THE ICY TUNDRA WAS BRUTAL, some unrelenting thing which none could think to truly weather on their own. guardians were a blessing, in some ways, despite some of the other traits you picked up, and in this case it was truly more so than some curse many might say. huddled away from the torrent ice laden winds within a small building, borrowing it until the worst passed, is none other than kaveh and... several furry creatures, all vying for a spot around where he sits to cuddle up to his warmth.
❝ Hey now! No shoving each other around. And stop trying to eat all the rations. There's enough room for every一 ❞
and then the door opens, causing the architect to look up wide-eyed in near shock at the sudden company. ah, of course this would happen where he was caught in the act, wouldn't it? one ear twitches atop his head as if in attempt to flatten at being in the spotlight like this again, this time with mehrak unable to help.
❝ W-Well! It's like I was saying. There's enough room for everybody in here that needs it. ❞ not that it was an offer for them to join in the pile, but as for the rest of the area...
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Strange. When Bruce was last in this city it hadn’t been as shiny. As disappointing as it was to be back; finding the city in this state brought the detective out in him. His essential gear is downgraded or stripped away, but a lack of equipment never stopped him before. On closer inspection he finds the layer of sparking deposits seem to be diamonds.
“Hm.” The Batman stoops low and runs a gloved hand over jagged edges, finding loose pieces in the cluster he gathers them for analysis later. After his poking and prodding the Bat stands and holds a hand out to the snowflakes falling from the sky. It doesn’t crystalize when it lands on him, but the chunk at his feet seems to grow ever slightly.
Batman turns his attention to the corvid-resembling individual. “You- how long has this been going on?” He wasn’t sure if this question could be answered, but if he had a time-frame he could predict the rate at which the deposit of carbon could grow. Of course.. this also depended on the downfall.
MUCH LIKE A FAIRYTALE, ONE without those fleeting, happy endings which all parents lulled to their sleeping children. already she can feel more of her affinity return, like some distant connection long lost upon arrival, even the depths of her contract returning. ah, were it only that, instead of such a ghastly face peering down upon her as if she were naught but something to be disposed of. but that was always how people looked at her, wasn’t it? something of detest, merely a filthy child who brought misfortune upon those in her wake---
shouldn’t you be cast away to die?
why is that thing here? drop it in quickly!
words like these mean nothing to her. what could contest to the pent up paint of loneliness which she has ignored for so long already? rather, it is only their next set of hisses after that cause eyes to widen, gaze whipping behind her to see the countenance of a familiar man as the jury recoils briefly in panic. ❝ Another one! Another Child of Ill-Omen is here... cast it away together with that disgusting creature! Erase it! ❞ how grating, she thinks, features already falling flat with displeasure.
❝ ... annoying. You’re so annoying. Shut up, you old coot. ❞ an instant snap, though her eyes hardly leave the other, almost unimpressed that he’s heard more than she thought necessary. ❝ Why’re you here? Qrow. ❞ despite the question, the juror hardly waits to reach out in hopes to restrain one of the two threats of their timelines.
mitch tilted his head and let out a breath at the multiple cracks that sounded from the movement, some of the pressure let out of his neck. he’d recovered from the 24 hour transportathon a while back, let himself begin shifting around the lair again soon after, not daring to touch the global stage just yet. then more chaos unfolding, the world descending into the insanity he knew was there, and suddenly he was in high demand.
here there and everywhere, his phone constantly pinging with locations and coordinates (as though he knew how to use the second set) to go to, people to pick up, places to take them to. he sort of felt like a taxi-service, especially with the vague nausea he left them with each time, and the speed of the journey. he’d tried the taxis in each major city and had decided that he didn’t like any of them.
he checked his phone, yep, they were supposed to meet here, so he pulled out a thermos bottle from his belt bag and continued drinking from it. might as well recover from all the journeys he’d been asked to take recently while he waited for the next call.
Welcome to the Osemanversenet! Before we announce this month’s event, we’d like to say thank you to everyone because we hit 100 followers! It’s amazing that there are so many people that love Alice’s creations, and we’re sending an extra thank you to everyone that participates in our events.
With that said, we’re excited to announce our third event! This month’s event is based around the theme of lyrics. You can use just one lyric in an edit, write something based on a song, or anything else you can think of. Any creations are accepted, we’d love to see everything and anything you make. You don’t have to be a member of the network to create something, and we encourage non-member submissions! The event will run throughout the month and will finish on May 31st.
Make sure to tag #osemanversenet in your creations, and tag us in the description (e.g. @osemanversenet event three: lyrics). If you want to, you could also include the lyrics that inspired you in the description. Happy creating!
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hollow back sways like the bark of a sapling but she is no spring tree. with golden hair and cherub’s lips, she dances, a cow’s tail under her skirt. she smiles and beckons. ‘i am your ruin,’ she warns as they near, but they all go willingly, ignorant of the tears and the terrors their deaths will bring. when the deed is done, she steps out into the forest once more, swaying in time to music only she can hear. men still come for her. none notice the stains of tears shed before. || s.c.
he stumbles into the room that isn’t quite home but may be the third best thing, where the person at reception changes every two months but there are long-term regulars that know him by a name. he doesn’t know how to rent a house but this is the next best thing, where he knows the area like a well-used map, creased in the edges and marked with favourite things.
it’s as close to the word familiar as he ever wants to get, and still, somehow, it gets disrupted.
At first, the room seems like any other, empty and familiar in a way that isn’t difficult to ignore. It is not, however, all that it seems. A figure stirs in the corner of the room, languid and smiling. He approaches Mitch, a perfect mirror reflection of him - or almost. This version of Mitch is not much older but he looks it, his eyes sunken and his cheeks taut. There is dried lipstick on his neck peeking out from under his collar. It looks to be hours old, though the bite right beside it could be days old. Energy, powerful but but almost too rich, radiates off of him even at a distance. The closer he gets, the more faint sounds can be heard around them - the chattering of voices too soft to be understood, music that fades in and out, the intrigue of some kind of party or event. The mirror Mitch takes no note of it. His gaze, slightly glazed over, scans up and down the real Mitch in front of him
he doesn’t know why he’s surprised to see another hallucination. perhaps he’s already fallen asleep, perhaps its salma or aeron, perhaps its another drop of crazy in the ocean he’s been swimming in. he doesn’t blink, just stands there, looks at how close they got it.he doesn’t have any hickeys himself right now, rarer for the past month, doesn’t normally hear voices like this, but the rest, the clothes, the skin taut around his rib cage, the mania lingering in his eyes, he’s a past present future copy, older in the eyes, the hunger of a few years ago, standing here now.
“You poor thing,” he says, his voice light but strained, like any pressure would crack it in two. “I remember you. Still hoping, even if you won’t admit it, that things could change.” Absently he scratches at a spot beneath his rib cage, revealing the extent to which his shirt hangs off his thinning frame. “That something could be permanent.” He laughs, a brittle thing, and looks right at Mitch. “It’s easier if you stop hoping. I know you know that. Don’t you want it to be easier?” His breathing quickens for a moment and he looks as if he’s caught up in a painful memory, but it passes soon enough, and he’s back to smiling again like it never happened. His lips split a little too wide. “I can show you, you know. Show you how much better it is when you just keep everyone out of your head. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them in. The universe can’t tear you away if you keep your roots to yourself.” He holds out his hand, seemingly unaware of the way it quivers, his fingers and wrist built with hollow bird bones. “Don’t you want to be free of the fear that you’ll end up alone?”
he hesitates
it hurts, like a bandage ripped off too early, the wound stinging when exposed to the light. each word is like a diamond cutting through the boxes he had hidden his thoughts in, fears that had taken root since fei had picked him up, blossomed when he had been thrown around the world like a rag doll.
to be free of that fear is to be free of any leash and he knows his reflection too well to turn down the offer, to stop the pain that’s been racking through him since the glitch.
he knows it.
he knows the truth, so he takes the hand even as he hates himself for it, but that taste isn’t new, has coated his tongue since he can remember and perhaps freedom can set it free.
Instead of taking him anywhere, the reflection - if that's what he is - pulls Mitch close, wrapping him in his arms. "I know," he coos, brushing his palms over Mitch's back. "I know how you feel. They're going to leave you, you're right. They'll push you out. But that's okay, because you don't need them. I didn't need them, and look at me." He smiles, a brittle thing. "I left. I left them all behind, everyone who ever tried to hold me down. That's the thing about us, Mitch. We're not tethered to the world like they are. We aren't meant to stay put. We don't need to look out for them or anyone else. Just us. Isn't that right?"
he can’t pull away. never knows how to -
how to respond to the foreign sensation of an embrace. he just stiffens, lets the words wash over him even as they compound the truth that the shadows in his dreams whisper to him.
a broken voice and he whispers out “ can’t i enjoy it? while it’s here? it’ll hurt later, anyway, they’ll leave me. of course. i know this, it’s all a lie, but can’t i keep it for now? “
"Why let them hurt you?" He pulls away only far enough to look Mitch in the eye. "You have the ability to leave. You get to choose. They don't get to hurt you just because they think it's fun to play with you when you're shiny and new, and then toss you away as soon as they get bored." He shakes his head, his hands sliding up to cup Mitch's cheeks. "Why bother with people like that? All people are like that. Why bother with any of them? It's not your responsibility."
because i want to lingers on his tongue but he knows that it doesn’t matter, not with the pain of loss he knows is coming.
“ i leave “
he can’t meet his own eyes, wonders if his real self is screaming in his sleep.
“ then i don’t have to leave now. right? “ there’s desperation and longing in his voice, weakness he knows will get picked up on.
he doesn’t mind the others thinking that he’s shiny and new, as long as they do play with him, knows that he’d do anything for their attention. but they’re not dropping him, not yet. when it looks like they will then he can leave.
“ i don’t mind “ getting used, getting thrown to the side, as long as he gets a few hours in the warmth. “ it’s better than nothing “ his tone is pleading but he can’t pull away from his own embrace, shame and desperation rooting him to the spot.
"You still have to decide what you do. I left them first." His voice focuses just a little, just enough that he seems more present out of nowhere. "I got tired of getting thrown out, so I left before they could. They told me they needed me, but I knew those were just lies." His smile starts to fade. "Why should anyone else matter, Mitch? It's just you in this world. Nobody else can be counted on. If the world burns, that's not your problem, because they'd all leave you out to fry if they could."
the fading smile strikes fear, that even himself gets tired of being around him. he backtracks, stumbles on his words. “ they don’t, they don’t “
it’s all a lie, but he’d never lied before. one constant of truth and now even that had spiraled away.
“ the world isn’t real it can burn this reality can burn but - “ he stumbles again, wants to be pulled back into that embrace. but -
he likes the heat while it lasts, a frog left in water slowly turns boiling will stay and cook alive. let the world burn let them all burn he just wants that window corner and those pranks and the chaos and the head pats the affirmation the validation while it lasts.
“ the universe only allows me to burn. there’s no other possibility. there’s no happy ending. you’re not a happy ending. you’re me. “ his hands come up to rest around his reflection’s waist.
“ can’t i steal just this little bit of warmth? “
"I'm not a happy ending?" he asks, his brow creasing as he looks at Mitch with faraway eyes again. "I feel happy. I am happy. No one can hurt me. I just hurt them first and I'm fine, in the end. See?" He smiles again, though the expression is off kilter. "You don't need all of that. You don't need them. I know, and I can show you, but you have to want it. Really want it. The only person who can never leave you is yourself, Mitch."
a laugh, sharp and bitter, echoes in the empty room
a happy ending is one where he was never left behind, one where he kept the name he can’t remember, had a family, had a home.
this him, the hickeys and bones and taste of power is too familiar, too of kilter, he can see the reflection of madness in his eyes. “ i don’t have myself “ his brain is someplace, his body elsewhere, cracked at the edges and even his own sanity has left him. “ you’re going to leave me. i’ve left me. what else is there to risk? “
it’s the argument that runs circles around his head even as he falls asleep, what makes him turn up on the lair’s doorstep every morning. why he’s so tired from taking people across the globe, because for once, he’s needed. and he doesn’t care about pain when that pleasure is shooting straight through his spine.
he tugs his reflection closer, close enough to kiss, the motion bruising his hip bone.
“ if you think you’re sane then you really have gone mad “
(tw incest / selfcest)
The reflection makes no move to stop him, hovering so close their identical noses brush. "Magic itself," he offers in a murmur. His hands find Mitch's waist, dig into the flesh there. "Stay with them just for the temporary reprieve and they will take the one thing you have from you. You've seen them bickering. They don't even care about each other. They'd step on each others' throats for power." His spine curves, bending him over Mitch. "You think Jude cares about anything but his own hide? Or Kian with his temper?" His expression doesn't change, languid and a little hazy, but his voice begins to harden. "I don't have to be sane to be fine. I just did what they were going to do to me eventually. How is that wrong? How can it be wrong to put yourself first? You're all you have, even if you don't believe it."
he tenses, that fear skittering like ice down his back.
magic doesn’t exist, it’s all a lie and yet -
and yet the power around him, those muttering voices, edges of music, that scent of power envelops him and it’s so rich on his tongue that he chokes
gasps, longs to consume.
“ if i leave, “ he whispers, doesn’t know if the false temptation of this power is enough to overcome the warmth of the others. “ if i go, how can i develop it? how can i - how can i have this? “
he licks his lips, tastes the air. it’s not wrong, to leave. he’s done it before, a thousand times, climbed out of the windows of houses of people who had offered their home, opened their doors. it’s inevitable, he knows that, he’s done it countless times.
but why does the thought of this time hurt in itself?
He smiles, a vivid thing this time, no fragment of his pride hidden from view. "I can show you everything. There is so much more that you can have, that will keep you safe and warm and better than any of them ever can, or will." He runs the pad of his thumb over Mitch's cheek. "I can't show you now, I don't have the power, but I will be back to bring it to you. I know you don't believe that." He leans forward, resting his forehead against Mitch's. His voice is barely above a whisper. "I know the moment I say I'll come back, you don't believe me. That's okay. I will, and it will be a breath of air for your drowning lungs. Then I will take you with me, away from all the hurt. We don't like to make promises we can't keep, so know when I tell you this - I promise, if you come with me when I return to you, you will never regret it - that it carries weight."
that smile is like the sun shining down on him, no matter that the other self is a fragment of his imagination, of the world shattering around them.
the temptation, it’s blinding, and he steps closer, his hands tight on his reflection’s hips. safe and warm, it’s too bad it’s all a lie, an illusion. he won’t be coming back, he won’t be able to take him away. but it’s heady, a drug he can’t refuse.
one hand comes up to pull at his reflection’s hair, tight as he finally makes proper eye contact. “ you promise? “ there’s weight in the air, in the words, knows that even the fevered parts of his brain would never commit to something like this.
he can’t promise back, doesn’t know how to find the truth in the tangled knots of his thoughts but
but -
"I promise." The words are a prayer. He repeats it over and over, his smile growing so fond, so understanding, like the fingers gripping his scalp only bring him joy. "I came here to find you and take you with me, I know how to do it again. You'll always have a choice, of course. When I come back, you can decide not to come with me. It's up to you. But I can only tell you how much you will miss if you make that choice." He arches, his nose nuzzling at the crook of Mitch's neck. "I promise I will be back, and I promise I can give you something so, so much better than what any of them pretend to offer you."
the breath leaves his lungs and his grip softens, turns to carding through his hair in the way that he knows he likes.
its a lie, he knows that, its a lie, and that’s the only truth he’s ever known. but
but he arches his neck to let his other self pull closer, let’s himself fall into the temptation of that lie. not yet, he doesn’t have to make the choice just yet. but one day - when it looks like they’re ready to throw him away, then
- maybe.
“ what are you offering for now? “ he asks, smirking, moving his hands to unbuckle his reflection’s belt.
He mirrors Mitch's expression, a perfect recreation, and brings his chin up to whisper his next words in his ear. "Now? I can give you a taste of what you can have." His grip returns to Mitch's hips, tightens, spins him around and presses him into the wall. The idle, unbodied laughter in the air around them grows louder. They are exact mirror images of one another, right down to the last detail. And just as Mitch would, his reflection is gone before he awakens the next day, though the music lingers, faint and ghostly, and there are glimmers of power still in the air.
