Nobody Is My Name

[mrs-nih]

Is it wrong to want that "dancing in the kitchen" type of relationship? The kind of love where you talk all night over random things, just because we don't want the conversation to end kind of relationship. The kind of relationship where we can argue about which fandom is the best, yet talk about talk through serious topics. Is it wrong that I'm scared to receive this type of love? Is it wrong i don't feel like I deserve this type of love? Is it wrong I never seen a real-life example of this type of love?

[mrs-nih]

Proud Parents

While the others played and laughed, I went on my own, wanting a little time to myself as we celebrated what will be the last night of the war. In the back was a section "Free Games" drawn out over the entrance. 

This part of the play place seemed to considerably underused, and it was clear why some of these games, not even the youngest of children, would find amusing. Arcade games called fix the car, find dad's glass, help clean, and making a list. 

It all seemed pretty pointless to come back here unless you genuinely had no choice. At the end of this little hall of non-entertaining games was one that made no sense to exist. Two boxy figures stood.  Both mechanics with no distinguishing facial features, and a little taller then you average adult. One wore a frilly hat with a dress mother was written out in cursive by its shoes. While the other wore a suit and a fedora. Father was written out in bold, persuasive letters by its feet. 

above the two was an ordinary sign, "Proud Parents." 

next to the platform where they stood was the instruction

'Proud Parent's: the games where everything you do gets a positive response. Using new-age technology and the best magic. This game will see what kind of response you need from an authoritative figure to make you feel like you have achieved any life event. Making every goal, no matter how insignificant, seem like a life-changing event. Step up on the platform address which parental figure you want attention to form and wait for a response. responses may very * each answer will come with a pat on the shoulder, a High five, or Hug'

I thought what a laugh this will be 

Stepping up a few times, saying some stupid. "Dad, I ran over the cat, but don't worry I got reed of all the evidence" the mechanism came to live, giving me a high five, it gears grinding as it said "Attaboy." 

"Mom, I sold all you jewelry for whiskey, but I dropped the bottles before I got back." 

the Mother figure wiring up patting me on the shoulder saying "point is you tried" 

I did this for a while, laughing at the absurd, unrealistic reactions to silly things I made up. 

Then a thought popped up in my head, and it wouldn't hurt to see what they might do. 

It was silly of me, but I looked back to see if anyone was going to walk in one me and sheepishly stepped up to the platform. I didn't have any problem saying the outlandish made-up stuff, but now I found myself trying to find the right words. 

"Mom...Dad," this was harder then I planed. Still, I pushed through it. "I may have done something stupid." looking down at my shoes in shame, I corrected my words "in fact, I know its stupid. I made a deal with Ostoy." I looked up at their non-existent. Yet, I imagined stern lips and downcast eyes looking at me.

 "I know you warned me about him," I said to Mother, "and I know he is dangerous and will probably trick me in some way," I looked at Father. 

"but it was the only way I could make sure my friends are safe.  He guaranteed me that this would bring an end to the war, my friends would be safe and happy, and at the end, I would be the only casualty." 

Looking at both of them, I could feel a burning in my eye "a small price to pay for world peace and freedom." I laughed. "I mean, we all knew I wasn't going to get me happy ending anyway. Rember dad, our family is cursed to have bitter ends," mimicking a gruff voice. 

"so this way, I'm at least doing something good for once." my voice broke a little, "and maybe, wherever you are, you can be proud of me." 

Taking a breath, I waited for their response, at first, I thought I wasted my breath or that even a machine thought I was foolish by making a bargain with the god of damnation. But then jumped when the figures moved, they must have stood still for ages, but they moved just as quick as if they were new. 

Before it registered to run. Both Mother and Father's arms were around me in a loose hug. "you did what you had to do. Proud of you, son," they sida in unison. 

Proud of you son, and weak hug. This is what broke me. It took a second before I laid my head one of the metal shoulders, and few tears fell. Comfort came over me form from this fake parents, yet I made it really, I wanted it to be real. I wanted someone to know of my choice and understand why I had to do it. And for some to say it ok. 

even when I die, I reply to those mechanical words sin my head "Proud of you, son." 

[mrs-nih]

Smiling Back

Though She Walked Toward me with a radiant smile, my mind was on someone else. In her white dress and blooming bouquet she was so angelic, I almost didn't believe she was coming down the ails to make voles to me and me to her. 

And still, I could help but to picture my past walking to me. My Past would have worn something much more provocative, and stare me down as if she was going to devour me right there and now. My Future was coming to me with her brunette hair pulled back and held by flowers. I knew my Past would have her hair flowing over her shoulders, multi-colored in dark hues that added to the puzzle she was. My Future had a beautiful peach tan skin that came from a life far different than mine and blushed as she waved to others around her; she got closer. My Past had breathtaking scares that mirrored mine that she wore proudly on her pale skin, and she wouldn't even notice anyone else in the room. My Future had planed her vows, saying them correctly and bringing tears to my eyes, while my Past would have come up with something on the fly that would have the whole room in stitches. My Future Loves me for being reliable and hardworking. My Past knew of my weakness and demons, and she was strong when i couldn't be and soothed my tears and helped me battle myself when necessary. My Future came from a family, a mom, and dad, and many siblings that excepted me as there own. My Past shared having a lonely upbringing and worshiped friendship and loyalty more than anything. My Future was proud of what I achieved and where I was in life. My Past would have challenged me to go for the next goal or impossible dream and win or lose; she cheered me on like I was a champion and celebrated the attempt of climbing the mountain. I love both and would do anything to make them happy. My Past, although loved me, knew the truth. I was undeserving, and the Past told me we needed to end. I did what I thought would make The Past happy even with my heart was being demolished in the process I knew I would only hold the Past hostage. Though I was joyous when placing a ring on my Future, and I look forward to the house and kids, and the good and bad time we will have. And sealing my promise with a kiss, I couldn't help imagining my Past lips taking her place.  After the time has put forgotten bridges between me and the Past, and my Future gave me kids and joy beyond what I thought I deserved. The Past would appear in my mind with an all-knowing smile, of how I still hold a flame for them. I always find myself smiling back.

[beggars-opera]

I’d like to introduce everyone to my new theme song

[the-v-gees]

fuckin MOOD

[aninactivebloggfgfgf]

I love the contrast between the lyrics and the melody this is art

[cold-and-analytical]

pfffffffft nooooo I didn’t just learn this song on ukulele… at midnight…

[prridot]

Lyrics: 

I’ve tried, tried, tried And I’ve tried even more  I’ve Cried, Cried, Cried And I can’t recall what for I’ve pressed, I’ve pushed, I’ve yelled, I’ve begged In hope of some success  But the inevitable fact is that It never will impress 

I’ve no more fucks to give,   My fucks have runneth dry,  I’ve tried to go fuck shopping  But there’s no fucks left to buy  I’ve no more fucks to give,  Though more fucks I’ve tried to get,  I’m over my fuck budget and I’m now in fucking debt 

I strive, strive, strive  To get everything done  I’ve played by all the rules But I’ve very rarely won, I’ve smiled, I’ve charmed, I’ve wooed I’ve laughed, Alas to no avail I’ve run round like a moron, To unequivocally fail!

I’ve no more fucks to give, My fuck fuse has just blown, I’ve been hunting for my fucks all day, But they’ve upped and fucked off home, I’ve no more fucks to give, My fuck rations are depleted, I’ve rallied my fuck army but It’s been fucking defeated! 

The effort has just not been worth The time or the expense I’ve exhausted all my energy  For minimal recompense The complete lack of acknowledgement  Has now begun to gall And I’ve come to realise that I  Don’t give a fuck at all!

I’ve no more fucks to give, My fucks have flown away, My fucks are now so fucked off They’ve refused to fucking stay! I’ve no more fucks to give, My fucks have gone insane They’ve come back round and passed me While they’re fucking off again!

I’ve no more fucks to give, My fucks have all dissolved, I’ve planned many projects But my fucks won’t be involved! I’ve no more fucks to give, My fucks have all been spent, They’ve fucked off from the building And I don’t know where they went! 

I’ve no more fucks to give,  I’ve no more fucks to give,  I’ve no more fucks,  I’ve no more fucks,  I’ve no more fucks to give!

[scootscoot5000]

Good news folks it’s on Spotify!!!

[chipmunkwithwings]

im going to be reblogging this every few hours to make sure every single one of my followers gets to see this epic post

[shotce]

OMG SOMEONE ADDED THE LYRICS

[dovewithscales]

This song makes me so happy.

[serakosumosu]

@deadcatwithaflamethrower

Have you seen this?

Also is it just me or does this feel like a theme song to RE: Obi-wan and Nizar’s lives that repeats at semi-regular intervals?

[deadcatwithaflamethrower]

I’m so glad this was waiting in my inbox this morning.

[mrs-nih]

Ink spills and Elevator music

We sat in the library of the humble home, surrounded by leather-bound volumes of unnamed literature. A small table covered in ink spills separated us, as we sat in silence. I have only heard of the man in the turban, never have a mental picture of what he could look like. Now sitting in front of him, I know my imagination could never give this man justice. A sky blue wrap covered his head, an old deep red overcoat laid on his shoulders, with a cream button-up underneath. He regularly ran his ran over his beard and mustache as if it was to adjust the already perfectly groomed facial hair. "You go by the name stitch, correct" he had a faint accent, that seemed forced to be hidden. "Yes..." my voice creaked form being quit too long and the pressure of being in front of someone that nothing but a legend, until now. clearing my throat, I repeated my answer, "yes, the Stitch Witch, or Mrs. Stich." He sighed, pulling out a slim black box from beside him off the floor as if it was a ton. The man placed it to the left edge of the table he asked "your mentor is M, correct" I nodded, he got up from the table to go over the bookshelves "I like M," I could hear a smile in his words, yet there was no physical evidence of one, "they always have the best stories." "that they do," i said trying to take away from the tension that seem to be increasing by each passing second "when they're not almost killing us with some test" nervously laughing, he only looked at me as he slid a book out from the shelves, make me instantly regret opening my mouth. Caring the book over, he handled it as if it were a fragile newborn. Setting back down, he placed the book on a miniature pistol and opened it flipped the tan pages to the second page. Changing his attention to the black bow I took off the lid placing it next to it, exposing a dark feathered quill and an array of ink bottles each one with a different hue of black. His jeweled covered fingers and wrist expertly prepared his station, adjusting the positioned of his tools and how his chair was angled, all without a small ting form his accessories. still making his space comfortable, he asked: " would you like tea, biscuits, maybe some music?" I was on the verge of telling him, no, but then the nerves got the best of me and my pressing question that had been swirling in my head, jumped from my lips "what am I doing here?" Like I said before, I only heard legends and stories of the man in the turban. Yet, no one ever told me what he did or why people from all over the world came to talk to him. or maybe they did tell me, and I just couldn't understand what is purpose was, either way, I wasn't sure why he wanted a meeting with me.   "I don't even know what your name is, nor why you called me here" He looked at me with impatient eyes, "and you ask me if u want cookies as if this was normal." After saying that he and I sat there in silence for a moment too long, adding to my unease. I started pulling at my Clothes and straightening my posture, but I'm sure he sensitive eyes was noticing every flaw. It wasn't until he pushed back in his chair to go over to a record player that was stationed in a corner, clicking it on there was already a vinyl there hissing to life as the needle ran over it. A very jazz song came on, but it was unrecognizable to me, and honestly sounded like something that belonged on elevator speakers to entertain its passengers. He stood at the record player swaying to the upbeat music, "the title that was bestowed on to me was the man in the turban, and you will call me as such." He danced out of the room, "And have tried to invite you over many times before," he yelled in the other room as clanking went on in the background. "you, however,  never answered my letters of invitation," he said as he walked back in the room with a tea set and a display of cookies on a tray, his eyes peered back into mine like I was a disobedient child. Making me feel guilty, but I swear I never saw a single letter from him, I think I would have noticed something form the man with the turban addressed on it. Placing the tray in the center of the table, he patted and dug into the pockets of his coat, he scavenging through the garment until he pulled out a pair of wire glasses. "But I feel like I know you," said sliding the glasses on his aged face "with all the stories and rumors I hear from those that come in here" taking a set in his chair he readjusted it, "as for what your purpose of being here is," reaching to his left he uncapped one of the darker hues of ink. "I'm sure Mentor M has told you about how wielders of magic are born." The demand for an answer somehow eased me, Made me feel like I was back in school, and Mentor M just gave us a pop question. It was a familiar structure in a figure place. " In our world of magic, there are rarely bloodlines that pass on the gene to wield it" I paused, trying to remember the lesson notes I took long ago " there are or were 14 known families that had a lineage of wielders. But in most circumstances, magic, itself, choices who gets to wield it. No matter what gender, heritage, economic states. Even if the soul of the wielder is darker, then a starless midnight sky or hart is light as the winds of change. magic does not discriminate, as long as you have the will to learn it." I couldn't help the smile on my face as I resisted the first thing I ever learned in school. The man in turban saw my pride and clapped with a smile "good to now those long hours of study paid off." folding his hands he sat up "and since magic picks and choices which it wants to control it, people of title, like you and me. Are hard to come by. It's my job, the essence of my being to, find them and recorded every myth, war, legend, adventure and so much more they have to offer, within these books" he looked around the library admiring his work "I have invited them all to my home." He looked at me with a sparkle in his eye that could inspire anyone, "and now it's your turn, as the beings of magic before you sat across from me, and the ones that will come after you will set. and tell me a story." His . words brought a hopefulness, a joy, a childlike wonder to my heart. Everyone has heard of this man, but I don't really think anyone could genuinely put in words what he does, or maybe I just never truly understood it. From the vilest of demons to the purest Fea, they all came to this house with endless book to offer tells of our history to the man in the turban. I should be thinking it an honor, yet I can't help but thinking that I didn't need to be here, my stories aren't as grand or adventurous as others. I wasn't even the most advanced being of magic the world has seen, compared to others, my friends, and my family, I was pretty vanilla. But who am I to stifle, a man of legend’s work. "what story would you like to hear." With a broad smile, he picked up his pen. As it rested it naturally in his left hand, his thumb and index finger of his right ran across the feather "well if you had answered my letter and came on a regular bases like everyone else" the guilt made me look away as I settled in my stomach, "i would say, lets start where we left off" "well should I start from the beginning" I suggested He winced sucking in a breath through his teeth "I find the beginning of it all to be too boring, or depressing, or too dark" I nodded in agreement "plus I believe it always better to work in the origin story subtly as the story goes on" He dipped his pen and held it steady over the tanned page "how about" he squinted his eyes thinking "we start with the story of 'First Pleasures'" A smile pulled at my lips, knowing what story he was suggesting. I haven't thought of that very first day of earning my title in a long time.  getting comfortable in my chair I started "I was very late..."

[mrs-nih]

Some clarification this came from a prompt i found, the Prompt was “With that, she walked into the rain and didn't look back. that was the last time anyone ever saw her”. it long, i’m not expecting anyone to read it but if you do, thanks a lot and feel free to critique it or just say you like it.

Releasing the last bullet in the chamber into the head of the final solder. There was a relief, and ease that washed over me as if this whole time my entire body down to my soul knew I was always one wrong move away from seeing the gates of paradise in person. 

Heaving, I wiped the blood and sweat from my brows. Placing my gun in it holster on my hip, and sheathing my blade on my back. They somehow felt unneeded now, I wasn't sure if we were truly free from danger, there was still the King on the lose, and if he was out there then there always a chance of another army resurrected against the 'impure' of the Realms.

But at this moment I could see hope in the distance. Which is more than I could have ever asked for when all of this first started.

 Walking among the carnage of the war, I spotted her she was already opening portals for those that were torn from there home Realms, who would have thought that one mortal man could cause such free over the five planes.

 People hugged her as they walked through the door to their worlds, and even after all this time and becoming someone completely different then the girl I found chained in a dungeon. She still was trusting with gestures of kindness. With everything over, I hoped she could find a way to set that little girl free that was still trapped in chains.

 There was this yearning inside me to help her, but then I kept hearing Nadia's voice 'it's a journey she has to do alone in the beginning, then maybe shell let you join her.'

 Knew her hand would meet the back of my head with a hard smack, to from thinking that any women needed saving. I rubbed the back of my head as I admired the women opening and closing doorway.

 Getting glimpses of Lands, that I would have never thought would have existed three years ago. Children ran through the portals, it saddens me to wonder which kids where demon descendant, and which ones where stole mortals that had been experimented on, to become controlled monsters for the King.

 I sat on the hill behind me, the fallen kingdom. When every last child was returned to their rightful place, she came to the mountain and sat next to me. She left a space between us like always, yet it was small than the other times.

 She smoothed out her teacup dress, why she wore this to war, left me puzzled and amazed. Even with its bloodstains, she wore it with pride.

 "So we won," she said, I just nodded looking out at the horizon. There was a moment of silence before she said: "I feel like Jafik would be disappointed, it was so anticlimactic." She nervously laughed as if she still needed to be on guard.

 Turning to face her, those orbs of pure onyx gazing off in the distance.

"I can I almost hear him" I joked "There should be women of gratitude and whiskey," I said, making my best impression of Jafik but no one could mimic that gruff accent.

 She smiled and laughed at my attempt showing her predator smile. I wish I could see more of it.

Her joy faded, tucking her legs under her she whispered to me as if someone was on this hill with us "it feels so weird to win without them. For years it was the five of us, fighting endlessly. Always another battle, the next lead, and now there's nothing."

 I understood the pain in her voice and the lost look on her face. With out there something to fight for or against what was our purpose. The reason for us to go on, to wake up was either fear, revenge, or anger.

 "We went through all of this, every second was for this moment, this freedom. To move on, start over, have control of our destinies." She paused as a tear rolled down her face, "and I'm scared of it."

 There was no one left to be angry at, and our revenge against those that enslaved us gone. Even with our scars, that would let us never forget. Like the shackle around her neck and the scares from the King turning her form human his prized weaponized monster. For me, it was my stone eye that my masters forced into my head to so they could see the future, like having horns and feathers out of my head wasn't enough.

 Even with all that, there was nothing to fear. Also, if there was, we knew we could defeat it.

 But still, this feeling of peace almost felt unnatural. "it almost as if we don't deserve it" it hurt her and me to hear that, we should be happy, we should be celebrating. With all the loss and sacrifice. No one needed to feel at ease more than us.

 Then a thought came to me, "but if you think about it, we aren't totally done yet."

 Jerking her head to me with furrowed brows, "you mean the king, trust me someone is going to kill him all his allies are gone."

 Shaking my head, "no, the oath we all made before the battle at the Lasting Abyss."

 A smile came to her lips as the memory came back to her. Strange to find comfort in something melancholy as keeping a promise to burry those you think as a family, but it was something to give us meaning.

 Over the next few days, we put our friends to rest, in the way they instructed.

 First, Captain Truip.  We laid him under the twisted oak with gold leaves that was next to the laughing brook in his realm. No wonder he would never stop talking about it. Being there was like walking in a dream, you would never wont to wake from.

 We placed his pipe, and a toy replica of the airship he took such pride in with him. But before we could force our self to say goodbye, we sat with him and discussed how a ship indeed should be managed.

 Nadia's home was ravaged entirely due to the Kings demands, it was hardly anyone there. Making it hard to find her tribe land when we did not even ghost resided there. Thinking of all the stories she would tell of her and her brothers, and the trouble they would get into, it was hard to picture anyone having fun in place so ruined.

 We made promises. Placing her near the statue of Klabaf, the carnage god she consoled to before battle and thanked after every win. It took such time, but we found nearly all the weapons she fought with, as customary for her people to bury with them just in case a war breaks out in the holy lands.

 We cleaned every gun and sharped every blade. Just in case.

 Even in death, Jafik had to any us. Carrying him with gem mountains of his home which he never mentioned was covered in hidden traps. And I'm sure he and whatever god he is sitting next to up there are just rolling with laughter. But I was glad to do it.

 By the end of this, freedom started to feel natural. And we started talking about what we could do now with our lives.

 "So…" I started. Back in the Kings Realm, we sat in one of the city parks. Taking in the warmth of the sun and the laughter of children. In the short time, people have already removed everything with the King likeness, and this world didn't seem so grim anymore. "what are you going to do on these realm jumping adventure you are planing?"

 She started to laugh, "I don't know," she chuckled some more "I have no clue what to do next, and I'm so excited about it."

 "Well how about that shackle," I thought now would be an excellent time to take it off, she said it was only there to reminder what she was fighting for.

 Running her finger across the top of it so she could graze the skin of her neck, she smiled "I probably should take it off, and I will. But its all feel's real when it's on, and this isn't just some dream I'm having before the King forces me tobe his weapon again."

 We sat in silence for some time before she spoke angina "what about you Boi. What great plans and schemes are you going to come up with next"

 I wanted to say that I had no plans, that I'd rather be doing nothing and never think up another scheme again as long as I could be with her. I instead follow through every portal, on every road to dangers, and beyond the gates of the promised lands. But that wasn't her future.

 "you know me" I shrugged "just thinking of all the money I can make off this whole being a hero of worlds stuff" I lied.

 She looked at me shocked, "oh come on you had to have known I was going to try to eventually" knowing I was joking she only shook her head.

 Then the unexpected happens, as my hand was laying in the middle of us. I could see hers hesitantly reaching for mine opening and closing into a fist as if she was preparing herself for the hardest thing in her life.

 When her finger ran over mine, there was a buzzing through my body. My heart stopped from the excitement when she actually held it tight. I didn't try to hold her back, I could feel her nervousness and discomfort. But she still smiled at me, "Promise me you'll never get caught."

 I scuffed "me" I pulled my hand away, instantly there was relief on her face, followed by a shiver. I was just proud that she even tried to touch me, and the fact that she held me for that long just means she breaking new ground.

 Pointing at my stone eye, "ill always see them coming."

Giggling quickly, she looked at me for what felt like years and still ended too quickly.

 Getting up she took a breath and opened a portal, the realm on the other side was neon covered town with people running all over laughing, dancing, while rain poured down on them. Her expression brightened at the spectacle she was seeing. Reaching toward the ground she picked up her carpetbag that Jafik stole for her, she smoothed out the fabric of her teacup dress that Captin Truip helped her make, As she stumped her way to a door of new adventures in the combat boots that she and Nadia spent the day shopping.

She had everything she needed, plus everyone she needs with her, except for me. I was the fool who never got gifts for others. What a selfish idiot I am.

 Not even halfway to the portal, she slowed, only to turn to me, "What was my name."

 Confused "what."

 "back when we first meet, that night you broke me out of the dungeon. I told you that I never was given a name, and you said that you would give me one if we made it to morning. Then I asked again after before every battle, and you always said you'll tell me when it all over" her voice creaked at the end of her sentence, "and her lip began to quiver. With a shaky breath and a shrug "it all over now. So what is it"

 My eye threatened to release the tears I have been holding back all day. Grinning "Ciana Brghid" swallowing the lump in my thought I went on "it means Bearer of light."

She bit her lip as the tears came flooding down, making me lose one tear in my battle for composure.

 She started walking back to the party in the rain, but never looking away from me "will see each other again, right?"

 With all my strength, I held back my first answer that I force to set in my stomach. To make sure I didn't say anything to make her stay, I looked at her using the stone. Her future was most people would want, filled with love, hope, and dreams. She was going to have trails and lose, but so many friends, and moments of laughter from inside jokes. She was going to fall in love with someone that made her forget about this chapter of her life and make her excited to make plans and take risks for the future. She had everything that made life worth living for.

 But I was nowhere in this vision. For this to happen for her, I couldn't be an idiot, couldn't be selfish. I was nothing more but a tumor to her if she stayed with me it was best for her if it was cut out, and all that was left was few memories and scares that heal.

 "You couldn't keep me away if you tried" my lie brought a smile to her face.

 With that, She walked into the rain and didn't look back.

 That was the last time anyone ever saw her.

 The last I saw her. But my mind will always display the snap shoot image that was burned into my head, of the previous time Ciana Brghid blinded me with her light.

[paendorus-blog]

EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO REBLOGS THIS WILL GET THE FOLLOWING IN THEIR INBOX.

A BRIEF ORIGIN STORY

A SUPERPOWER OR THREE, MAYBE FOUR DEPENDING

A SUPERHERO OR VILLAIN NAME

YOU MIGHT ALSO GET AN ARCHNEMESIS WHO HAS REBLOGGED THIS ALREADY

AND YES I MEAN EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO REBLOGS THIS.

[mrs-nih]

Useless

They stole things no one would miss. Like time, and pennies, and sleep. Things that most don’t even take notice are missing. Things labeled as unimportant, unwanted, or ignored. The collectors of the fruitless, some call them.

The stories say that if one lets themselves be seen then treat them like an old friend, they might give you a small gift. A lost memoire, a moment of laughter, or a bit of luck. So when I answered the door and saw a boy bear chested, with torn trouser that gave his calves away  to the cold. inked flowers  decorated his skin form his face to his bare feet. I had seen him many times before along with other around the village. Always out of the corner of m eye or glimpses when I moved my head to fast or the sun blinded in for a second, like many of the villagers see other like him. But he was different, I would always see him smiling as he admired the thing he stole holding them up to the light as if they were valued gems.

Its rumored that if one show themselves to you, and you show them kindness, they will give you a gift.

Their gifts are nothing spectacular, but special in their own way. A lost memory. A something to laugh at that no one else saw. Even a small bit of luck.

“come in form the cold” I whispered not wanting to wake any one in house, while I might find this creature fascinating, there some others that think of them as vermin. Especially my parents.

He Followed me into the kitchen the turning on the stove I put some tea, even as I moved around the kitchen I could feel his eyes following me around. Setting him down at the table, I placed out some sweets.

As I got the table situated with cups and napkins I talked “by the way, I’m Inutil” he bowed but he didn’t say anything, the stories of them they usually are quit and are cautious on giving out their names. So when he didn’t responded in didn’t mind.

Pouring the tea I talked to him, it was rear any one wanted to listen to anything I have to say, I’m usually in the back of the shop working on some clothing alteration. He intensively listened as I talked about how I enjoyed my work, and how I liked to make up stories of faraway lands.

“I know it childish for a boy that’s about to go to university making up fairy tales but it fun. Although my father thinks it’s a waste of time” I told him how my father could be curl, ripping my paper thin worlds apart.

When he finished eating I showed to the shop, to the back room where I worked. I showed him some of my secret project I made, and even started a taking his measurement to make him a new pair of pants.

As I showed him some of the fabric he could pick form he touched each one with fascination, I wouldn’t be surprised if he would end up stilling some.

“it cramped in here” I said as he said on the work bench where the sewing machine sat “but I like it, make some feel safe. Out there” I nodded to the door “there’s a lot a judgment for someone like me, my father always says that I was mistake, and mom say I should stay back here so I won’t embarrassed them. Little do they know I love it back here”

As I worked on his pants he read some of the stories I had hidden away in  between fabrics, when he was done he would tape me with the papers smiling “you want to read another one” he nodded his head, and I hand him another story.

When I was done with his clothes, the sun was coming up and birds had started to sing of it arrival. In the mirror he admired his new pants and shirt I made him.

Knowing that he had to leave before someone else sees him “thanks for listening, and I hope you weren’t too board with my stories”

As I opened the door for him and he. Stepped outside he turned with a smile and held out his hand, I knew he had to still something but they usually never want something giving to them. “what would you like. some of the fabrics, no one would mess them.” He shook his head “my father keeps a change jar next to his bed, I’m sure he won’t notice them messing” he shook his head again this time taking a step closer to me, my heart was pounding and something told me to run but I couldn’t move. “with a shaky voice “mother has these embroidery scissors she doesn’t use any more, you can take…”

My stammering stopped when his hand took mine, intertwining our fingers, my hart might have stopped with all the excitement and happiness I never thought I would feel. “wouldn’t you rather have of more value”  I asked

With a smile and his eyes looking into mine as if I was one of his found treasures, his lips meet with mine and the pain of the world melted away from me. with that he took me, taught the way of his world. Find the beauty in the broken and tarnished thing s or the world. I still find him admiring things as if they were lost treasure of the earth, and I all ways blush when he looks at me the same way.

[allthingseurope]

Doorwerth Castle, Netherlands (by Patrick Klein Meuleman)

[thedarkperidot]

Signs you grew up lonely

- Chasing people who don’t want you

-Making up lots of stories and worlds

-Overtalking whenever there’s someone to talk to

-Excessive reading

-Daydreaming

-Clinging emotionally to others

-Being the ‘disposable’ friend in the group

-Excessive baths

-Talking to oneself

-Obsessive friendships

-Excessive helpfulness

[mrs-nih]

This isn't that good

People make villains. Through history, even people that had good intentions that could only come from the worst situations. It was society that made them the bad guy.

The same people that a saved coutless times came at me with weapons. The cities I saved from destruction, exciled me. The world's that I saved on many thankless occasions, has branded me as one of the things that go bump in the night.

They've hunted me down after I exiled myself. They restrained and imprisoned me after I renounced my powers. They starved and tortured me after I tried to leave the living for my mistakes.

But in the end. They all begged, they all ran, and they all where in shock when I began to burn their existence. Like destroying a disease.

What else did they expect from their own monstrous creation they made me out to be.

[mrs-nih]

I know this won't be read

'What does dying feel like?'

The being across from me straighten his tie. The stories that described him where all true, he had no eyes just sockets that where fresh with blood, his skin was like ash and his smile oozing with a black liquid. Yet I didn't fear this entity, I feel a sense of clam came off him. 'It can be painful' his deep voice that flowed sweet and sinful, like the hot chocolate with the spices the elders made us as kids. 'Like ripping your own flesh form bones, and you want to stop yet you can't. And your meet with an award of fire and brem stone that scolds down to the soul'.

This scared me I have not lived a perfect life and I'm not sure if the ancient gods will find petty on me.

' but there are some, it can be like getting a warm hug form your mother, death can be just as enchanting as a smell that takes you back to a memory that makes you smile through out the day.' Smiling I could feel a tear run down my face. The being slowly reached for my hand gently wrapping his surprisingly warm touch around my numb fingers. With an oozing smile they said 'death is not criminal that takes every thing you hold dear. Some times I'm just a friend wanting to walk with you to a land of milk and honey

[slavicafire]

“the three songs” ask set

1. three songs that come up when you put your phone on shuffle

2. three last songs you listened to

3. three songs you were recently obsessed with

4. three songs that you know thanks to your parents

5. three songs you wish you could forget (because listening to them hurts)

6. three songs you wish you could erase from history (because they’re terrible)

7. three songs you didn’t expect to like but eventually loved

8. three songs that remind you most of summer and vacation

9. three songs that get you in the Christmas Mood

10. three favourite Halloween/spooky songs

11. three favourite songs from movie or TV series soundtrack

12. three favourite songs from video games

13. three songs you want at your funeral

14. three songs you want at your wedding

15. three songs you want to dance with your love to

16. three favourite songs for sex

17. three songs that remind you of your crush

18. three songs that remind you of your best friend

19. three songs that are your guilty pleasure

20. three songs that remind you of the person who sends this one

21. three songs of your childhood

22. three songs you listen to when you’re sad

23. three songs that never fail to get you pumped up

24. three favourite old songs

25. three favourite songs of 2017

26. three favourite non-English songs

27. three songs that you sing while drunk

28. three best songs to get drunk or high to

29. three songs that influenced you most (some songs change or save lives)

30. three songs you really want your followers to know (for reasons other than all those above)

[jasonvtodd]

BOOK LOVERS, LISTEN UP;

I’m looking for people to participate in a huge book exchange. You can be anywhere in the world. All you have to do is buy your favourite book (just one) and send it to a stranger (I’ll send their details through in a private message).

You’ll receive a roughly maximum of 36 books back to you, to keep. They’ll be favourite books from strangers around the world!

If you are interested in taking part, please comment ’IN’ and I’ll send you all the details!

(note: I did not start this project, but I’m participating and would love it if some of ya’ll joined me! 👾)

[jasonvtodd]

just so everyone knows: this does require you to be comfortable giving out a shipping address. also, it is very helpful to me if you have your Messages on EVERYONE being able to send you a IM. As i’ve had a few people i cant contact with the information about this exchange, cause they’ve got it set on people only following them or whatever. 

@atomicyouthdreamer​

@ditheringaboutbooks​

@geekprincess96​

@spamgina​

 if you guys are still interested let me know how/where to send you the info for this all :) 

sidenote: 176 notes and i’m fairly certain i have now messaged everyone who has responded to this. so if you haven’t gotten info about it yet… i must’ve somehow missed you, if this has happened please let me know!!! but its still open for new people!! :D

[mrs-nih]

Writing prompt

Person a: ok, strange idea. We kill them, make it look like a mass suicide, and never speak of this agian

Person b: ...like where your head is at, love the creativity and enthusiasm. But heart me out, we could just give them back the teddy bear

Person a: I mean if want to take the obvious route

[mrs-nih]

The Hand of Ganesha

if your reading this, this is just something that had been on my mind for a while and some one dared me to writ it down. would love to know your thoughts, please forgive the grammar I was in a rush to write it all down.

The glass display case stood under a beam of moonlight in the day it probably looked more manifesting, but right now it was more on the treacherous side. Sitting behind a box of thick glass was crudely put together by long flat stakes that were stained by age, barley enough room to writ anything on them but small characters went down each stake. Tattered cloth wrapped around each skinny stake, and then bound on its spine by a waxy substance. A small brass plate was found in the corner of the front of the case with a description ‘book of rituals from the Xia dynasty’. “its not rituals book” Lunie said laying her head on my shoulder “a lot of people thought it was, even back then, blame it on bad translation, and the inebriation on the authors part. You are looking at the mortis aegrotationum integer vitae tellus. Also know as deaths cookbook…vol2” I looked at her as if she was joking, she had to be, why would such a thing excites “deaths cookbook” Glancing up at me flashing a smile she nodded, and put two fingers up “vol2” “why would death have a cookbook” “apparently, long before the Xia dynasty, there was a tribe of shaman, or Wu, or Xian as they might have called them. Powerful bunch, that served even powerful gods that are long forgotten, one of these gods was over death and sacrifice. And back then animal along with human sacrifices where very popular. These shaman believed that their god of death would collect their sacraments to the gods and being the youngest death would prepare the sacrifices in fine gourmet meals that suited the gods, and serve his older brethren with jewel incrusted plates. He would work all day gathering souls, taking up sacrifices, and On top of that his no one left him any food he would starve every night and day as the others grew stronger from his cooking. Now the story goes that this representation of death had gotten tired and being the footstool of his family and went insane from hunger, resulting in him killing all of his kin turning them in his own buffet, gaining their powers and strength. He felt bad that the tribe had no one to look after them, so he wrote a cookbook with all his recipes that would please any god, and any royal family for that mater. with the book and needing a new purpose they ventured off in the world cooking impressing kings and queens through out the ages, both mortal and immortal. As for the death god, he was soon forgotten, some stories saying he died others saying he still wonders the earth making meals for random folks.” Getting off my shoulder she stepped closer to the case serving it for its security. Shifting the bags I had in my hands from out other ventures, we stuffed stolen high end bags of stolen high end artifacts and jewelry. We wanted some paintings but then we thought it would be too much to carry them under out arms “so if this is the second book what happened to the first one, and why is it the book in a museum instead at some immortal mansion” “vo1 disappeared when the last of his tribe died out” lifting the wrench she took from our previous trespassing over her head  “and although the meals were heavenly, you do go insane after a few meals resulting in acts of cannibalism. Anything meant for a god ends in treble result for none gods.” She swung down breaking the glass and triggering the alarm. She grabbed the book shaking of the execs glass and the grabbed my arm. The world stopped sifting we were standing in my forge, Lunie was admiring the book “but vol2 is just as if to more valuable then the first” Placing ur bounty on the workbench I started doing a metal inventory “so what is it made out of” “the cannibal victim’s bones” I looked at her in disgust “oh don’t judge them, this was in a time when it was unique to use victim body parts for historic recordings, and one to talk you eat hearts” She got me there, but I don't make weapons out of them…I have o take that back. there was this one time but it was a long time ago and I still am sickened by it. although it did make a pretty cool weapon, and I got a good sum of money from it, but I'm sure telling her would just help her with her case. Looking at the our trove some of the things didn’t quit make sense, a wooden malt from a museum exhibited ‘tools across the ages’ in France, a monocle that was among an array of Knick-knacks in a china cabinet from Arabia, and the cook book from china which she says is worth a lot but still looks like a weird old book no one is going to want. I still don’t know why she stole the other two things, she had no story for the either, it was like she just wants to take old junk for random places. Everything else was worth so much more, and you didn’t have to know some ancient story to know it worth. Diamonds, jewels, gold the things people really care about.   “my my” jerking around instinctively grabbing the closest weapon to fight, I saw her standing by my anvil her lethal nails taping on the metal.  Those deadly blue eyes peering at the both of us “don’t you two look chummy” she spat. “Worden” giving her a smile that felt queasy “you seem upset”  which gave me reason to keep my weapon in hand which turned out to be my hammer, no magic in it but just as deadly in my hands. “if I am I think I have a good reason to be” her nails raked the  smooth metal as she strutted towards me “if I'm not mistaken Blacksmith” she was defiantly pissed but what for I don’t know, maybe she was just impatient “we had a contract, and I gave you half the money upfront, and yet when I come to check on my investment. Where do I find you, not working but traveling the globe with my employee, which I will be having a discussion with later.” She glanced at Lunie that sent shiver up my spine, looking at Lunie. My fearless blue haired demon was frozen I fear. For a time that lasted longer then it should have, I glared back at the Worden, my mind didn’t see her as someone I needed to fear, but some one that was a threat to my happiness. I thought of a thousand things to end her life or at least make it worst then the stat she’s in now. It would have been a million but I was interrupted by her yelling “Blacksmith” her dark lips almost pulled back in a snarled “she glanced between Lunie and I “don’t let feeling be the reason for your demise, take it for me there is multiple ways to die.” She turned walking towards some of the weapons that hung on the wall, Lunie snaked over to my side. Her fingers trembled as they slid down my wrist to the hammer handle, I didn’t look at her not wanting to take my eyes of Worden. But I tightened my grip wondering why she would take my protection from me “she wont hurt you” she whispered “your deal isn’t don’t with her yet” “What about you” “My deal isn’t done either” tearing my eye way I looked at her, fear wasn't even close to describing what I saw in her. That spark, that insanity that I love was dossed out. slowly I, reluctantly I loosened my grip letting the hammer fall in her hands. “your talent is incomparable” the warden said running her fingers over the various creations “and what is this feeling, it like there calling out, like a newborn wanting to be held” “they have no master to wield them, so they cry out to any one hoping to claim them” She got to section of the wall that was of just fun projects that haven't even been test yet, stuff I couldn’t part with because they held too many memories. Coming on the a revolver I made one summer that took all my time to make but it was fun getting the gears and small parts to work together “they inspire such beautifully thoughts of homicidal tendency” Picking up the gun she open the cylinder “where are the bullets” “it doesn't need them” I said hoping that she doesn't figure out how it works. “what have you names this one” she examined it as if trying to figure it out with out my help. “the hand of Ganesha” She looked up with wide eyes  ‘the remover of obstacles” she flicked the gun closing the cylinder, a faint smile came to her face, with out even hesitating she closed her eyes holding gun close to her face one hand on the trigger the other parallel to the barrel pointing up in a prayer pose opening her eyes she looked at us. Making sure I covered Lunie, I hoped I could stop harm getting to her but with this gun there was no stopping its aim. Still in her prayer pose “I don’t like playing games, Blacksmith. And I was hoping that I wouldn’t come to this, but I see I have no choice” she lowered the gun aiming straight to me her eyes colder then before, her breathing was steady and her demeanor was calm, as if we were just target practice. Is this it is this the way I go, ended by the things I loved to make, clamed by something I gave life to. She puled the hammer down and with one slow breath she squeezed the trigger. The shout thunder through the space, the sound was so powerful the windows shook and my ear drums rung. A I felt myself fletch but I couldn’t keep my eyes away form her frozen blue ones, ivory smoke came form the gun bellowing out the muzzle and danced around her. as she pulled the hammer again and squeezed the trigger, the grip changed colors of the grip was morphing from black to a swirl of pearl and plum. Greenish smoke came form the shoot that was bigger and flashed brighter then the one before, almost shattered the windows and rumbled the room, the colors settled in to a marbled handle claiming it master never to betray her. I felt a hot tear fall down my face my face as the smoked cleared, waiting on some kind of paint to hit me or the feeling of something gushing from me. But nothing came. Turing I examined Lunie there was no wounds on her, besides same fear from before she was ok “I want my weapon by tonight, or next shoot will kill them all.” I stayed facing Lunie as I heard the warden leave. Gun powder lingered aggravating my nostrils, the ringing in my ears seemed to be getting louder, and the trembling in my fingers was unbearable. Nether Lunie or I was hurt but the shoot were fired and her warning was very clear. “what was that” she was trembling worse than me and tears where starting to force there way out of her. “the hand of Ganesha…”pulling out my phone I focused to still my trebling enough to press the buttons “pray to the gun to remove whatever obstacles stand in your way, the bigger the obstacle the bigger the explosion” I called mom first it went to voice mail, then i dialed foolish same result. “mom nor foolish are answering” not a moment later Lunie gabbed my hand and we transported in the middle of down town surrounded by shops and restaurants we just appeared amongst crowd of people walking around. I felt eyes on me and conversations involving us. Franticly I surveyed the area trying to find one of them, I wasn’t sure who she sent us to first getting my attention Lunie pointed across the street at mom in the arms of the judge. Form the way they were looking at each other nothing in the world was bothering them. I didn’t have to say anything, I felt the world enclose around me and opened in a room with knock out roses wall paper, remembering how I knew this room I saw its owner Fabien crouched down to the floor and Foolish was laying on the floor unmoving, no air moving is chest, and a pool of jade blood, growing around his head. Fabien eyes meet mine “he got shot the bullet came form nowhere, he's not coming back, he always comes back in a meter of seconds but he has moved, I saw him get hit by a canon, beheaded, and ripped apart by wild horses. He always came back” “can the gun kill some one like him” I didn’t even know where Lunie was, I didn’t even realize I was sitting on the floor by his head helpless I held my hands over him trying to figure out some way to fix him but I was way over my head. i heard Lunie asked her question and her calling my name but I couldn't speak. Foolish was indestructible, with his history he was suppose to survive anything, bounce back from any wound no matter how great the weapon. Yet here he lies by one of my own creations. i tested the gun before but I not on a person, an di would have never guessed it would be able to kill some one like Foolish. Yelling my name this time with a shack on my shoulder “….twice” “what” “She fired the gun twice, and there's only one shout in him.” So who else did she shoot, mom was fine, I shrugged I couldn’t even get my mind to focus on one thing. It was whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. But one thing for sure I was going to kill the warden by the end of the night. “where can we take him” Lunie sounded more scared then I was. “no hospital, humans couldn’t help him even if they what they where doing” “E” barley whispering but I could feel both sets of eyes on me. Taking Foolish’s head I laid him  in my lap cradling him close “Uncle E should know what to do, mom would be to hysterical, and no one would ever help a vagabond.” I felt a hand on my shoulder and for a moment a split second I felt the smallest spark of hope but that was diminish quickly. The cavern was no longer the bight fun filled carnival before, no one was around as if for the first tie it was closed. None of the games where on, some where covered in dust as if never played and some where rusting and quickly falling part. The smell of old popcorn and grease invaded my  noise, a few of the fistive light were still light but flickering out. gather foolish in my arm I stood up looking at the dystopia “hello” my voice echoed off the walls, no response back. then looking ahead there was a figure standing in the fading light, focusing on it, I recognized the guy. Although I never seen him in any other position then setting at the diner bar sleeping over a cup of coffee, I knew him. He didn’t say anything, I wasn’t even sure if he was staring back at me but hs dead eyes where in our direction. Turning he headed down the path I knew to the prize room. the whole way I zoned out knowing what to except when we got there, and trying too prepare myself for it was impossible. The lights that came from under the door was fading in and out a faint sound of harsh breathing came form behind it. on one side of the door stood the cook head down arms folded , his head hung low and his eyes close. Before reaching the door the bar guy took his stands on the other side of the door posing the same statue like pose as his companion. emotions filled my eyes as I situated foolish in a different position so I could get the knob. Twisting the knob I walked in to see betty jerking up to see us with make up running down her face and eyes red and puffy. Her hands was glowing a pale light as it applied pressure to Uncle E’s chest, looking up a the ceiling he struggled to breath and only inches from leaving this plain. The lights mimicked his breathing getting dimmer with each breath. I could faintly her betty telling me to lay foolish next to E as I saw my world crashing down around me. I placed him next to E, with a glowing palm Betty laid her other hand on his wound. Hugging my knees to my chest I watched in the corner as Betty worked on them, I could see she was straining to do her best but I could see the end and I wasn’t sure how I was going to piece my life back together after this. Lunie wrapped her arms over me as she sat with me, and Fabien was standing opposite of us watching it all happen. His eyes red with tears, I wanted to yell, why was he here he wasn’t there for Foolish the whole time I knew him and longer before that. I want to shut , fight , kill, but that was his brother on the floor and I had no right to push him out. We watched for what seemed to be hours as Betty proceeded her attempt to heal them, but there was no improvement in either of them. The whole time I kept hoping Foolish would pop up and say one of his bizarre stories or one of those stupid jokes. Or even goodbye. Soon the lights in the came to a point you could barley see figures, then Betty’s hands were the only source of light. Then. Nothing. Soft cries came from Lunie and Fabien, I could even here a few sniffs from outside the door, but I was silent, I couldn’t bring myself to cry, yell, to be angry, to fell anything. I was numb beyond comparison, I never thought I would see the person that taught me so much and allowed me to do the same leave. No hart felt moment no, no last words, just gone. I saw a faint glow fill up the room but my gaze couldn’t break from there bodies. I heard foot steps near me then a cold wet hand on my chin forcing me to look away. Betty was glaring at me in a way I never experienced from any one, it was a shared pain that only we understood. She placed a lantern next to us as her bloody hand kept hold of me I don't like you, in fact I really hate you. But we are one in the same, we are killers, and enjoy doing so, we take great pleasure and pride in our art. And dare any one to say other wise. Me and you we don’t fell the need to cry, we are not made to cry. We are made to start and finish wars over those that were taken from us” the fir e in her was igniting in me the numbness was still there but it was joined by soothing else “Emotions tend to slow down what we need to do.” Rage, it was rage every thing else became nothing until all there was left was rage “find those that destroyed you” she looked back at them “destroyed us” a small termer came off her lip but went bac to the cold line before. “Find them, rip the apart. Know this will not bring you peace, but it will warm you to feast on their veil harts.” She pulled me up, standing with her she had a weak smile “I never seen you like this before, your eyes are so black, and teeth so sharp.” She placed a hand on my cheek, she peered into me, and I her. We had an understanding, nothing was to stop me, noting would save me form the path I was going down. But that didn’t matter, none of  it did all that I cared for was satisfying my  Rage and hunger.

[mrs-nih]

So thanks to the season changes i have a cold, and not just any cold. oh no, i have the fall on your ass cold. i took all the medicien all the reemidies and nothing is working. rmy best friends right now are hulu, netflix, and my bed. and as i said before i leav in a place made entirly of paper, so every sneezz cough sniffle and moan can be heard by all my neiborhs. well this is the secound day i’ve been sick, and really been trying to control this cough so i wont anoy the whole building. then like half way throuhg the day i get a knock on the door and im thinking some one has come to complain. it took all my streanth to get to that door but some how i did it, and when i opened it it was wife that always fights with her husband and make up with him by making him a sandwich. she had a huge contaner of homade soup, she said she been hearing my cough and thought i might want some. humans surprise me sometimes