#inkwell incarnate
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It was like magic. It was the only
magic I had left in me. I had to watch
my family eat it, to make sure
all the goodness I had poured into it
would warm them from the inside out.
To make sure I hadn’t made it rotten.
There’s ways to nourish people
that have nothing to do with food.
There’s ways for yourself to starve
even when there’s no shortage.
There’s bread.
There’s the way it feels sticky
between your fingers as you mix it and
the way it feels when you knead it,
smooth and soft and elastic,
the way yeast smells as it gorges on sweetness.
There’s the rises. There’s the way it rises
and you have to wait for it.
The way it makes you wait for it.
Patience is a kind of magic too.
It’s one you cannot teach entirely alone:
you have to have something to wait for.
It was some of the worst few months of my life.
They were also the easiest. For all it claws at you,
being terrified is the easiest thing in the world.
All you have to do is endure it.
All I could do was endure it.
I didn’t want to do anything.
I didn’t want.
I didn’t.
I made bread.
I waited.
Eventually, I rose.
Breadmaker // PD
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Maestro Hiccups 3: Chaos Incarnate Ch 50
In an instant, You dash at the pile of toys, and begin rifling through them, trying to see if any of them was a shape shifted Collector hiding among them
You pull out many different constellation themed toys, and many planet and star themed plushes...but non of them look Collector-like. You hear the Collector's voice "You can't find me!" He giggled, while you wildly looked around for him. "I'm gonna find you Collector!" You shout, before your eyes land on a small bunny plush. You notice that the bunny has star shaped buttons for eyes, and a painted face, much like the Collector's.
You give the bunny a little poke, and you hear tye Collector's laugh again "I found you!" You shouted. The bunny in your hands shook before it turned into the childish deity. "You caught me!" He cackled before booping you on the nose "Now it's YOUR turn to hide!" He said. "Alright, Let me just get Leo and Emma really quickly." You tell him. He nods as she snaps his fingers and poofs away.
You rush to run back down the stairs, only to be stopped by a peeved Hilda "Not so fast. You still tresspassed into my home." She sneered. "Sorry! I-I'll make it up, somehow." You say, but Hilda doesn't back down. "No. You're gonna make it up NOW." She grumbles. You try to reason with her, when you see a wave of Balan's chaotic magic enveloping the world outside.
"HIT THE DECK! You shout as the wave crashes into the observatory. You feel the building rumble as Balan's hiccups transformed the building into something it wasn't. When the rumbling finally stopped, you looked around at the damage that had been done. The entire observatory had become like a giant sea temple. The telescope now had turned into a periscope while you can see fish swimming around you.
"WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!" You hear Hilda gurgle. You see that Hilda now had become a small submarine, with her weather vane now a periscope on her head as she began swam through the water. "Erm...Sorry?" You gurgle out, bubbles leaking from your mouth as you did. That was enough to push Hilda over "GET OUT OF HERE!!" She shouted in anger.
You didn't need to be told twice as you rushed out of the building, seeing the entire building was now completely submerged in water. Leo and Emma were seen floating in a nearby crate. "Leo! Emma! C'mon!" You shout. The two of them dove into the water to join you in reaching the exit. The three of you exited the building as you see what Balan's chaotic hiccups had done THIS time.
The entire world looked like it was turned into a strange mix of live action and hand drawn animation. Most of the inhabitants there SEEMED alright, but you could see there were now struggling with their new surroundings. "Oof...Balan's hiccups are making things weirder and weirder." Leo said, as a semi realistic bird came flying above and squwaked very violently at him.
A portal opened up as Your Kaylo, and the Magical Kaylo walked out of it, taking in the chaotic world that surrounded them "Whoa...Well, Inkwell Isle certainly got a makeover..." the magical Kaylo said, looking over the sunken observatory. "Yeah...But on the bright side, We found the Collector. And now it's...erm. Our turn to hide." You say.
"Well you better find a good hiding spot then!" You hear the Collector say as he floated above you, clearly enjoying the Mayhem occurring to the world. "Ready to hide?" You hear him ask. "Uh-" you don't get a chance to answer as he begins to count. "Collector...they don't have magic, so maybe count a little...higher." The Magical Kaylo says. "OK! 1...2...3..." he counts
"Ok, that should by you some time. I'll open a few portals for you to hide in another world, but you'll need to choose 1." She says. "Alright. Hurry!" Leo whsiper-shouts. Whipping out the scissors, Kaylo cuts open 3 different portals, but you have no idea where those portals could POSSIBLY lead, but you need to hide quickly
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cuphead and mugman meets mario: the inspirational story
In a vibrant, animated world, Cuphead and his spirited brother Mugman were enjoying a peaceful day in the Inkwell Isles when an ominous portal unexpectedly materialized. Out of it emerged Eggman, the notorious robotic mastermind, accompanied by the malevolent Sonic.exe, a dark incarnation of Sonic.
Realizing the impending danger, Cuphead and Mugman decided to seek help and journeyed through a warp pipe that transported them to the Mushroom Kingdom. There, they encountered the heroic Italian plumber, Mario, who eagerly agreed to join forces against the unexpected threat.
The unlikely trio, armed with Cuphead and Mugman’s unique shooting abilities and Mario’s jumping prowess, set out to confront Eggman and Sonic.exe. The landscape transformed into a blend of classic platformer levels and surreal Inkwell Isles backdrops as they chased their adversaries through the pixelated dimensions.
Facing challenges that fused elements from both Cuphead’s run-and-gun battles and Mario’s platforming adventures, the team strategically coordinated their attacks. Cuphead’s precision shots, Mugman’s support, and Mario’s iconic power-ups proved to be a formidable combination.
As they closed in on Eggman and Sonic.exe, the villains unleashed a chaotic amalgamation of their powers. Sonic.exe’s corrupted speed and Eggman’s robotic army posed a significant challenge, but Cuphead, Mugman, and Mario stood resilient, showcasing their unique abilities.
In an epic showdown, the trio synchronized their attacks, overcoming the malevolent duo. The defeated Eggman and Sonic.exe were sucked back into the portal, sealing it behind them. Cuphead, Mugman, and Mario exchanged nods of gratitude and bid farewell, each returning to their respective worlds.
As they parted ways, the animated landscapes and Mushroom Kingdom gradually returned to normal. Cuphead and Mugman, forever changed by this unexpected crossover, continued their adventures in the Inkwell Isles, their encounter with Mario serving as a colorful chapter in their pixelated tale.
note: all of this is generated by chatGPT so please don’t forget to follow and use the app chatGPT for ai and more!
#across the spiderverse#the owl house#welcome home#succession#taylor swift#super mario#ted lasso#star wars#the mandalorian#wally darling#cuphead#cuphead show#cuphead fanart#mugman#the cuphead show#cuphead and mugman#sonic.exe#sonic the hedgehog#majin sonic#lord x#sonic fanart#xenophanes#eggman#dr eggman#doctor eggman
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Long Live the King | Chapter 1 | Trial Start
For the last little while, you have been searching for clues as to Francis’ murder. It is a duty that should have never fallen to you. Not a single one of you is trained, and while you do have the minor assistance of a medical professional, Shroud only really told you the cause of death. Figuring out what led up to that is the real challenge. So, for the past two hours or so, you and a group of your fellow Incarnates have been looking around.
But the search comes to an end where to hear the tree rumble to life. “The investigation period is over. Please make your way to the Summoning Circle.”
The Summoning Circle? Are they going to make you do this stupid trial in water up to your ankles? Luckily no. It’s an odd sight, especially for those of you who had been inspecting the Summoning Circle only a few minutes before. Along each of the smaller circles where you first woke, you find a raised desk and chair have been set up. The chairs are tall enough to keep your feet out of the dark and chilly water, and each desk is equipped with a pad of paper, a quill, and an inkwell.
Above the center of the circle floats the illuminating orb from the lounge, cutting through the dark and the fog to illuminate the whole circle of desks. Directly below it, Amber’s puppet body extrudes from the roots, Kali perched on her shoulder.
“Please take your seats. Each one has been labeled accordingly. Please do not leave your seats without permission during the trial,” Amber glumly requests. She seems downtrodden and very uneasy, but is facilitating this trial anyway.
Arms folded, Kali scowls disapprovingly out at the group of you. “You heard the lady! Move it, and don’t waste your time whining at her!” Seems that Amber’s misery has once again spurred Kali into irascible protectiveness. Though not violence yet, mercifully.
“Please don’t forget,” Amber mutters, just loud enough to be heard. “The majority of you need to correctly identify the killer. Failure to do so, and someone else will have to be executed in their place. Please make your decisions carefully.”
“Also obviously, an attempt at violent escape will mean I have to stop you. I have a job to do and whatnot,” Alvarie grumbles from the front of the area, where she stands with her arms folded. Or is “front” even the right word?
Uneasily, your group files towards your various seats. There’s not much time, and if you fail here, an innocent soul will be taking on the burden of the murderer. Best get it right…
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NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Breach by Bridget Gage-Dixon
PREORDER NOW: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/breach-by-bridget-gage-dixon/
Bridget Gage-Dixon has had a life-long love affair with poetry that began with rewriting nursery rhymes and fairytales. She progressed to having her poems included in Poet Lore, Inkwell, The Cortland Review, and several other journals. She lives in New Jersey where she teaches and dotes on her grandchildren.
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR Breach by Bridget Gage-Dixon
Harrowing and beautifully written, Breach offers us a life in poems, a series of affecting essences that speak to the often unspeakable. Bridget Gage-Dixon is a relentless truth-seeker whose deft metaphors enhance the sense of how our struggles may teach us—assuming we survive them. Perhaps the truest solace the poet may offer is transformative testimony, language that forges authentic connections. The woman in these pages is that poet, someone who has come through to what she calls in the final poem–”That Invincible Summer.”
–Baron Wormser
The poems in Bridget Gage-Dixon’s Breach have a dark, thrilling intensity that will stay with you long after you’ve read them. Birth itself is a betrayal, and childhood a period when you are only “safe as long as you are unseen.” Epiphanies are tinged with menace, as though early trauma has pushed the imagination into the realm of the visionary. And yet, as this haunting book “leads us into the uncharted territories of ourselves,” a yearning for beauty and redemption steers it toward a faith that “what has been riven must rise.”
–Jeffrey Harrison
Bridget Gage-Dixon‘s poems gathered in Breach, although capacious and broad in scope, cut to the quick: the quick of the heart, the mind, the human spirit. She shares Thomas Hardy’s sensibility of tenderhearted ironic realism, if one can imagine a twenty-first century, urbanized American incarnation. The speaker, and those she addresses, sometimes in letters, sometimes directly, are survivors (or not) of sexual abuse, physical violence, suicide attempts, cutting, addictions, and ineffectual, when not malicious, mental health treatments. But Gage-Dixon’s intense subject matters are but one layer of what works in these fierce, radiant poems: insight, compression, singular metaphor, exacting details, beautifully-turned lines, offered to us by one whose unflinching yet compassionate gaze is refreshing and often breathtaking. When such poems arises in one who has beheld the worst and lived to transcend, even sanctify, its lessons, we owe it to ourselves to take in the sacramental wine.
–Gray Jacobik, author of The Banquet: New & Selected Poems, and Eleanor
Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry
#poetry#poetrycommunity#binderfullofwomen#wompo#chapbook#preorder#poetsofinstagram#womenpoets#finishinglinepress#smallpress#binderfullofpoems#binderfullofpoets#poetoftheday#poets#flp#poetryfoundation#awp16#poems#npr
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747 for the prompts?
Prompt 747 – “It was a very unusual love letter, but the writer was also a very unusual person
when it came to love”
Thank you for asking, I really loved writing this! Hope you enjoy :)
As everything else I write, it was partly inspired by my amazing girlfriend <3
In the semi-darkness of her studio, Ember sat down to write a letter. She had written many like it before, and she knew for a fact she would be writing many more in the course of her long, long life. It was a love letter, though it wasn’t addressed to her lover. In that, it was a very unusual love letter, but the writer was also a very unusual person when it came to love. The phoenix dipped her red, incandescent quill into her inkwell, paused for a second longer, gathering her thoughts, and started writing.
"Dear me,
This is you writing, though a different you than who you are now familiar with. I – you, for a little longer – have come very close to the end of my time. I can feel it in the air – I will soon exhaust my energies, and start to burn. I will burn and burn until there is nothing but ashes left. And from those ashes, you shall be born once more. This has happened many times before, and will happen again after you are gone. Over time, we – me, you and all the past us – have learnt some tricks to make the whole thing a little less inconvenient. I have left extensive notes about my life – you’ll find them on this desk when you awaken, together with all the others from lives past. They will tell you about our magic, our
achievements, our discoveries and our studies. They will tell you about our tastes, our habits, and our friends. They will help you get started. They helped me, back then. But I am leaving this letter also, because there is something more you need to know. I need to tell you about our beloved. We have loved her through a hundred lifetimes, through a hundred incarnations, through infinite adventures and for countless moments. That is why I need to tell you, because you need to find her once again. You need to know who she is, and you need to know that there is no happiness like the happiness she brought us – like the happiness she can bring you. There is no beauty that will make your heart stutter like hers, and there is no kiss that you will ever want as much as hers. You will find mention of her in my notes – like ours, the time of her life is immeasurably long, and throughout it all she has been by our side. Unlike ours, though, her long life is not natural, but the result of a curse. You will have to be gentle about that with her. She always will be with you. I don’t know where the path of your life will take you, whether to danger or to peace, but I know that if she can, she will walk it with you. And I know there is no better companion. Because of our nature, you will find yourself an alien at times. You will feel lost, or alone. There will be no better balm for your tears than her embrace then, no better
comfort than her presence. Even after all the years I have spent by her side, I still cannot help but to yearn for one more day, one more kiss. I hope you will be able to live them for me. And so I had to tell you. Just know this – your love for each other is immense, and encompassing, and at times it will feel like everything. It is not everything – but you will want it. You will need it. You’ll want to cherish it and nurture it, and it will bring you so much happiness. And you will rejoice – of all the souls in the universe, to have found one so kind.
Find her. Her name is Sephie.
Good luck, dear me. Burn bright.
- Ember
The phoenix put down her quill. She left the letter on top of a neatly packed pile of papers, and went to lie in her bed. She could feel the heat, the burning fever begin to rise already. She closed her eyes and let it burn, a small smile on her face, as she thought of her beloved.
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⁂ - grab my muse by the front of their shirt, possibly shoving them back
Manhandling Symbol Starters (Status: Accepting!)
There aren’t many things in the world that could get under Sagawa’s skin and truly make him shudder. Fear has no place in a Yakuza’s arsenal, it’s a page that was torn out of the Yakuza Dictionary®™, leaving an empty space between D for Deadly and M for Muuurder. Or, so he thought.
Sagawa is about to be schooled on the true meaning of Fear, and there’s no playing hooky at this school of hard knocks. His teacher? The woman who is Rage Incarnate®™™, whose gay bff he was foolish enough to be a real meanie to (he even pulled on the guy’s ponytail because he’s that mean. he also dipped it in the inkwell but no one noticed because his hair is already black).
Sagawa lets out a high-pitched gasp as he’s seized by the front of his shirt, holding his hands up to shield himself from Makoto’s furious angry-ish fury. He had been a doo-doo brain to think that he was the hunter in this game of cat and mouse, this game of lethal hide-and-seek, a game of tag where you shoot people instead of touch them with your hand–he was really dumb, yes, indeed. Now he’s trapped in the vice grip of the true huntress…!
“M–Makimura… Makoto!” He pauses, but there’s no lightning flash, because there aren’t any clouds outside. Gritting his teeth, which are stained yellow from some unknown substance, he hisses out his next words, “I’m not afraid of a widdle girl…!” That’s a lie. She’s like, really scary.
#[[ crackalicious ]]#[[ I promise that this blog isn't going to just be shit posts xDD#aspxctu#[[ Verse. Gimme yo fuckin money ]]#[[ Makoto bullying Sagawa because he deserves it
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O’Kong Family
The story of the O’Kong Family
On the Fathers Side . they were a race of special Demons that were ordered to wander the earth in search for human souls to send to there master, The Devil himself . These Earth Demons Were different then his regular imps , no! these demons Did want to be served as Soul collectors they wanted Freedom . they left the bellows of Inkwell Hell and went into hiding , outcasts because of the race they changed there appearance and went into hiding over the years they wished to redeem themselves by doing good from the world and to earn themselves a place in heaven.
On the mothers side , they are basically Archangels they descended from heaven to watch over the world and keep demons at bay the only one to abandon there order is Mesilla the mother of Shreya-Lynn who feel in love with a mortal
Anscetors
Silveira : ( silver ) creator of the chaos cats ( @craftyjellyfishcat ))
Graeae : ( Gray ) a criminal
Roza : ( Pink) the incarnation of Love
Bogoro: ( Orange ) the warrior
Taint : ( Green) a queen
Ferilo (blue) A saint
Ester: (Red) A Leader
Noah ( Yellow) A con
Orpah: ( Purple) watchful eyes’ founder , a Priestess
Theodoreus : the Hotels founder < A Honored man
Mathew : the Hero who protected him family till his finally breath
These here are there only members of the Family by blood
Shreya-Lynn the wife of Mathew and the Mother Of the O’Kong Sibilings
(the ones covered in shade except the top left hand corner are the older siblings and the 2 on the bottom are the youngest
Anomy ,Zixi and Pads as well as the to smaller ones are the only ones not inside the sibilings criminal ways
#O'Kong family#Anomy O'Kong#Zixi O'Kong#Pads O'kong#Sheryl lynn O'Kong#Matthew O'Kong#silver bullet gang#Florina Argento#watchful eye hotel#cuphead oc#Earth demons#archangels
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Hidden Potential (but not from this Sinner’s eyes)
So, I got really inspired by @crowsketches Wonderful AU Idea and ended up writing this little thing for it. Hope you all like it!
Don’t own Cuphead!
Many things could be said about The Devil; he was a demon, a bastard, pure evil incarnate, deceitful, a lair, a cheat and oh could the list ever go on, but then we would be here all day in that case. Needless to say, many things could be said of the being, most of it unflattering to say the least.
But if there was one thing one could never say for the king of sin, it was this; in no shape or form was the demon a fool.
Oh, sure, The Devil had his missteps and foul ups, no one is infallible in this world. The being is full of his own arrogance and other sins, so mistakes can be made here and there every century or so.
Thing is, The Devil never makes the same mistake more then once. If if he did, well, he certainly wouldn’t be the top of Hell, or leading a successful business as he was all over the world. (Sin was everywhere, after all, but Inkwell was... Special in it’s own right.) He was a being with plenty of experience with the world and how it worked, and was actually able to learn from what it gave him.
So when two certain dishware brothers actually managed to not only beat his runaway debtors and his crew at the casino, but even himself? The King of Hell took notice. Cuphead and Mugman... Just entering the world of adulthood, and already hailed as ‘heroes’ for beating the Devil and the casino staff, thinking they’ve freed the isles from his corruption.
Heh, as if he’s ever had to actually had to ‘imprison’ anyone; every single one of the suckers were the ones to come to him, the ones who took the gambles and risks despite knowing all the dangers. Already, he’s had a few come visit the place, looking so smug even as they slowly drain their accounts just like before.
(Honestly, it was only a matter of time before he got new soul contacts to replace the ones he’s lost; wouldn’t take long judging by the greed and lust in those hearts all around.)
But on to the brothers, The Devil couldn’t deny he was interested; with only two days, the boys had been able to grow so strong and powerful, no doubt fueled in part by determination, desperation, and their bond with each other, which is what really made them a threat. By themselves, they were strong, true, could even probably take on anything as they were both of equal strength in powers and abilities, but with them working together, that was when one needed to learn to fear.
Cuphead, older of the two, was interesting in just how reckless and aggressive he could be, overwhelming in his fighting which made him seem that much stronger. This would work out better, if the boy wasn’t a bit too overconfident in his skills, their ego getting in their way to bring them down and leaving them wide open to any enemy able to take advantage of it. By himself, he would probably perish many times before he could defeat a Debtor.
But of course, he wasn’t; he had the cautious, worrying, if bright brother on his side, ready to have his back, push him forward, or parry his ghost when needed. Where as his brother was a tank, Mugman would be akin to sniper, the wary one to see the patterns first and use them to their advantage as much as possible. If only the boy wasn’t too hesitant and self conscious, he would truly be a real threat.
And yet, for all the faults both had, when put together, they covered each other perfectly.
The Devil grinned, a thought coming to him; he just had the most delightful plan come to mind.
All he had to do, was wait... But first, he needed to make a stop by the PR.
He just had a most wonderful idea for an add.
It was almost too funny, seeing the brats come in, the red one nearly simmering, even as the cup in blue followed behind at a slower place, eyes cautious as the still liquid on their head let out only a bubble or two from the straw, showing a super at the ready any minute. In no time at all did they approach the table The Devil decided to set up, smirking as the two little guys stomped and walked up to him.
“Welcome to the Casino boys, here to bet again?” the furred demon nearly purred, grin on his face even as the two cups regarded him burning glares and gazes.
“What the heck is the meaning of this!” Cuphead near growled, slamming a familar paper on the table.
Humoring the cup, the demon took a look, amused as he read the familar words.
Want a gamble most brisk? Feeling up the risk? Come and bet The Devil himself in The Devil’s Casino!
Not his best work, but PR did know how to get the point across, if he did say so himself.
“Why, that looks like one of my very own adds; good to see that it’s already turning in some customers as we speak.” Devil said, grinning even as Cuphead steamed.
“We beat you! You should be gone!” the red brother exclaimed, glare glowing bright even as his brother tried to calm him down.
“Hmph, really? One battle and you think I’m that easy to get rid of? Now that is funny.” the furred being snorted, even as his add was crushed before his eyes by one hotheaded cup.
“Then we’ll just have to beat you again-” Cuphead began, only to be cut off by a white gloved hand, one belonging to their blue brother.
Ah, seems someone has notice just how much tighter security is now, what with how they point out said they to their brother, those large dark eyes widening in realization.
“You’ll find,” The devil smirked, chin in his hands as his elbows rested on the table, “that this time, I’m not going to underestimate you boys.”
For a moment, only the back ground noise in the casino could be heard, even as the many hidden guards and spells in the place glowed in warning, watching, waiting for a single word from the big cheese of the Casino's word.
“So, unless you boys have a bet to place, you might want to scoot along; I know quiet a few of my staff would absolutely love the chance to kick you out.” bait set.
“Not a chance, we’ll not let you get anymore souls if we have anything to say about it.” Red near whistle, anger in their eyes plain to see, even as Blue nodded in agreement, eyes though still wary, even as determination still shined.
“Heh, like you could honestly stop people from betting with me.” line thrown.
“We can too!” nibbles.
“Really?”
“Yeah!”
“Would you bet on that?” the Devil asked, grin on his face as he watched the frustrated boy before him open his mouth.
Only to find a tine cake shoved right into it before anything can come out.
“If you say yes, we immediately lose! Without any boundaries even set because you did make a bet!” Mugman near hissed, shaking his brother as he did so.
That got a sheepish response from his brother, who hastily finished chewing his cake as he did.
“Hehehe, yeah, I didn’t think about that...”
Ah, tis a shame; just meant he’ll have to use even more words then.
“Alright then, how about this;” his words getting attention instantly, “we’ll only count any bet after yours. If you can honestly stop people from making a bet with me the rest of the day, you’ll get one thing you want.” the Devil tempted, smirking as he could see it working on Cuphead.
“Then I want you gone from Inkwell Isles forever!”
That got a frown and a raised eyebrow, “Kid, even if I wanted to take that risk, I can’t...” that actually got him some surprised looks from the two brats, “but I can say I’ll be gone from Inkwell as long as you two live if you like.”
“And our friends?” Mugman put in hesitantly, frown on his own face as he regarded the devil carefully.
Devil let out a smirk at that, leaning back into his chair as he took a sip of some rather nice bourbon before replying, “Sure; if you’re will to bet a soul.”
And oh look, this time the brother just wasn’t fast enough.
“It’s a deal.”
And so the game begins.
In the end, the two hold there end of the bet very well. Cuphead using threats, and sometimes straight up force to scare of any potential bettors away, working rather well for himself. Mugman, on the other hand, used a most subtle approach, pointing attention to the Casino’s other attractions, or even down right misleading people on the facts all the while never lying.
Now, The Devil could have ended this early and just have a bet with one of his staff... but he honestly wanted to watch. Even if he lost, only he himself would have to leave for maybe a century or two before he could come back, and the casino could easily run itself with the crew leading it and some long distance from himself. Sure, King Dice would get a bit of a heavier workload, but that was what assistants were for after all. (If nothing else, that might just convince the man to finally hell damn delegate.)
So it wouldn’t be any fur off his back, so with that, he took his time to watch the brothers, grin firmly in place as the two made sure he had quiet the room for himself.
And yet, for all their strength, greed can at times be much stronger, especially with desperation fueling it. All it took was for one desperate person, just one, to get by the brothers and at his feet, a bit the worst for wear as they made a bet.
One of which he gleefully accepted, much to the brothers grief at the sight.
Ah, he ever so loved the taste of suffering; even better when paired with his own victory.
“Well now boys, it seems I’ve won this bet; time for me to collect my due.” the Devil said as he got up, even as his guards gathered the damned sod away, approaching the brothers, Cuphead standing protectively in front of his brother, Mugman tearfully clinging to him.
“Go on, take me; I’m the one who took the bet after all.” Red said bitterly, even in defeat not looking away or bowing to him.
Admirable, if foolish.
“Oh, but that would be predictable, wouldn’t it? What kind of demon would I be if you could predict me like that?” was mockingly said, even as his eyes slid from one brother to the next, his fangs now fully showing.
“No, I think I have a better choice in mind.” and thus saying so, the Devil snapped his fingers, a contract appearing at the same time as a poof appeared around the brothers.
When the smoke cleared, Cuphead was gone, no where to be seen. Mugman, on the other hand, was actually looking rather sharp in a suit and bow tie, cleaning up rather nice in the casino’s uniform. Before the young man could fully gather his wits, the contract transformed into a book, containing all the casino’s rules and regulations within.
“Welcome to The Devil’s Casino, and from here on out, I will be your boss, Mugman.” The Devil said, handing the book to the horrified mug.
Oh yes, this would be fun.
#cuphead#cuphead dont deal with the devil#cuphead fanfic#cuphead dont deal with the devil fanfic#Cuphead Au#Devilishly Employed AU
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does braig use any different colored ink in his journal? or doodle?
Ask me stuff about Braig! || Always accepting
He does, actually! His journal is less a traditional sort of ‘diary’ and more of a mish-mash of tally-mark lists, such as ‘Times Obi-Wan Flirted With The Enemy (STOP)’, and it’s sorted into little boxes to keep track of who has been flirted with - There’s a box labelled ‘Ventress’ filled with ticks (the page across from it, labelled ‘Surprise, It’s Ventress’, has just as many ticks), one labelled ‘Grievous’ with a few uncertain marks and question marks, one labelled ‘Dooku’ with the word ‘NO’ written in all caps, bolded, and underlined, ‘Geonosian Queen’ with a small sad face, ‘Other’ with a few marks, and ‘the Literal Incarnation of the Light Side of the Force’ with ‘Gramps, we need to talk’. - another page labelled ‘Times Anakin Probably Should Have Died But Didn’t’, ‘Ahsoka Saves The Day’, and other such lighthearted pages, as well as more serious ones like ‘Battles I’ve Survived’, though this one has shaky, unsteady lines, since he tends to tick those off right after the battle ends. It’s almost therapeutic, in a sense - a way to say ‘look, I actually made it’. Sometimes, if he’s feeling really discouraged on a mission, or in general, he flips to that page and just sort of goes, look, I made it this far, I can keep going for a while longer’ and tries his best to steel himself for the coming battles. It also has lists, like ‘planets I’ve been to’, ‘planets I want to visit’, ‘languages I’ve learned’, ‘languages I want to learn’, ‘weird things Gramps has eaten to avoid offending the locals’, etc. There are also a bunch of pages of notes from lessons and lectures he’s heard, books he’s read, even rough line-of-action sketches of older knights doing forms - he’s not necessarily a phenomenal artist, but he’s figured out how to get gestures down, mostly due to practise/trial-and-error. On top of that, there are blueprints and designs for his sabers and any changes he might have wanted to make. There are also more typical journal entries, records of his thoughts and experiences… The entire book is basically organised chaos made manifest. Braig knows how to find everything and it does help him organise his thoughts, but he’d probably be asked to re-order the contents if he ever wanted to submit it to the Temple Archives.
And to answer your question, each page is covered, margins and all, with all sorts of scribbles, doodles, and additional notes. Paragraphs are peppered with underlined phrases, circled potions, arrows connecting circles to underlines, like to like, separate excerpts or quotes to each other, bits scratched out, comments written in free space, all that good stuff. On the saber designs, he scratches out bits that don’t work out, makes notes as to why they didn’t or where they failed in the dojo-oriented test runs, circles around parts he wants to change, but isn’t sure how yet - or just to highlight parts for whatever reason; The ticked-off pages (lmfao) have quotes or notes to explain what the ticks are for, like ‘Cody punched a droid’s head off’ on the ‘Cody Was Awesome’ page or “Kenobi, you almost look surprised to see me!” (Note: we were not.)’ on the ‘Surprise, It’s Ventress’ page. The one absolutely covered in writing is a page tucked into the back cover of the book, in a notch he got in the leather, titled ‘Reasons I Have The Best Mentor Ever’. It’s filled, front to back, margins and all, with ticks, quotes, notes about things like tea varieties and ceremonies, languages, lessons and corrections he got, random little things Obi did - just something Braig keeps track of. He thinks it’s too sentimental for a Jedi, but it’s something nice to look at when he’s feeling horrible so he can cheer up, but he wouldn’t really tell anyone about it it’s kind of really personal and again he thinks it’s not a Jedi-ish thing. … And if this sounds cute just remember Rodi and I have had it so the only times Obi ever found out about it were after Braig’s untimely death, usually when Braig was a young padawan. Again, when I said Rodi and I don’t let our boys be happy, I was was serious.
He has a small collection of pens which he sort of hoards in his room or his robes, since actual writing utensils seem like they’d be pretty hard to come across. Not impossible, but difficult. As of right now, he has one (1) rather nice fountain pen he spent a long time saving up for, that writes in dark green ink - kind of a pine, if we’re being specific. This is one is pretty special to him, and he doesn’t take it on missions with him. He uses it for titling pages, or actual diary/journal entries, since he doesn’t really want to waste the ink - inkwells are even harder to find than actual pens. He also has two (2) cheaper pens, the sort you can buy in bulk at Staples or whatnot. One is a pen with a cap that’s a little nibbled on and writes in bright red ink, and the other is a click-pen that writes in black. He’ll take these on missions, or even let other people borrow them, as long as he can trust them to be returned. He has one other pen, as well, given to him by Nihrik as a Lifeday present - It’s roughly 20 000 years old, carved of bone, and engraved with an ancient Chaulean script that Reyvahl translated to say ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’. It writes with gravity, and its ink is reportedly ‘A deep crimson colour disconcertingly close to blood’. He doesn’t take this one out of his room, aside from the one time he brought it to Reyvahl for language lessons. He uses this one similarly to the fountain pen, only for titling and journal entries. Since he doesn’t take it out of his room, most of the entries written in dark red are either recounts of his days in the Temple, recounts of missions he’s just gotten back from, or dreams he’d just woken up to. Menial things like that. Sometimes, he’ll use the red bone pen to edit the green fountain pen’s writing, and vice versa; Or just write in paragraph-style notes, here and there - he doesn’t use the fountain pen or bone pen for idle doodling. In fact, because both pens require precision to use, unlike his cheaper set, he uses these to refine or clean up the lines of his saber designs. He’ll use the cheap ones for anything and take them anywhere, but the more expensive ones, the ones that would be difficult or impossible to replace, he is more careful.
The doodles in his book can be anything, but some general themes include small lightsabers, flowers, spirals, the Jedi Order logo, the Republic logo, little stars and/or planets, letters/words/etc in languages he’s learning, anything like that. Sometimes, he’ll scribble droids, little attempts at star ships, but those are a bit more difficult, and he doesn’t like flying. Piloting isn’t his strong suit. Typically, it’ll be those things I mentioned before, but he also draws/doodles things he sees. So, if he was scribbling on Kamino, he might scribble a Kaminoan, or some fish or whatever, or might scribble a rough lil mountain range if on Alderaan, etc etc. Usually, it’s either to help him concentrate or paradoxically because he spaced out, though he does use more complex sketches (eg blueprints) or entries to calm himself down after bad nights. It’s kind of therapeutic.
#this is a lot but his journal is super important to him so he wanted to ramble#long post //#scriptorus#&& give the sun a head start; ooc#&& as best i can; answers#&& temple archives; headcanons
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dead electric morning, every nerve standing on end because i woke up yesterday + stayed woken up alltheway until this morning and there is terror in me, terror in every single cell and i am afraid and afraid and i cannot sleep for it. i want to put my fear entire in my mouth where it is safe, where i can bite down on it at any moment, where i can swallow it down over and over again until it digests but my fear lives in my lungs instead + because it lives in my lungs it lives in my blood and my heart and my whole entire body shaking shaking with it- a convulsion half like a death rattle cough + half like a laugh + the laugh scares me more and whatever the part of me that isn’t me or the fear says
“You have to laugh at it. You have to laugh at the way you stand outside a door and pantomime knocking without ever making contact because otherwise you would scream or cry and that would be worse to explain then the laughing or the knocking you’re not doing. Sometimes you stand there hand raised and stop yourself before you can kick or collapse against or headbutt the door, anything to tell someone to open it, and you have to laugh because your laugh is silent anyways when you laugh like this. You have to laugh because you scream silent too and when you drive yourself to tears to knock on the door even then the knock is only the first step and every cell of you is still being circulated full of fear from your lungs. But the laughing keeps it all from shutting down before you knock.”
dead electric night and it is quiet in the winter as the clock ambles towards dawn and i am still all alight. Still too much in a body, too much to breathe right + laughing laughing laughing silently because there’s nothing else to do and it really does seem funny when i can’t sleep from it. Might have to shut myself down the hard way. Might have to cover the eyes and the mouth until breath hisses against the suction against the palm and my eyes seal shut. if i can make myself small and quiet and hold my breath until the ribs are tight around it the fear goes away before i can. and when the fear is gone i can breathe in and out and in and out and the only thing that pours through me is pure elation + when i laugh there is no scream i am trying to avoid just an absence of fear unfamiliar + when i am done laughing now i can finally sleep.
OH HYSTERIA // PD
#poetry#poem#inkwell incarnate#vent poem#kevlar thread#this one is raw and ugly but i love it so you get to see it
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Maestro Hiccups 3: Chaos Incarnate Ch 57
You held the scissors at your side. "Y'know...maybe we should wait for Kaylo to come back...As much as we need to find the Collector, we have no idea how to open portals..." you say.
Your Kaylo seems to smile "What a good choice to have made." She said as she began to hover above the ground. "Hey! I thought you were in another dimension!" You say in shock at the magical Kaylo "I was! I got your Kaylo back to your version of Wonderworld!" She said. "I needed to just be sure that you didn't do anything sneaky." She said with a caring smile.
"Well...Thanks?" You say, unsure of her words "And, as promised, I'll get you to the dimension that the Collector is hiding in. Can I see the location on the map please?" She asked, tilting her head. You nod as you show the Collector's hiding spot on the map, and Kaylo's eyes widened "Hey! That's the world that my home is in!" She shouts. "Well, I guess that's where we gotta go then." Leo says.
"Alright, Let's go. I'm not sure if it's still intact though." Kaylo replies, cutting open the portal to the world. You pale, knowing that Balan's hiccups might have made it to that world already, but you didn't have much of a choice if you wanted to finish the game, and find the others. Taking a deep breath, You jump in, followed by Leo, Emma, and Kaylo.
Various worlds and dimensions swirled around you as you were rapidly falling to your new dimension. However, to your shock, you could see another wave of Balan's chaotic magic rushing towards the various worlds and affect them even more than before. "We have to hurry and finish this game." You mutter. When you finally reach the other side of the portal, you find yourself in a warped version of a quiet town.
"Welcome to Burgess...or at least. I think it's still Burgess..." Kaylo says, her pink eyes watching as the world seemed to have turned itself inside out. "I guess Balan's hiccups had made this world turn itself on its head." Emma said. "I hope Jack is OK..." Kaylo mutters, causing you to look curious. "Jack? Who's Jack?" You ask.
Kaylo gives a smile, but a sad sigh comes from her form "Jack Frost." She says with humor in her voice. Your eyes widened, although you shouldn't be that surprised, given everything that you've seen and been through so far. "He often comes by Rhythm Heaven, But I hope he's alright..." she mutters, looking out into the distance.
You give her a caring pat on the shoulder as she smiled at you. "But my panic can wait, you've gotta finish this game." Kaylo said. You nod, however, unlike Inkwell Isle, and the Superstar Daycare, you had no idea what this world was like before Balan's Hiccups hit. "Kaylo? Where do you think the Collector might be hiding?" You ask.
She opens her mouth to answer the question, when a small burst of smoke appears around her, and in her place was a small doll version of her, next to a note that said "No Cheating!" The three of you tense up. The girl who had been helping you had been transformed into a small lifeless toy...and it wasn't from Balan "OK. Now we HAVE to find the Collector and tell him to undo this!" Leo exclaimed.
You nod as you look around this new world that you were lost in. There were a few places to check to see if the Collector was. You spotted a large lake that was frozen over, as well as brightly colored. You turned to see a large forest bathed in golden glitter, and in front of you sat the twisted and warped town, affected by Balan's chaotic magic
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The Gods of Greshon
First of all, most of these deities are of my own making with some from the actual D&D universe. When it comes to these deities, they're ones mainly regarded in Greshon, with others being carried from other countries.
The Author
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Alias: Holder of the Pen of Fate, Keeper of the Book, The Unflinching One, The Eldest
Chosen City: Albanor.
Main Temple Locations: Albanor, Fargan, Le Blanc Matin
Realms of Power: Fate, Time, Destiny, Life & Death
Patron: Storytellers, scholars, writers, fortune tellers, warriors, kings
Description: The major deity of Greshon, The Author is usually regarded in matters that are beyond the control of man. Wielding “The Quill of Fate” and “The Book of Reality”, the Author is responsible for the creation of time and space itself. He is usually regarded in prayers to other deities, who ask for his sway in his writings of everything that was, is, and will be. He is depicted in statues as an old man with skin of white marble and a long beard.
The Mother
Alignment: Lawful Good
Alias: The Bride, His Beloved, The Merciful Lady, The Gentle Lady, The Unnamed Mother
Chosen City: Fargan
Main Temple Locations: Fargan, Patita Sahar, Le Blanc Matin
Realm of Power: Destiny, Mercy, Healing, Birth, Love
Patron: Families, orphans, queens, mercy, hope, grace
Description: Once a mortal unsurpassed in beauty, The Author was said to pause after seeing the woman, stopping reality. In order to ascend her to godhood, the Author tore a page from the Book of Reality, creating The Breach so that he could meet, woo, and eventually marry her. Though her husband, The Author, is highly regarded as the main deity, The Mother is one that is more widely prayed to and revered, sympathizing with mortals as she once was one. She is the only deity that is widely praised by all races, as she is the only deity known to sway The Author towards victories of good over evil. She is also the known as the one who gave the Jewels of the Five, her blessing often asked for by those who wish for good and mercy.
Elrandi
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Alias: The Dollmaker, Burner of Souls, The Dark Mother, The Illusive One, Beautiful Death
Chosen City: Undirmaga, Noir
Main Temple Location: Noir, Le Blanc Matin
Realm of Power: Night, Death, Spirits and Souls,
Patron: Thieves, necromancers, Drow, pickpockets, dark magic users, witches
Description: Elrandi was said to be born from the inkwell of The Author, while others say that she is his sister and the creator of the ink as The Author is the creator of The Quill. One of three that were there before the Book of Reality came to be, she left his side once The Mother married him. Some attest to her being just as powerful as The Author, but also just as covert. When nearing death, she pulls a small wooden doll from a large case made of green crystal, pulling their souls out in the form of ink and refilling the inkwell to be used once more. She finds entertaining in conflict, but still adheres to the laws put in place in the time before Greshon, keeping her place and playing her part.
Morend
Alignment: True Neutral
Alias: The Judge, The Throne Keeper, The Son of the Mother, The Son of the Father, The Written Child, The Many Eyed One
Chosen City: Albanor, Styrkenen
Main Temple Location: Albanor, Le Blanc Matin
Realm of Power: War, Battle, Creatures, Good & Evil, Judgement
Patron: Judges, wardens, soldiers, knights, generals, kings, outlanders, priests
Description: After taking The Mother as his bride, The Author offered to write her a child. Knowing her husband was neither merciful nor cruel, she asked that the child have they eyes of a human so that he would look at the world through mortal eyes like his mother. Slightly perturbed by his wife’s request, he still obliged. Seeing her husband’s hesitation, she also asked that the child’s will be unflinching like his father’s hand. From this the Author wrote the child, his mother naming him Morend. Through the years, the young man’s eyes slowly rotted, a casualty of his mother’s request. To make sure her son’s eyes stayed understanding to mortal plights, she brought him to the people and had a willing mortal offer their eyes to him, therein becoming his high priest. Now grown, he presides over the judgement of the dead, the contest of battle, wild creatures, and the lines that divide Good and Evil.
Luonto
Alignment: Neutral Good
Alias: Sable, The Old One, The Elder Tree, The Bark of Before, King of The IronElm, The Mapmaker
Chosen City: Omnisival
Main Temple Locations: Omnisival, La Blanc Matin
Realm of Power: Nature, Day & Night, Stars, Inspiration, Metals
Patron: Poets, painters, Tailors, bards, druids, elementals, farmers, gardeners, smiths,
Description: Luonto was created by The Author and is known to be the first of the Dwarves. With green skin, yellow eyes, and a beard of blue stringed freshwater, Luonto was born from the part of the Author’s mind that held creativity and detail. Known for his unquenchable thirst for uniqueness, he is revered by those who look for inspiration. His daughters are muses, with some choosing to wander the land as demigods. Luonto also prefers the world rather than the higher plains, busying himself with his work and converse with the people. On him is always a wine sack of his special wine, said to open every part of the mind when mortals or gods alike drink from it.
Bahamut
Alignment: Lawful Good
Alias: The Dragon Judge, Flame Heart, Giver of Sight
Chosen City: Goliath, Albanor
Main Temple Location: Omnisival, Albanor, Goliath, La Blanc Matin
Realm of Power: Good Dragons, Metallic Dragons, Wisdom, Enlightened Justice, Sage Counsel
Patron: Dragonborn, jailers, governors, mayors, knights
Description: A god of justice and a subservient deity to Morend. Before entering the Greshonian pantheon, he was member of the Draconic pantheon, as a deity of good dragons, metallic dragons, wisdom, and enlightened justice (justice tempered with mercy and punishment with forgiveness) known by the name of Xymor. When battle broke out between gods of multiple dimensions, Morend lost his human eyes for too long, growing ones of his own and threatening to erase humanity altogether. Bahamut sought him out, sensing the unflinching justice woven into his very existence, and battled him in a struggle that shook the foundations of the universe. Almost beaten by Morend, Bahamut raced to earth at the earnest urging of The Mother who stole her son’s immortal eyes as he replaced them with the next High Priest of the temple of Morend. From then on, Bahamut was revered by man, seen as a council to Morend and often depicted laying at his feet or at his side. He is the main deity for Dragonborn in Greshon and is often depicted on crests that signify courtrooms.
Dashirn
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Alias: The Nameless God, The Trickster, The Fool, The Nameless Goddess
Chosen City: Unknown
Main Temple Location: The Grassy Sea, The Chasm of the Barren
Realm of Power: Trickery, Stealth, Illusions, Madness, Gluttony, Wealth, Strategy
Patron: Thieves, charlatans, criminals, madmen, drunkards, politicians
Description: The Great War that lasted a hundred years was said to have been mostly Dashirn’s doing. No one is quite sure what gender Dashirn is, some saying that he changes it based on whim, while others say that Dashirn is actually a set of twins birthed by Morend. Either way, Dashirn is not well liked by many since his/her power of coercion is strong for both god and mortal alike. After the war, many of her/his temples were destroyed and the god(dess) of trickery was considered forgotten. Not much is known about the trickster god(dess), but his/her hidden city is said to be made of endless amounts of riches, but at the risk of unending madness…
Kaelostros
Alignment: Chaotic Evil
Alias: The Red Death, The Tearer of Pages, Harbinger of the Ending, The Formless One
Chosen City: Goliath
Main Temple Location: The Teeth of Greshon, Fire Plain
Realm of Power: Murder, Strife, Fire, Passion, Hatred, Extreme Emotion
Patron: Murderers, blood mages, shape shifters, whores, cannibals
Description
: There were three before the Book of Reality was created and Kaelstros is the third. A Hellborn who often can be seen in the form of a dragon, many call him The Formless one because his true form is unknown to most. He is the incarnation of antilife, often silent except to those serving his nefarious purposes. Those favored by him have an iris of bloodshot red with a dilated pupil in one eye, and to have this “honor” means that you look to end all… and may succeed in such. Though not widely worshipped in Goliath, elder Dragonborn pay respects to him more out of aversion than reverence. amic_spki__���N6l
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Little gods of un-nothing all up and down your sides prickling like rats who today tangle their tails in your tale and eat you whole so today you are alive on sugar, the rage you’ve kept low banked, and something roiling with tiny feet and many mouths you do not recognize but is, itself, also rage, this time unbanked, and keeping the three separate is why you are so tired these days.
You are knee deep in purple, all up and down your shins in messy little nebulas, and you open your mouth to swallow a rat whole to eat yourself from the inside out in hedonistic hunger. No half measures. No way to touch a world that doesn’t bruise you back. You walk into anything hip height or below with the grace and confidence and speed of a meteorite and let the lit up pain receptors tell you where the lines are. Where the rules are. Where the world is. You have little gods in your mouth and you can feel their little feet down your throat.
It is good to be unmade, sometimes. It is good to be devoured. You have spent most of your life not knowing what pain is when you feel it, not being able to put a name to acrid rage, a life spent raising little gods like rat kings with their tails all tangled in each other, going nowhere, starved rat corpse tied to live rat starving. You’ve been the dead rat before. You’ve been the hungry little god. A body is a body is a body is food. Your little gods of chew-through-the-wall love you like they love the promise of a way out, even when it hurts. You hold them in your mouth and your stomach and your hands and you let yourself in the spin and the hole-in-the-world get angry.
The rat you swallowed chews through some of your more essential lines, the central nervous chord ringing down your spine gets severed in the bloodrush and you go cheerfully limp and dizzydizzy from the backlash. Good little gods that keep you all giddy awake and incoherent when they struggle in the cramped dark of your stomach. The noise you make these days when you feel the ache come through the acid is more delight than damaged. You are so tired these days. When you do not stop despite this it is sometimes because you could not stop without a catastrophe.
A SOUL THE SHAPE OF COLLATERAL DAMAGE // PD
#poem#poetry#inkwell incarnate#vent poem#i don’t know how to tag the warnings on this one#body horror#is a good catch all#it’s finals week or well#it was when this was finished and queued#delerium or something approaching it is caught between my teeth tonight
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1.
Mouth full of noise
Mouth full of other sharp things
Mouth gaping around a shattersound.
Mouth full of-
—
(Sorry)
—
The mouth is a vacant, violent thing.
The act of chewing your mouth back shut
draws blood like wick from a candle
2.
The sense of burning isn’t fire its just
the way your body isn’t built to tear at itself
from within because of the way your body
is built like this anyways,
anyways when the lungs cant hold air
anymore you get all your ribcage
lit up in neon in your torso.
Even with your eyes closed,
Pain makes you luminescent
3.
Over the years it has become more
and more of a conversation with yourself
that you’ve learned to decipher and this year
you spat the first sentence into existence
and responded with the grinding sound of
gravel pouring from your throat on
public transportation, on the damn train,
sitting cross legged on the floor during a delay,
cutting yourself off at the air supply.
Then apologizing with the same air
and throat and tongue convulsing as before
What else could it be but language?
4.
Mouth’s full of wet sound.
Nothing else you can do with it
but keep your air as still as suffocation.
Shallow grave breathing, dirt in the back
of your throat and you cough
and you cough
(Sorry)
and you cough
and all it does is lodge more and more grit
In your system
Your lungs are full too.
Thick wet mud comes coughing up tasting
like mucus and medicine. Like winter
coming back. Like it never left at all.
-
four meditations on a chronic condition // PD
#poetry#poem#inkwell incarnate#oh boy yeah#its the time of year where ruin posts the asthma poems#vent poem
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I thought I was over this, the grapple, the idea that my longest relationship will always be with my bookshelf, the way my hands will never write a love note that isn’t for literature. I thought the heartbreak couldn’t reach me anymore. It was a silly notion.
You can still fall in love with the concept of love in a thousand different ways and break your heart because of it, even after you discover that your heart doesn’t have room for romance, not in any of its chambers. Not even when the house you dream of doesn’t have any empty rooms in it, all filled with people that you love, just not like that. There’s still a way to feel the heartbreak even when you don’t ever want your heart to beat for anyone else.
I can’t see how I didn’t see this coming, honestly. I gave myself rings. Married the self to the identity and wove a silver feather around my ring finger, free as a bird and lighthearted enough to know it was empty. With a heart that light and hollow it was easy to give away, and I did, over and over, I did. I thought I was over this. I thought-
You’re enough. Down to the pit in your stomach, you’re enough. Down to the shell of a heart you dare to dream a home into, you’re enough. Keep saying it. You’re enough. Keep saying it. This can’t hurt forever.
NOT-WANTING // PD
#inkwell incarnate#poem#poetry#aromantic#asexual#acearo#was in a social scenario full of couples and aprtners and it kind of stung#room full of people with someone to hold onto#and me with empty hands#had to get it out somehow
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