A man washes up on the shore. In his nakedness he will be ogled by the beach-goers and teased. He will stand stout and he will walk step-by-step. He will stop and tear his skin from his muscles and white bones. Reach under his upper lip and push(more) his fingers slowly up over his skull. Feeling the smooth beauty of his structure, and rapture through his nose. Pushing out the skin stretches and the muscle is exposed in a red mass. The people will quiet and watch, impulsed to stay through repulse. He will hold up what the people teased and say something.
"I have not molted in so long, so for myself I do this, not you."
Something of the sort will shatter the peoples ears as they watch the man cast his face into the water where it will float for years before sinking. He will grab the collar of himself and pull down, taking off his skin-deep definition, gender, race no longer apply. He is muscle... nothing more.
With a gasp he would raise his arms and the tendons and muscle would melt into redish acid, running down his white bones. Only his structure and organs remain. He will walk forward but the people will not follow him, they wait until he disappears into a white dune; going back to tanning their skin and branding beauty. (less)
"We are tied, inexorably," she says with more than a little bit of disdain coating the words. She is right. In every way. We are tied together. We are wrapped, knotted so thoroughly into each others lives it would be nearly impossible to leave. If one, or both of(more) us were to use a razor and slice neatly through the bonds, tendrils of our "togetherness" would flay the dream of separateness. So, bonded we must stay though it pains us each and every minute. Each and every second. We are Siamese twins, our foreheads the point of connection. Our hearts roaming free. (less)
She would live and die in a castle, in a Kingdom, behind walls. Lisre knew this, and had learnt its meaning many times. A Princess of the far reaches, she was insurance within the Capital of the Empire, and had found long ago that the Princess of the West whose(more) fate mirrored her own was far more suited to the luxuries of becoming the Emperor's wife.
Lisre was a problem. Brought from the East with her handmaid Maja, she had been renamed and re-anointed in order to prepare her to live a life in the Royal household. But Lisre was not consort's material; she had the mind of an Empress in her own right, a cleverness that was admirable but a recklessness that could not be cut down. Where her counterpart from the West was Queenly, Lisre was a Commander.
She had often given much thought to the death of the Emperor and a rule between the two of themselves.
But when it appeared most likely that the reinforcements of their walls would break, not in a literal fashion, but to a more sinister social destruction, Lisre took it upon herself to leave Castle, Queen, and Empire in search of her own death far outside those reinforcements. (less)
-caligulasAquarium began trolling cuttlefishCuller-
cA: i just thought that maybe it wwould mako a difference
cA: you know, get people to pay attention to me for once
cA: it feels like you're the only person wwho bothers to listen, Fef, and youvve nevver evven heard my vvoice.
cC:(more) -Eridan, as )(eiress, I'd have to cull you myself if you wiped out a generation of my subjects.
cC: Please don't make me do that. I don't know )(ow I'd cope without you. (Sea, I'm even dropping the fis)( puns. T)(is is S-ERIOUS BUSIN-ESS.)
cA: you're shore
cC: Totally s)(ore.
cA: no that wwas stupid
Whore it up. Parade yourself. Expose yourself. You get one shot in that body. Give it five years and those potatoes will go straight to your bottom. Soon that chocolate you scoff will rest on your hips.
This moment you experience will never happen again.
A new wrinkle will remind you of each new day that passes. That white hair will soon glows against your soft, brown locks. It sits there to remind you where you are headed.
Run. Walk. Skip. Take advantage of your limbs. Very soon, they will ache. Have sex. Often. With someone you love preferably. Enjoy two young bodies together.
Smile. Your teeth are shiny and white. Smooth like milk. Soon they will go yellow like corn. You won't feel so confident then.
This is for my 20 year old self. I wish she knew this at the time.
With a strained grunt, he lifted the box and slid it onto the end of the wagon, shoring up the overhanging edge with a nearby stool. Wiping his brow with a handkerchief, he lets out a breath and smiles. "Well, that should save us some time when departing."
"Y'know, you could've let me help with the packing and stuff. You're really slow."
"Ah, sorry, physical labor isn't my strong suit. Even so, it wouldn't be fair for me to ask you to assist with this preparation."
"Why?" She narrows her eyes, a challenging glint apparent. "Because I'm a girl?"
"D'ya think it'd be rude to ask a girl to do some heavy lifting? Or maybe it'd be too much for my delicate frame?"
"Heavens no! I'll be the first to admit you are, by far, much stronger than I am."
"Of course! That's why I hired you, after all. However, it's not in your pay to coddle me and do unnecessary work. It's not my place to ask for assistance."
She lets out a laugh, looking at him with an amused air. "Y'know, for a professor you're pretty smart."
He blinks. "I was under the impression that intelligence is a requirement for my occupation."
"Are you kidding me?" She claps a firm hand on his shoulder, grinning ear to ear. "Those old coots don't know nothing about how to get through life. They probably wouldn't even think to hire me!"
"Well, I'm sure they would - the pass is quite perilous."
"I'm not talking about that. They'd take one look at me and try to find someone else, y'know?"
"Well, that's cute. I don't know if you're gonna live a longer or shorter life with that mentality."(less)
I first saw it on my run. It was probably 20 feet long, and 15 wide, but half of it was buried beneath the sand. I stopped, and wondered how far a tree this size had to travel to end up on my beach. It was waterlogged, ridden with barnacles, and seaweed. I(more) wanted to take a picture, but I didn't have a camera.
I got my room mate drunk after she had a fight with her girlfriend, and we went out to the beach for a walk. The stars were plentiful, and the sky was clear to the horizon except for the tiny lights of anchored ships and barges right on the crest. She was downtrodden, her stomach rolled over and over with nerves and tequila, and her hands would shake when she talked.
"I don't know dude. I just thought that after college we'd have this shit figured out, but here I am acting 22 again." The bottle would sway with her as we walked. She would periodically take a swig, and cough. Ghost crabs scrambled at our feet. She kicked the sand, and phosphorescent bacteria would flash briefly, and fall. "I know that I want to be with Sarah, but there's always somewhere or someone else I want to be with." Something temporary, but huge enough to skew my priorities. We were coming upon the tree washed ashore. It was only a void of light, except for the branches which could be seen in the moonlight. She sat on the trunk, and took another swig from the bottle. "I just don't know why I keep sabotaging this relationship?"
"Let's get back to the house. I'm cold." I grabbed the bottle, took a swig, and capped it.
The next morning on my run, the tree was gone.
I raise you up
I show you the way
You doubt that anyone cares
But I do
You have yourself convinced that life is better without you
You are only human
You punch a wall and slice an x on your hand
I'm trying to help but(more) I can't be that kind of friend right now
I love you and I'll support you
I'll shore you up...
(A poem to a friend)(less)
In between passion and boredom Luke sat on the edge of her bed. He felt anxious knowing Sara's future expectations before she did, like they were being announced on an emergency broadcast system loud and clear in her bedroom, interrupting what should be a casual and easy night of(more) fucking. Sara wanted to define the last 3 months of ongoing sex as something else. He did't blame her. She was pretty-blonde-smart-good-job and mid 30's meaning that kids and family were irrepressible in her mind. All her friends were married or married with kids. She was starting to feel like she was hard on the gas to cat lady status, friends were already beginning to avert their eyes at gatherings like she was a criminal plotting to steal husbands and kidnap children.
Luke was trying to side step conversations that wouldn't lead to smooth and seamless sex this evening. He kept pouring dark Burgundy wine into her glass, keeping it 3/4-full while keeping his glass less than 1/2-full. Sara was talking about work problems and her friends gossip and Luke was thinking how good a blowjob would feel at this moment. At least he'd feel something good instead of the snake slowing constricting in his stomach. He watched her lips move and nodded his head in failed sympathy.
Sara could read his thoughts plainly. Luke's face betrayed him. (Did he even know?) She knew Luke was a dead end but he was nice and until she found her internet baby/daddy/husband/millionaire she was content to fuck him. He was funny, attractive, and knew how to use his dick. Why wouldn't she fuck him while standing still in a holding pattern? But he had to earn it. He may not being buying dinner but he would pay with his attention. Eyes up asshole.(less)
It was tiring and dirty work, trying to keep the barricade up and in one piece. It seemed like all his joints hurt, and the stress if the heavy metal prosthetic hanging from his shoulder made it all the worse.
Everything would be so much simpler if h(more)e could just clap his hands together and move the earth around, reinforcing the walls and keeping the dead separate from those who still lived. But his ability to do alchemy had evaporated, seemingly into thin air - and he wasn't the only one affected. Alphonse, his little brother was a soul bound by alchemy to unfeeling armor. Whenever his ability to use alchemy vanished ... so did Al.
He couldn't dwell on it. Alphonse came back, acting as if no time had passed. But even then, using alchemy drew the dead to them like moths to a flame. The only conclusion Edward could draw was that whatever event had caused the dead to rise from their graves had its origins in the same type of alchemy.
(And if Edward ever found out who had enacted the transmutation that triggered this apocalyptic event, he would make damn sure that they would never worry about performing another transmutation again.)
He bit back a tired curse as the dead rattled at the barricade, causing piles of debris to slide from the top of the mound. This was going to be a long and lonely task. Edward spared a glance back at the main building - they had never intended to stop here for any length if time, but the military facility was providing adequate protection - for the time being.
Mustang was counting on him to help keep everyone safe. It was a very strange feeling, but Edward did not want to let him down. (less)
He didn't have a fear of water, necessarily. He was fine with it, in moderation, even fine with swimming in a pool on a hot summer day. Despite this, he always had a terrible, terrible fear of the ocean, or any... Open water, really.
It seemed out of character(more) for him. He was cheerful and optimistic, so why let something as silly as a little water bother him?
He wasn't sure of the answer either.
But, that aside, here he was. Standing with his friends in front of the local lake, staring into it's depth. They were waiting, he knew, but nothing could move him from his spot. The fear had frozen him completely. Even if he had wanted to move in the first place, he didn't think it was a possible feat at this point.
"Come on, we've been waiting for you for ten minutes now! I promise, the water isn't cold or anything. If you don't come in soon, we're going to have to just drag you in!"
His daze was broken, and he smiled nervously, scratching the back of his head. He must've really looked like an idiot, hadn't he? "Oh, yeah! I'll be right there. Just give me a minute to adjust to the water anyways, ok?"
"Sure!" was his friends instantaneous reply, and slowly, he eased himself into the water he hated so much. He trusted them with his life, and he figured he could do so here and now, too. (less)
The dock pulls in with a deadly silence. Twisted ropes spiral off of rusted shorings, welcoming my boat. It wasn't going to be like before, it was going to be real. I could sense it - this time when I hit this shore, something was going to be different.
The metallic(more) clang of the siding hitting the dock echoes. The shore's darkness beckons my empty stomach. I grab my knife and set off down the wretched path. I stumble, barely move. My heart aches in reprobation for the ills I have suffered and those which I have committed.
I collapse when my feet touch the grass and my body sinks into the ground. Earth speaks to my body once more. She was gone, forever across the ocean into the vast endlessness of the world. With her passage, her soul had departed. She was to do a long slow death in heartless and profitable marriage with the nobility.
No brother, it is simply the way of the Earth.
Then what choice have I but to die? To sleep endlessly in this Earth without her?
To live like a dead man!
And with that, I arise. My mission begins. The Governor who had wronged me, my love, and my people slept in the palace down the road.
With the awakeness of death, I sprint through the trees like the silent spirit of death. At the house, I find a sleeping watchman, I slit his throat.
The sweat of the plantation is palpable in the damp air as I spot a vein of god-sent ivy slithering up the house. I climb like a snake winding its way into an oak. In the hall a man is waiting, he shoots me in the chest.
He grins, "The Governor ain't takin' visits tonight."
for the moon to finally rise from slumber.
for the ice to merrily mix with my whiskey.
for the day to finally come to a close.
so precious the time yet we wish it all away,
(more) wish for the weekend when we have all of this before us.
receding. a hairline, a shoreline moving back from the sea.
a heartline, my palm upon your cheek.
listen, you can hear the faintest of whispers.
a moment being transformed into a memory.
Yesterday's storm was fierce. The fort was slowly collapsing around them. The wall closest to her was leaning inward. Not yet alarmingly but still, the slant couldn't be ignored. "Shore it up" her husband said. "Use the beam." And so she had. She placed the beam, tilting in oppos(more)ition to the wall, with the top of the beam against the wall, the bottom of the beam firmly on the ground a short distance away. And while that wall was secured, they worked together to repair the rest. If only her life could be 'shored up' so easily.(less)