#twitchy writes

[circuits-unending]

Arrows and Spades and Everything In Between

I love.

I do.

I love like there is nothing else I can do.

I love like I’m going to lose every piece of myself to the void if I don’t.

I love in a frenzy, I clutch, I hold, I wrap myself up in someone because I feel like if I don’t I will come apart at the seams.

But I do not love.

I can’t look at a person’s face and think.

“I want to kiss you.”

“I want to marry you.”

“I am in love with you.”

I can only look and wonder what that could be like.

I listen to my cousin speak about falling in love with a boy that she has known for so long.

I listen to her talk about how he makes her feel, and how she wants him in her life.

I sit and watch my father go about his day, with my little brother in his arms, and see the ring on his fiancee’s finger.

And I wonder how that works.

How do you look at someone like that?

How do you see a person and think.

“I want to have children with you.”

“I want to put a ring on your finger and call you my spouse, create a family and have a household and love you.”

It sounds so lovely to me.

But I just can’t have that.

I sit here with memories of a world that never existed in my brain.

I have dreams of someone I have never met.

Of him holding me in a bathtub, feeling my breathing, his hands in my hair.

Of me turning and looking at him and kissing him and feeling him.

But it is a dream.

So I enjoy it.

Because it doesn’t feel real.

I can love someone from a distance, because in the bottom of my heart it is just for show. It is just a facade. We are not in person, we cannot actually feel each other.

So it is easier to me, because I can distance myself.

And pretend it is all just fantasy.

I can’t hold a person like that.

I can’t kiss a person like that.

I can’t feel a person’s body and not feel like I need to pull away.

I can’t stand the feeling of hands on my neck or my arms or my waist or my legs or my face.

I can’t barely hold my little brother in my arms for fear of hurting him, for the feeling of not wanting another body against me.

But I’ve never felt more at peace then when he falls asleep on me.

I love the feeling of a person laying their head on my back. Of my friend laying her head on my stomach, of someone leaning their head on my shoulder.

I love the feeling of being hugged, of my dad holding me as tight as he can, of being held.

I love like a fire. I am the person that the second you speak to me, I will fight for you to the ends of the earth. I love you for the way you speak, for how you move your hands when you’re telling a story, or talking about your interests. I love you for how your eyes light up, for how they shine when tears are streaming down them. I love you when I’m pissed at you for doing something stupid, I love you when I’m ready to beat the shit out of you for getting into dumb shit.

I love when I shouldn’t love. I love when the person only wants to take from me and hurt me. I love when the person can’t handle the love, when they are too far gone for that love to help them.

I love when it kills me.

But I hate that word.

I hate that fucking word.

Love.

Because to me, love is not real.

Love is not dates, and roses, and sex and marriage and children.

It is arguing about socks with sandals.

It is calling each other out for smelling like shit and spraying each other with the garden hose and showing off the weird rock you found in the forest and the goofy doodles of a character you like.

It’s calling each other out on the stupid shit you do, and sitting in silence together when one of you is hurting or mourning.

Love is being obnoxious in public just to hype them up, screaming out that that is your best friend.

Love is crawling into their window at 4 am with a bag of doritos and a 2 liter of mountain dew.

Love is knowing them so well you can tell they are not doing okay just by a single word, a single look, a single fucking movement.

By knowing how they are feeling before they even realize it.

It’s being able to fart and burp and walk around the house naked and not giving two fucks because you know each other’s bodies so well it’s like they are just another piece of you.

It is genuinely not knowing what you would do without that person in this world.

I don’t want your body.

I don’t want to fuck you. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to have you all to myself.

I want you to be a piece of me.

I want to be the person you experiment new makeup on.

Dress me up in mismatched clothes and draw on my face.

I want to beat the shit out of your partner when they hurt you.

I want to the person you introduce a partner to, as the deterrent for them ever hurting you.

I want to watch you become the best person you can possibly be.

Even if that means you have to leave me.

I want to be someone you think about when you’re older. Someone you look back on with fondness.

I want you to never regret a moment with me.

I want to smile with you.

I want to cry with you.

I want to grow with you.

I want you to be someone who looked at every single disgusting and angry piece of my heart and said.

“You are beautiful.”

I want to hear you ramble about the weirdest shit and me not understand a damn word you are saying but I will listen anyways because you look so happy when you’re talking about it.

I want to love the other way too, though.

I want to look at a person and see their eyes and never want to look away.

I want to feel a person’s heartbeat and know that that heart beats for me. And to feel like my heart beats for them.

I want to pulled under the water in the bath and kissed till we have to come up for air.

I want to be able to handle someone touching my skin without feeling terrible. I want to feel hands on my skin, and breath against my cheek and know that every inch of my body is loved with every fiber of the other’s.

I want someone to want to spend the rest of their life with me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with someone else.

But I can’t have that.

I want to love like I already do. But I want that love to finally be for a single person.

I don’t want it to run like a wind around me.

I want it to be absorbed into one spot. Like the blue and pink and red and purple in my head finally spreading over one person and staining their skin and I look at them and they are all of me.

Not just a piece.

[circuits-unending]

It starts like a breeze.

Soft and sweet.

But damn did it taste disgusting.

Body convulsing as the tar pulled itself out of my lungs.

There is something so very wrong with me.

His voice makes me want to scream. I want to put my hands on his throat and hold it till his voice stops forever.

He's been here so long and I only just met him.

He doesn't know what he's done to me this whole time.

He'll never really know.

They don't know why I'm here.

I do.

I remember a little more each day.

Dreams of chasing them all down.

Nails digging into wood.

They can't die but they can be hurt.

Toby falls asleep in my desk chair a lot.

I think he's started to notice when I stand next to him, unmoving, as he sits there.

But I also don't think he knows I can tell when he's awake.

He hasn't fallen asleep in my chair in a week.

Tim sits with me on the bench in the garden. We sit in silence for hours, until he finally gets up and leaves, never exchanging a word.

Jack lets me watch him work, sometimes he'll let me help.

He caught me holding a scalpel over his hand.

I'm not allowed to work with him anymore.

Something is wrong with Slender.

He sits on the floor of his office, his forehead pressed on the surface of his desk.

His body will shake, and he won't respond when I say his name.

Brian got sick in the parlor today.

Jeff doesn't leave his room.

Nobody leaves the House.

The door is locked.

They're trapped in here.

They're trapped with me.

The clock in my room stopped ticking.

[circuits-unending]

TATA Ch. 5 - BEN

HERE!!

[circuits-unending]

Something Different

There is more to these stories than what you've seen.

There is more to Home and the worlds it encompasses.

From Rednels to the Crystalhearts.

From the Badlands to the Borders.

From the Void to the Catacombs.

We are more than that.

You are more than that.

The Circuit brings everything together.

And now it is time to start the new System.

This System will bring everything together.

It will bring forth a new Era to Home.

We will finally break away from the confines of the human, Balanced, or Bound Worlds.

The true story will begin anew.

And with it....

Ternuv minat.

A new threat.

[circuits-unending]

Hero of Time

Hearing the whispers of the old forest felt like a lie.

Remnants of old old trees burned and scarred.

Memories of tiny feet bolting through the undergrowth, taking their time finding new adventures.

Until time stopped to take an adventure to them.

Those tiny feet grew too big to fit in their shoes and they couldn’t walk anymore.

Only run.

And run.

And run.

Feeling your own hand on your face, thumb pressed to an eye they could no longer see out of.

And seeing your own future.

One full of just as much decay as new stories.

New life.

A new hell.

Seeing the shape of her back in the golden light of morning and wishing you never had to leave the bed.

Seeing the glow of his eyes in the dark of the stone, and wishing you could have known him in another time.

In one not as cruel.

Wishing you could find it in yourself to forgive him.

Gold and white brushes your face and blue turns to red, a gray hand near the wolfish grin.

The single braid down his back, shaky hands tying it at the end.

Cold lips on yours to wake him up and bring him back home.

Wooden fingers running through your hair when you were sick.

A child-like laugh echoing in the back of your head with every chime of the clock.

Red and blue streaking a body still too small for its size. Too small for its heart, its mind.

Blue. Red. Green.

The single sad tree that sang a song you didn’t realize you already knew.

The laments of a spirit that felt like a brother and told you you could do better.

The heavy breaths of a man who fought for his children and failed and begged you to do better.

Dead eyes mirroring your own and telling you you are better than this.

And blank eyes telling you you will never be good enough for everyone, but you are good enough for her.

Remembering a time where she wasn’t alive to you.

She wasn’t a person yet.

But she still loved you, no matter the cost.

And she made sure you could go back to her in another life.

Blonde hair hiding sad eyes, teaching you the music you’d forgotten.

Those same eyes filled with tears as they pushed you away, back to where you were more needed, despite wanting so badly for you to stay.

So that they wouldn’t be alone anymore.

The scream of a child born to the last one left in the time where everything was dead.

The relieved tears dripping on wooden hands as they clutched the face of the one who was new.

You brought so much but you feel like you are dead.

Nothing but bones in the forest to be found by those who would carry on.

Dead and overgrown.

Dead and forgotten.

But you will never be forgotten.

You are a legacy to the oldest story.

You did more than any other, you have brought more than anyone else could.

The one before you made mistakes, but you were not one of them.

A smile.

Rough hands on your collar and neck with panicked screams.

Jagged movements that felt inhuman.

Red staring down at you with a fond familiarity you didn’t quite trust.

But the wood of the mask in his hands told you of your own story that you didn’t know.

Just as a different set of red told you how you look like a legend.

Find your truth.

Find your heritage, and find your legacy.

With simple taps against the mirror you hate so much.

The small head of red hair staring back at you.

Facing yourself is never easy.

Especially when you love them so much.

Hearing the whispers of the old forest felt like a lie.

Until the sound of wings hit my ears.

A single word spoken, whispered to me.

Hey.

I’m not ready to let time pass.

Just let me stay in one place.

[circuits-unending]

free knives free knives free knives i was so excited to ask for the free knives prompt that i acccidentally unfollowed you but free knives free knives free knives

“So...with Medoh finally fully excavated and ready to start up, are you prepared to begin driving it?” Zelda stood near the cooking pot in the small hut in the Flight Range, Revali a few steps in front of him, fidgeting with the blue scarf around his neck.

“Yes, of course I’m prepared! You should worry more about the other Champions, I’m sure they’ll have plenty of trouble. I, on the other hand, will surely master Vah Medoh immediately.” He propped a wing on his hip, throwing a glance back at the princess with his beak in the air.

“Of course...” Zelda stares at him with a deadpan look, clasping her hands in front of her. “Well, then...” She begins to walk towards the end of the platform, and looks over the edge. “If you are sure you’re prepared, would you mind doing me a favor?” She pulls her heavy coat off, as well as her hat and gloves. Underneath the coat, a thick blue shirt is tucked into black pants, with the royal insignia embossed into a black belt around her waist.

Revali looks at her with a confused expression. “Yes...? What is it?”

She smiles, quickly lunging forward to shove him off the ledge, and jumping after him. “CATCH ME!” She shouts over the wind, spreading her arms out.

Revali flails, frantically flapping his wings to regain his balance, and whips his head towards Zelda, who was plummeting to the bottom of the Flight Range. He rolls in the air, pointing himself downwards and flies under her.

Zelda lands hard on his back, causing him to careen into the rocky pillar that stood in the middle of the Range. She latches onto the belt that crossed over Revali’s chest, Revali himself digging his talons into the rock, his wings flapping furiously to slow their descent.

They finally stop and Revali pulls himself out, slowly bringing them both down to the bottom of the canyon.

Revali whips around, glaring. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED BOTH OF US!!”

Zelda smiles, giggling. “You will not be the only one on the Divine Beast at times. You must be ready in case someone without wings happens to fall off. You’re very talented, Revali, but your pride is going to distract you, and that could end up costing you or someone else their life one day.” 

Revali stares at her with a dumbfounded expression, but nods, looking anywhere but at her. Suddenly, an excited gasp leaves the princess’s lips, bringing Revali’s attention back to her.

Zelda bends down, picking up two daggers with feather-like engravings on them. “Someone must have dropped these down here! Free knives!” She holds them up, bouncing excitedly. Revali sighed, placing a wing against his forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was super fun XD Sil does not fear death in everyday situations, and has jumped off a lot of dangerous precipices. Just so you know she definitely jumped off Medoh the first chance she got and Revali was angry about it for weeks.

[circuits-unending]

Tip Back

Speak to me in a way you forgot.

Hands I've known since I was 13.

Jagged nails holding my back like you were trying to push me forward.

Telling me to keep going.

As I got older those hands changed.

Moving from my back to my sides.

One moving up, one moving down.

Gripping me like you'd lose me, but I was the one losing you.

Forgetting your face even though I never actually knew it.

Cold hands slipping on my thighs, on my neck.

Breathe into me and make me remember.

I call your name in a silent voice in my dreams, reaching out to you.

I scream for you with a closed mouth, but I don't know you.

I don't know your voice.

Your face.

Your body.

Your smell.

But I know every inch of you.

I age and you age with me, and I feel you change.

I feel your mind change, as those gentle hands grow rough.

I awake to the thought of you.

Hips. Teeth. Hands. Nails.

Pretty eyes I never want to look away from.

Fingers running through your hair.

Glowing stars littering every inch of you, lighting up the dark room and all I can see is you.

Let me remember you.

Let me feel you again.

I shy from every touch except yours.

You make me sit by myself because I never want to feel anything except you.

I think I can't love, but I think I might only love you.

I want to love you.

Do I love you?

I don't know.

Drowning in so many words and feelings, you're an ocean to me.

Tip my head back and let the water pour out.

Like a puppet, wires wrap around my throat and everything ends.

I hope I don't love you.

[circuits-unending]

Screaming

Screaming is not just something you do. It’s something you feel.

Nails digging into your neck, chest, arms. A frantic movement that rips your throat from the inside out, crawling out of you like the demon your mother told you to pray to keep away.

Speaking into the darkness and it whispering back like the wind on that Christmas night when Dad said he’d be home before you opened your presents. But the ham on the table was cold before you even entered the kitchen.

The tears running down your sibling’s face as they cries, the blood still fresh on their knee when you press a warm washcloth to it, bandaid in your other hand.

It’s that day you first remember that they test the tornado sirens every Friday, the low wail becoming louder and louder before it finally dies back down.

It’s your teacher’s voice as they direct you to a corner of the room and shut the lights off, with your principal on the intercom reminding you this is just a drill, you will not lose your life today.

And it is the day that is it not a drill.

You live in a country that speaks of freedom and wealth, but that voice only sounds like the pained screams of every person that was ever born to someone who was not like snow.

You live in a country where a person’s worth is measured in melanin and lies.

You live in a country where if you are hurting, you smile and say you are fine because if you don’t, people will look at you and say that you are anyways.

Old pencil sharpener blades around a cord against your chest, the rattle of chains at your belt loops.

Cherry blossom perfume and heeled boots, the rustle of the flower in your hair.

Hello kitty bracelets and plastic racecars.

Barbie dolls and Pokemon cards.

Pageant dresses and baseball mitts.

I once dreamt of all of these.

I grew up too sweet, so the universe made me bitter. Taking me from glitzy pageant baby doll to mental ward teenage statistic.

I speak with the voice of too many dreams and too many pills.

I speak with the voice of a ghetto ass town with slurs running out the mouths of every little child that breathed there, no matter the skin tone.

I speak with the voice of someone who didn’t learn to be a human till they were 16 and had to be taught that what I thought about myself and others was wrong.

I speak with the voice of someone who will never truly know a heritage other than a white man’s promise of wealth and prosperity that became genocide.

I speak with the voice of someone who’s so fucking paranoid that I will check my phone’s map location over and over when in a Lyft car for fear of being kidnapped and taken away.

I speak with the voice of someone whose body will never fit their mind.

I will never be what I want to be.

I will never know my real blood, I will never know what I’m meant to be.

I gave up on becoming myself a very long time ago.

I want myself back.

I want the cornfields back. Running through them with the night sky above me. Without the worries of finding the melting bodies that reek of meth in the wet dirt.

I want the stars back, finding Orion and the Dippers and dreaming of flying next to those lights.

Carrying a mound of books from the library with the chuckles of the librarian behind me because she let me check out more than the limit.

The librarian letting me take the mineralogy book I kept checking out home at the end of the year.

The smell of the Chronicles of Narnia book I’d had since I was 8.

The feel of the synthetic fur on the stuffed rabbit I’d had since I was 8 days.

The sway of my mother’s hair as we walked through the store.

My dad’s cologne when he’d pick me up.

My brother swinging me around the living room.

My grandmother’s laugh.

My best friend’s singing.

Old eyes that I’m not sure I ever really knew, but I remember all the same.

The smell of a bonfire.

The smell of apples.

I used to cry at night, hoping for memories I’d lost to come back to me.

Now I just scream and hope someone puts me out of my misery.