Hello, yes, I write things sometimes

The writing blog of Check. (smolmilkling)

[inconspicuouslioness]

I’m also probably going to tag everything as such anyway, but unless it specifically says “do not reblog” You can safely assume that you can reblog any of my writings, for whatever reason.

[inconspicuouslioness]

Seven year’s worth

‘So we meet again’ Tone mocking, the face in the mirror I only half recognized smiled at me While my own faltered I’ve become familiar with broken glass, Shattered frames and torn pictures I’ve seventeen years of bad luck already, what’s seven more? What’s seven more just to shut it up? The demon in the mirror, Mocking me with fake cheeriness and children's lullabies.

Disgusting.

[inconspicuouslioness]

Too easily shattered

Tick, tock, tick, tock. A sickening rhythm I’ve come to mock. One sound for each second, three hands on the clock, I just want the world to stop. Funny, how things work You smile your way through life, day by day, Fake laughter and only surface-level politeness Hoping it will get better Countless sunsets, an aimless trudge through the months, Soon you’ll need a new calendar But when will it stop hurting? Summer after summer I’ve faked my joy Reveling in this false illusion of free will and happiness Because I know you’d want me to. Try and live my life, make friends, forget. And I pretend to, I pretend I’ve stopped missing you But getting by is not living. This smile is but glass, Pretty and fragile, An illusion all too easily shattered if you looked too closely.

[inconspicuouslioness]

Songs of Home and Hearth

There were nights where he missed the sea. Though… he would never admit that. He was always sailing, always spending every spare moment on a boat. If he voiced his homesickness then he would just open up to all sorts of jokes, comments, maybe even a concern about where his loyalty lied. It was easier to keep quiet. And it was only on some nights where he felt those pangs of nostalgia, most of the time he was fine. There was less danger on land, not as many twisted political schemes or at least, none he was a part of. The land was warm, his crew was the family he always wished he had, hell could say he’s even fallen in love. But on nights like these, where the sea was calm and the song of whales and mermaids could be heard on the surface, disturbed only by the sound of waves and crashing water, he couldn’t help but sing along. He did so quietly, humming along most nights but sometimes adding in the words of the few songs he remembered. One of home, hearth, safety. Numind-uri ji huibar Meyrr. It saddened him only slightly when the sirensong stopped, he knew it was bound to happen. It was rare they sang along with him for too long, and he chuckled quietly to himself. I wonder why that is. --- No. No, no, no. He couldn’t be singing, not that song, anything but that. It was a song of love and family, though his version twisted the words and inflections, turning the song into a darker version of what it was meant to be. She hated him for many reasons, some she could possibly forgive him for. The assassination of his father, the king, the cowardly run to land, the betrayal of his entire species, maybe some of that could be explained. But this? This… mockery of this song, the utter bastardization, it was irredeemable. She hated him for it.

[ccervidae]

Urban musings

I went to school with a gargoyle once.

I don’t know why she chose to go back to the living hell that is public education, but a part of me is glad she did.

I don’t remember a lot of my high school years, but she is a very distinct memory. She was tall, as I remember, not conventionally pretty, not that gargoyles ever were. She was from the older section of the city, a few blocks of the old abandoned districts if I recall correctly, and she inherited all of its run-down charm.

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[ccervidae]

Are you, are you, coming to the well?

Where there lives a witch they say was pushed and fell

You froze in your place.

You looked around, wondering if you heard that correctly. You were sure that you were alone. You rarely brought people back from the Garbage courts balls, choosing to let the newcomers who didn’t know the rules to their fate instead of putting yourself in danger. You haven’t survived so many of them by being reckless like that.

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[mors-vinkit-omnia]

There was a theory, I heard once About stardust And… Its one I’ve found to be quite romantic. The theory was that one day Countless years ago A star exploded Its insides scattered throughout the universe Never to be heard or thought of again Close curtains End of Act One Intermission The scene has changed A new story, one unrelated to the first or so it appears Shiny new actors, a glittering set, the crowd finds itself asking: How do they relate? Perhaps the connection would be made clear with the word “Ashes” There is the legend of the Phoenix An idea that we tend to romanticize It lives, it dies, it lives again Arisen anew Through cinders and through flame The myth, however, holds some truth Only our ashes are from suns Our resurrection not a blaze of glory but of a slower rebirth And yet still we are phoenixes We are the living dead Legacies of a star long forgotten Given new life, through us New breath, new names We are all a second chance And I refuse to let my star die with me

(via mors-vinkit-omnia)

[ccervidae]

But the world wanted you dead

Bare your teeth, boy, there is still much left in store. Now is time to wake. Hush, don’t complain, you brought this upon yourself. You chose your path and now you must see this through, despite the blood and heartache. Are you hurt? Can you stand? Good. On the ground, next to you. Pick up the knife. … Don’t hesitate, boy, you didn’t at the start. That knife saw you through to this point and it will see you through to the end. Pick it up. There, that’s better, isn’t it? You feel safe now, don’t you? Like your ghosts can’t haunt you, like they can’t take you. Of course I know who they are, how hard did you hit your head? You’ve told me everything, boy. All of it. I know of your mother, of your father. What they did to keep you here, the sins they bore. I know what happened back then, too.

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[inconspicuouslioness]

So I haven’t used this blog in literal years, but for some reason my computer remembers the password. That being said, I don’t think I have the heart to delete this blog. I’m a sentimental, nostalgic piece of shit, what can I say? 

However this blog definitely means a lot to me. Somehow, years ago, I worked up the courage to send an ask to the blog that organized the whole hitman!stuck rp scene, asking to be the Nepeta of the group. I was accepted, made the blog, and what followed through was honestly one of the best things that happened to me online. I grew close with the people who were in the group, and we formed what I remember we jokingly called a dysfunctional family. 

May, RJ, Paige, Abstract, Tuna, Sol, Alecks, Luke, Rust, Jason, and everyone else. I love you all, and I hope that wherever you guys are, whether or not you’re reading this, I hope that you guys are all in a good place, and are enjoying your lives.