A Fall From Grace (Willing Victims Of Sin)

The Universe Loves You (Its People Are Blind But It Hopes That Forgiveness Can Still Be Found)

A small piece based off of some of @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry's works.

When your blood runs gold

Who will you run to?

When your wounds fade 

Into shining star silver

Who will you trust?

When the world hunts for your head

For a crime you did not commit

Who deserves your favor?

When the world is kind

Where its people are not

Where will you turn?

When you are scorned

Turned away with glare and blade

Will you return to its cradle

Be embraced in its loyalty?

The world knows and will never turn

You will find safety here

Amongst the fauna and the flora

Your reign is undisputed 

The world knows

Its people shall know in time

So I wonder

Where you'll end up next

Spider Web Lies Of A Thousand Mirror Eyes

Winding corridors of dust covered shelves, missing the little hatchling who wandered the halls. Wispy smoke reaches out, a frail finger tipping a half finished book into waiting hands. The ink has long dried, but the memories have not, so they take up a brush. Swirling the fine bristles into the ink, staining the pages with shadow and tar. Another name, another chapter, one more world to add to the archives. They set the brush down, dabbing away the ink with a damp cloth as they gather stardust into their arms, weaving it into the image of a spider's web. Engraving it into the leather covers with sunglow pins, the name shimmers in the faint light of the lanterns. A moment of hesitation before they turn, the doors silently closing behind them. Distant, ephemeral stories await their arrival, and a vast archive trapped in time can always wait just a little bit longer.

I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

Memories Of A Life Never Lived (Why Am I Worth Your Love?)

Starshine glimmer in dark oceans, the flicker of familiarity that truly made no sense yet still persistently existed. He does not linger on the memories he knows are not his, and yet they surface in his mind time and time again. He tips his head, bowing his head in submission as he is pressed onto satin sheets. He does not understand the ramifications of his remembrance, but he falls back into its embrace, willingly drinking from the truth that only he knows. He moans your name, gratitude lacing his every word and love flowing in his veins. Breathless whines and keening whimpers at the feeling of butterfly kisses across his skin, his eyes glazing in ecstasy. His mind falls, pleading and sobbing into quicksand, drowning in the memories that are not his, and yet they are all the same.

Each person he sees, he knows, is him, and yet he can not fathom how. For each iteration of his being has you by his side, steadfast and ever loving. His mind and his body wars with the other, pleasure overtaking the confusion blooming in his mind. His breath stutters, catching in his throat as he lets out a quiet but heaving sob. Tears glimmer in his eyes, beading on his eyelashes like the first of morning's dew. And for a moment, his world whites out, silence echoing in his ears like the death knell that he remembers hearing but never experiencing. When he comes to, he waits for a moment to catch his breath, and he smiles up at you. Wistful and longing and far too knowing.

The one who survives in the face of time and the tides of the seasons, and the one who lives and dies and lives again, to be mortal and not. They are doomed to fail, but that is the price of a live that was never meant to be. For eternity, they are sworn, but it is a tale of heartbreak and an ache soul deep.

Glory To The Faithful (The World Screams In Its Anguish)

His hands twitched, his skin rubbed red and raw, his breaths escaping his chest with a rasping wheeze. Apologies carved into his chest as he claws at his arms, the stain of gold stark on his skin. He had not left the cell in days, scrubbing at the stone bricks in vain. Glowing faintly in the dark, he sobs tearless cries at the cruel reminder of his mistakes, as the waters bleed crimson. His blood over his God's, though now he began to doubt his claim of fervent devotion, he has no right, but he is far too greedy to offer its sacrifice just yet. Cradling his vision close, bloody streaks tracing the engraved constellation he knew was his, proof of his status even if he were to fall from grace. Memories with jagged edges that tear and spill open the truths he wished not to see. Iron to his eyes and thread through his lips, he can not hear and no longer can he feel, penance for his sins. A warden of a prison that holds only one. He burns alone, deep beneath the dark waters.

As an adult you must cultivate the skill of “Gross! Oh, well. Not my business.”

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

The Line Between Devotion And Obsession Is Marked By Ink (Ink Is Reminiscent Of Blood, Is It Not?)

A small piece inspired by @flokali and their works. I hope you enjoy!

Your presence was a miracle

Every touch was a blessing

Something they surely did not deserve

They were not worthy 

Yet you gifted them such precious things

Indulged in their filthy desires

Allowed them so close

Adorned them with such pretty words

It drew them closer to devotion

And deeper into madness

There was nothing they would not do

Should you command them 

The countries they swore themselves to

The friends they promised to never betray

It would all burn to ashes 

They would stain themselves with blood

Taint their soul with sin 

As long as you approved 

If you smiled and praised and petted

Then they would be content

Even if the world were to crumble

And no one were to survive 

As long as you were happy

There would no greater honor

Than to die in your name

So don't fret too much

Command them as you please

They would want nothing more 

Than to be yours and yours alone

umm i need reassurance that my presence is wanted but i can’t ask for reassurance because that’s really Embarrassing and it wouldn’t feel genuine if i asked for it

The Price Of Crossing A Bridge Long Since Burned (Your Memories Shall Do Just Fine)

A bit of a longer piece inspired by @flokali

In the quiet abyss of slumber

Stolen away from an empty home

Only to wake to familiar world

Not yours

Not quite

But close enough

You've been here before

Not as yourself 

But as a traveler seeking their twin

Searching for their other half

They shouldn't know you

In fact 

They shouldn't be alive

They should be codes and pixels

A world just imaginary 

Just fantastical and nothing more

Yet here you were

In a bedroom not your own

Surrounded by people you've seen

You've played with 

But by all means shouldn't be

You did not belong 

No matter what they claim

And yet here you are

The world will change 

Just as you already have

After all

Are you sure you've seen these people before?

Are you sure you do not belong here?

Do you remember your past?

Of your empty home filled with memories?

Memories you can't remember?

You don't recognize their names

And certainly not their faces

So how are you so sure you've met them before?

How are you sure you've been taken?

You're here aren't you?

They all seem so worried

And they know you so well

Hm?

Oh dear

Maybe you've been dreaming too long

You're starting to get everything mixed up

Don't worry

They'll take care of everything

And they'll take care of you

You shouldn't worry so much

I'm sure it's a little confusing

And I can sense your panic from here

Everything will be just fine

Besides

This life isn't so bad

I'm sure you'll grow to like it

It's all that you have now after all

The shatter of mirror fractals

Like the chiming of bells 

A fog settles and sinks

Muddling memory and thought alike

A drop in an ocean 

The ripples become waves 

And the waves rise into tsunamis 

As one life ends 

Another begins 

Stolen from a mundane world

To be exalted above all 

And chained to a throne

Meant for a righteous God

Is this a blessing?

Or perhaps it is a curse

Either way

It's far too late 

The die has cast 

And it's already begun 

No time for regrets

Not that you would remember any

Let's make the best of this

Okay?