HE, RISEN.

[giveair-blog]

shh  !

[wsjr]

my crystal ball says you’re full of shit !    introducing  mister  guiomar  guerra-badecrest,    a  seer  with  vision-filled  dreams  beyond  your  average,    piss-poor  fortune-teller.    descended  from  a  long  line  of  the  prophetically  powerful,    but  adopted  at  the  age  of  five.    he  sees  only  the  bad,    the  wicked,    the  utterly  contemptible  acts  of  humanity’s  past  and  future.    as  woeful  as  shakespeare,    but  even  more  bloody,    bruised,    and  broken.    he  is  the  epitome  of  the  fight  emoji.    like  /  reblog  if  you  want  to  know  the  populace’s  darkest  deeds  while  most  likely  getting  beat  up  for  yours.

[rbcages]

how are you so quiet about it? your sadness i mean. how do you hold it in your chest, in your eyes, in your teeth without letting it speak; how does it stay still?

[giveair-blog]

WEFIGHT.

❝    there’s   this   ENTITY   inside   ‘a   me.    ❞          a saint of killers released from hell  &  set loose upon his path  ;   all options exhausted,   assistance is sought out   ━   with little hope of success.

❝   ––––––––––called   genesis.     when   it   speaks,   it   sounds   like   the   word   of   god.    ❞

‘  mm.    ...    i  know  it.  ’    head  cants  side-ward,    curls  shifting.    distaste  paints  his  face,    smiling  mouth  kept  cordial.    how  odd!    for  a  christian  worshiper  to  seek  he,    egyptian  god  of  egyptian  dead.    ‘  birthed  from  that  god’s    ...    creations.  ’    words  marred  with  a  gentle  facade,    countenance  cold. 

‘  i  suppose    ...    you  need  me,    for  something.  ’

[giveair-blog]

RERIZEN.

i suppose. such mercurial words, spoken upon foreign tongue & forged beauty / resting toxic upon the receiver, seeping within the flesh & marring the marrow. jaw sets, lips once parted within enmity now pressed taught, the borders of acrimony beginning to forge. oh, his death would never be his fault– who was to ever blame he? the bird-boned boy whose only fault was loving that of which was divine. ivory latched upon tongue, mulls the flesh between his teeth until cruor spills, the tang of alloy flooding maw.     ❛ may i inquire as to just how you know? ❜

‘  ...    your  essence    ---------    your  soul,    if  you    ...    want  to  call  it  that.  ’    syllables  end  on  a  hum,    the  final  note  of  a  long-sung  hymn.    ‘  it’s  old.  ’    he,    non-greek,    recognized  it!    aged  o’er  the  centuries  like  a  wine,    dark  red.    he,    duat’s  pharaoh-king,    could  see  blood  soaked  o’er  it.    an  exhale,    lashes  pressed  ‘gainst  sun-blessed  cheeks  as  eyes  close.    blood  burning,    the  simmer  of  the  sun  ‘pon  the  boy.    lids  lift,    composed.    ‘  too  old.    something  i  suppose    ...    the  greeks  like.    i  know  it.    tell  me  your  name.  ’

[a-quiet-green-agreement]

[nokiabae]

*arrives at poetry reading* hi…where do the muses sit?

[giveair-blog]

@KOIMISOUKALA.

        the  s m i l e  could  not  be  suppressed.  the  pencils  and  the  sketch  book  put  aside.  it’s  been  quite  some  days  now  a  god  has  been  sharing  HIS  HOUSE with  him.  truth  be  told.  a n x i e t y is  strong.  the  amount  of  time  he  spends  sketching  more.

          …          a  deep  breath  taken.  words  processing  in  his  mind.

        trying  to  find  the right  words.  ❛   i didn’t mean to …  ❜   head  shakes. DID NOT WORK LIKE THIS.  palm  clinging  on  the  god’s  cloth,  pulling  him  closer  to  hide  his  face  on  the  neck.  ❛   ΣΥΓΝΩΜΗ. didn’t  mean  to  be  like  this.  just  little  s c a r e d.   ❜

the  air  speaks  more  than  a  holy  confessor.    he,    giver,    can  touch  the  smoke  of  alphaios’  stress.    potent  as  the  waft  of  fragrant  oils  ‘cross  gilded  bowls.    hands  cradle  the  sides  of  his  neck,    the  pads  of  his  thumbs  dragging  in  feather-light  circles  o’er  his  skin.    lips  purse,    a  soft  shh  at  the  genesis  of  his  sentence.    ‘  ...    it’s  alright.  ’

fingers  entangle  in  the  greek’s  hair  when  his  face  finds  his  neck,    eliciting  a  low  hum  from  the  deep  tomb  of  his  chest.    ‘    ---------    alph.    you    ...    shouldn’t  be scared.  ’    hand  loosens  from  the  strands,    index  finger  following  the  curve  of  his  spine  till  palm  settles  ‘gainst  his  back.    ‘  ...    why  are  you?  ’    lips  ghost  ‘cross  the  top  of  his  head.    a  god  made  to  wonder,    to  worry.

[giveair-blog]

TCMBRAIDER.

❛Miserable, really — but that shouldn’t surprise you.❜ Trying her best to keep her temper in check, Lara shrugged; wondering, if only for a moment, if he had truly left his entire existence —and immortality— behind, or if he had merely changed forms — vessels. It wouldn’t necessarily surprise her either way. ❛Next time, do me a FAVOR and skip the samaritan nonsense.

Not that she was at all inclined to consider it such. Rather, it had felt like a case of divine retribution and punishment, a way to make her pay for freeing Seth; not reward her for locking him up again. A way, she thought, to teach a lesson and assure it wouldn’t be forgotten for a long, long time.

Still, Lara countered his stare with one of her own — letting just a fragment of her hatred for him show on her face. ❛That— trinket,❜ she spat, inclining her chin toward the pendant, ❛hardly did anything to speed up the healing process. All it did do was keep me conscious to experience every bloody second of it.❜

‘  it  doesn’t.  ’

the  smile  ‘pon  his  lips  is  carved  with  centuries-made  spite,    made  deep  ‘neath  the  sands.    ‘  my  son    ...    did  not  appreciate  what  you  did    ---------    and  neither  did  i.  ’    he,    benign,    is  bitter!    eyes  narrowing  at  her  with  regal  intent.    her  empty  reverence  serves  to  irk  his  holy  mien,    pendant  twisted  ‘tween  each  finger.    his  tone,     pitying.    ‘  i  cannot  help  but  think    ...    lara  croft,    that  someone    ...    took  out  your  brain  through  your  nose.  ’    how  the  land  had  trembled  at  his  brother’s  looming  presence!    she  had  endangered  his  love,    his  egypt,    and  he.    his  brother  is  his  divine  destruction.

‘  understand  this    ---------    you    ...    don’t  deserve  my  mercy.    you’re  as  arrogant  as    ...    the  arabs.  ’    nose  wrinkles  with  rancor.    ‘  i  am  kind.    don’t    ...    tip  the  scales  farther  than  they  already  are.    i  have  judged  you.    there’s  been  consequences.    you  returned  him.    ...    there  won’t  be  a    ---------    reward.  ’    godly  smile  broadens,    dulcet  tones  gentle!    ‘  your  reward  is  your    ...    beating  heart,    you know.  ’

[egyptianways]

[misgendering]

why do boys call other boys “pretty boy” as an insult???? that’s probably the most flattering thing anyone could ever say to me?? call me pretty boy. tell me im the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen

[giveair-blog]

▲

‘  i    ...    think  we’re  both  old  enough  to    ---------    know  how  to  ask  for  things.  ’

divine  limbs  are  pliant  to  the  tug,    arms  resting  ‘round  eros’  neck  like  a  holy  wreath  hung  on  hallowed  walls.    thighs  settle  on  either  side  of  his  hips.    a  disquieted  face  from  the  pull,    though  his  resistance  is  an  absent  prayer!    death  and  love.    bound  as  the  nile  is  bound  to  flood,    an  eternal  cause.    death  from  love,    love  to  death.    back  arches  o’er  him  till  his  forehead  presses  ‘gainst  his.    a  simper  threatens  to  bloom  ‘cross  his  lips  as  the  corners  twitch.    the  air  breathed  ‘tween  them  is  inhaled  when  he  speaks.    ‘  tell  me    ...    what  does  love  want  with  death?  ’

PULL  A  GOD  ONTO  YOUR  LAP.   /   always  open  !

[giveair-blog]

TROJANBLED.

❛          I DREAM OF WAR.     of cruel and unmerciful deaths.     and everything i see is red.     there is inexplicable  grief,  and i wake choking on it   ––   do you know what it  means ?     why i would  dream  of such things ?          ❜

‘  dreams  are    ...    windows  to  the  other  side,    you know    ---------    seeing  what  the  dead  are    ...    up  to.    were  up  to.    do  you  really  want  to  know?    i  could  tell  you.    there  will  be  consequences.  ’

[giveair-blog]

KOIMISOUKALA.

       by  the  t o u c h  his  warm  cheeks  starting  to  burn.  he  can  imagine  his  face  being  covered  in  a  RED  COLOUR  by  now.  not  that  minded.  osiris  wasn’t  just  anyone.  ❛   okay,  stand  still. ❜   truth  is  he  doesn’t  wanna distance  to  take  his  camera.  instead  his  mobile  taken  out  of  his  jacket.  meanwhile  lips  press  quickly  on  the  god’s  nose.  stealing  a  kiss.  his  gaze  falling  on  the  screen.  quickly  once  more   on  the  camera  app  and  the  picture  taken.

    ❛   they  look  good  on  you  though.  ❜   the  picture s h o w n.  excitement  building  up  in  his  stomach.  definitely  knows  what  he’ll  be  BUSY with  the  next  days.

a  decree!    the  smile  on  his  face  remains,    ever-constant  as  death.    his  posture  is  made  still,    chin  canted  upward  towards  alphaios’  taller  height.    a  blink  as  the  greek’s  lips  press  to  his  nose!    hallowed  touch  serving  to  arouse  a  subtle  exhale.    how  his  affection  stole  the  breath  from  he,    the  giver  of  it.    fingers  gently  clutch  ‘round  the  back  of  his  neck,    guiding  his  face  closer  so  soft,    puckered  lips  can  press  to  crimson  cheeks. 

spine  held  taut  till  the  picture  is  took,    peering  o’er  to  look  once  the  opportunity  is  offered.    a  grand  picture!    yet,    there  was  something  amiss.    eyes  lift  to  alphaios.    ‘    ———    take  a  picture    …    with me.  ’    low  voice  imploring,    enlivened.    the  pads  of  his  fingers  press  ‘gainst  the  edge  of  the  phone,    prying  at  it  lightly.    ‘  you    …    spoil  me  with  all  the  ones  of  just  me.    lean  down.  ’

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

… a distant heart, a nocturne, perhaps, an air that will never return.

eavan boland, from new collected poems: “The Russian Brooch” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[foudremagazine]

[giveair-blog]

SPACELOGICS.

spock’s eyes travel together with the bevel of the stranger’s face.  ❝ i am gratified to know you find our ship suitable for your travels. however—-. ❞  though, in his neat posture, he observes him cautiously. justifiably.  ❝ you must realize my need to understand the safety of its crew. ❞

‘  they  cannot  go    ...    where  they’re  not  supposed  to.  ’    safety?    the  word  reverberates  within  a  millennium-aged  mind,    painted  o’er  his  holy  skull  as  eyes  narrow.    ‘  what’s  wrong  with  death?    ...    if  it’s  deserved    ---------    if  it’s  justice.  ’    an  apathetic  face  as  it  maintains  genial  facade.