#ryverspeaking

[ryverofthenight]

It's been forty years since the world's worst nuclear event happened.

How do we feel?

[ryverofthenight]

Ryver of the Night

☆ She/Her ☆

"Somewhere between confession and disappearance"

somewhere between nowhere and never

I bloom in decay

teeth in the wallpaper

static between stars

resident of the in-between

I have no mouth and I must scream

Child of Saturn.

Time eats all his children in the end.

Maybe Cupid wont miss.

I let you know me.

Hello, It's Ryver of the Night.

I have admired Tumblr and AO3 from afar, knowing how much my friends love it.

I am eighteen and prefer that minors I don't know not interact with me. I also prefer that if you're 30+ and I don't know you, you don't interact.

I am a hyperglot, currently at sixteen languages. So if you send an ask and tell me what language you'd like it in, I can do that for you.

Please do not ask me to do strange, out-there kinks. I will not answer to homophobic, transphobic, ableist, misandrist, misogynistic, racist, incestuous, rape-related, minor-involved, or non-consensual things. You will be removed and reported.

I love to Dance, Sing, and write.

Soon, I'll get my Notion working so you guys can have my stories. 🫶 I'll add more to this when I get all of it fixed.

Don't be afraid to ask, I want asks, I love to see people out there that have silly little questions.

[ryverofthenight]

People told me to lower the bar, that it's too high.

I prefer to choke on star dust.

I prefer to push myself to the edge, because my brain is a sponge and it's only useful if I make it soak as much in as it can, until it falls apart.

So that when it falls apart, my family has a portion of wealth to pick at like scavengers, because maybe within the rubble of my success I'll mean something with my degrees, certificates, and medals. Maybe the crash back into earths orbit will be softened by the bucks we worship.

Maybe I can be something grand.

Maybe I can dream.

Maybe the money will be worth it and it wont just be another hundred dollars to sink into the gas or monsters to keep me going.

[ryverofthenight]

With what my body's mind will never keep up with, cursed to forever be a confused seven year old's understanding of social construct. Forever asking someone new, "what's your favorite color?"

Cursed to forever have a faster mind, but wired in a way nobody will understand. For all the knowledge I have nobody will understand me because how could someone so young possibly understand what took me fourteen years to do in a week?

Cursed to forever be underestimated because instead of anything grand, I only have a mound of flesh between my legs.. which means nothing Important will ever become of me.

And for all the languages I know, I'll never know the right words to say when communicating something important.

[ryverofthenight]

Give me your eyes,

I need the sunshine.

Would you still love me if I wasn't a romantic man? If I had no idea what men do for women, when flowers feel too personal and my heart feels like it's remained in an empty cavity for so long it rotted all on its own. I felt like God's rays would never reach me, and now that they had, I've received the warmth in your gaze, any other man would had turned you down. You broken, ruined thing..., and every man called me a fag for being with him against my will. You held me like a gentle thing, and when my body felt how deep my love went for you, I never thought I'd be good for any woman.. oh, my Girlfriend. Who looks at me like a man worth her time, when I'd be at her knees groveling for her respect any other time. I am a pathetic man. Rivaled only by who hurts me. And you, you stand there like I am something grand. And your friends brother told me I am on the asexual spectrum, reserved for those who feel such as I. I am not a romantic man, but I'd go against what I am comfortable and capable of for you, cupid speared me between the ribs and I cannot take the arrowhead out, and he must've aimed for the lung because I cannot breathe when I am around you. You look at me like I am a man worth your time. I do not understand it. I keep waiting for you to see what everyone else saw, and you never do. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, and for you to hurt me. And I suppose in a way, you are too. We're both ruined broken things, and maybe that's what makes us so .. compatible. When I hold you I feel a strong woman, much more smart than I ever could be at reading between lines. You would react faster. But you wouldn't have to with me, I would never bring you harm. You hold me as though I am something fragile. Nobody has ever mistaken me for fragile before. Other than in the head. Thank you, I guess. My flowers may be wilting, but I gave them to you because they reminded me of us. Because even though they aren't perfect or smell that good, rotting flowers make the prettiest colors to me. The deep reds, maroon and almost velvet shine to them make me inspired to be who I am. At least in roses. ——I love roses. I love you, and I hope this letter makes since in it's jumbled rambled way, Mikhail Rusovych Larventuisauch. We deserve sunshine, keep your eyes on me.

Misha, my Bi-sexual Demiromantic sad eyed Russian, you deserve sunshine, Corvid get your man. 🫂❤️‍🩹

[ryverofthenight]

How can one be sure they love another?

When my voice feels so tiny in comparison to the roar of people who want to hold your hand, and the band screeching its melody, I feel so small, a composition of my heart thundering in my head. When I finally go in for a kiss, and when I finally decide that the liminal space between us means nothing, maybe for a moment, someone as neurotic as me doesn't have to be afraid. Not when I can act bold around you. When it feels like the gravitational pull of eachother is enough to rip the world in half just to be together, and when the distance between us makes it feel like our magnets are two of the same, it will be okay as long as our battery is charged. The Universe sees us and puts trials in pur way, darling, remember the rituals the animals do? Remember the Eagles Death Spiral, or the Dance of Trust that Stingrays do, The Swan Love that only me and you can replicate in our painfully human bodies. My lover, remember how you felt when I told you the song I confessed to you? Remember when I told everyone I knew in school and showed your picture and said you were mine until the day we died? And remember when I said I'd hid behind a wall of people just to protect our love? I remember. I wont forget. My body makes it impossible to, I feel sick when I think about leaving you. So physical, so real. You have become molded into my soul, and if I had to choose me or you, I'd choose you and give all my most treasured organs, my blood, my air, anything to keep you with me for another moment. To tell you how much I devoted myself, Dear, you are never alone, not when I hold you in my eyes. . . My sweetheart, I shared both halves of my heart, and how much more beautiful is that? I'd wager more beautiful than any saxophone or baby grand could sing. More wondrous and awe-striking than an organ weeping God's mindful words in a church or the angels coming down with their trumpets. If the world was to end for me, I would have it in place you got all the letters I wrote to you. If you were to leave this plane, without me. You would never truely die, you would haunt every narrative, every speech I gave. Because you've become a pearl in my Oyster of a soul, and I will keep you away, your memory a shining pretty, for me to have. For others to wonder what a magnificent person you were.

I love you. This song is how I felt, when I first held you in my dream.

[ryverofthenight]

Misha will not get a blade, he'd have a bullet take him out.

It would start, the beating of my heart, as I imagine it clearly, too cowardly to end it myself. I will imagine my Lord and me playing chess; my pawn is beaten and scratched, facing the opposing team of angels and warriors. My king is down, my queen is dead. My brothers in arms are knocked over. I cannot take a piece from my Lord because the game is rigged. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have sin in my blood; I am playing for a team that is not my own flag, yearning for a rearrangement of red, white, and blue. My flag patch is being torn thread by thread, over and over, my breath ragged. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I am not a proud man; I did not do my mother and father well. I left them to rot on white snow. Father, I am sorry, my Lord. I am not a proud man, I am not ready to face you, as I struggle to breathe. Cut by glass, my shoulder shot. Father, forgive me, I sinned. This cross feels like it's branding me in my hands. What's left of them, when I was tricked into seeing the light that took half my face and digits. Father, I am a sinner, and I do not want your forgiveness. I know your watching me, up there, watching me give up the fight. I can't breathe, blood drizzling out of my mouth. If they keep shooting, Father. I am alone in this world. They are hunting me. I hear them coming closer. I looked back. Feeling the dull sting of bullets ripping through flesh. Nobody is coming for me, Lord. "Amen." I utter as I stare down the barrel, the muzzle flash, my head jerks back. Is the muzzle flash the light of the lord, or the prickling of my eyes and the impact dotting behind my lid?

[ryverofthenight]

Omg omg omg, two followers!? 😝