#I thought of the concept a long time ago

[grimfantas]

you don't need morals, you need someone like you who can understand

[etheravie]

The Light Catcher's Eulogy

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The similarities were uncanny. She was in Eden, but she wasn't at home—where the wind howled a mourning song to remember all those she and her sister had encased within stone for future generations to see. Red shards pelted the crying land in an eternal hail and pierced the soles of all who trekked forward to make a willing sacrifice. Where Borealis stood, there was nothing. Her breaths were an echo in the quiet. There was no wind nor red shards. The rocks, stone and debris were distributed just as awkwardly as she remembered, but nothing felt right. The King's princess felt estranged in her own land.

"You lied to me," said a young, echoing voice. It was familiar, but Borealis didn't recognize who it belonged to. She couldn't connect the voice to a name. She didn't want to. The haunting realization of her situation froze her heart mid-beat, which now pulsed pure ice and electricity through her veins.

Oblivious to her peril, the voice continued, "Please look at me. It's been so long, Borealis. Or is that a lie, too?"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Borealis woke up with a gasp. Her hand flew up to her chest and tightly gripped her vest. It was difficult for her to find a grip due to the material and her panicked breathing, which made her fingers shake. She continued until she found purchase. There were dark spots in her vision that followed her wherever she looked and the feeling of adrenaline coursing through her veins caused the edenkid to tremble. Borealis couldn't focus on anything amidst the panic that arose from rising out of slumber, so she tightly shut her eyes.

She never fell asleep. Even after her sister left her side, Borealis' nights remained restless; she would toss and turn uselessly. The comfort of unconsciousness' embrace had never been the same since that first night—when she and her sister closed their eyes only to awaken away from home and in a world they weren't yet prepared to face.

Borealis breathed deeply and continued to lie on the ground with closed eyes, looking for thought within the fog of fear that muddled her mind. Soon she began to feel the invisible but phantom presence of her twin resting by her side. Her expression was peaceful in contrast to last night's nightmare. Their mother's hands combed through Borealis' long hair and lightly scolded her for neglecting to brush it. An overwhelming tranquility overcame the edenkid when she heard a familiar melody, hummed by none other than her father. At the foot of the bed was Rocky, who slept contentedly. He barely managed to squeeze into the room. His light had finally darkened into nothingness. The dark dragon's gentle rumbles reminded Borealis of passing thunder, leaving glorious sun rays in its wake.

After a few minutes, the Eden twin finally found peace. Borealis' fingers loosened so her hand gently rested atop her chest. The gaping, cracked hole beneath her clothes allowed her to better hear and feel the thrum of each heartbeat, the source of which was protected by the crystals that surrounded it. The memory of the jewels' formation made Borealis shudder. The pain of a heart struggling to beat around a cage of crystals was one that no skykid should ever be able to experience. It had been enough to make the edenkid want to tear out her heart to make it stop.

Soft, glowing yellow eyes opened slowly. The sight of a red sky greeted Borealis in a lovely shade of scarlet. Not a cloud was in sight nor was there a hint of a breeze to be felt. The world was still and only moved when Borealis sat up. She took off her mask and rubbed her eyes, internally covering her ears to ignore the sweet whispers of sleep that beckoned her back into its loving embrace, unwilling to part ways so soon when they had her in their grasp for so pleasantly long. They were intermixed with the sound of idle water as Borealis fixed her mask back into place after she drew in a deep, final breath to steady herself. The aftermath of a waterfall within a river; not a ripple to be seen as it lie slumbering in wait for something to awake it into motion again.

Borealis suddenly jumped to her feet and quickly waved her arms and kicked her legs. The water clung to her clothes in a tight hug she never wanted and stained the hem of her pants and the tips of her white finger-loop sleeves. She nearly wrung the soaking fabric out, but hastily removed her hands with a hiss. She was repulsed by the idea of getting any more of her skin wet.

The water around the platform was shallow yet ever present. Each ripple threatened to submerge her ankles and drag her down into the opaque abyss if she dared to take one step forward. Borealis was safe for the moment, but the proximity of the liquid poison made her anxiety race as fast as her heart.

What stole her breath away was what lie above the waters, in the distance, and all around. She finally ripped her eyes away from the puddles to drink in the sea. In front of the light catcher were the ruined remains of her home. Bits of pillars stuck out of the water, left to forever plead for a higher hand to fix what was irreparable. The stone platform that had been so intricately built with love and precision was shattered and strewn about all throughout the realm. Borealis was thankful for the stones' sturdiness while she numbly walked forward, the water lapping at her feet now left forgotten.

Large rocks filled the majority of the expanse. They jutted out like a defective pit of spikes, stretching as high as they could only to fall short of a dream all those who had a light wanted to see. Most of the towering carnage rose in steep, tiny makeshift mountains to offer skykids of all kinds protection from the elements that poured down in an unending hail. Where soft raindrops would once occasionally sprinkle down on a paradise were now unending shards that lacerated skin and drained the light of any poor soul that dared to brave what Eden had to offer. Luckily for Borealis, she had torn hers out years ago.

She walked forward with awe in her eyes. Her breath was just as stilled as the air around her. It was almost suffocating. Borealis felt as though the crystals around her heart had finally developed the strength needed to infiltrate her lungs and choke her from the inside out.

The similarities were uncanny. She was in Eden, but she wasn't at home—where the wind howled a mourning song to remember all those she and her sister had encased within stone for future generations to see. Red shards pelted the crying land in an eternal hail and pierced the soles of all who trekked forward to make a willing sacrifice. Where Borealis stood, there was nothing. Her breaths were an echo in the quiet. There was no wind nor red shards. The rocks, stone and debris were distributed just as awkwardly as she remembered, but nothing felt right. The King's princess felt estranged in her own land.

"You lied to me," said a young, echoing voice. It was familiar, but Borealis didn't recognize who it belonged to. She couldn't connect the voice to a name. She didn't want to. The haunting realization of her situation froze her heart mid-beat, which now pulsed pure ice and electricity through her veins.

Oblivious to her peril, the voice continued, "Please look at me. It's been so long, Borealis. Or is that a lie, too?"

Borealis tried to cover her ears but a cold, hard hand gripped her wrist to stop her. A scream ripped from the edenkid's throat. She whirled around and tried to pull her arm away, but the statue held her hand with a vice grip. She hadn't noticed how close she had been to them before she slowed to a stop. Through the contact, she could neither feel nor hear a heartbeat.

The statue stared at Borealis with her eyes. Light seeped through the cracks within their body like sun rays struggling to part the clouds not unlike the roots of a plant. When she looked at the statue's chest, she saw no light. When she looked beyond it, all of the statues she had previously passed were now watching her with a hatred far beyond that of what her twin once held. Her despair had been enough to destroy their home, but the animosity of the statues' lights within their frozen bodies may as well have been enough to destroy every star in the sky. Their feet dragged against the earth and water while they walked, slowly but surely, steady on their feet. The sound was akin to that of shattering glass. Only this glass was inside of Borealis, clawing at her insides until she was nothing but a husk of the girl she used to be. She had no doubt that the fellow children in front of her would continue to break her body into nothing but dust once she shattered. Borealis knew that she wouldn't be missed. So she ran.

The princess wrenched her arm away from the skykid that attempted holding her back from an inevitable fate. A snap was a thunder strike in the quiet and the following thud was drowned out by the thunder of her footsteps against rubble and water. There was nowhere to go, yet her feet took her to an endless direction. She jumped up and over rubble and the remains of towering pillars that once stood proud and tall like the elders that ruled the realms. The thought made her blood boil and her heartbeat pulse in her ears like a war drum. It wasn't enough to block out the scraping sound that followed her. Every new statue that she passed moved with a newfound breath of life that the wind she stirred up instilled into them. It was easy for her to create distance, but the symphony of the broken and abandoned was a horrific wail. When she first turned around, there were little more than three. Now, there were almost fifteen. Borealis lost count of how many she and her sister had trapped there.

The wind was too strong. Borealis continued on as far as possible until water met sand; up the dune and down until the land flattened into something more stable. The breeze stirred from her parents' prison was wild, tossing her hair and the fabric of her loose clothes. Each step was slowing her enough to match her pursuers', for even the wind wanted to condemn her and push her to a fate worse than being shattered.

Soon, she was knocked down and to her knees. The edenkid was left grasping at the sand to stop herself from being pushed too far back. Never before did Borealis want nothing more than to break through the eye and reach her parents; to beg for forgiveness and be held within the safety of her family's arms. Never before had she ever been more terrified.

The fear she once held towards the elders wasn't fear at all, Borealis realized. That was hatred. This was fear in its purest form.

"Mother! Father!" Borealis cried, reaching out again as though her parents' prison was within reach. Playing pretend was her specialty, but that was impossible now. Not here. "Sister! Help me, please! I need you!"

"We needed you."

Borealis turned around and shouted in fear. When she tried to back away impossibly further, the unseen wall of wind shoved her twice as much toward the army. It looked as though every skykid in the realms had ventured to this strange Eden and turned to stone just to get the opportunity to watch her cower before them. Their faces were stoic despite the cracks and fractures in their bodies. It would kill any skykid within seconds, yet the ones in front of the Eden twin remained held together by something Borealis didn't understand. The word vengeance came to mind much more often than she would like.

The commander was the same soul that had tried to sentence her to an early fate. Borealis wasn't thankful. She was horrified to see that there was a lack of blood that poured out of the shoulder where there was once an arm. Their other lifted to point at her. It felt like a death sentence, so Borealis waited with bated breath. Behind her mask, tears ran down her cheeks and stung her eyes with pins and needles. "You trapped us," said the general. "You killed us when we needed you most."

Borealis exclaimed, "I didn't kill you! Eden did; my sister created the storm! You all chose to accept the offer. You all chose to follow me!"

Her words marked the rise of the conductor's baton, and so began the encore. It first began at piano, then crescendoed into a roar. Borealis covered her ears and shut her eyes but still she could hear the truth as clear as she could her own broken sobs that she didn't deserve to heave. For a terrifying moment, she thought they were in her mind, whispering pleas that would forever go unanswered.

"I trusted you!"

"You said it was safe!"

"You lied to us!"

"You took my light!"

"How can you blame your sister for what you did!?"

"Help me!" Borealis screamed into the sky when she felt a hand graze her shoulder. This time she was faster. She gripped the hard, icy skin and pulled as hard as she could. The short figure didn't budge. So was to the twin's surprise when they let her go. The wind pushed her onwards and made her stumble, struggling to get a grip and find purchase. The crowd's cries of laughter cut at her skin and the pointed fingers at her tall figure while she ran again dug into her wounds. When Borealis passed them they all prodded and pulled until the horrors of all she had done were exposed for the ancestors to see. Blood poured out of every pore. They tore out her crystals one by one, snapping them off into glittering shards that lie scattered with the sand like pixie dust. It would be the only beauty that she would ever be able to leave behind.

Her body was becoming dust and stone just like the rest. Each step was becoming more and more weighted until the tips of her feet dragged against the floor with a scraping sound sharp enough split the estranged realm in two. It didn't rise enough to silence the shouts that continued to chase after her like ghosts. The hundreds of thundering footsteps were a rainstorm, but it had since become nothing but white noise. It failed to flood the land and deliver her a faster relief. If she was going to die, she wasn't going to be slain by the hands she had once so easily guided. The tsunami of a guilty conscience flooded her heart quickly after the thought.

"Return to us, light catcher!" they began to call.

Another voice chimed, "Let's take her light!"

Within the cacophony of taunts and jeers, a third, distinct voice slashed through her throat and spilled a garden of blood and glass onto the grounds of Eden.

"She ripped hers out. Take what's left."

"Sister!" Borealis cried and turned back. A hand flew up to her mouth in horror. Her twin was standing front and center, with a legion of the lost and lonely. Their bodies were battered and bruised beyond belief, yet they all stood proud and tall with the confidence of an elder accepting their position. Every eye stared holes into the one within Borealis' chest, as though they could tear out her crystals by just sight alone. The other Eden twin, with her intact arm, slowly lifted it to point where Borealis' light once lie. When the battalion began to march on once more, Borealis tripped over her feet in her haste to escape. Her body was crystallizing, slowing her movement impossibly further. There was no light to break through the openings that tore through her skin. She screamed to the wind and never dared to look over her shoulder. "No! Please! Please, sister! You don't have to do this!"

The riot raged behind Borealis in a wildfire. The flames of anger were licking her heels and driving her forward, lest she be swept into the hands of the forsaken, eager to rip her to shreds and take what she had taken. There was no way to run or hide. She would inevitably tire out if she continued to flee, and if she hid, they would always find her. There was no way to escape.

But it was the only way. Borealis pressed forward. Her heart was spilling out of the cracks of her body, slowly being replaced by the shallow waters that beckoned her towards its cold, unrelenting grip. Terror was reflected in the water's surface when she practically fell next to a deeper divot of water, but the sound of hundreds of heavy footsteps reminded her that it needed to be done.

The edenkid didn't take a breath before she plugged her head into the water. The force was enough to crack her mask. She felt the need to gasp for air almost instantly. Every nerve, thrumming with adrenaline, ran on instinct and demanded her to thrash around to escape and take a deep breath. Borealis forced her body as still as she could to stay under for as long as possible. Her tears intermixed with the pooling water into something indistinguishable. Not even the tears shed from Eden's princess would be remembered.

When she could stand it no more, Borealis took a deep breath. The water flooded every inch of her body from the inside out, smothering her crystals and blocking out any light. Her screams were a lonely, distorted melody. The infiltration of any cracked crystals were the most painful. It was the same as fire being injected into her veins. Still she gulped the liquid like a dying man in a desert, wholly believing the water would spare him. It was too good to be true, because it was only a mirage.

Minutes passed and her body continued to let out muffled shouts for air, yet the corners of her vision never darkened. Her thoughts were jumbled puzzle pieces and the anticipated lightheadedness never swept her fright away. When she realized this, Borealis jerked her head back with a gasp. She heaved on her hands and knees, coughing and sputtering until she gagged. There was nothing but water. Everything was clear and quiet except for the gentle splashing of water. There was no death here. There was no freedom.

And then she heard the laughter. Borealis clutched at her torso. feeling as though she could cough for the rest of her life and it still wouldn't be enough to expel all of the water she tried to drown herself with. The statues surrounded and pointed at her with accosting fingers. Their laughter never ceased. Everyone's eyes were bright, which only brought more tears to Borealis'. Finally, they were merry again. They were being given the peace they deserved.

Borealis screamed and dunked her head back under a second time, then a third, and finally a fourth. The laughter persisted and so did her screams from under the water. When she resurfaced for the fifth time, her sister stepped forward. Borealis scrambled back until she bumped into the legs of one of the statues. She didn't dare take any step closer to Eden's elder.

The light catcher pleaded, "Please, sister! I beg you; I beg of you all! Please don't kill me! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"You're only sorry because you're finally getting karma," said someone from the crowd. A wave of mutters swept through the statues, whispering their agreement. Their giggles were grating to Borealis' ears.

The shorter twin hushed the crowd with only her voice. "You are already dead," she explained. "You removed your light years ago."

"Where am I!?" Borealis demanded. "What are you going to do to me? Why aren't you helping me!?"

Her words elicited another ripple of giggles from the crowd. The elder answered, "You are home, Borealis. We are home."

"Then what are they all doing here? If I'm dead, then where is mother and father? They should be—"

The realization must have been evident on her face, because from behind her twin's mask, Borealis could see her eyes squint with her unseen smile. The light catcher shook her head in disbelief. "No... no, no, no! Please, no!"

She stumbled to her feet and roughly grabbed her sister's shoulders. Her grip was so tight that there was an audible crack. Shortly afterwards, a few pebbles slipped down her sleeves and onto the ground below. The fabric was ripped where her right arm once was, now broken at the elbow. "Who sent you here?" Borealis demanded. "Elisia! Who shattered you!?"

Elisia smiled softly. "You did, Borealis."

The world was crumbling. Borealis shrieked when the statues dove forward and pulled her down, fighting over her wildly like she was the last ray of sunlight in existence. Glass and crystals littered the ground in a monochrome spectra; a glittering, stained glass window rippled as it was broken. Her own life was sharpened into knives. Each shard deemed thick enough was stabbed back into her body, leaving Borealis pinned like a moth on display. Between her screams, she coughed up what was left in a spritz of blood like a breath of mist after the morning rain. None of the statues ever flinched. They took delight in her misery. The light catcher screamed for freedom and forgiveness, but she received none. She shouted for her sister until her throat bled, but no red tinted light could be seen among the carnage. When she was dragged towards her parents' prison, Borealis fought with what little was left of her strength. Not to flee, but to find her sister. To scream apologies not to be understood, but to let her twin know that she truly was sorry for abandoning her when she needed her most. For not turning back to be there for her. For trapping sixty three skykids in the remains of their home to draw the attention of those who had banished her family and herself.

"Elisia! Elisia!"

She didn't need to look for long. Elisia had escaped near to the eye just as Borealis had. The elder opened her arm wide, as though she were about to receive or deliver a hug. Her cape was spread wide and majestic but there was no wind nor light to truly reflect the beauty their elder had blessed her with. Borealis was left wondering once again why they were ever created as twins. Why she was the oldest when Elisia had the weight of the realms on her shoulders. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

When Elisia spoke, her voice was not of her own. It was Borealis'. She said, "We have caught the light catcher. Welcome home, sister. I've missed you so, so much."

When Borealis blinked, a krill spike was now in Elisia's hand. The tip was dripping with blood. Around it, shards of a shattered light floated around, frozen in time. Borealis couldn't scream when it was stabbed through her chest, because as the weapon whistled through the air, it carried Elisia's scream with it.

[slippery-minghus]

oh no. i feel like if i do not consume an entire load of bread in the very near future i will simply cease to exist.

[sysig]

I finally set my last notebook to rest, so it’s time for a new one (Patreon)

[imflyingfish]

I gotta finish the skin game thinggy at some point. I've tot loads of sketches lined up too for them so if it comes tk it i will just post them all at once

[deathdxnces]

spirit of defiance irelia.......

[generic-lab-assistant]

New guy, Henry Thomas Hardesty

[roaringroa]

oficially diagnosed with adhd babeyyyyyyy

[the-multiverse-theory]

crazies in my notes now claiming that friends used to fuck each other before people got all “weirded out by intimacy” like. babygirl what does that mean. do you think the industrial revolution invented the divide between romantic sexual and platonic. do you think people didn’t have words for different types of relationships before now

[balteus]

yea actually i think the author of raybearer is bent on messing with me specifically

[nexus-nebulae]

mm

[queer-ecopunk]

So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.

This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,

"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."

I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.

"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."

And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.

"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."

Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.

"But you look good. So, eh!"

And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.

George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.

[duskerot]

bro sometimes my brain really is slow as fuck i just was thinking about something to add to an old conversation i had with someone and i went back to find it and it happened in JUNE LAST YEAR

[canis-dies]

is this normal?

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.

[themetropolisborough]

jumping on the peacock spider mystic ftw bandwagon 👁👁👁👁👅👁👁👁👁