Writings in Carnage
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
700
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
700
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Lonely World
Looking down unaware of the world
What a strung out beautiful girl
Dawn is holding a sign, could use a little help there
She's aware in her own little way
Fading in and out of the day
As she sits there in shame, and she wonders
Can you take, can you take, can you take me lower?
Can you take, can you take, can you take me over?
Feeling too much pain to defy
The disease is deep in her eyes
So she might as well drown in the thing that saves her
She recalls that there was a time
When she wasn't actualized
To relinqish control to her savior.
ATB - Take Me Over
Ah yes. February 14th. Valentine's Day. Has there ever been such a pointless holiday? Asides from White Day which is overall the exact same thing except it takes place on March 14th and it’s the time in Japan that boys gives girls chocolates and so forth. There are two theories on how the day started out, asides from how began during the Roman Empire. In ancient Rome, February 14th was a holiday to honor Juno or Hera, otherwise known as the Queen of the Roman Gods and Goddesses. The Romans also knew her as the Goddess of women and marriage. The following day would be begin the Feast of Lupercalia. On the eve of the festival of Lupercalia the names of Roman girls were written on slips of paper and placed into jars and then each young man would draw one of the slips from the jar.
The two would be partners for the duration of the festival. Sometimes the pairing of the children lasted an entire year, and often, they would fell in love and would later on. Another possible reason for the creation of the holiday would be the martyrdom of Saint Valentine. The Emperor Claudius II Rome had difficulties in getting soldiers to join his military leagues. His reasoning was that the men simply did not want to leave their wives and families who they adored. His method to fix this little problem? Why he cancelled all marriages and engagements in Rome. The idiot. If he could possibly have thought that that would fix the situation. Saint Valentine, a priest, continued performing marriage ceremonies and thus ended up condemned to death (aka beaten to death by clubs). Lovely, eh?
Pinky fingers get to have their own myths. The red thread that attaches one person to another is supposedly tied around it, supposedly linked to that single other being that was meant for you. Mmhmm. Right. He wriggled the right of those set of fingers a bit. He certainly couldn’t feel anything confining his finger. Hmm and why was it that wedding rings and that sort were always put on ring fingers? Oh well, there was a history behind that as well. And for those who want to know about it here it is…back when before some significant medical science advancements took place, people believed that there was a vein that ran directly from the third finger to the heart. This vein was known as "vena amori," or vein of love. Thus the best way to show true devotion was to wear the ring on that finger. And nowadays that tradition continues just because basically it’s tradition and people just adore obeying that stuff.
Wafts of breath drifted through the air with each exhale and every inhale brought frigid air to his lungs. The boy brought his fingertips to his lips and blew on them lightly. Then pressed the poor chilled fingers to his lips, only to find that they were even colder than the gloveless hands. A scowl graced the lips that usually had the air of pouting were currently tinged blue. Snowflakes clung to the strands of wispy blond hair that had escaped the dark fleece hat that covered most of the boy’s head. They held to his eyelashes and eyebrows, left damp spots upon his skin and strayed to cling to his way to large blue coat and jeans. Black laceless boots that were most likely older than his parents’ ages combined trudged through the frosted concrete streets. China blue eyes flickered upward, to glare at the sky. Damn winter….for always being so freezing cold.
Ah, yes, the sixteen year old was in a grumpy mood. Who could blame him with all the things weighing down heavily upon him. Valentine’s Day was an extremely rotten day when you didn’t have anyone special to spend it with. But many other people knew of that particular burden. He was also down in the dumps because of how damn cold it was. How he was heading to a deserted home did nothing to improve his attitude. Why deserted? Oh, but of course, grandfather and grandmother had gone away. Away where? Why to visit his ‘lovable’ cousin who was off at boarding school. Such a smart boy.
Getting into boarding school. Poor thing, must be suffering from homesickness. So they had to go visit him this Friday, go and stay the weekend at some hotel near the school. Leave him alone back in the city with his normal highschool. He could spend the weekend on his lonesome right? Odin Ameson sighed and tucked his hands into his pockets.
As for those missing gloves, the culprit would be his darling cousin. The last he had heard of them apparently some dog had lost it’s stomach’s content on them…He could only hope that they had been adoring his cousin’s hands at the time. Oh and the reason he was wearing these ancient boots? Why his cousin had taken his barely a few months old pair. Right, so much for not playing favorites among children.
Only roughly ten blocks until he was home. Ten long-arse blocks while it was snowing. And about five of them were in what wasn’t exactly considered the good part of the city. He used to have another route for getting home but he’d stopped using that one around a year ago after a slightly traumatizing experience with a homeless man he’d been a tad too eager to thank him for a quarter. So that meant walking through here, and avoiding glancing over at the show windows of passing stores…whose merchandise wasn’t exactly appropriate for eyes belonging to anyone under the age of eighteen and even then probably wasn’t.
Those gaudy neon signs that were supposed to be alluring flashed in the afternoon that was quickly dimming into evening with each passing minute. Mannequins stood among the shop windows, barely covered by articles made either of lacy tidbits or leather, and all revealing too much of the dull white skin of the inanimate plastic or some other material fashioned in the shapes of humans. And in some surreal one it reminded of his grandmother's clothing store. It hadn't existed for years now, even since his grandmother had become too old to run it and then when she finally passed on. It was an antique store currently. But back when it once had mannequins, adorned in the dresses of the day. With empty gazes and outreached hands, fingers stretching, curling orward toward the customers.
Fine cracks ran along the dolls in choice areas, and several missing essential parts. A gallery of time passing. They'd outlived his grandmother, they would most likely outlive him. And somehow the boy had ceased walking, gazing listlessly over into one of the shops whose blaring windows were decked up for the holiday. Black and red. Soft satin, playing lights, objects created for pleasure, promising it. The pale skin of the mannequins contrasting sharply with the choice of colors. Imitation, fantasy, a chance to escape reality into those false perfect forms. Those dealers of dreams, the dreams not of the innocent but the ones who had passed innocence, leaving it behind to be the contents of fond recollections of childhood, moving on into the world the consisted of only grays (his only had a few, underlining tones of it), varying streaks of it, every shade except for the simplicity of black and white.
Eventually the nipping cold (as well as a particularly loud and out of placed voice) dragged Odin from his unusual reverie back to reality. Talk about getting your own thoughts. Those mannequins had always scared him as a child, those lifeless creatures dressed in merchandise. Odin shook his head slightly, trying to fully bring himself back from his mind's wanderings. Probably just the weather finally getting to him. God, he hoped no one had noticed him staring so vacantly, and at that store too. The impressions that would leave on people. Then again, it wouldn't matter what random strangers thought of him. Most people that he actually knew wouldn't be caught dead in this section of the city. Nope, not even if their lives depended on it. It would spoil their precious reputations.
A tremor went through Odin's frail form, the cold that had already bitten through his thick clothing playing over his skin. So cold. He clenched his hands into his pockets in an attempt to keep them from shaking uncontrollably and sped his pace up a bit, a bit uncomfortable with the hands that shot out in front of his legs with each alley he passed. There was another reason why he hated this part of town, and that was because it was were all the homeless seemed to gather. Not that he had anything against street bums, wasn't there fault that their lot in life was unfortunate, but some of those street wanders were just downright creepy and it was best for people to just avoid them. You never knew what was passing through their muddled minds.
Odin came to a stop at the traffic lights, lightly hopping from one foot to the other as he waited impatiently for the lights to switch so he could cross the street. 'Come on, Come on.'
"Money!"
'..........'
"Wretched punks!"
The blonde was starting to get distracted from his goal to 'get home as fast as possible' and flicked his gaze over to the bum that was sitting not but a few feet away from him. He couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the older man, whose bruised, cracked lips were turning blue from the icy wind. Snuggled under his arm was an old, battered up rabbit that he turned to talk to every few seconds as he picked at the remains of a loaf of bread that was beginning to mold over. Normally he paid little mind to beggers, as you could you tell from a few seconds ago, but this particular man seem to strike a nerve in him. Maybe it was because of the childish way he clung to his play thing, or maybe it was the crooked smile that was plastered on his face. Either way, he couldn't help but feel the urge to donate a little and he soon found himself moving toward him.
Odin plunged both of his hands into his coat pockets, digging around until he found some loose change before slowly lowering himself to toss the money into the beat-up coffee can, his eyes constantly trained on the oblivious male. There was a loud 'clunk' as metal hit metal, the sound sharply startling the man out of his sudden trance. Odin found himself suddenly freezing up as the other man's eyes quickly snapped up to catch his stare. He tried to smile, but found he couldn't move the muscles in his body so just continued to stare. There was a moment of silence between them before the man emitted a deep chuckle.
"Hello there, dear."
What a strung out beautiful girl
Dawn is holding a sign, could use a little help there
She's aware in her own little way
Fading in and out of the day
As she sits there in shame, and she wonders
Can you take, can you take, can you take me lower?
Can you take, can you take, can you take me over?
Feeling too much pain to defy
The disease is deep in her eyes
So she might as well drown in the thing that saves her
She recalls that there was a time
When she wasn't actualized
To relinqish control to her savior.
ATB - Take Me Over
Ah yes. February 14th. Valentine's Day. Has there ever been such a pointless holiday? Asides from White Day which is overall the exact same thing except it takes place on March 14th and it’s the time in Japan that boys gives girls chocolates and so forth. There are two theories on how the day started out, asides from how began during the Roman Empire. In ancient Rome, February 14th was a holiday to honor Juno or Hera, otherwise known as the Queen of the Roman Gods and Goddesses. The Romans also knew her as the Goddess of women and marriage. The following day would be begin the Feast of Lupercalia. On the eve of the festival of Lupercalia the names of Roman girls were written on slips of paper and placed into jars and then each young man would draw one of the slips from the jar.
The two would be partners for the duration of the festival. Sometimes the pairing of the children lasted an entire year, and often, they would fell in love and would later on. Another possible reason for the creation of the holiday would be the martyrdom of Saint Valentine. The Emperor Claudius II Rome had difficulties in getting soldiers to join his military leagues. His reasoning was that the men simply did not want to leave their wives and families who they adored. His method to fix this little problem? Why he cancelled all marriages and engagements in Rome. The idiot. If he could possibly have thought that that would fix the situation. Saint Valentine, a priest, continued performing marriage ceremonies and thus ended up condemned to death (aka beaten to death by clubs). Lovely, eh?
Pinky fingers get to have their own myths. The red thread that attaches one person to another is supposedly tied around it, supposedly linked to that single other being that was meant for you. Mmhmm. Right. He wriggled the right of those set of fingers a bit. He certainly couldn’t feel anything confining his finger. Hmm and why was it that wedding rings and that sort were always put on ring fingers? Oh well, there was a history behind that as well. And for those who want to know about it here it is…back when before some significant medical science advancements took place, people believed that there was a vein that ran directly from the third finger to the heart. This vein was known as "vena amori," or vein of love. Thus the best way to show true devotion was to wear the ring on that finger. And nowadays that tradition continues just because basically it’s tradition and people just adore obeying that stuff.
Wafts of breath drifted through the air with each exhale and every inhale brought frigid air to his lungs. The boy brought his fingertips to his lips and blew on them lightly. Then pressed the poor chilled fingers to his lips, only to find that they were even colder than the gloveless hands. A scowl graced the lips that usually had the air of pouting were currently tinged blue. Snowflakes clung to the strands of wispy blond hair that had escaped the dark fleece hat that covered most of the boy’s head. They held to his eyelashes and eyebrows, left damp spots upon his skin and strayed to cling to his way to large blue coat and jeans. Black laceless boots that were most likely older than his parents’ ages combined trudged through the frosted concrete streets. China blue eyes flickered upward, to glare at the sky. Damn winter….for always being so freezing cold.
Ah, yes, the sixteen year old was in a grumpy mood. Who could blame him with all the things weighing down heavily upon him. Valentine’s Day was an extremely rotten day when you didn’t have anyone special to spend it with. But many other people knew of that particular burden. He was also down in the dumps because of how damn cold it was. How he was heading to a deserted home did nothing to improve his attitude. Why deserted? Oh, but of course, grandfather and grandmother had gone away. Away where? Why to visit his ‘lovable’ cousin who was off at boarding school. Such a smart boy.
Getting into boarding school. Poor thing, must be suffering from homesickness. So they had to go visit him this Friday, go and stay the weekend at some hotel near the school. Leave him alone back in the city with his normal highschool. He could spend the weekend on his lonesome right? Odin Ameson sighed and tucked his hands into his pockets.
As for those missing gloves, the culprit would be his darling cousin. The last he had heard of them apparently some dog had lost it’s stomach’s content on them…He could only hope that they had been adoring his cousin’s hands at the time. Oh and the reason he was wearing these ancient boots? Why his cousin had taken his barely a few months old pair. Right, so much for not playing favorites among children.
Only roughly ten blocks until he was home. Ten long-arse blocks while it was snowing. And about five of them were in what wasn’t exactly considered the good part of the city. He used to have another route for getting home but he’d stopped using that one around a year ago after a slightly traumatizing experience with a homeless man he’d been a tad too eager to thank him for a quarter. So that meant walking through here, and avoiding glancing over at the show windows of passing stores…whose merchandise wasn’t exactly appropriate for eyes belonging to anyone under the age of eighteen and even then probably wasn’t.
Those gaudy neon signs that were supposed to be alluring flashed in the afternoon that was quickly dimming into evening with each passing minute. Mannequins stood among the shop windows, barely covered by articles made either of lacy tidbits or leather, and all revealing too much of the dull white skin of the inanimate plastic or some other material fashioned in the shapes of humans. And in some surreal one it reminded of his grandmother's clothing store. It hadn't existed for years now, even since his grandmother had become too old to run it and then when she finally passed on. It was an antique store currently. But back when it once had mannequins, adorned in the dresses of the day. With empty gazes and outreached hands, fingers stretching, curling orward toward the customers.
Fine cracks ran along the dolls in choice areas, and several missing essential parts. A gallery of time passing. They'd outlived his grandmother, they would most likely outlive him. And somehow the boy had ceased walking, gazing listlessly over into one of the shops whose blaring windows were decked up for the holiday. Black and red. Soft satin, playing lights, objects created for pleasure, promising it. The pale skin of the mannequins contrasting sharply with the choice of colors. Imitation, fantasy, a chance to escape reality into those false perfect forms. Those dealers of dreams, the dreams not of the innocent but the ones who had passed innocence, leaving it behind to be the contents of fond recollections of childhood, moving on into the world the consisted of only grays (his only had a few, underlining tones of it), varying streaks of it, every shade except for the simplicity of black and white.
Eventually the nipping cold (as well as a particularly loud and out of placed voice) dragged Odin from his unusual reverie back to reality. Talk about getting your own thoughts. Those mannequins had always scared him as a child, those lifeless creatures dressed in merchandise. Odin shook his head slightly, trying to fully bring himself back from his mind's wanderings. Probably just the weather finally getting to him. God, he hoped no one had noticed him staring so vacantly, and at that store too. The impressions that would leave on people. Then again, it wouldn't matter what random strangers thought of him. Most people that he actually knew wouldn't be caught dead in this section of the city. Nope, not even if their lives depended on it. It would spoil their precious reputations.
A tremor went through Odin's frail form, the cold that had already bitten through his thick clothing playing over his skin. So cold. He clenched his hands into his pockets in an attempt to keep them from shaking uncontrollably and sped his pace up a bit, a bit uncomfortable with the hands that shot out in front of his legs with each alley he passed. There was another reason why he hated this part of town, and that was because it was were all the homeless seemed to gather. Not that he had anything against street bums, wasn't there fault that their lot in life was unfortunate, but some of those street wanders were just downright creepy and it was best for people to just avoid them. You never knew what was passing through their muddled minds.
Odin came to a stop at the traffic lights, lightly hopping from one foot to the other as he waited impatiently for the lights to switch so he could cross the street. 'Come on, Come on.'
"Money!"
'..........'
"Wretched punks!"
The blonde was starting to get distracted from his goal to 'get home as fast as possible' and flicked his gaze over to the bum that was sitting not but a few feet away from him. He couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the older man, whose bruised, cracked lips were turning blue from the icy wind. Snuggled under his arm was an old, battered up rabbit that he turned to talk to every few seconds as he picked at the remains of a loaf of bread that was beginning to mold over. Normally he paid little mind to beggers, as you could you tell from a few seconds ago, but this particular man seem to strike a nerve in him. Maybe it was because of the childish way he clung to his play thing, or maybe it was the crooked smile that was plastered on his face. Either way, he couldn't help but feel the urge to donate a little and he soon found himself moving toward him.
Odin plunged both of his hands into his coat pockets, digging around until he found some loose change before slowly lowering himself to toss the money into the beat-up coffee can, his eyes constantly trained on the oblivious male. There was a loud 'clunk' as metal hit metal, the sound sharply startling the man out of his sudden trance. Odin found himself suddenly freezing up as the other man's eyes quickly snapped up to catch his stare. He tried to smile, but found he couldn't move the muscles in his body so just continued to stare. There was a moment of silence between them before the man emitted a deep chuckle.
"Hello there, dear."