There Was No Clear Time To Be Told. No Exact Date, Exact Time, Exact Moment That Would Be Able To Tell
There was no clear time to be told. No exact date, exact time, exact moment that would be able to tell people. It was this...
Poison.
This slow killing poison that settles in the gaps of your jonts, the spaces in your muscles. It flows with your blood, following the set trail set by the veins. Until it reaches your brain.
If you asked, you would not be given a clear answer as to when everything cleared up and the thought came.
It was something that was planted long before the time came. It slowly blossomed, the poison as its water that tarnishes the soil it growing on.
It seeps into your being, poisonous, inky black blob of venom that crawled into the crevices of your body, your orfices and settled into you. Blending in with the crowd in your system until it leaked into your soul, painted your heart, manipulated your mind.
It was the blueish, the purplish, the disgusting array of colors that appeared on your skin as the bruised formed from another hit from an unloving and unlovable and disgusting and cruel and demonic hand. It was the bright and angry red that shaped itself as a hand that cupped the entirety of one half of your face.
It was the leakage of dark red blood that tasted like iron and smelled like it from your nose or your split lip or a cut from a bottle shard. Or the torn walls from where it slipped outside and slipped back once more.
This poison.
It takes several forms. It could be that droplet of blood that fell on your desk with a "plink". It could be the next person you talk to. The next hand that slots itself in your hand and it feels so so so wrong. It could be that stripe of saliva somewhere on your skin. It could be that look of a parent so unlike a parent's.
It could be the glinting of a silver blade that blinds you and cuts you with it's sharpness, and that blood that drips from your hand to the matress. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another.
Until.
Until it forms that big wet puddle of red. Like wet paint leaking across the surface of the canvas and spreading. Or blood on a tissue that spreads and leaks onto the bottom.
It could be that void in your chest as you stare at the opened and lifeless eyes of an abuser. Eyes that opened a minute before the final breath was taken. Fear etched onto them. That same fear you saw in your reflection. That same fear you saw reflected into those cruel, cruel orbs.
It could be the steps you took as you walked out.
Or it could be the tiny splash of water from when you dropped the bloody knife.
Or it could be that feeling in your chest you can't identify as you watch the crime, your crime, your sin, reported in the news and printed in the papers and talked around.
Or it could be that sickeningly sweet feeling you felt as you moved forward. Or the faint regret as you looked back.
Or that happy, giddy feeling as you left and started new.
Or that ghostly, cool touch of a hand that explores your every part with a burning, seering, hot pain.
Or that feeling of fear and relief when you woke up and your heartbeat's loud beating of thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thumo, thump...
More Posts from Dwoality2123 and Others
I know I’m bout to get like, three likes but I’m just happy to be here honestly
I ship Sneglus (Severus Snape x Regulus Black). And I wonder if someone ever asked Regulus "why?". Why does he continue to chase and pine over a man whose heart was given to someone else already? And I wonder if Regulus ever answered with an "I don't know either". And if he ever said "some things are just never meant to happen or last. No matter how much we long for it to."
And I wonder if, in another universe, Severus has obsessed with the idea of Lily being his only and true love when his heart began to beat for someone else.
If things would be so much different in a universe different from the one we happened upon where Severus loved another as truly as he loved Lily and Regulus lived.
I feel like I’ve read this fanfic before, I just cannot remember the title of it
Draco Malfoy: you look like shit, Weasley.
Ron Weasley: **smirks** but still fuckable, right?
Tobias from The Amazing World of Gumball gives me MCU Flash Thompson vibes for some reason.
Contradictions
I'm the very embodiment of contradictions. The physical manifestation of duality molded into a body. I am the adjective of two extremes. To describe me is to confuse oneself, to describe me is to describe everything and nothing. I feel inferiority just as I feel superiority. I'm the most evil nice person to exist for there are equal amounts of nicety than there is evil in me. I am sinful saint. I utter the words of a god that my heart oozes no faith for, yet any arguments of my god's existence fills me with a rage like a devout.
I grieve no one and everyone. My heart beats no care or love for any entity be it my family or my friends or a lover that never will exist for my heart will hold nothing but apathy. Yet. My words and my actions are devotions of a semblance of a love that I do not feel. My thoughts are dedicated for them as if I am driven by love—yet my heart beats nothing but pumped blood.
I understand myself very well, the only person to ever understand me. Though I confuse myself all the time. I am so inexplicable that I am only explained by my name. My name is all the explanations one needs, every nuances of my being—blurred and confusing it may be for anyone but me. They explain me by uttering my name, chalk it up to [—] being [—] as if that's the only explanation for my behavior and my words and my expressions.
People talk about me as if they can understand me, as if their words are true. It is not. Even those that hold the title of my closest friend always gets it wrong. They say my name as if it explains it all despite them not knowing what it is that's actually being explained by the simple whisper of my name.
What's in a name, I wonder?
Because it definitely is not understanding.
I got the Cursed book written by Thomas Wheeler and illustrated by Frank Miller and lemme tell you, the book, the cover, the font, the illustrations are AWESOME. I haven't read it yet, but it looks so awesome!
I just got an idea: what if a symbiote was injected into a human? Like, the actual symbiote, not like Anti-Venom stuff. IDK if this is even scientifically possible to inject a symbiotic creature into someone, but hey, creativity.
Anyway. Since it’s injected into the person, it changes their DNA and stuff and the body gradually adapts to the intrusion, evolving the body. So, their entire body is now like the Symbiote.
For example, if you throw something at the Person™, they could just make a hole in their body or shift their body to avoid getting it. Or maybe something like an arrow could just pass through because they have a goo-like body now thanks to the goo-like nature of a symbiote without a host.
They can maybe shift to resemble anything? Like, maybe their feet can shift to have skater blades, who knows? Maybe they can even copy the mechanics of wheels and have wheels for feet, IDK if the friction would hurt though. Maybe they can just snatch something from the shelf of a grocery store and store it inside their body because they have a goo-like body and they can just absorb it into them. They can probably shape shift now into different things or people! Granted, the people they shift into will have their own color scheme. So if you're white, whoever you shift into will be white no matter if you copied a black man's look or not.
You cannot change your genetic makeup...well, the color palette at least. And if you shift into things??? It's probably all black or whatever color the Symbiote was and you can't copy certain materials like glass because how??
You know how Symbiote hosts can swing like Spidey? Well, they can do that with any part of their body. Which...Symbiotes can probably do naturally since...well, since they don't have a limit to the wrist like Spidey does. Soo...eh. They're basically the same, except every Symbiote trait is now innate to them.
They probably cringe or just get discomfort from being under the heat or having steam hit their body. Not pain, but mild discomfort. It's when fire is involved that a problem arises.
And they are not allowed in loud spaces or they are in pain. Clubs? Nope. Parties? Nope. They would get noise-cancelling earphones. And because of their aversion to loud noises, they probably start becoming more reclusive and introverted, preferring quiet spaces.
Maybe because it is a symbiote that is injected into them, they still have the living creature but just in their head. Unless they wanted to make a head for themselves like Symbiotes do. So it is basically just a Symbiote, still in your head and everything, it just can't get off of you. Two different people in one body.
Also, maybe, just maybe, because it was injected...you get access to the Hive Mind. Complete access without even needing permission. That being said, since Venom bonded with Spidey which means Spidey's abilities are now in the Hive Mind which explains why Venom has a lot of Spidey's abilities—Person™ will still have those abilities. Stronger than Spidey and have Spider-Sense. Spidey will also not be able to sense Person™.
Thing is, when you do Symbiote stuff like stretching a portion of yourself like Venom does when he swings or grabs something to hurl at someone, it can either be the Person™'s skintone or the color of the Symbiote, it is generally up to the person what they go for. Usually, when shape shifting, they'd just shift their appearance and not change color during the process to be more subtle. Probably just subtly changing their features gradually to be less noticeable. But when they're doing Symbiote stuff, I imagine that their limb would become the color of the Symbiote so it doesn't look like they're a goo-like version of Mr. Fantastic.
Short people can be taller! Tall people can be shorter!
Male bodies can have lady parts! Female bodies can have male parts!
