Tomorrow night,
They will lock me away
Hold my ears closed so I am not scared,
The lights are back in the sky,
Just like last year, and the year before,
I will be startled by the foreign noises
I will scramble from their arms and scrape my desperate paws against the door,
My beady little eyes will watch the blue and yellow fire light up the sky, more beautiful than I can comprehend, and far more frightening than I can anticipate.
But tonight, it is quiet, as I am asleep safe and sound in the clutches of their arms.
Tonight, nothing can harm me.
- Campfire-Poets, 5th July 2023
Authors note:
I wrote this one two years ago now, but it is still one of my best. It was accepted into a poetry competition this past November and won. So I am particularly proud of it.
Werewolves usually tear off their clothes and flesh as they transform, for multiple reasons. Their anger, their hunger, the rage they feel as they transform, tugging at their body while claws grow uncontrollably.
However, when a werewolf is taken away by scientists or sorcerers, it is chained down during observation.
Which causes something very strange to happen.
The werewolf is unable to shed its skin, and so what’s left is an awfully stretched and torn human, wolf jaws erupting from a human mouth, skin pulled unnaturally tight over its body, fur visible through its transparency.
For just one moment
Though it was a short moment
They were only mine
Now they are so far
I look back on our moment
and mourn what we had
I could not complain
Their smile is always welcome
It faces me not
but I must be blithe
yet I wish for their closeness
In both mind and skin
To have them once more
To touch them within
To laugh, to cry, to desire
Always a good friend
But only once my sweetheart
I thought I could wait
For the change they said was near
and happen did change
But we weren't to be
and that's the way some love goes
To let them be free
Perhaps that is love
To love without it returned
Fleeting and stubborn
An aro/ace bard tries a love potion, and it works, but its all wrong.
Inspired by a post written by sergeantsporks . This was originally a repost of that post, but it wasnt getting seen, so ive posted it separately. Enjoy!
cw: love potion, loss of bodily autonomy, magical coercion (non-explicit), emotional distress, dysphoria, depictions of anxiety, sensory overload.
The first thing I felt, was that sickly sweet taste sliding down the back of my tongue. It clung like cough syrup, like honey and sugar, a pulp of caramelized ichor that coated my throat. A mead that Id soon regret indulging.
I tried to clear my throat of it, hoping the taste might pass, doing so much as to chug down the canter of water that sat beside my so called friend.
We were called in for a feast after a marvelous adventure, rewarded by the burgomaster for our courage and valiance in defeating the local criminal faction. It was in-fact a difficult adventure, but we were used to difficult.
We had met less than a year ago, we dont fit together as snuggly as other adventuring parties we had come across, but we fought well, which made up for the occasional spat.
However, one of the longest lasting 'jokes' within our group, was me; or rather, about me.
Dalenhart, our dwarven barbarian, had deeply chuckled for the thousandth time: "What good is a bard with no charisma-" and interrupted himself by filling his wide mouth with mead.
I sighed, like the last thousand times, and continued to sip at the white fizz I held with one limp hand. "I have charisma, Balen, I just have better uses for it than... seducing our enemies." I rolled my eyes, knowing my argument was wasted on their drunken minds.
Karthik, the human paladin, handsome type, blonde hair and tan skin, swallowed whatever bite of meat he had just taken, which evidently quite large, and waggled a finger in my general direction. "He's right, you know, bards are supposed to be... you know..."
I raised an eyebrow at him.
"...sexy." He shrugged, and directed his attention back to his plate.
Gaiala, the elven druid, who always seemed to be whispering, even in dire situations, shook her head. "Dont listen to them, you have every right to be a prude, you haven't met the right person yet, and that's okay. There's nothing wrong with saving your special moment." She spoke as if she was understanding me, but it was all wrong.
I stared down into my cup, little bubbles floated and popped at the surface, it tasted white grapes and gravel, but I drank it anyway. I gently traced my fingers over the strings of my lute, feeling the reverberations through my skin.
"You guys dont understand, there isn't a right person. No matter what I do, I will have no interest in it. My love remains for music, no body nor soul could make me feel the way I do when I play, it doesn't come close." The feel of the wooden engravings beneath my finger tips felt almost intimate, but I knew it was never something the others would understand.
"Aye, I get you laddy, I feel that way for my maiden" Dalenhart hid a smirk beneath his beard as he hoisted up a huge warhammer from beneath the table, and began tracing his stout fingers over the geometric embellishments, which soon turned to him whispering sugary sweet remarks under his breath.
Karthik beamed and let out a loud laugh, crumbs shooting from his lips. "See! Even the dwarf knows how to do it, but the bard cant? What are they teaching you at bard college these days." He wiped his mouth with the back of his gauntlet, though it hardly made a difference. "And anyway, how can you be so sure that its 'no matter what' if you've never even been in action."
Dalenhart dropped his axe on the table with a loud crash, a few pomegranates falling from a near by bowl. "Karthik raises a good point you know, how can you be sure... unless we were to test right now?"
Both Karthrik and Gaiala shot Dalenhart strange looks, while a heavy pit began to form in my stomach.
"Calm down ye rabid animals, obviously I dont mean that," Dalenhart began to rustle around in his satchel, and Karthik gave a short shrug. "Tell me, Bard, would your beliefs withstand the power... of chemistry?" He gave his words the flourish of a great story teller, and places a small object down on the table with a light 'clink'.
As he withdrew his hand, we all ogled the sight before us. A small pink potion, glass blown in the shape of a heart, a magenta ribbon wrapped around its neck, with a golden cork jammed in the opening.
There was no mistaking it, this was a love potion, an incredibly rare artifact, and illegal in most regions.
Gaiala gasped, "How did you get your grubby hands on such a powerful elixir?" She leaned forward over the feast to get a closer look, seeming too precious to touch it.
Envy, our teifling sorcerer, who had remained completely indifferent at the head of the table until now, brooding beneath a black robe, glanced up at the potion across from him. His steel blue eyes didnt linger there long, before they landed on me.
I was aware of his attention, but my vision had just closed in, the sounds around me drowning out to a low hum. My stomach ached, anxiety tugging and twisting inside of me. For even I didnt know what effect this potion would have on me, I had never thought about it until now.
'What if... what if it does fix me...' The thought echoed in my mind. 'It could fix me, or I could finally prove to the others that I truly am not interested, as not even magic could change my feelings.'
The chattering voices of the others faded back in, I became aware of my surroundings once again. I look up from where my hands had gripped the table cloth, to see Envy still staring directly at me. His dark navy complexion and shadowy hood often made it hard to discern his expressions apart from the glow of his pale eyes, but under this warm candle lit dinner, I could see the heavy look of concern twisting at his brow. It was a look of 'Be careful, dont bite off more than you can chew.'
My chair screeched across the granite floor as I stood up suddenly, reaching forward and grabbing the elixir in one swipe, uncorking it with a soft pop, and downing the saccharine syrup.
The others stopped in their tracks, eyes wide as they watched me gulp down the whole bottle.
"Well wouldya look at that..." Dalenhart exasperated, slumping back in his seat.
I whipped my head after finishing the last drop, corking it once again and setting it down to wipe my lips. My eyes were scrunched tight, my face pulled into a heavy grimace as the sweet liquid stained my tongue and clung to my throat.
The taste was stubborn, I could taste it on my breath, in between my teeth, under my tongue. I grabbed Dalenharts water and chugged it down faster than I had the potion.
I gasped for air, looking back up at my companions with determined eyes, panting lightly.
"Guess we just wait and see then." Karthik mesmerized, pouting at his friends in awe.
I sat down once again, heavy and tired, feeling a strange warmth within my throat where the sweetness had been.
The others watched closely, whispering out the sides of their mouths, predicting what would happen next.
The warmth spread into my stomach, smothering the anxiety pit that had been there moments ago. Then it started to crawl up my spine, like a bug or mosquito that had somehow found its way under my garments.
I squirmed uncomfortably, unsure if it was from the prolonged attention or the potion. Everything felt uncomfortable, like I was sat in a chair too small, wearing clothes that were too big, surrounded by people I didn’t know, asking me far too personal questions.
The warmth reached my face, and my limbs began to feel a little numb. I mourned the loss of my senses as buried my reddening face in my palm, closing my eyes to centre myself on the foreign feelings.
It was dizzying, whatever it was, like a fire had been lit inside my mind. Not the kind of fire that provides the spark for my song writing, but the kind of fire that burned.
I swallowed hard, my throat already dry, my face felt swollen, my eyes half lidded.
This feeling only expanded, it pushed and prodded at my insides, like a baby growing without my permission, growing inside of me by the second.
I curled over into myself, feeling bile rise to my throat. A thousand magnets pulled me in every direction, stretching my skin and bones, shredding every fiber of my being. I could feel every hair, every bead of sweat, every nail in every finger, every eyelash and every tooth in my head.
My heart pounded, I could’ve sworn it was going to burst right out of my chest and land in my lap. Maybe then I could’ve shown people how my heart works, perhaps that would’ve been easier.
“Quian?”
My name, who said my name.
I moved my head so one eye could peer out between my fingers, my hair now fallen infront of my face, sweat making strands cling together and stick to my forehead.
My eye focused across the table, that damn teifling was staring at me still, they all were. All looking at me like I was a rabid animal.
Another chair screeched, Envy’s dark form moved swiftly to my side in two long strides. “Quian, look at me.” He demanded, his voice as serious as the time he saved me from being eaten alive.
I lolled my head out of my palm, and stared up at him with blurry eyes. The warmth, it burned and burned, my own skin felt like it was too hot to touch. All I wanted was to peel it away and take a frozen cold bath.
He was beautiful though, Envy, his shadowed brow and piercing eyes, I would almost describe him as…
I lurched forward, gagging on nothing, I gasped for air, not realising that I now was clinging to the black robes of my friend.
Gaiala had also stood, but her chair didn’t make a sound. “Envy? are they are alright?” Her concern was genuine, but her intrigue in the results shone through her words.
“They will be.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. “Quian, I need you to look at me now.” He gave me a light shake, prompting my attention.
I looked up at him, what a glorious angle it was, to be below such a man. That thought sliced through my brain like a shard of glass, leaving scarring in its wake.
My heavy eyes climbed his body, and returned to his face. He inspected me closely, observing my blown out pupils and flushed face.
“We need to get them to their quarters, they need to sleep this off.” He held my clammy hands in his large strong ones, visions of those hands holding me flashed through my mind, staining and sticking to the inside of my skull.
“Can’t you magic them better?” Dalenhart waggled his hand in my general direction, he had stood too now, though it didn’t make much of a difference.
“No, I can’t, I’m out of spell slots for until tomorrow. Healing all your asses earlier drained me completely.” He sighed, agitation evident in his tone, as he lifted one of my arms over his shoulder and brought me to stand.
“Not our fault they had barrels of gunpowder, how were we supposed to know they’d all go off at once?” Karthik pouted, holding out his palms.
Before walking away, Envy turned back to look at him with a hard glare. “How were you supposed to know not to shoot a fire arrow in a bomb factory? It doesn’t exactly take a genius.” He grunted, turning and dragging me away, as I mumbled something like a thank you.
Just before we left through the door, I saw Gaiala give Karthik a smack over the head, who continued the movement and punched Dalenhart in the shoulder. I was at least glad to not be there to see how that turned out.
Things were blurry from there, my thoughts taken over by things I’d only heard in song. Each one plucking at the thread of my mind, like a web reverberating to alert the spider of its captured prey, though in that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was the spider or the fly.
Cool blankets met my back, a strong hand gently lowering my head into my pillow. He backed away to give me space, but the sudden chill felt deathly.
I felt as though I was the only one in a thousand miles, shivering in a desolate snowy wasteland. I needed to be touched, I needed to be held, my bones practically shivered inside my flesh.
“Envy-“ I groaned, breathless and confused, whining out for touch like a starved dog. His hands met mine, he gripped it tight, grounding me enough to process where I was.
The quarters the burgomaster had lent us for the week, as part of our reward. Except I was in Envy’s room, leather bound books and talismans littered every surface. It seemed he had already made himself at home, how cute.
I used my free hand to brush the hair out of my face, rubbing my eyes and forehead as I went, as if I could somehow push the thoughts out of my head.
In that moment, it felt like Envy was everywhere, around me, inside me, behind me, surrounding me. I was being crushed by him, but I couldn’t let him go, or I’d be crushed by the loneliness instead.
“Quian, tell me what you’re feeling, if you can.” He spoke softly, plainly, efficient but kind. He was so nice to me, so caring, so polite and handsome, the kind of guy you want to stick around.
Through the heat, I managed to form a sentence “It’s not right, these aren’t my thoughts…” I strained, my lip quivering.
“I know, I know” Envy cooed, giving my hand another squeeze. “You’re going to be okay, it’s only temporary, you can’t die from this.”
“It certainly feels like I will.” I coughed out, shifting around in the bed as it suddenly felt far too soft. I’m a hard bed kind of person, I like having the back support, cushioned beds felt too freeing.
“Everything is… too loose. I feel like I’m coming undone, like a wheel on a cart running over a particularly big rock. Am I the horses? Maybe I’m the cart, and the horses are these feelings. Or maybe the rock is my fe-“
Envy hushed my ramblings, gently using an elemental cantrip to blow frosty air in my direction. I breathed it in as best I could, the snowflakes pricking the back of my senses and bringing me to reality for another second.
“This isn’t right… it was supposed to fix me…” he gargled, screwing my eyes shut as another wave of raunchy imagery played in my mind.
Envy sighed, placing one of his hands over my forehead, his thumb gently tracing circles between my eyebrows.
“You aren’t broken, Quian, you just work differently, that’s okay. You knew that before, but you’re letting those idiots words get to you. You’re just like anyone else, though your creative spark certainly places you higher on my list than most people I’ve met.”
I focused in on his words, squeezing past the want and longing that muddled up my thoughts. "What good is a bard with no charisma.." I quoted dryly, before using my free hand to cover my eyes, as even the gentle candle light now seemed invasive.
Envy titled his head, choosing his next words carefully. "You are incredible Quain, you go above and beyond at every battle, the way your words drift so perfectly with your lute hypnotizes me. Every time you get up on a tavern stage, and capture the audience like a couple of grapes in your palm, I find myself trying to understand how one person could create such art. Every note you pluck, I hear a history of lessons of love, love for your work, for the world around you, for your life. Now excuse the irony, but I'm envious." He let a small smirk travel up his cheek while he spoke, not something he let others see often.
I let out a stifled laugh, snorting and smiling back. "Your name really sucks you know." I continued to hide my face as his words echoed louder in my skull than anything the potion had produced.
"I know," He bowed his head, "I chose it when I was 14, no going back now." Shaking his head in shame, he let that smile grow wider.
My smile faded as the reality of the situation set in, I looked at him deeply, seeing the adoration in his glassy eyes.
"Envy... I cant... you know I cant return-" I started, feeling lost once again, until his frosty voice cut through.
"I'm not asking you to. What I'm saying is, is that you are a bard, and you do capture the hearts of all you meet, your music touches us in ways that are far less fickle than sex. I adore you like a work of art, you are to me like a sculpture Id have built in the center of my garden. You shine like the sun and I wish for nothing more but to reflect it like the moon. My love for you does not require reciprocation to exist." He squeezed my hands even tighter now. He felt solid, like a stone tower in the middle of a desert.
I didn't speak for a moment, processing his words as they glided into my mind. It was shocking, sure, but it didn't overwhelm me like my other thoughts, instead, I felt I could relax into them. Drowning in a swamp of caramel, he was there to keep me afloat.
New images appeared in my mind, no longer the sweaty touch of another, but memories of Envy, staring. I played my heart out in a tavern on the night we all met, they were all together already, and I just so happened to be playing that night. Envy was the one who approached me, told me to put my skills to work, to join him and make some real money. How could I say no.
Another memory, inside a tavern once again, I just had just finished my set. I spotted Envy leaning against a beam, waiting to greet me as I came off stage, but as I reached the steps, a crowd of drunken women swallowed me. They brushed against my shoulders, reached for my lute, praised me and asked all sorts of horrible questions. I was pulled out of the pit by Envy, who gave them all one look, and just like that they all turned and left. I was grateful, but didn't know how he did it. I thanked him and we spent the rest of the night merry.
The memory that was most clear was from earlier today, when we accidentally entered the criminal factions warg pen. I had sang for us then, inspiring my teammates and bringing the vigor back to our battle. I hadn't put to much thought to it earlier, but now I could see how Envy had stopped in his tracks for a few too many seconds, staring at me.
"You really dont want anything from me?" I was speaking before I knew it.
He sighed, not annoyed, just exasperated. "No, nothing but your presence and your song. Is that okay?" He seemed vulnerable then, no longer an iceberg in an ocean, but a snowdrop in early spring.
I beamed, "Its perfect." For a second, I had forgotten the potions effects entirely.
Envy tried and failed to hide his proud smirk, "Great, now get some rest, that potion will be out of your system in less than an hour. Sleep through what you can, and Ill get you some cold water. Okay?" I nodded, and he gave my hand a parting squeeze, and swiftly left the room.
I turned to look at the ceiling, and took a long deep breath down to my stomach. 'These thoughts are not me, just a magical effect, and a terrible one at that. Ill be okay, Ill be okay.' I let the thoughts float, letting each vision of moving bodies and dirty words sail past, allowing them entry before their swift departure.
"Aro/Ace person gets given a love potion" story but instead of them being immune or whatever, it DOES work, and they realize IMMEDIATELY that they've been fed a love potion because this feeling is so wrong and foreign but everyone keeps laughing off the idea of it being a love potion because "they were probably just a late bloomer" or "no, you just finally found the right person!" and it's just a horror story about how no one believes them even though they know, they KNOW this isn't right and they can't stand it.
cw: love potion, loss of bodily autonomy, magical coercion (non-explicit), emotional distress, dysphoria, depictions of anxiety, sensory overload.
Fruit Flies
The first thing I felt, was that sickly sweet taste sliding down the back of my tongue. It clung like cough syrup, like honey and sugar, a pulp of caramelized ichor that coated my throat. A mead that Id soon regret indulging.
I tried to clear my throat of it, hoping the taste might pass, doing so much as to chug down the canter of water that sat beside my so called friend.
We were called in for a feast after a marvelous adventure, rewarded by the burgomaster for our courage and valiance in defeating the local criminal faction. It was in-fact a difficult adventure, but we were used to difficult.
We had met less than a year ago, we dont fit together as snuggly as other adventuring parties we had come across, but we fought well, which made up for the occasional spat.
However, one of the longest lasting 'jokes' within our group, was me; or rather, about me.
Dalenhart, our dwarven barbarian, had deeply chuckled for the thousandth time: "What good is a bard with no charisma-" and interrupted himself by filling his wide mouth with mead.
I sighed, like the last thousand times, and continued to sip at the white fizz I held with one limp hand. "I have charisma, Balen, I just have better uses for it than... seducing our enemies." I rolled my eyes, knowing my argument was wasted on their drunken minds.
Karthik, the human paladin, handsome type, blonde hair and tan skin, swallowed whatever bite of meat he had just taken, which evidently quite large, and waggled a finger in my general direction. "He's right, you know, bards are supposed to be... you know..."
I raised an eyebrow at him.
"...sexy." He shrugged, and directed his attention back to his plate.
Gaiala, the elven druid, who always seemed to be whispering, even in dire situations, shook her head. "Dont listen to them, you have every right to be a prude, you haven't met the right person yet, and that's okay. There's nothing wrong with saving your special moment." She spoke as if she was understanding me, but it was all wrong.
I stared down into my cup, little bubbles floated and popped at the surface, it tasted white grapes and gravel, but I drank it anyway. I gently traced my fingers over the strings of my lute, feeling the reverberations through my skin.
"You guys dont understand, there isn't a right person. No matter what I do, I will have no interest in it. My love remains for music, no body nor soul could make me feel the way I do when I play, it doesn't come close." The feel of the wooden engravings beneath my finger tips felt almost intimate, but I knew it was never something the others would understand.
"Aye, I get you laddy, I feel that way for my maiden" Dalenhart hid a smirk beneath his beard as he hoisted up a huge warhammer from beneath the table, and began tracing his stout fingers over the geometric embellishments, which soon turned to him whispering sugary sweet remarks under his breath.
Karthik beamed and let out a loud laugh, crumbs shooting from his lips. "See! Even the dwarf knows how to do it, but the bard cant? What are they teaching you at bard college these days." He wiped his mouth with the back of his gauntlet, though it hardly made a difference. "And anyway, how can you be so sure that its 'no matter what' if you've never even been in action."
Dalenhart dropped his axe on the table with a loud crash, a few pomegranates falling from a near by bowl. "Karthik raises a good point you know, how can you be sure... unless we were to test right now?"
Both Karthrik and Gaiala shot Dalenhart strange looks, while a heavy pit began to form in my stomach.
"Calm down ye rabid animals, obviously I dont mean that," Dalenhart began to rustle around in his satchel, and Karthik gave a short shrug. "Tell me, Bard, would your beliefs withstand the power... of chemistry?" He gave his words the flourish of a great story teller, and places a small object down on the table with a light 'clink'.
As he withdrew his hand, we all ogled the sight before us. A small pink potion, glass blown in the shape of a heart, a magenta ribbon wrapped around its neck, with a golden cork jammed in the opening.
There was no mistaking it, this was a love potion, an incredibly rare artifact, and illegal in most regions.
Gaiala gasped, "How did you get your grubby hands on such a powerful elixir?" She leaned forward over the feast to get a closer look, seeming too precious to touch it.
Envy, our teifling sorcerer, who had remained completely indifferent at the head of the table until now, brooding beneath a black robe, glanced up at the potion across from him. His steel blue eyes didnt linger there long, before they landed on me.
I was aware of his attention, but my vision had just closed in, the sounds around me drowning out to a low hum. My stomach ached, anxiety tugging and twisting inside of me. For even I didnt know what effect this potion would have on me, I had never thought about it until now.
'What if... what if it does fix me...' The thought echoed in my mind. 'It could fix me, or I could finally prove to the others that I truly am not interested, as not even magic could change my feelings.'
The chattering voices of the others faded back in, I became aware of my surroundings once again. I look up from where my hands had gripped the table cloth, to see Envy still staring directly at me. His dark navy complexion and shadowy hood often made it hard to discern his expressions apart from the glow of his pale eyes, but under this warm candle lit dinner, I could see the heavy look of concern twisting at his brow. It was a look of 'Be careful, dont bite off more than you can chew.'
My chair screeched across the granite floor as I stood up suddenly, reaching forward and grabbing the elixir in one swipe, uncorking it with a soft pop, and downing the saccharine syrup.
The others stopped in their tracks, eyes wide as they watched me gulp down the whole bottle.
"Well wouldya look at that..." Dalenhart exasperated, slumping back in his seat.
I whipped my head after finishing the last drop, corking it once again and setting it down to wipe my lips. My eyes were scrunched tight, my face pulled into a heavy grimace as the sweet liquid stained my tongue and clung to my throat.
The taste was stubborn, I could taste it on my breath, in between my teeth, under my tongue. I grabbed Dalenharts water and chugged it down faster than I had the potion.
I gasped for air, looking back up at my companions with determined eyes, panting lightly.
"Guess we just wait and see then." Karthik mesmerized, pouting at his friends in awe.
I sat down once again, heavy and tired, feeling a strange warmth within my throat where the sweetness had been.
The others watched closely, whispering out the sides of their mouths, predicting what would happen next.
The warmth spread into my stomach, smothering the anxiety pit that had been there moments ago. Then it started to crawl up my spine, like a bug or mosquito that had somehow found its way under my garments.
I squirmed uncomfortably, unsure if it was from the prolonged attention or the potion. Everything felt uncomfortable, like I was sat in a chair too small, wearing clothes that were too big, surrounded by people I didn’t know, asking me far too personal questions.
The warmth reached my face, and my limbs began to feel a little numb. I mourned the loss of my senses as buried my reddening face in my palm, closing my eyes to centre myself on the foreign feelings.
It was dizzying, whatever it was, like a fire had been lit inside my mind. Not the kind of fire that provides the spark for my song writing, but the kind of fire that burned.
I swallowed hard, my throat already dry, my face felt swollen, my eyes half lidded.
This feeling only expanded, it pushed and prodded at my insides, like a baby growing without my permission, growing inside of me by the second.
I curled over into myself, feeling bile rise to my throat. A thousand magnets pulled me in every direction, stretching my skin and bones, shredding every fiber of my being. I could feel every hair, every bead of sweat, every nail in every finger, every eyelash and every tooth in my head.
My heart pounded, I could’ve sworn it was going to burst right out of my chest and land in my lap. Maybe then I could’ve shown people how my heart works, perhaps that would’ve been easier.
“Quian?”
My name, who said my name.
I moved my head so one eye could peer out between my fingers, my hair now fallen infront of my face, sweat making strands cling together and stick to my forehead.
My eye focused across the table, that damn teifling was staring at me still, they all were. All looking at me like I was a rabid animal.
Another chair screeched, Envy’s dark form moved swiftly to my side in two long strides. “Quian, look at me.” He demanded, his voice as serious as the time he saved me from being eaten alive.
I lolled my head out of my palm, and stared up at him with blurry eyes. The warmth, it burned and burned, my own skin felt like it was too hot to touch. All I wanted was to peel it away and take a frozen cold bath.
He was beautiful though, Envy, his shadowed brow and piercing eyes, I would almost describe him as…
I lurched forward, gagging on nothing, I gasped for air, not realising that I now was clinging to the black robes of my friend.
Gaiala had also stood, but her chair didn’t make a sound. “Envy? are they are alright?” Her concern was genuine, but her intrigue in the results shone through her words.
“They will be.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. “Quian, I need you to look at me now.” He gave me a light shake, prompting my attention.
I looked up at him, what a glorious angle it was, to be below such a man. That thought sliced through my brain like a shard of glass, leaving scarring in its wake.
My heavy eyes climbed his body, and returned to his face. He inspected me closely, observing my blown out pupils and flushed face.
“We need to get them to their quarters, they need to sleep this off.” He held my clammy hands in his large strong ones, visions of those hands holding me flashed through my mind, staining and sticking to the inside of my skull.
“Can’t you magic them better?” Dalenhart waggled his hand in my general direction, he had stood too now, though it didn’t make much of a difference.
“No, I can’t, I’m out of spell slots for until tomorrow. Healing all your asses earlier drained me completely.” He sighed, agitation evident in his tone, as he lifted one of my arms over his shoulder and brought me to stand.
“Not our fault they had barrels of gunpowder, how were we supposed to know they’d all go off at once?” Karthik pouted, holding out his palms.
Before walking away, Envy turned back to look at him with a hard glare. “How were you supposed to know not to shoot a fire arrow in a bomb factory? It doesn’t exactly take a genius.” He grunted, turning and dragging me away, as I mumbled something like a thank you.
Just before we left through the door, I saw Gaiala give Karthik a smack over the head, who continued the movement and punched Dalenhart in the shoulder. I was at least glad to not be there to see how that turned out.
Things were blurry from there, my thoughts taken over by things I’d only heard in song. Each one plucking at the thread of my mind, like a web reverberating to alert the spider of its captured prey, though in that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was the spider or the fly.
Cool blankets met my back, a strong hand gently lowering my head into my pillow. He backed away to give me space, but the sudden chill felt deathly.
I felt as though I was the only one in a thousand miles, shivering in a desolate snowy wasteland. I needed to be touched, I needed to be held, my bones practically shivered inside my flesh.
“Envy-“ I groaned, breathless and confused, whining out for touch like a starved dog. His hands met mine, he gripped it tight, grounding me enough to process where I was.
The quarters the burgomaster had lent us for the week, as part of our reward. Except I was in Envy’s room, leather bound books and talismans littered every surface. It seemed he had already made himself at home, how cute.
I used my free hand to brush the hair out of my face, rubbing my eyes and forehead as I went, as if I could somehow push the thoughts out of my head.
In that moment, it felt like Envy was everywhere, around me, inside me, behind me, surrounding me. I was being crushed by him, but I couldn’t let him go, or I’d be crushed by the loneliness instead.
“Quian, tell me what you’re feeling, if you can.” He spoke softly, plainly, efficient but kind. He was so nice to me, so caring, so polite and handsome, the kind of guy you want to stick around.
Through the heat, I managed to form a sentence “It’s not right, these aren’t my thoughts…” I strained, my lip quivering.
“I know, I know” Envy cooed, giving my hand another squeeze. “You’re going to be okay, it’s only temporary, you can’t die from this.”
“It certainly feels like I will.” I coughed out, shifting around in the bed as it suddenly felt far too soft. I’m a hard bed kind of person, I like having the back support, cushioned beds felt too freeing.
“Everything is… too loose. I feel like I’m coming undone, like a wheel on a cart running over a particularly big rock. Am I the horses? Maybe I’m the cart, and the horses are these feelings. Or maybe the rock is my fe-“
Envy hushed my ramblings, gently using an elemental cantrip to blow frosty air in my direction. I breathed it in as best I could, the snowflakes pricking the back of my senses and bringing me to reality for another second.
“This isn’t right… it was supposed to fix me…” he gargled, screwing my eyes shut as another wave of raunchy imagery played in my mind.
Envy sighed, placing one of his hands over my forehead, his thumb gently tracing circles between my eyebrows.
“You aren’t broken, Quian, you just work differently, that’s okay. You knew that before, but you’re letting those idiots words get to you. You’re just like anyone else, though your creative spark certainly places you higher on my list than most people I’ve met.”
I focused in on his words, squeezing past the want and longing that muddled up my thoughts. "What good is a bard with no charisma.." I quoted dryly, before using my free hand to cover my eyes, as even the gentle candle light now seemed invasive.
Envy titled his head, choosing his next words carefully. "You are incredible Quain, you go above and beyond at every battle, the way your words drift so perfectly with your lute hypnotizes me. Every time you get up on a tavern stage, and capture the audience like a couple of grapes in your palm, I find myself trying to understand how one person could create such art. Every note you pluck, I hear a history of lessons of love, love for your work, for the world around you, for your life. Now excuse the irony, but I'm envious." He let a small smirk travel up his cheek while he spoke, not something he let others see often.
I let out a stifled laugh, snorting and smiling back. "Your name really sucks you know." I continued to hide my face as his words echoed louder in my skull than anything the potion had produced.
"I know," He bowed his head, "I chose it when I was 14, no going back now." Shaking his head in shame, he let that smile grow wider.
My smile faded as the reality of the situation set in, I looked at him deeply, seeing the adoration in his glassy eyes.
"Envy... I cant... you know I cant return-" I started, feeling lost once again, until his frosty voice cut through.
"I'm not asking you to. What I'm saying is, is that you are a bard, and you do capture the hearts of all you meet, your music touches us in ways that are far less fickle than sex. I adore you like a work of art, you are to me like a sculpture Id have built in the center of my garden. You shine like the sun and I wish for nothing more but to reflect it like the moon. My love for you does not require reciprocation to exist." He squeezed my hands even tighter now. He felt solid, like a stone tower in the middle of a desert.
I didn't speak for a moment, processing his words as they glided into my mind. It was shocking, sure, but it didn't overwhelm me like my other thoughts, instead, I felt I could relax into them. Drowning in a swamp of caramel, he was there to keep me afloat.
New images appeared in my mind, no longer the sweaty touch of another, but memories of Envy, staring. I played my heart out in a tavern on the night we all met, they were all together already, and I just so happened to be playing that night. Envy was the one who approached me, told me to put my skills to work, to join him and make some real money. How could I say no.
Another memory, inside a tavern once again, I just had just finished my set. I spotted Envy leaning against a beam, waiting to greet me as I came off stage, but as I reached the steps, a crowd of drunken women swallowed me. They brushed against my shoulders, reached for my lute, praised me and asked all sorts of horrible questions. I was pulled out of the pit by Envy, who gave them all one look, and just like that they all turned and left. I was grateful, but didn't know how he did it. I thanked him and we spent the rest of the night merry.
The memory that was most clear was from earlier today, when we accidentally entered the criminal factions warg pen. I had sang for us then, inspiring my teammates and bringing the vigor back to our battle. I hadn't put to much thought to it earlier, but now I could see how Envy had stopped in his tracks for a few too many seconds, staring at me.
"You really dont want anything from me?" I was speaking before I knew it.
He sighed, not annoyed, just exasperated. "No, nothing but your presence and your song. Is that okay?" He seemed vulnerable then, no longer an iceberg in an ocean, but a snowdrop in early spring.
I beamed, "Its perfect." For a second, I had forgotten the potions effects entirely.
Envy tried and failed to hide his proud smirk, "Great, now get some rest, that potion will be out of your system in less than an hour. Sleep through what you can, and Ill get you some cold water. Okay?" I nodded, and he gave my hand a parting squeeze, and swiftly left the room.
I turned to look at the ceiling, and took a long deep breath down to my stomach. 'These thoughts are not me, just a magical effect, and a terrible one at that. Ill be okay, Ill be okay.' I let the thoughts float, letting each vision of moving bodies and dirty words sail past, allowing them entry before their swift departure.
The rules are as follows: write an eleven line poem. Each respective line includes, but, unless stated, is not limited to the following in order:
Something soft
A synonym for 'lying down'
One of the Seven Sins
Something that reflects
A flower
The word: one
Free line; use however you like
Must start with: And I
Must start with: And I
Must start with: And I
Consists of one word only
Have fun!
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Tag your poem #smittenbypoetrygame, and I will reblog it here. Be sure to use one of the first five tags to do this, else there’s a chance it won’t show up when I search for it. If I haven’t reblogged your poem within 24 hours, please send me a message and I’ll add it to the queue.
Its definitely not march anymore but what the hell.
Envy
Their hands cradle my reddened cheeks
I cant help but relax into their touch
I bite down the envy I feel
That I cannot be every daisy crushed beneath their feet
For I am only one, and the steps they walk from me are many
If I could have my way, I would be the air they laugh in,
And I would be the thread in their stylish clothing,
And I would be the warm sun on their skin when they glow,
And I would make the world just like them,
Perfect.
-Campire-poets, 2nd September 2025
It was so warm yesterday evening
Yet now the pavement shines with ice water
And though the clear blue skies may be leaving
And our days will get shorter and shorter
Within our warm homes there will be laughter
The children giggle and jump in puddles
From their parents they get lots of cuddles
White sun rises on freshly frozen dew
Shivering friends wrapped tightly in their bundles
And leaves will turn that goldish-brownish hue.
-Campfire-poets, 1st September 2025
Authors note: Not my best work but its not supposed to be, what matters is that I write everyday. Wish me luck
Sept 1: First sign of fall.
Sept 2: An unopened envelope.
Sept 3: Something you lost.
Sept 4: A moment of silence.
Sept 5: The smell of rain.
Sept 6: How you got your name.
Sept 7: When the lights went out.
Sept 8: A childhood object.
Sept 9: A familiar scent.
Sept 10: A real dream you remember.
Sept 11: A night without stars.
Sept 12: Looking in the mirror.
Sept 13: Walking alone at dusk.
Sept 14: A season you miss.
Sept 15: A turning point.
Sept 16: Time in nature.
Sept 17: The last goodbye.
Sept 18: A quiet moment.
Sept 19: What lies beneath.
Sept 20: A question you carry.
Sept 21: What wasn’t said.
Sept 22: This morning’s weather.
Sept 23: What changed today.
Sept 24: A place you remember.
Sept 25: Something you overheard.
Sept 26: A long wait.
Sept 27: Coming home.
Sept 28: Something unnoticed.
Sept 29: Object you use every day.
Sept 30: An ending you lived through.
There’s a place not too far from here
That you’d find to be quite queer
It was built many centuries ago
Sitting on great green hill below
You know you’re nearing the hill
When the soft spoken rain turns harsh
A cold wind that could make you ill
And where mud becomes marsh
The silver clouds huddle in
The fog gets thicker
Droplets like ice on your skin
You may walk a little quicker
An old chapel of bricks and mortar
Purple shingles and windows of broken colour
A tapestry depicting a holy cherub
Only here can you see the rain fall up
A puddle on the ceiling
It’s quite a strange feeling
To see the water creeping
Out a hole in the roof it’s draining
Up and up and never yielding
It taps on the wooden beams
Like bone dry knuckles on a cellar-door
You could swear it was just a dream
And that you won’t eat bread before bed any more
But there each droplet rises
Straight up to the sky
Above the alter it materializes
Hitting the roof up on high
You’d wonder how it came to be
When it started and if it will stop
Is it something that everyone can see
How up goes every last drop
I can’t tell you how
Where or why
But I can tell you right now
I’ve seen it with my own eye
-Bonfire-Poets, 1st May, 2025
Authors note:
I decided I should take a crack at writing a fantasy story, instead of just writing to vent my emotions.
The leaves wave at me
Bittersweet greetings
as far as the eye can see,
Grey and blue feelings
The trees are wet and lush is grass
Music made on ceramic and brass
Skin of delicate ice
Sleeping still are the mice
Darkness hiding the time that will pass
When I was 13, I was hopelessly in love with my best friend, and being hopelessly 13, I confessed to them at very late hours of the night. Except I sent each section in a different language, knowing they weren't the type to put the effort into translating it.
Just recently, I found it, and managed to translate it as best as I could. I dont need to tell you why this is worth posting, its there in the writing.
Howl
I have to tell you something,
I want to stay with you forever,
this is a poem that I wrote,
it’s for you, Howl, I love you.
please, I know that you cannot read this, Don’t leave me, I want to be with you forever
until death do us part...
God I hope you’re forever,
I hope that not even death can tear us apart
God, I hope you don't understand to
translate this from Russian to English
oh no, oh shit please god no...
You don’t understand, I love you
-Campfire-Poets, 2017
We had been inseparable since 2013,, the kind where our names were always said together, and in 2023, we went our separate ways. I can confidently say I was in love with them the whole time, and there was moment when they loved me too, but being 16, It didnt go anywhere but tears.
I butt dialed them 2 weeks ago, messaged them a quick apology and we laughed about it. Thats all.
You’ll spend your life breaking mirrors you didn’t like, before acknowledging that only one that can change your reflection is you.
- Campfire-poets, 17th October 2023
