jacket up and carried it home, a stoic expression that would remain there for eternity on his face.
From far, far away
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bargainbincringe · 21 days ago
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jinxwrites · 22 days ago
The Bride Dressed In Black
I am a bride, All dressed in black, Walking the aisle To my death.
My groom is a reaper, All dressed in black. His eyes are empty, And his skin is pale white.
He killed everyone I loved, So the audience Is just corpses Sat here to watch.
As we say our vows, Death do us part, The reaper just smiles, And says, “That won’t be long.”
Where did I go wrong? Why did it have to end like this? I’ve built my coffin when I said, “I do.”
I was a girl, All sad and lonely. He came along, And he was kind.
But then, He got possessive. My family is gone, I have no more friends, And this is my end.
“Do you, Bride in Black, take the Reaper as your lawfully wedded husband till death do you part?” “I do..” “Do you, Reaper, take the Bride in Black as your lawfully wedded wife till death do you part?’ “I do.” “I now pronounce you husband and wife; you may kiss the bride.”
The kiss of death, So bittersweet. The last kiss, Before I die.
I am a bride, Covered in red. My groom was a reaper That sentenced me to death.
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jinxwrites · 22 days ago
Silver Eyes
Trigger Warning: This contains implications of self harm. It’s also from like 2015.
It’s cold hands try to comfort me as it’s silver eyes gleam. I’m telling myself no, but it stares at me with a cold gaze. It tells me “I’m the only comfort you’ll have. I’m the only comfort you need.” It reminds me of the aching in my chest. It tells me it can relieve the pain. I give in. I embrace its metallic form. I feel it’s sharp teeth bite into my flesh. It is like a vampire that feeds on my blood. It is like an addictive joyous poison that I need to live. It is taking me away from the ones I love, the ones who love me, and the ones who comfort me, but that doesn’t matter. It’s taking away the ache in my chest; that pressure pushing on my heart and lungs that makes it hard to breathe. It’s taking away the tears spilling from my eyes by spilling my blood. It’s giving me, a horrible person that is just useless, selfish, and overdramatic, the punishment I need. It’s taking away the guilt I feel for existing. It’s slowly killing me. It’s taking my emotion. “I JUST WANT TO FEEL SOMETHING!” I scream while staring into those silver eyes. It tells me that it can make me feel something again, but I refuse. It beckons me with it’s gleaming teeth formed into a smirk. It bites me, it takes life from my eyes, and it tells me I belong to it. “You’re mine” it whispers in my ear as blood drips from my wound. I cry. I push it away the best I can, but darkness is closing in. It’s cold hand is resting on my wrist, digging in it’s nails to remind me who I belong to. “It’s just a phase” they say “You’re being dramatic. You are just a teenager having issues. You’ll get over it. Be happy! You’re just sad. Attention whore.” When they say these things, the teeth sink deeper in my flesh. Bite after bite, I’m losing my senses, my emotion, and what I thought I lived for. My voice is silenced. My tongue is bitten. I am forced to keep my mouth shut until I am alone. Until I can cry on it’s shoulder while blood drips once more. I can’t stop myself. Scar after scar, I am becoming uglier than when I started. I’m beginning to believe that I won’t be able to go on. That the silver eyes that beckon me will soon be the death of me. No more smiling, no more laughter, and even no more tears or anger. Numbness. Nothing. Static on a screen. Pulling the strings on the corner of my mouth and forcing myself to lie through my teeth. There’s so much blood. So many scars that I am a mutilated, walking corpse with dead eyes. It’s teeth that once gleamed silver are stained red, it’s eyes are red, it’s nails are red, and it’s cold hands are red with my blood, my pain, and my self-worth. What’s the point of trying to refuse when I could let it “comfort” me again? There's nothing more to take then my life and my blood.
If you ever stare into those silver eyes like I do, just remember how deceiving those eyes can be.
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hay-389 · 24 days ago
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@maddieandchimney Thanks for another tag!
And omg that Wattpad phase, I’m cringinggggg just thinking about it. That phase happened when I first started getting into fanfic back in 7th or 8th grade. I started first on, but my best friend at the time was like look at this app. Let’s just say I’m so glad my name on Wattpad isn’t the same name I use today. The stories I published on there...😬😳. But I mean, I guess it doesn’t really matter when some fanfictions on are about to hit 6 years old lol. Read them at your own risk. 😭😂☠️
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