#like a dead dove lying in snow made of ashes

[frstk]

Best Served Cold VS Best Served Hot

[aotxfan]

Grief (Marco)

Summary: Reiner comforts Marco’s lover after his death.

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, depression, and character death.

The sunlight hurt her eyes and she dove back under the covers with a pitiful groan. Her head was pounding from all the tears she had spilled and her throat was raw from the agonizing screams she had let out in her grief last night. The chirping birds outside and the sunny day did little to ease the anguish buried deep in her heart.

Somewhere from the other side of the room, a voice was calling her name.

The last thing she wanted right now was a visitor. She pressed the covers even more tightly against her face and hoped that whoever it was would leave. Couldn’t they see that she was in no state to see anyone?

No such luck. The voice grew closer and a hand tugged at the blanket over her head.

Exposed once more, her eyes burned and her face scrunched up. She blinked disoriented and a warm palm was pressed to her forehead. Her name was called again in a hushed whisper.

Reiner. She recognized his voice before she even saw him standing next to her bed. His eyes were narrowed in worry as he took the state of her in.

She must have looked awful. Her hair was in disarray, there were dried tear stains on her face, her eyes were bloodshot, and her knuckles had bloodied half moon crescents from where her nails had dug into them painfully. She knew she looked like a disaster, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. Her voice sounded raspy from all of the wailing she had done recently and she coughed to clear it.

“How are you feeling? I brought you something to eat,” Reiner lifted his hand. He was holding some warm bread and cheese.

The scent made her feel nauseous. The last thing she needed right now was to eat. She didn’t have the strength to do anything. Not since-

Her throat seized up and she squeezed her eyes shut. In her mind’s eye, she could still see Marco laying there on the cold pavement. Half his body was missing and his eyes were dazed staring lifelessly-

“Hey, hey, hey.”

As if he could tell what she was thinking about, Reiner’s hands suddenly gripped her shoulders. His amber eyes were wide open with concern. He eased her back into her bed as she realized new tears were rolling down her face.

“Leave me alone,” she ground out, “Please.”

The urge to dive back into bed was strong. For the past few days since his death, all she wanted was to sleep. At least in sleep she could escape the reality that the love of her life was gone.

“You know I can’t do that,” Reiner murmured. He was patient as he went to her windows. He pulled the blinds back and she had to look away. “Everyone is worried about you.”

She shifted in her bed and drew the covers to her chin. Based off the height of the sun in the sky, it was around midday. Her roommate, Mikasa, was long gone and most of the others were probably already in training.

In her grief, she had been allowed to miss some sessions. Shadis, despite his cold exterior, wasn’t completely heartless. The soldiers that had fought in Trost and lost comrades had been allowed to skip the rest of the training until the day they chose their battalion.

Her friends had known not to bother her in her grief despite their worry. Mikasa had known to let her sleep and not say anything when she heard her wailing alone in the room. It seemed only Reiner had not gotten the message because he continued to come every day to check up on her.

“Why are you doing this?”

A headache was forming somewhere at the back of her mind. While she knew Reiner was being a good person in his worry for her, she was sick of him dropping by. All she wanted was to waste away in peace. Was that so much to ask?

Without asking, he pulled a chair out for himself next to her bed. His hands expertly spread some cheese on a slide of bread before offering it to her in an attempt to get her to eat. Even as she tried to wave him away, he refused to budge. Finally, she had no choice but to accept his offering with a glare in his direction.

“I’m worried about you. You’re not eating, you’re not going outside, and all you do is sleep. You know this isn’t what Marco would want-“

“Shut up,” she hissed.

Hearing his name out loud made her feel sick to her stomach. It filled her with the image of his corpse lying there in ruins. She felt bile climb back up her throat, but she forced it down.

Desperate now, more tears running down her face, she pressed her hands to her face. “Please, please leave.”

Her voice sounded pitiful even to her own ears, and his eyes further softened.

“Not until you eat.”

“I’m not hungry. You’ll be waiting her all day-”

“Then I’ll wait here all day,” he answered. He reached out to brush away a tear that was running down her face. “As long as it takes.”

She wanted to keep fighting him, scream at him to leave her to rot the way Marco had been left behind when Wall Rose was breached, but she had no energy left. For days, she had done nothing but cry and wallow in her grief. She was tired of everything and wanted nothing more than to sleep it all away and never wake up.

Reiner was still waiting expectantly for her, and she turned away from him.

She had no idea why he insisted on visiting her everyday. She and Reiner had been friends since they had met, sure, but he was never particularly close to her. They were comrades in the training grounds, and she sat with him when the mess hall was full and there were no other seats open. Still, they had never been close.

Since she had arrived at the 104 Cadet training, she had only ever been close with Jean and Marco. She had known Jean since childhood and had befriended Marco upon arrival.

The thought of Marco gave another painful lurch in her chest. She bit her cheek until she tasted metal on her tongue.

Marco had been the one closest to her. She had fallen for him without meaning to, and it seemed like he had liked her back. They had just begun to explore their new feelings for each other. He had just asked her to date him and had been planning to take her to introduce her to his parents before Wall Rose had been broken through and he had died.

Suddenly, the bed dipped and she looked back. Reiner had moved from his chair to her bed and was staring at her in concern.

She moved to give him more room and stared out the window. Somewhere below, she could hear the other cadets outside still cleaning up from the attack. A part of her felt bad for leaving it all to her comrades, but it was outweighed by the part of her still in mourning.

“You really have to eat something. You look awful,” Reiner commented. He was still offering her the piece of bread he had brought.

She accepted it from him but didn’t raise it to her mouth. He bit his tongue but didn’t urge her. Perhaps he figured she needed time on her own.

“Why are you here, Reiner?” She asked again, “Jean hasn’t even stopped by. You and I weren’t really friends.”

Reiner looked down at his hands before answering her. “I’m just worried about you.”

She blinked away some more tears. “Did they already-his body-”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Mikasa had come home smelling like smoke last night, and she had known it was finished. The military always burned the bodies of the dead to prevent a pandemic from spreading, but she didn’t want to ruminate too much on it.

“Yeah,” Reiner exhaled, “You didn’t go.”

She shook her head. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to go. Seeing the funeral pyre would have made everything more real.

As it stood now, she could pretend that this all wasn’t happening. She could tell herself that Marco was still alive and that he would come back home. He would run up to her and embrace her with his bright smile and spin her around as she laughed. Everything would fade away as he looked at her and she wouldn’t be in so much pain. This would all be some awful nightmare that she would wake up from as soon as she saw him.

To go to the funeral pyre would have meant letting go of whatever ridiculous hope still clung to her.

“What are you thinking about?”

The question brought her out of her reverie. She turned and saw that Reiner was still staring at her. His eyes were full of concern, sympathy, and something else she couldn’t trace. Something dark and haunted that made her stomach churn.

“Marco,” she answered.

He seemed to wince as she said his name. For the first time, she wondered if maybe he was in mourning too. Marco hadn’t been his friend either, but he had been a kindhearted person. It would make sense that several of the 104 would mourn his death.

“You know, it helps to speak to someone. Sharing your memories with someone can help process things. You can talk about him,” he offered.

She finally brought the piece of bread to her mouth. It was still warm if a little stale, but her mind couldn’t find a flavor in it. She had never known a grief this bad, and everything tasted like ash on her tongue. Getting it down without water was difficult.

“Talk about what? His death? I’m not ready-”

“Not his death,” Reiner shook his head, “Something happy. What’s your favorite memory of him?”

She thought about it. It was so hard to point to just one. It seemed like she loved everything about him. Every moment with him had put a smile on her face.

Still, one memory in particular made her pause. It was during the winter expedition. They had been in different teams back then, but had made it back to the cabin around the same time. He had lit up when he had seen her and had rushed to her to ask how she had done. His eyes had been so bright when he had spotted her among her teammates.

“The winter expedition,” she heard herself say, “He met up with me in the cabin. I wasn’t used to snow, my village never got it, so I wanted to stay outside longer and play in it. The leaders didn’t want anyone outside while they waited for the other teams, so they refused to let us hang out. I was upset about not being able to stay outside, but Marco just told me to go inside. He knew I was sad, and he wanted to help. He disappeared outside for a bit and came back after a while hiding something in his jacket. It turns out he had snuck out a bowl when the leaders weren’t looking. It had some snow inside, and he gave it to me. He said he couldn’t give me the full experience of being outside, but maybe I could make a tiny snowman in the bowl as a consolation.”

A tiny smile broke through her face and she felt her eyes sting. Still, thinking about the happy memories made some of the agony in her chest abate.

Reiner let out a tiny laugh next to her. “I remember that. He was hobbling around with something under his coat and wouldn’t say what he was hiding.”

She swallowed down another piece of the bread and thought about him some more.

“He used to do that all the time. He brought me a lot of tiny little things when he sensed I was sad. When I didn’t score high enough on that test we had, he brought me some tiny wildflowers and said I could make a flower crown with it. He even taught me how to do it.”

She still had that flower crown somewhere. The flowers had long since wilted, and it would probably fall apart in her hands if she touched it, but she had it. After he had woven it into her hair, leaned in really close to get it just right, and blushed when he had looked into her eyes as he did so, she had decided to keep it.

Reiner stretched out his legs and his eyes closed. He looked exhausted and there was something weighing heavily on his shoulders. Like Lord Atlas, it seemed he carried the weight of the world. She wanted to ask what was wrong but doubted he would answer her.

“He liked you a lot, you know,” he finally said, “He asked me to take care of you. The last time I spoke to him, all he wanted was for me to protect you.”

Silence filled the room, and she had to suppress her tears. She was dehydrated now and her eyes hurt too badly to cry. She pressed a hand to her mouth and suddenly the bread from before felt like lead in her stomach.

“When did you last speak to him? None of it makes sense. He was with us at HQ and then gone. I don’t know what happened-”

Her voice raised an octave and she felt her breath start to hitch. Her breathing became shallow and her neck became tight. She felt a panic attack rising in her as her heart began to pound.

Suddenly hands were at her shoulders. Reiner’s concerned gaze was in front of her and he was calling her name.

“Breathe, hey, breathe.”

He demonstrated how to breathe and kept going until she had mimicked him. Slowly, the panic subsided, and she felt exhausted.

Without thinking, she buried her face in his neck and began to sob. He wrapped his arms around her and his grip was tight. He was shaking even as he held her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “Forgive me. I’m so sorry.”

He kept repeating it over and over again and his own voice was shaking. Seeing him like this made her pause. She drew away and wiped at her face.

“Not your fault, Reiner. None of us saw what happened. No one could have saved him-”

She cut herself off as he winced. Pure agony flashed through his face before it disappeared. He recovered so fast that she had to ask herself if she imagined his reaction. Perhaps all the crying was getting to her.

“He wouldn’t want you to be like this,” Reiner said, “He’d want you to live. All he wanted was your safety. The last thing he said to me was for me to protect you.”

She pressed her fingers to the back of her head. A bad headache was forming there, and all she wanted was to go back to sleep.

Sleep was good. Sleep meant all the pain went away for a few blissful hours. Plus, if she was lucky, maybe she would dream of Marco.

“I just want to sleep,” she murmured.

She wished he would leave so that she could bury herself in her covers all over again and waste away. Maybe then this gaping hole in her heart would disappear.

“No,” Reiner shook his head, “Come on. Please, let’s go outside. Just for a few minutes. Humor me.”

He extended his hand. His eyes were pleading for her to take it. For some reason, he was the one most concerned for her well-being. She wasn’t quite sure what it was that drove him to keep coming to her room every day.

Still, she just stared at his outstretched hand.

“I don’t want to,” she bit her cheek.

“Then the mess hall. You’ve got to eat something more than just bread. It’s almost lunch time. There’ll be warm food for you.”

Food was the last thing she needed. It was so hard to swallow anything, and she wasn’t sure she could keep it down anyhow. No, she just wanted to be left alone.

Bringing her knees up and resting her chin on them, she looked away.

“I can’t,” she said.

“You can.”

Suddenly, Reiner was kneeling before her. His hands were at her shoulders again and he was staring into her eyes. Again, that dark emotion was plain to see in his eyes. She had no idea what it was, but something about it made her want to move away.

Was it regret? Guilt? She couldn’t place it.

“Come on. Just come with me for a bit. Take a shower, change your clothes, and just come with me down to the mass hall. You don’t have to talk with anyone if you don’t want to, and you don’t have to stay down there. We can just get you something to eat and bring it back up here. I just want you to see some sunlight outside of this room.”

The offer didn’t entice her in the least. Her friends would be down there, and she didn’t feel like being stared at. Not to mention the fact that Jean hadn’t even bothered to check up on her. Even if he was mourning Marco too, couldn’t he have at least poked his head in her room?

The fact that he seemed not to care about her filled her with irritation. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive him for it. In her own pain, she wasn’t too understanding of his.

“Please leave me alone,” she repeated.

Again, he shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to be alone. I don’t want you to ever be alone again. I made him a promise and it’s the least I can do-”

He cut himself off and slumped his shoulders. He looked to be in pain himself.

“I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to stop by every day and check up on me. No one else has.”

She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone.

Jean hadn’t stopped by, and he was her oldest friend. Mikasa was too quiet to stay and console her even if she was her roommate. Her other friends hadn’t seen her since Marco’s body had been discovered. She figured they didn’t know what to say to her and felt too awkward to visit. The thought stung deeply.

“Well I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m always going to be here. I’m going to come by every day and keep insisting. Some day, you’re going to get out of that bed and we’re going to walk down there together. You’re going to survive this, and I’m going to protect you like I promised,” he reached for her hand and tugged her close, “I’m going to be here, okay? You won’t be alone.”

His promise made new tears run down her face. She began to sob and he held her tightly. His embrace was rigid, awkward, and his eyes were squeezed shut as if seeing her in such a state hurt him too. Nevertheless, she felt grateful to him.

At the very least, she had someone at her side. Marco hadn’t completely left her alone. If he had asked Reiner to protect her before dying, then she figured she could trust him. She could let him in and draw strength from him.

“Just to the mess hall?” She sniffed, “And then we come back?”

Relief filled his face and he offered her a soft smile. “Just to the mess hall.”

She nodded her head and got out of bed. Her legs were unsteady and he helped her walk.

She could do that, she figured. She could take a shower and then go down to the mess hall. It was a small way of repaying Reiner for everything he had done for her.

“Reiner,” she called his name as she headed towards the showers, “Thank you.”

He hugged her again and brought her close.

“Yeah,” Then, as if in pain, he closed his eyes. “I made a promise to him. It’s the least I can do. I’m so sorry.”

She frowned at his apology again but let it slide. It felt nice to hug someone again. She let herself relax in his embrace and decided to trust him. If Marco had asked him to watch over her, then she knew Reiner was trustworthy.

Drawing strength from his hug, she offered him her first real smile in days before heading to the showers.

- - -

If only she had known then that, the entire time, she had been smiling at Marco’s killer.

[penpatronuswhump]

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No. 26 

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpees: Tony, Steve, Clint

Caregivers: Tony, Steve, Clint

Title: The One Where Tony, Steve, and Clint Go Camping

Part 1 

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO

Steve had never been camping (beyond that period when he was 5-6 years old and he and his family had to live in a transient camp in the woods, because his dad lost his job. Clint said that didn’t count).

 Tony had only been glamping (Clint said that didn’t count, either).

 So, one weekend, Clint convinced Steve and Tony to go on what he called an “honest” camping trip. They hiked deep into the forest to a lake with small backpacks and sleeping bags. They hunted their food. They left their phones and every other luxury at home. The fun lasted two days. The night of the second day, while the boys were laughing around a campfire, a HYDRA helicopter flew overhead. It hovered for a moment, its spotlight blinding the Avengers. And then the bullets rained down and the helicopter dropped a small missile right into their campfire. The three men scattered in opposite directions as the forest exploded.

 Steve woke up in a snow globe of sparks. He was lying on his back, staring up at a burning tree that was starting to fall over – directly onto him. Steve pedaled backwards, ankles digging into dirt and leaves, then he did a quick backwards summersault the rest of the way, yelping in pain when he put weight on his right foot. The tree collapsed right next to him, but Steve didn’t hear it. His ears were ringing like church bells. His foot was throbbing. He examined it, and found a bloody hole. One of the bullets had gone right through his boot, just south of his toes. Steve started coughing, then. Several trees were on fire, not to mention the dry debris on the ground, and the whole area was quickly filling up with gray smoke. “ST—” he half-yelled, choking. “STARK! BARTON!”

Clint woke up facedown, half in and half out of the lake. He dove into the water the second he spotted the descending missile, but that didn’t completely save him from the shockwave of fire. His clothes were burnt in several places, as was the skin beneath them. A bullet had nicked his left elbow. It was bleeding – the top half shouting in pain, the bottom half numb. Clint coughed out the water that had accumulated in his lungs and used his right arm to push himself up onto his knees. The campsite was annihilated. There was nothing left but fire. Trees were falling or burning up. His eyes watered from the smoke. “CAP!” he called into the fog. “STARK!”

 Tony woke up on his side. For a long time, he just lay there, marveling in the fact that when he’d started running, he ran head-first into an oak tree. The genius had knocked himself unconscious and, judging by the swirling in his stomach, he’d given himself a concussion. He didn’t want to move. If he did, he’d realize how much trouble he was in. And he was in deep. Shit. He’d been shot in two places – that much he remembered – but he couldn’t recall where. So, Tony just lay on a pile of leaves and acorns and stared, mesmerized, as the fire on the ground inched closer to him. The heat of it stung the back of his throat. He could just fall asleep right there – just disappear. Damned if he moved, damned if he didn’t. The acorns weren’t so bad…

 Something shoved its way under his armpits from behind him and lifted him up into a sitting position. “Tony,” came Clint’s voice, breathless in his ear, “Tony, get up!”

 Steve emerged from the smoke like a ghost. He slid to his knees in front of Tony and held both hands out. The concussed Tony reached back out of habit and between Steve pulling and Clint pushing, he got up onto his feet.

 He promptly collapsed. Steve pulled harder and Clint pushed harder – then they changed their tactics and pulled Tony’s arms across their shoulders, holding him up instead of trying to help him hold himself. Tony’s wounded body shrieked at him. There was a bullet in his leg, but he wasn’t sure where because the entire limb was on fire. There was a bullet in his torso, but he wasn’t sure where because everything from his neck down to his bellybutton was pulsating with pain. Frowning, confusion from the concussion setting in, Tony looked at his teammates and saw that they, too, were disoriented and bleeding and Tony wondered if there was ash and soot and dirt all over his skin, too. Steve was limping and coughing. Clint’s busted elbow was dripping blood, and he was coughing. Tony suddenly realized he hadn’t been breathing in a long time and took a deep inhale and he started coughing, too.

 Steve and Clint marched forward, initially in different directions, but then Steve submitted to Clint’s lead since he knew the woods better. Tony was dragged between them for a good fifty yards before he suddenly remembered how to walk. He tried to – he really did – but the bullet in his leg was sharp and fierce and he nearly passed out when he put weight on it. There was nothing for him to do but relax in his friends’ arms. Tony surrendered.

 Another hundred yards, and they were far enough away from the fire. Steve, jaw clenched and Adam’s apple bouncing, admitted that he needed a break. Together, he and Clint lowered Tony to the ground with his back against a maple tree. Clint collapsed beside him, flat on his back, and Steve slowly lowered himself down, hurt foot outstretched. “Look at that,” Clint said. He pointed at the sky. Steve and Tony followed his gaze. With the smoke behind them, and miles from civilization, the stars (including the arc of the Milky Way), stood out striking from the velvet black night. “Wow.”

 Steve exhaled through a slight smile. Everything in his life was ephemeral, but not the stars. Or pain.

 Tony suddenly crawled around the tree, vomited loudly, then crawled back, far slower. For the first time, the three of them really looked at themselves, and each other. They had no sling for Clint’s arm, no crutches for Cap to lean on, no bandages for the bullet in Tony’s left hip or the bullet in his left kidney. “Leave your phones at home, guys,” Tony said mockingly, imitating Clint’s voice. “The point is to get away from everything, including technology. No, Tony, you can’t bring an Iron Man suit. No, Cap, you can’t bring your shield…”

 “I’m Tony Stark. The media follows me everywhere because I’m so fucking important. The whole world probably knew we were camping out here – probably because you tweeted it!” Clint shot back. “Why else would HYDRA even know we’re out here?”

 Steve rolled his eyes and put his face in his hands. “Come on, guys…”

 “If we’d brought a simple GPS locator – just something as simple as that – then the others would be able to find us when we don’t check in, but NO, no, no technology or we’re not going, Tony,” Tony mocked.

 “I hope you’re the first one of us to bleed to death!” Clint spat.

 “I hope I do! I won’t have to look at your face!”

 “Hey!” Steve picked up a fistful of dirt and launched it at the other two men. “Cut it out! Both of you! We’re in trouble here. Barton, are we anywhere close to where we can get some help?”

 Clint rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah… Yeah, I think. There’s a cabin on the other side of the lake. Didn’t see lights last night so I doubt there’s someone there, but it might have supplies. Maybe a phone if we’re lucky.”

 “How long of a hike?”

 “Three miles.”

 Steve looked down at his shot up foot. He doubted he could walk one mile, let alone three, let alone carrying half of Tony the whole time. That was what he was thinking. What he said was, “Let’s get going.”

 Tony waved his hand like he was shooing away a fly. “You two go on. I’ll wait here. You’ll get there faster without me.”

 Clint didn’t look at Tony. “You’re not safe alone. That helicopter could be circling back to make sure we’re dead.”

 Tony gestured at the holes in his body. He was pale and sweating. Even in the dim moonlight the other two could tell that he was trembling. “Look at me. I’m dead anyway.”

 “We’re not leaving you behind,” Clint said between clenched teeth.

 “He’s right. We have to stay together.” Steve limped over to Tony and helped him stand up. “Come on.”

 Together, the three Avengers made for the cabin.

 To Be Continued

[malesherbes]

A voyage through Limbos

We went to see the dawn on the castle

On the castle by the sea

The wind, beyond wave’s loud hurling, whistle

That the grey faced moon loves me.

 The black castle stands alone on the shore

Stern faced watcher of the strand.

Amid great columns, cyclopean doors,

We, children in white gowns, fled.

 And beholding still the birth of the sun,

From the rusty cradle rose

The wizard of infinite tides, golden

Lonely wonder our eyes chose.

 Whipping my cheeks, the joyful, salty breeze

Sings every morning’s strange hymn,

My fingers, red from cold, laughing, I freeze

In this shining ecstasy.

 Always we came back, in the cliff’s pale light

In the castle by the strand,

To watch golden seas glow in dying nights,

Laugh in the cold with my friends.

 Now, the friends are gone, the strand far away,

And the castle falls in ruins.

The wizard vanished, and the dawn is grey,

Far away in horizon.

 *

 We walk in the town, verticals scattered through

Dim light, grim faces, woe pouring with the rain,

Chartered reflections in sky tearing glass,

Streets with swirling shadows, wandering smoke, I knew

That this place had no gates to let away pain.

 In the dark alleys of squalid downtown,

Red cries, patches of colour blown

And neon’s shriek hurling scorch in my eyelids

It’s call, in vulgar tones, raw in raw,

Repeats: here, house of limbos.

 In the fantastical blue mist, the man’s voice echoes

“Limbos can give you back past years”

(With his baleful eyes he looks like a sorcerer)

“And forgotten loves, and nights of pleasure, and”

(His plump fingers twitch like pale, mad spiders.)

 The voice fades in the rain, faint consciousness echoed,

Our desperate beings in lazy caves swallowed,

Our winged guide, with purple coat, floats,

In the fog of the depths. Mesmerizing shapes breath

In the preternatural hideousness of the crypt.

 I fall on a couch with vivid numbness

Something in my hand, my mouth, sweet water, taste,

Hot and languid air exhaling nothingness

Perfumes, wonderful waves, sweetest dream; I faint

And in the blind bowel of limbos, I fonder.

 “Golden tide, grey cliff, red sun, see again

Come back to the moon

Silver moon by the sea

Forget the pain in the yellow wind swoon.”

 *

 I, born in limbos, float away beyond pain,

Adrift and enlightened, father away, white flames

And light soft as a cocoon,

Peaceful whispers of clear lagoons.

 So far, so far in my ears, the calm rolling waves

And my soul drowning in sweetest infinity

Flying in wonder clouds, the sibyl in my eyes

Opened my dry sockets to orbs of great visions.

 Then I saw them: green gardens with unknown flowers

In blue grass blooming like some frail galaxies

And high trees with white boughs, and fantastic towers

With songs and shadows, treasures and faeries.

 Then I saw the shore, with breathing salt and hurricanes

And far away (everything in limbos is so far)

The sea, the castle, the wizard,

And looking at the limbos’ ghost, me.

 Me crying and the shore in godly storms torn

Me singing and the castle in shriek cries erupt

Me happy, in tornados swirling

Half dying in the wind-

Was I so young back then?

 Me, the dawn, the wizard, the purple coat and velvet gloves

The echo of forgotten years, a face (her face?) a dove

Flying high in the sun. Falling feathers, snow

And immortal beyond. (Everything is so far in limbos.)

 On the remote heights shine splendours, other sights

Things from outer worlds under ominous suns

Things men’s eyes could not see, half vanished in the night

And still, strange smells of dreams and blue smoke in my lungs.

Things I thought I forgot.

  The distant song, always:

“You saw me flying

the wizard by the sea

in golden sand lying

salty wind on me.”

 Now all the limbos are made into angels

Faces I kissed, lips I desired

And smiles and dances, the shadow of the dove,

Hand I caressed, and eyes I loved.

 (But in limbos, what angels dwell

what illusions, shadowy wells

gave birth to the creatures I fear?

If I say my name will they hear?)

 And in the sweetest agony my hands fell

Beneath the fingers of white seraphs

O, how could I forget the fiery eyes, the glee

On the red mouth of the girl by the sea?

 My heart itched in pangs of the deepest bliss

And her hair I touched, and he brow I kissed

And her lips ( softer than the roses’ velvet)

Her lips in my ears whispered “did you forget?”

And in her smile I saw revenge.

 We went to see the dawn, on the castle,

In the grey mist of the sea

The salty wind, from the tower, whistles

That the silver haired girl loves me.

 And here she stands, alone on the high cliff

On the grey cliff by the sea

When the black waves rise high, I wonder, if

Her crystal clear laugh mocks me.

 But her deep eyes glowed, like the golden tide

And the sun in the morning

But her hair danced, slow like in the moonlight

Beam saying “you are nothing.”

 Because the girl looked like a god I cried

Salt tears bitter like the sea,

Because the girl said “pardon me”, I lied

Pushed her in infinity.

 The magic angel on the long grey strand

Opens her red, broken wings

In the sea, the sky, the earth and the land

I threw my gone heart, crying.

 *

 The limbos repeat the mad echo, shrill

My invisible hands cannot stop my fall

The angels vanished, for me, no red wings

The fall never stops. And limbos laugh.

 Limbos showed me towns below empty skies

Grey ashes abandoned, a tower, pride

And petrified hands reaching for a red sun

Eyes closed and thoughts in the earth sinking.

 Limbos showed me the hell from under the sea

Wherein dream like monsters dwell

Engraved in high rocks and bleeding chimneys

Black tears flowing from beneath the earth.

 And all of this in the spark of her eyes burnt,

Into this self-same, white face, turned

Laughing high, and mouth open in dreadful sights

And all of this in hideous orbs whirled.

 O, tell me tour names, black limbos,

Pieces of paradise shattered,

What is this unknown tongue, what are those words

That you thrust in my ears and paint with my woes?

 O, stop, for an eye-blink, nameless wonder,

Twisted scar of sand drowning in my dreams,

Come, rising tides, waves, take me in golden rings

Of streams, bitter salt and swirling water.

 Look how the hurricane has lost my body in

Dark visions, and great doors, and half worlds, turning,

How my arms- her arms- in haste grab my throat,

How my mouth –her smile- tears air with its laugh.

 O, wizard, ruined castle, Leviathan, Bahamut,

Earth open and burning

Trumpet’s loud hurling

Black snow falling from archangels’ wings

And cinders, acid rain, starless sky-

 O, Armageddon and fiend vomiting caves

And people in plague and leprosy,

Worms gnawing upon the endless black town,

Atomic bombs-

 And open the abyss, and open my face

And open the earth and the sea,

From the world torn apart,

She rises, high,

Higher than the clouds and the sun,

With the same red wings,

So high and white in nothingness,

Her hands reach for infinity,

(Half mad, I stumble)

And with her bright lips, hot rubies,

She eats the world.

*

 In squalid downtown, the house of limbos shine

With a red neon in arabesque lines

In the blue mist, the man in purple coat says

“You will not see your friend again.

And he will be happy, your friend.”.

 And behind him, in the blue fog,

A deep fog blue like the sea

Black shapes twist, and mumble and laugh:

The small man says they’re crazy.

 And in the back alley, awkward corpses stumble

Though black streets, under low bridges

To infect with their sight the sinking city

Beneath the clouds, the town crumbles,

 Along with the  far away rhythm

Of their never ending pacing

(for everything in limbos is so far)

 Their eyes are blind and blue

The deep blue of the sea

And their soul far away in limbos.

 In here, like some said once,

You will only find them dead,

With forsaken dreams dripping through their hands.

 In eternal sunset, a purple coat hide horizon

As slowly they give up

As slowly they let

The well of dark worlds their weak souls swallows.

 And in the cerulean mist of limbos,

The town fonders.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Psalms and Proverbs

for a snowy Ash Wednesday, february 26 of 2020 with Psalm 26 and Proverbs 26, accompanied by Psalm 68 for the 68th day of Winter and Psalm 57 for day 57 of the year

[Psalm 26]

A song of David.

Declare my innocence, O Eternal One!

I have walked blamelessly down this path.

I placed my trust in the Eternal and have yet to stumble.

Put me on trial and examine me, O Eternal One!

Search me through and through—from my deepest longings to every thought that crosses my mind.

Your unfailing love is always before me;

I have journeyed down Your path of truth.

My life is not wasted among liars;

my days are not spent among cheaters.

I despise every crowd intent on evil;

I do not commune with the wicked.

I wash my hands in the fountain of innocence

so that I might join the gathering that surrounds Your altar, O Eternal One.

From my soul, I will join the songs of thanksgiving;

I will sing and proclaim Your wonder and mystery.

Your house, home to Your glory, O Eternal One, radiates its light.

I am fixed on this place and long to be nowhere else.

When Your wrath pursues those who oppose You,

those swift to sin and thirsty for blood,

spare my soul and grant me life.

These men hold deceit in their left hands,

and in their right hands, bribery and lies.

But God, I have walked blamelessly down this path,

and this is my plea for redemption.

This is my cry for Your mercy.

Here I stand secure and confident

before all the people; I will praise the Eternal.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 26 (The Voice)

and in the lines of Psalm 68 we see the defeat of a dragon:

[Psalm 68]

A David Psalm

Up with God!

Down with his enemies!

Adversaries, run for the hills!

Gone like a puff of smoke,

like a blob of wax in the fire—

one look at God and the wicked vanish.

When the righteous see God in action

they’ll laugh, they’ll sing,

they’ll laugh and sing for joy.

Sing hymns to God;

all heaven, sing out;

clear the way for the coming of Cloud-Rider.

Enjoy God,

cheer when you see him!

Father of orphans,

champion of widows,

is God in his holy house.

God makes homes for the homeless,

leads prisoners to freedom,

but leaves rebels to rot in hell.

God, when you took the lead with your people,

when you marched out into the wild,

Earth shook, sky broke out in a sweat;

God was on the march.

Even Sinai trembled at the sight of God on the move,

at the sight of Israel’s God.

You pour out rain in buckets, O God;

thorn and cactus become an oasis

For your people to camp in and enjoy.

You set them up in business;

they went from rags to riches.

The Lord gave the word;

thousands called out the good news:

“Kings of the armies

are on the run, on the run!”

While housewives, safe and sound back home,

divide up the plunder,

the plunder of Canaanite silver and gold.

On that day that Shaddai scattered the kings,

snow fell on Black Mountain.

You huge mountains, Bashan mountains,

mighty mountains, dragon mountains.

All you mountains not chosen,

sulk now, and feel sorry for yourselves,

For this is the mountain God has chosen to live on;

he’ll rule from this mountain forever.

The chariots of God, twice ten thousand,

and thousands more besides,

The Lord in the lead, riding down Sinai—

straight to the Holy Place!

You climbed to the High Place, captives in tow,

your arms full of booty from rebels,

And now you sit there in state,

God, sovereign God!

Blessed be the Lord—

day after day he carries us along.

He’s our Savior, our God, oh yes!

He’s God-for-us, he’s God-who-saves-us.

Lord God knows all

death’s ins and outs.

What’s more, he made heads roll,

split the skulls of the enemy

As he marched out of heaven,

saying, “I tied up the Dragon in knots,

put a muzzle on the Deep Blue Sea.”

You can wade through your enemies’ blood,

and your dogs taste of your enemies from your boots.

See God on parade

to the sanctuary, my God,

my King on the march!

Singers out front, the band behind,

maidens in the middle with castanets.

The whole choir blesses God.

Like a fountain of praise, Israel blesses God.

Look—little Benjamin’s out

front and leading

Princes of Judah in their royal robes,

princes of Zebulon, princes of Naphtali.

Parade your power, O God,

the power, O God, that made us what we are.

Your temple, High God, is Jerusalem;

kings bring gifts to you.

Rebuke that old crocodile, Egypt,

with her herd of wild bulls and calves,

Rapacious in her lust for silver,

crushing peoples, spoiling for a fight.

Let Egyptian traders bring blue cloth

and Cush come running to God, her hands outstretched.

Sing, O kings of the earth!

Sing praises to the Lord!

There he is: Sky-Rider,

striding the ancient skies.

Listen—he’s calling in thunder,

rumbling, rolling thunder.

Call out “Bravo!” to God,

the High God of Israel.

His splendor and strength

rise huge as thunderheads.

A terrible beauty, O God,

streams from your sanctuary.

It’s Israel’s strong God! He gives

power and might to his people!

O you, his people—bless God!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 68 (The Message)

accompanied by these lines of Psalm 68 mirrored in The Passion Translation and The Voice:

You, O God, sent the reviving rain upon your weary inheritance,

showers of blessing to refresh it.

So there your people settled.

And in your kindness you provided the poor with abundance.

God Almighty declares the word of the gospel with power,

and the warring women of Zion deliver its message:

“The conquering legions have themselves been conquered.

Look at them flee!”

Now Zion’s women are left to gather the spoils.

When you sleep between sharpened stakes,

I see you sparkling like silver and glistening like gold,

covered by the beautiful wings of a dove!

When the Almighty found a king for himself,

it became white as snow in his shade.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 68:9-14 (The Passion Translation)

When they lay down among the campfires and open the saddlebags, imagine what they’ll find—a beautiful dove, its wings covered with silver, its feathers a shimmering gold.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 68:13 (The Voice)

[Psalm 57]

A David Psalm, When He Hid in a Cave from Saul

Be good to me, God—and now!

I’ve run to you for dear life.

I’m hiding out under your wings

until the hurricane blows over.

I call out to High God,

the God who holds me together.

He sends orders from heaven and saves me,

he humiliates those who kick me around.

God delivers generous love,

he makes good on his word.

I find myself in a pride of lions

who are wild for a taste of human flesh;

Their teeth are lances and arrows,

their tongues are sharp daggers.

Soar high in the skies, O God!

Cover the whole earth with your glory!

They booby-trapped my path;

I thought I was dead and done for.

They dug a mantrap to catch me,

and fell in headlong themselves.

I’m ready, God, so ready,

ready from head to toe,

Ready to sing, ready to raise a tune:

“Wake up, soul!

Wake up, harp! wake up, lute!

Wake up, you sleepyhead sun!”

I’m thanking you, God, out loud in the streets,

singing your praises in town and country.

The deeper your love, the higher it goes;

every cloud is a flag to your faithfulness.

Soar high in the skies, O God!

Cover the whole earth with your glory!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 57 (The Message)

[Proverbs 26]

It is totally out of place to promote and honor a fool, just like it’s out of place to have snow in the summer and rain at harvest time.

An undeserved curse will be powerless to harm you. It may flutter over you like a bird, but it will find no place to land.

Guide a horse with a whip, direct a donkey with a bridle, and lead a rebellious fool with a beating on his backside!

Don’t respond to the words of a fool with more foolish words, or you will become as foolish as he is!

Instead, if you’re asked a silly question, answer it with words of wisdom so the fool doesn’t think he’s so clever.

If you choose a fool to represent you, you’re asking for trouble. It will be as bad for you as cutting off your own feet!

You can never trust the words of a fool, just like a crippled man can’t trust his legs to support him.

Give honor to a fool and watch it backfire—like a stone tied to a slingshot.

The statements of a fool will hurt others like a thorn bush brandished by a drunk.

Like a reckless archer shooting arrows at random is the impatient employer who hires just any fool who comes along—someone’s going to get hurt!

Fools are famous for repeating their errors, like dogs are known to return to their vomit.

There’s only one thing worse than a fool, and that’s the smug, conceited man always in love with his own opinions.

[Don’t Be Lazy]

The lazy loafer says, “I can’t go out and look for a job—there may be a lion out there roaming wild in the streets!”

As a door is hinged to the wall, so the lazy man keeps turning over, hinged to his bed!

There are some people so lazy they won’t even work to feed themselves.

A self-righteous person is convinced he’s smarter than seven wise counselors who tell him the truth.

It’s better to grab a mad dog by its ears than to meddle and interfere in a quarrel that’s none of your business.

[Watch Your Words]

The one who is caught lying to his friend and says, “I didn’t mean it, I was only joking,” can be compared to a madman randomly shooting off deadly weapons.

It takes fuel to have a fire—a fire dies down when you run out of fuel. So quarrels disappear when the gossip ends.

Add fuel to the fire and the blaze goes on. So add an argumentative man to the mix and you’ll keep strife alive.

Gossip is so delicious, and how we love to swallow it! For slander is easily absorbed into our innermost being.

Smooth talk can hide a corrupt heart just like a pretty glaze covers a cheap clay pot.

Kind words can be a cover to conceal hatred of others, for hypocrisy loves to hide behind flattery.

So don’t be drawn in by the hypocrite, for his gracious speech is a charade, nothing but a masquerade covering his hatred and evil on parade.

Don’t worry—he can’t keep the mask on for long. One day his hypocrisy will be exposed before all the world.

Go ahead, set a trap for others—and then watch as it snaps back on you! Start a landslide and you’ll be the one who gets crushed.

Hatred is the root of slander and insecurity the root of flattery.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 26 (The Passion Translation)

[blackthornings]

girls your age / nessian

angsty nessian fic! because all my ships might be gone in 3 days and well, this was equal parts fun and heartbreaking to write. enjoy :)

warning: death/rape mentions ; sfw

prompt: “girls your age never mean what they say.”

She takes in a deep breath, her lungs struggling to suck in the cold night air around her as she lies on the grass. The full moon shines overhead, illuminating the night sky that stretches out like an unending song, and she can almost feel Cassian lying next to her, holding her hand, telling her how her hair shines like burnished gold. Grinning with challenge and a gleam in his eyes. The smirk that once filled her very soul with crackling fire now tears at her, shaking her and screaming the words that she has tried so hard to avoid.

Her heart aches. And so she remembers.

Each heartbeat is more wrenching than the last.

She is nine, and her mother smiles down at her, more than a little cold but reeking of elegant charm. Nine-year-old Nesta’s always admired her mother; the haughty, beautiful, cruel face, the laughter that tinkles whenever she’s entertaining one of her many friends. She flits around the chandelier-lit ballroom, trying to be like her mother; her curls are neatly pressed, her luxurious dress swishing around her as she drinks in the party. But what Nesta can’t understand is why none of the grown-ups want to talk to her about anything interesting. They want to know who Nesta will marry, what manner of lord she would like to serve for the rest of her life. When she tells them about her plans to travel the continent and make a name for herself and never, ever be tied to a man unless she loves him with her whole heart, they just shake their heads and smile faintly. That night is the first time she hears those words.

“Girls your age never mean what they say.” 

Nesta shivers at the memory, her face glazed. The moonlight pours down, coaxing more pain out of her already shredded heart.

In the next memory, she is seventeen and starving, the ache in her stomach only adding fuel to the rage that her father can’t work other than useless wood carvings and the little money they have left is already running out. Fire roars through her head, consuming all other thoughts or sense of self-preservation; her rage is a monster living in her chest, beating and pounding as she snaps properly for the first time. Her father doesn’t even react properly or try to argue as the screams tear themselves from her chest, accusing him, voicing all of the hate-filled thoughts that she’s harboured for so long. And when she finishes, he only says, in a voice that is broken and pathetic,

“Girls your age never mean what they say.”

The next one is short and makes her want to vomit up her guts, but at least it’s not the memories of Elain or Cassian - 

Tomas’ eyes shine through the gloom in the bedroom, predatory and gleaming in a way that makes Nesta sick and afraid. He leans in to kiss her, as he’s done a thousand times, but what he does next, she never saw coming.

His hands reach for her body, touching places where she does not want to be touched, every brush of his fingers like stinging nettles, and her eyes widen with panic and fear. She has to get him off her - 

She tries to push him off. “Tomas, no. I’m not ready.”

But his hands become rougher, more insistent, gripping her wrist hard enough to bruise, and the fire in her threatens to burn down the world as he says in a voice that is low and ragged and makes her want to run,

“Girls your age never mean what they say.”

No - she doesn’t want to remember the next one, doesn’t want to see that face she loves more than anything else in the world -

Elain frowns at Nesta softly, the expression like a whiff of smoke clouding her perfect, gentle face. 

“What do you mean, you’re not finishing the season?” she says, her voice as light as a spring breeze. Nesta wants to tell her then, wants to tell her everything she knows: about Feyre being taken, but something makes her pause. She loves Elain too much, will always be protecting her. And Elain is so happy, wreathed in the light shining through the emerald-roofed manor’s windows, clothed in a luxurious cobalt dress, a bunch of flowers clasped in her hands from the garden. Nesta can’t bring herself to shatter that happiness. So she just puts on her least brooding face, and gives Elain as vague an answer as possible.

Then a sad smile from Elain, who places a dove-like hand on Nesta’s shoulder.

“Girls your age never mean what they say.”

Nesta’s emotion is a chasm, and she throws herself into the abyss as the next memory comes; it’s the only way to save her from madness, because it’s so painful to see the next one. Her chest is being ripped open...

No - no. She is screaming now, and the sound echoes through the graveyard where she is lying. Don’t make me remember, she begs to nobody and everyone.

The only people to hear her are the dead, and they cannot stop the images that pour into her.

Cassian is grinning, his hair disheveled. She cups his face in her hands and kisses him thoroughly, deeply, taking in the beautiful lines of his face, the heat of his body, the gleam of challenge in his eyes. 

She has loved him for a long time now, the fire in her dancing in the heat that emanates from his very soul; she has never felt happier, more alive than she does now, in Cassian’s arms. Her love is something that could make the world collapse.

So she smiles, a real, genuine smile that has Cassian looking at her in what seems like awe. And she feels the sunlight streaking through the darkness that she’s kept in her chest for so long.

No, no, no - 

Anything but this - 

Cassiancassiancassian

She brushes back his hair. “I love you,” she murmurs. It’s the first time he ever hears her say it.

But her heart shatters as he says, 

“Girls your age never mean what they say.”

He’s joking, of course, she can see that in the laughter that twinkles in his eyes. But he doesn’t know how deep and true those words strike, awakening something in her that churns like stormy waters and makes fire spring from her touch. 

He jumps back, his skin singed, and looks at her with such unfathomable hurt in his eyes for a second.

“Ness,” he says quietly. “I was joking. I love you too.”

And that should be enough, but for Nesta’s tortured soul of ash and embers, it isn’t. She looks him in the eye for one second - an apology, and a confirmation, and now, she knows, lying in the graveyard, a goodbye - and runs out the door.

She’s made it as far as the Sidra river, her legs fueled by the hurt that glows within her, when the feeling hits her.

Like ink dropped in water. Her eyes rise to the horizon, and there, wings dark and gruesome against the bruised sunset sky, is a legion of Hybern soldiers. The barrage of emotions that wave over her are like terrifying, but then all-consuming as she watches.

As she watches a sole winged figure shoot into the air, Illyrian wings spread wide and shining in the sunset, siphons gleaming like portals to another world, gleaming red like fire.

And as Nesta sounds the alarm and runs towards where he is holding the shield, her feet flying over the cobbled stones, she begs for help to come, roars with all the heat inside her burning chest. 

The Hybern soldiers break through Cassian’s glowing red shield, and unable to stop herself, Nesta howls as one hurtles for him. She feels heat thrum in her fingertips and shoots a bundle of fire towards them.

The Hybern soldier is decimated, the ashes of his remains falling to the ground like snow, and Nesta feels triumph as Cassian turns to her for a split second; even from the ground, she can see his grin, appraising and cocky and challenging. Her heart thunders in his chest, and she smirks back, but it’s short-lived.

Her smile is wiped off her face as, in the split second he had used to look at her, a soldier plunges an ash arrow deep in Cassian’s heart.

And then those glorious, iridescent wings go slack, and she is watching him tumble to the ground, blood spilling from his chest, far too much blood, and he can’t be dead, she just saved his life, but then he is closer and closer to the ground, his face ashen as he turns to her one last time and mouths “I love-”

Nesta’s heart stops as he hits the ground with a sickening thud.

His wings are splayed, his arms bent into an unnatural position, blood drowning his already lifeless eyes, smeared over the pretty pastel cobblestones. She knows he is gone, knows that there is no coming back.

Knows that there is no coming back for her either.

And then it doesn’t matter how old she is, or whether she is a girl or a boy or a Cauldron-damned demon as she screams at the soldier-filled sky, because she means what she says more than anything she has ever said. For all she is, all she has become, all she has lost, after losing so much.

And her power screams with her, as flame billows in the skies, replacing the brooding clouds with pillars of orange and red and yellow, roaring, illuminating the city below, the mountains around, a beacon across the whole rutting world. She doesn’t care anymore as she becomes the fire that erupts from her very soul, incinerating those soldiers in mere moments.

She sobs as she dashes through the smoky air and the black snow to Cassian, her tears mingling with the ash that litters the atmosphere and the sweat that trickles down her back. The fire still rages above her, a manifestation of the torment in her heart as she falls to her knees on the blood-soaked floor. Forgets to breathe. Pushes back the singed hair to look at the face she hates and loves so deeply and kisses his cold, dead lips one last time.

Her heat magic courses through him and for a second she is hopeful as his lips warm and move in response. But all that happens is his head flops back to the ground, limp and broken, and she is just a wailing girl surrounded by ashes and smoke as the fire above sputters out and tears not of salt water, but of crackling, scalding power, vicious as the sun that can’t pierce through the darkness in the streets of Velaris.

And now Nesta is curled up under the unforgiving moon. She turns over, that all-consuming fire finally gone, burnt out, leaving nothing but a hollow chest and a messy-haired girl lying next to the grave of her dead lover. She doesn’t even have the heat in her any more to make the world suffer as acutely ash she had. No, all she has now is these memories and a soul stained with ash.

Her voice, a rasp in the silence of the graveyard, surprises her when she speaks.

“I will never be able to live with myself. Not without you.” Her voice is hollow, defeated.

But she feels a brush on her arm, feather-light, and he is sitting next to her, a figment of the silvery light, heartbreakingly beautiful as he puts his mouth close to her ear as he whispers,

“Girls your age never mean what they say.”