satanic-ink

any pronouns

[satanic-ink]

i find us everywhere

in my dreams

in the future i envision

in the two dandelions growing next to each other in the sidewalk

in the twin cherries

i find us in the orange i peel, slices made to be shared

i find us in the matching sets

i find us in the opposite pairs

i find us in red and blue because i'm one and you're the other

i find us in the color purple because it's your favorite, and who are we if not your favorite?

i find us because i look for us

i look for us everywhere

i know love exists because i exist and i love you

to love is to look

to be loved is to be known, and don't i know you? don't i look for you? don't i love you?

i love you

i'll always look for you

to give the other half of the orange

to find us

to love you

[satanic-ink]

the moments are so fleeting. they are forever running from me. i will forever chase them.

[satanic-ink]

i find my love in the quiet moments. long car rides with the stars above so bright i could almost grasp them in my fist. comfortable silence, interrupted only by the music on the radio. a warm stillness and cozy company. sharing a bed and waking in the dead of night, only to look over and see a familiar face. to watch them breathe, alive and existing, and thats all i need to drift back to sleep. a quick glance across the room only to find them already looking at you. i find my love in quiet, shared smiles. in passing the popcorn bowl without asking. in kisses on foreheads. in the soft knowing of each other. in hand holding, in whispered "i love you"s, in twirling of hair, in the blushing of cheeks. in the quiet moments.

[satanic-ink]

I used to wonder if life imitated art, or if it was the other way around. The question would swirl around my mind. See, I thought myself an artist. I used to look for the deeper meaning in everything, hoping to find something convoluted and complicated.

But now, staring at you, I see how simple it really is. Art is life, and the product is you.

[satanic-ink]

Penny liked beginnings. The start of a song, the introduction of a show, the first taste of a dessert. The beginning was when something new started, and new things were always welcome in her life.

Her favorite type of beginning was the one that came when you talked to someone. The first word uttered between her and a stranger could be one that changed her life. That was exciting. Every face made by someone, every sentence that fell from their lips, they told stories. That's what Penny thought. And that was exactly the problem.

Penny thought of people like stories, so she collected them as such. She talked to them as much as she could and learned as much about them as possible. But as soon as they got boring, ran out of things to tell, thoughts to give, Penny threw them away.

And for that, Penny, the avid socializer, the charismatic girl, was despised by everyone.

[satanic-ink]

They were called Wilds.

Creatures that varied from each one. Some were large, hulking, vaguely humanoid. Other, black wisps, nothing more than a dark mass. More still, of every color, size, shape imaginable. Glinting claws and soft fur, sharp teeth and pink spots. No one knew anything about them, only that they were strange. Most people avoided them, as is in human nature. Only danger could lie in the unknown.

So when a Wild knocked on Molly Chesterfeld’s front door, her first instinct, naturally, was to open the door and let it in.

See, Molly wasn’t a people-person. Meaning she was sociable, kind, and not a person at all. She was a Wild herself.

She had beautiful dark skin and bushy blue hair. She told the humans it was dyed (it was not). She also had tiny fluttery wings on her back. Most of her neighbors thought it was a strange costume piece that she never took off. It fit her image well enough. Between the blue hair, iridescent wings, and too-high temperature, causing her to wear sundresses even in the dead of winter, everyone thought she was crazy. But she wasn’t. She was Wild.

The Wild on her doorstep, on the other hand, didn’t look like a person enough to pass for one, even a crazy one. It had a huge frame, with long horns protruding from its head. A glowing red ball of energy floated between the horns. Sharp points for finger, black and red in color. It did not look unlike a demon from the stories.

In short, it was terrifying.

Molly grinned widely, showing off strangely sharp teeth. She beckoned it in. The creature obliged, kick over lamps, overturning stools, and nearly stepping on Molly’s cat Helios.

Molly sighed, but it was affectionate.

That’s what you get when you invite something Wild into your home.

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

am convinced that dragons eat gold……they stockpile it bc they hibernate for centuries at a time, and occasionally need to wake up and eat a snack…..this changes everything…..if you woke up and found a small invasive animal trying to steal from your grain pile, what would you do? it’s probably riddled w/ diseases….you have to exterminate the pests so you don’t get an infestation. nothing to do with greed just common sense….

[satanic-ink]

okay honestly this turned out completely differently than how i expected and i kind of strayed away from the gold... anyway someone please add on because i cant write endings for shit

The village often got questions. "Isn't that a bit dangerous?" they would ask. "Keeping a dragon so close to your village?"

"No," the village would reply, and then shoo the visitor away.

The village had always protected the dragon. He was awake more than most dragons, so he ate much more, but the duty of feeding him and keeping safe and alive had always been the village's. And in return, the dragon kept furnaces going and provided protection from animals that would usually be classified as threats, such as bears. They took one look at the him and drew back into the forest. No one would want to go against a dragon that size.

Except, of course, the knights.

The villagers tried their best to keep news about the dragon quiet. They didnt want any attention. But try as they might, word spread quickly of a village under a dragon's spell. The dragon eats them, the rumors said. It hoards their gold and eats their children! Its horrible, horrible!

So knights all over the kingdom took up their shield and sword and announced they would slay the terrible beast.

A crone took care of them. She was old, older than anyone knew, and fiercely protective of Keefalyuse. She chased away the knights, yelling obscenities and throwing rocks. So the village relaxed a little.

There was one knight that would not leave. He returned every couple of weeks. He would not stay away, even when the crone knocked him out. He did not believe the village when they tried to explain the situation. He wasnt convinced when the villagers showed him how friendly the dragon was.

But the knight was clever. He thought, If I slay the dragon at night, the villagers will be free come morning, and they will thank me graciously. They surely would let me keep the gold. So when the sun set and the last of the lanterns were blown out, he snuck into the dragon's cave.

Just as the fingers of the rosy dawn touched the sky, there was a shout. The knight was standing in the village square, bloody and triumphant. "Villagers!" he announced. "The dragon has been slayed! His throat has been slit and his body burns in the cave!"

The silence was terrible. The villagers huddled around the mouth of the cave and mourned, the crackling of the body their only dirge.

[satanic-ink]

The rage in her was too large to be contained, so she gave up on it. She let it spill into her actions, the way she walked and gestured with her hands, the way she moved. It bled into her speech, cutting sharp remarks and insults, burning her throat even as they were aimed at others. Knives were carved from flowers, thorns from clouds. So hot was her anger that it scorched her skin, leaving burns on anyone foolish enough to come close.