cornmac-blog

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i dont really rp here so im deleting this blog when i get home . im kinda done with tumblr rping

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—– –  written  by  jay.

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yeah  so  im  guilty  of   playing   ac   all   night   &   i   really   fuckin   love   EDWARD   KENWAY    &    SHAY   COR(PSE)MACK

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KENWAY.

                                   ☩ – ❝Wisdom comes with experience.❞

     You’re being impractical. The Grand Master thinks. Nearly says. Had Shay danced with the Devil years from now, Haytham would lose his peace of mind & SPEAK those dreadful, cursed words. Politeness compels him to refrain. He knows what it means to wage a war with yourself, dwelling on past regrets that manifest itself as a disease that infiltrates your marrow, your bones, your pores, your cells & makes you into a hollow being that reinvents itself as a marionette, playing to the Templar party. He nods & the bob mimics the steady rise & fall of the Morrigan combating the sea’s waves. She’s a mistress that wills them to endure. Wayward sons to carry on aboard this path that leads to– what? Glory? Betrayal? Corruption?

                                                    ❝I need you WHOLE.❞

    Kenways do not beg. Haytham will not grovel, but it’s the closest he will come with the sharp coldness that cuts into his voice & there’s something else – a fresh pain that T-T-TWISTS itself into something sinister. This is how he protects himself.

         ‘  NEED YOU WHOLE.  ’    i.  ---   station   your   soles   amongst    unsteady    faultlines   that    tremble    with    the   clatter   of   memory   &   SILENCE   the   chattering   teeth.     ii.   -- - - -  shed   littoral   repose.      iii.  -- -- -  rive    the    earth   with   your     falchion    &    sea  -  bearing    war cry   until   you   are    cemented   in   minds   as   BRANDISH’D   ACROLITH.       (   right  now   i   am   a   tumbleweed   of   lines   struggling   to   straighten   themselves   ,   the    whistling    /   naked    psithurism   of   winter    &    the    bad   habit    of    chainsmoking    tragedy.    how    can   i   be    whole    when   pieces    of    myself    are    stored    in    the    cicatrized    hearts   of    those    too    heavy    to   be    buried?   )     he   moves   like   he   is   full   of    rainwater  ,   a   banished    wolf  ,    commissures    crack’d    by      rusting     brigandine    that’s    seen    too   many    bruising   /   incarnadined   midnights.      he   just   wants   to   sink   into   another   whiskey’d    morass.      

there   should   be   an   apology  ,   netted   in   the   in   betweens   of    this    moment ,   in   the   froth   of   sea   foam   &    nubivagant   ether   ,   in   the   rugose   edges   of   fables - cut - too - short   ,    but   it   is   unable   to   be   exhumed   ,    &    drowns   in    memory’s    basins    long   fossilized.

          he   is   cut   from   the   sapwood   of   rebellion,   of    ugly    paroxysms,   &   knows   not   silence’s   covenant    /    the    monotonous    footfall    &    somnolence    of   FRORE  /   BOREAL   PALADIN.       “AYE.  so  i   can  be  your   puppet.   that   it?”      

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ALL THOSE SOULS LOST.  ONE MORE HARDLY MATTERS.

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volchista.

❛   and the only of it’s kind.     ❜          a quip flickers at the corner of her mouth, her birds eyes observe him with care. 

          “AW.  so is that your way of saying i can’t take her for a  TEST RUN?  only five minutes,  i swear.”

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me: mara don't look up the picture of the ant head up close

mara: im gonna do it

mara 2 seconds later: CRAWLING IN MY SKIN THESE WOUNDS THEY WILL NOT HEA

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❝You think he’s ugly now? Watch this.❞

WHO IS THE MONSTER & WHO IS THE MAN?

      Darknessconsumes the hearts of every man. Slander tarnishes the GrandMaster’s name. A toothless fool speaks the truththough it’s perceived to be a liein masquerade. Shay, loyal dog that he is, bristles at the offense.Considers all fronts an ongoing war. Haytham sees it in the way hissubordinate’s shoulders quiver, a fautlineparting the earth in two, tearing Shay in two. It’s painful to watch,painful to see, but Haytham finds reasonin it.

                                   ☩– ❝Ido believe you’ve proven your point,Shay.❞

     FatherEagle S-S-SEIZES his brother in arms by his vengefulfist. Rid of the night-time, philosophical musings tht breed a hollowplay &alonely monologue, Shay has nothing but this violence to act upon.He’s hasty. Throws himself intothe fight. Haytham squeezes the younger man’s fist.

                                         ❝Come.I will buy you a drink elsewhere.❞

     So,they leave the tavern behind with its treason &story immortalizedin Haytham’s memory. In another bar, the Grand Master fixes to orderhimself a cold-brewed tea. The lonely look in his companion’s eyestells him otherwise. He orders rum &he doesn’t know why.It’s unlike his taste. It’s too tropical. They toast to nothing.

     Theylisten to the chatter around them, white noise in the eye of thestorm. Their shoulders are hunched, their silence a languagefashioned by weathered men.

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expectation: haha! cornmac! she’s probably a fun blog! reality: *in the end by linking park on repeat amplified 20x to the point of ear-splitting distortion*

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preserveshistruth.

Soliloquy. / @cornmac

     FatherEagle perches himself on the shoulder of a grizzled, war-torn wolf. Ahandful of years on the hunter has enabled the Grand Master to wadethrough this bloodied sea of shit &filth. He’s carved his bones into daggers to take down the deadliestof foes. He’s abandoned the child he used to be, playing soldiers &reading his father’s glory stories. As he watches the former Assassinmaster this mighty ship, he reminisces on the man Edward Kenway was.He projects a ghost onto the spine of Shay Cormac. Jaded laughterwrenches his maws apart when his predatory eyes focus on his fellowkiller. It says, ’ Doyou think yourself alone in this world? I have tasted tragedy, too.’ He taunts &he haunts, his words lacking sympathy.

    ☩– ❝Dotake care, Shay. The mind is a self-destructive weapon. Overthinkingwill be the death of you. Reflect noton ruin, but on what maycome.❞

        “WISE WORDS.”     stalwart  to austerity,  loquaciousness sizzled out by the fingers of cynicism.  (  he has not much to say notwithstanding  ;  he listens to the undulation  &  the rimy  howl  of the long - lost sea  ;  a nocturne plucked by the crinkled fingertips of sirens,  perhaps,  the hoary wraiths of tragedy whistling in his ears.  )   he yanks a curtain around his mind as if he were performing a surgery on himself,  tendering sallow skin  &  netting himself back together with brambles’ teeth.  healing.  it’s a never - ending effort of agony with each movement,  holding a splintered anatomy  /  skeleton together with makeshift stitches  (  feeling himself about to sever into a dichotomy of sorts :  the naive youth  &  the asphyxiating reality.  &  those kind of severances are never beautiful.  )  presently,  he looks at him  ; coffee - stained eyes sullied by tragedy  &  the sinister tinctures of a traitorous heart braided in his lour,  the ensigns of a moribund heart  &  one - night winters.  THERE ARE DAYS  where he bears the swell of the earth  &  the moon on his spine,  where he can’t move on,  &   THERE ARE DAYS,  mottled throughout the months, of blossoming faith  &  rekindled benevolence,  sprung straight from the riverbed of youth.  the words writhe in his mouth,  syllables clinging to the crags of his teeth in desperation to keep quiet.  he loathes the silence,  how it forsakes.    “but it’s also what’s helping me prevent another GENOCIDE.  if i have to suffer for the well - being of others,  then SO BE IT.”

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i take my time to forget you so that i won’t be lonely 💘☄️

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no therapy we die like men

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 —————————————————       HER  FLOWERS  SUGGEST  THE  DISCORDANT  DOUBLE  IMAGES  of  female  sexuality  as  both  innocent  blossoming  &  whorish  contamination;  she  is  the  ‘GREEN  GIRL’  of  pastoral,  the virginal ‘ROSE  OF  MAY’  &  the  sexually  explicit  MADWOMAN  who,  in  giving  away  her  wild  flowers  &  herbs,  is  symbolically  DEFLOWERING  HERSELF  .

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           DO  YOU  ENJOY  HURTING  OTHER  PEOPLE ?…  /  penned by mara. 

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*dad voice* absolutely not

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U ALL.... MAKE ME SO EMO...... corn cobs n lucky charms for all of u..

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not 2 be gay or anything but.  i just wanted to thank you all for talking to me,  interacting w/ me,  etc.  i had a really,  really bad experience with people in fandoms in the past,  things i’m still trying to recover from  &  that have severely compromised my trust/emotions/&  stuff.  i realize it sounds a bit dramatic,  &  i guess it does,  right??  it’s just the internet.  but.  i’m just really appreciative of feeling welcomed.  &  i hate getting so personal so fast but my whole life has been a series of trying to find somewhere to belong in real life or online,  wondering if i’m just abnormal,  if there’s smth wrong with me.  i think i say this b/c the depth of my appreciation wouldn’t be as apparent if i didn’t mention it.  i almost made shay strictly ic-interaction only because i was scared,  &  i’m so terrified of being stalked again.  i still miss my old muse,  because i loved him dearly  &  he was my way of coping w/ everything in my life,  but i realize now that i have to let him go,  as well as any hopes of bringing him back.  so i just wanted to say thanks.  it makes me feel like i can heal.