writing

Name: Lee

Pronouns: they/them

The name's Lee, I am a they/them/any user, and I enjoy all forms of art! Atm I'm really into digital art, physical art, animation, writing and music, but I've also dabbled in painting, photography, sculpture and some others!

Have some things!

And a poem?

Was it worth it?

Have your mind as sharp as the arrows you fire,

Your sword polished and steady,

Ensure your soldiers are ready,

And know the plan, the lives that you require to take

All that may be at stake

Your goddess is guiding, and others rebel

While the wood beneath your feet creaks with whispers of the damned,

And the chatter of the guards on the outside grow closer to the vessel,

Remember why you are here.

Your love, back on Ithaca, waiting for your return

Your son, simply an infant the day you left, now a boy

Your kingdom, hoping for the war’s end

Clear your mind. Ready your spear.

It will be worth it.

Fight ‘til the battle is won and you are the remaining victor.

Travel ‘til you arrive home and find your heart where you left it.

Defend ‘til you are out of harm’s way

Lead ‘til every last member can be led no longer.

Captain, it’s your duty to steer your crew.

Have your fleet as sturdy as your will,

Your people ready and prideful,

Ensure your friends are content

Ten years of war, it is time to journey back

Your goddess left, many more vengeful

While waves beneath the ship seem to only want your demise,

And even the islands become homes for countless foes,

Remember the goal.

Penelope, Telemachus, Ithaca. Waiting.

Ready your strength, you shall need it.

It will be worth it.

Fight ‘til the monsters are gone

Take ‘til the gods know their mistakes

Deceive ‘til you gain the knowledge you seek.

Loose ‘til nothing can be lost

Captain, they are hungry and tired and broken.

Let them rest, let them be

Home is close, but death is closer.

Captain, where is your crew?

The gods look down on you,

This is how you chose to atone?

With blood-soaked stones that seem to cry with the souls of the dead,

And the rooms that feel too quiet and small for anything,

And people who hid in fear to live

While others chose to stand, fight and die.

With all that you have been through…

Was it worth seeing your wife, your son, your kingdom?

Odysseus, Captain, King

What have you become?

And you can follow my writing blog if you're interested in a story about a circus freak and a plague doctor! @theconfusedleewrites !

(I'm writing a story about it)

Life of the circus

Backstage, the crew was cleaning up, boxes being pushed to the side, performers ducking under the beams the crew carried, weaving around the dozens of ropes, exited chatter of the successful show resonating through tents, sawdust and hay dispersed across tamped mud, the smell of burnt sugar lingering, the glow of the stagelights dimmed along with their warmth, costumes lay disassembled on the racks, the routine unbroken as usual. Montrey was sweeping the inner ring, spotting a particular tall figure looming in the bleacher, still dressed in his performance clothes, clearly eyeing the hooks where the silks and hoops connected. Plume had a heart of gold, but a brain of coal. Montrey sighed, handing the broom over to someone who came close enough to catch it. Slowly, he lugged himself to Plume, sinking onto the bench once more.

''Y'know, dude, it's okay to take breaks.''

''But I wasn't perfect. I can do better'' his eyes glinted with something indistinguishable, perhaps determination, maybe disappointment. Most likely disappointment. His nails were chewed and raw, yet he kept picking at them mindlessly. Montrey glanced at his brother's hands, frowning. Slowly, he tugged on his uniform, pulling Plume down to sit on the bench.

''Later. I mean, none of us are perfect! Look at me! I’m cleaning lion poop while you get to go on stage,'' Montrey grinned. ''Go sit with Zyrel or something, they’ll kick some sense into that head of yours. Then you can come back and complain. Also have you seen Nolan? He’s abandoned his cleaning duties,'' he sighed, swooning dramatically, arm draped over his forehead.

''He’s in the caravans. It’s his first week, remember? Give him some time. Madame Rosswelt is…'' he trailed off, wracking his mind for a suitable word.

Life of the circus

(Flashback; ≈6 years prior)

''You did well, Plume. It's not your fault, champ,'' Seval held a kid no older than nine, comforting him after the ringleader had screamed at him, and the other members backed away as if he carried the plague. Plume shuffled closer, sniffling pathetically. He hadn't meant to. One of the clowns had left their juggling pins in the ring under the stairs. It was crowded, so many people were everywhere, moving, talking, performing. It was too much. Seval held the child, rubbing his back soothingly, his heart aching from the pain of seeing one of his people get damaged.

''It was an accident. It's only an accident. Nothing too bad happened-'' he got cut off by a sob.

''Something bad did happen! Roquil broke his leg- he- I hurt him! And everyone is scared! I scared them! I hurt Roquil and now the others hate me! I made them hate-'' I messed up. I messed up so bad. The others are going to kick me out. First I wreck their costumes, now this. I’m cursed.

''You made them do nothing. You're only a child, you can't beat yourself up about this. Roquil will get better. The others don’t hate you, no one ever will.''

''But what if I trip and push someone over again? What if I make a mistake? What if I do something so bad that Madame Rosswelt throws me out? What if-''

''Plume, listen,'' He couldn't stand the thought of what the ringleader would do. He pulled the kid off, forcing him to look in his eyes, ''I told you, it was an accident. Accidents happen. It's okay. If anything else happens, I'll make sure you're safe.'' Again, he wrapped his arms around Plume, raising him up and carrying him to the caravans to rest.

Seval opened the door to his own wagon, much to Plume’s confusion. On his bed, he set Plume down. He paused for a moment.

''Wait here. I have something for you.'' He dug in his costume trunk, pulling out a small wooden chest. Smiling, he handed it to the blonde. Curious of its contents, Plume looked up for permission to open it. Seval nodded. The kid nudged the latch up and opened the box, seeing a feather, a gold earring and an old rusty compass. He tilted his head at the items, then at his mentor, hoping he would explain. Seval settled next to him on the bed, gently taking the chest and placing it between them. Plume turned eagerly, sitting himself criss-cross, earning a chuckle from him.

''I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a long one, but well worth it, I assure you.'' He paused, preparing himself mentally. ''Once upon a time, there was a young boy. His family was very mean to him, so he ran away. But he didn’t have anywhere to go. The boy travelled all alone, until one day a man came up to him and asked ‘Are you lost?’'' he made his voice deeper, Plume giggling, ''and the boy said no. ‘My home is everywhere!’ he said to the man. But the man was actually the captain of some pirates. And when he told the boy, he wanted to see the pirate ship and the crew. Maybe he would even be allowed to join them. So the pirate took him aboard his ship, and they sailed with their crew for many years. The captain gave the boy a beautiful compass. ‘It’s important to know where you’re going, kid,’ he said. The boy didn’t think he would use the compass. But during big storms, he needed it to guide him through the waves. A few years later, the boy was now a teen. The captain gave him an earring, 'You’re old enough now. This is to show you’re a pirate at heart.' The teen liked the earring, but didn’t see how it would show anything. When they went on land, people seemed to respect him, even when the rest of the crew wasn’t around. People were interested in his stories. One day at sea, they were attacked by another group of pirates. The teen managed to escape, but the captain was gone'' Plume gasped, hands flying to his mouth as he cried ‘no’. Seval shushed him, ''It’s ok, the story’s not over yet. The teen became an adult, and he travelled on land for some time. He was shopping and met an old man. The old man said something to him, ‘You carry bricks on your back. That guilt shouldn’t weigh so much. Turn it into feathers, don’t let it keep you down, but carry it with you.’ But when he wanted to ask what the old man meant, he disappeared. Later that day, a feather landed on his shoulder. And it was then he decided what the old man meant. He wouldn’t let his mistakes weigh him down. He imagined them all as bricks, felt how heavy they were in his mind, and he turned them into feathers. He was able to walk taller, and he shared his wisdom with the people he felt needed it. Years later, he found a circus with many people who felt heavy. So he helped them. And eventually he became part of the circus. The end.''

He smiled, putting a finger to his lips, ''That’s a secret.''

Plume nodded firmly, ''It’s safe with me.'' He glanced at the box with the items, picking up the feather, ''I feel heavy sometimes.''

Life in the circus

Plume was first when the show ended and everyone came to line up for criticism. He picked at his nails anxiously, eyes darting everywhere but the flylofts. Madame Rosswelt came up to the line with a sneer. Her presence was prominent when she entered, dark hair slicked back in a bun and uniform ironed to the point of looking unnatural. She held her hands behind her back, similar to a military commander. She stopped at Plume.

''I expected better from you, but I guess you just weren’t ready. I’ll get Kayla to take your place next show. I don’T know why I even bothered to have you train if this was how you were going to perform. Go help the others clean up. That’s enough mistakes for one day.''

Tears pricked his eyes, his shoulders suddenly feeling ten pounds heavier.

''I'll do better! I-I can do better next time…'' his voice trembled with the faded plea.

''There won’t be a next time until you make no errors, stop talking back to me..'' She decided firmly before moving down the line, delivering judgemental feedback as though everyone had personally insulted her.

Plume felt a soft hand on his hunched shoulders, the thumb rubbing delicate circles on the itchy fabric of his uniform. Seval came. He always did.

''I’m sorry. I-I wasn’t good enough. I messed up. The rope got caught and I panicked and… I don’t know. I-'' I wasn’t ready. They were right.

Seval shushed him, patting his back.

''It’s ok. Go clean yourself up and come back for clean up.''

He urged him to an exit to the caravans, though he stopped him before he got too far.

''And for the record, I’m proud of you.'' He consoled, a weak but encouraging smile tugging at his lips before he moved to the next person, who looked like she needed a hug.

Plume sat on his bunk, fiddling with a feather he had found the day prior. It was so soft, so fragile. A single brush the wrong way could mangle it so easily. He ran his fingers along the quill, rubbing the downy feathers between his fingers. He sat up from the bed, crouching to the shared side table. Behind Allen’s secret snack stash, he pulled out a small wooden chest. He sank on the bed, the mattress creaking tragically. Opening it, he placed the new feather on top of all the others he had collected. Finding birds near the circus was far too rare, unless they were used for performances. Oftentimes, when Plume has the chance to see one, it would fly away skittishly. His mind wandered to the memories he had of life before the circus. Even then, he felt trapped, roaming the streets. Now he had support inside the cage. He wondered what it would be like to fly into the sunset, to venture off without the shackles of the human mind. His head snapped up at the sound of the caravan's door opening. In rushed a distressed Nolan. Plume tucked the box under his pillow quickly, scooting over and patting the spot next to him on the bed. Nolan hesitated, glancing out the window, before he took wary steps and sat down.

''I know I’m new and all but… is Rosswelt always so… intense, after a show?'' He asked, hoping maybe that because he was a newcomer that he wasn’t used to it. To his dismay, the other nodded.

''She’s never not intense'' Plume smiled, though it held a knowing pain. ''Wanna talk about it?''

Life of the circus

When the moon had risen in the blanket of darkness and the colored lights glowed like magic, the final show began in the grandstand tent. All the troupes were giving previews of their performances, circling each other methodically, hypnotizing the audience with their dance. Morro and Kova did the trapeze above Lin, Zyrel, Roquil, and Kali as their clown act had them balancing as a human pyramid and falling. Comet did their fire-breathing, Olian and Saron balanced on the tightropes like they always did, and everyone else had their respective acts to execute. Minutes felt like hours as Plume waited in the fly lofts, gazing down at the others with an odd sense of envy at how well they moved in sync. He could see the musicians hidden from the crowd while they set the mood, high and cheerful for the clowns, delicate but sharp for the silt walkers. He would spend hours just watching them if he could. The way they could make the music swell or dwindle with such precision. He was snapped out of his thoughts when a stagehand, Freddy, nudged his shoulder, nodding down at the ring below. Finally, the group of cyr and german wheel performers had rolled out, leaving the stage empty. Plume gathered silks in his arms, tossing them down from the rafters. The silks unfurled on the way down, waving with an odd sort of grace. He hoisted himself over the ledge, gripping the rails as he tried to clear his mind. He took a breath, descending slowly into the view of the spectators.

Life of the circus

It was the middle of the day, the sun was out, shining on the tents and attractions, fresh popcorn and sweet smells filled the air. Laughter and sounds of glee rang like a bell while kids' faces glowed with joy as they dragged their parents to see the next thing on their list of wonders. Clair was showing off her lion, waving her hands dramatically and commanding it to amuse the children. Zyrel was honking their clown nose, their painted smile widening as they made yet another balloon animal while riding a unicycle. Seval greeted every new guest with an enthusiastic smile, handing out tickets and guiding families to the best attractions. Madame Rosswelt went from performer to performer, ensuring they had their displays set up properly. In one of the bleaker tents, hidden from public view, Plume practiced his tricks. It was only in the dark, musky tent that he could do so without the fear of guests walking in and watching him fail. Over and over and over. His blonde hair damp against his forehead. His body ached, he avoided mirrors, sparing himself the sight of his bruised body. The few minutes he spared for breaks were used to wrap his feet and hands in bandages, then he was right back at it. Even when his stomach felt hollow and his throat was coarse like sandpaper, he never stopped. He could feel the eyes of Madame Rosswelt only when she decided he was important enough to check on. Montrey came by often, giving slight pointers and doing his best to aid his sibling. The boy was patient, guiding, much like Seval, if Seval were a pre-teen with focus issues and less parental instincts. Yet still, he sat and watched and urged Plume to take breaks to care for himself.

"Dude, you're doing great, stop stressing about it! Rosswelt will be impressed!'' He tried his shot at encouragement.

Main characters:

(Part 1)

Plume, He/him

Seval, he/him

(Part 2)

Maria(pre-death Rhûme), she/her

Rhûme(post-death Maria), they them

(Part 3)

Plume, he/they

Rhûme, they/them

Miko, she/her

Side characters:

(Part 1)

Montrey, he/him

Clair, she/her

Zyrel, they/them

Madame Rosswelt, she/her

(Part 2)

-TBD mom-

-TBD dad-

Unknown figure, it/its

(Part 3)

Lottie, she/her

Alyx, she/he

Rayne, they/it

(Part 4?)

And said undead was actually a little girl who died, came back and became a nonbinary plague doctor for those who need help but eventually the deaths became too much so they ditch medical stuff and instead play music about how to wash your hands properly? But then they dich all heath things and sing about silliness with their banjo in the streets until they hear about a rogue necromancer? And then they try to find said necromancer and instead they find a tall asf circus guy dresses in rainbow and they become besties? And said circus gut is the one I mentioned before?

And they both do their best to hell eachother heal and stuff? With the power of friendship?

Plume is the Main Character of Part 1(there are 3+parts). In the fist 'chapter' he is in his late teens/early adulthood, still living in the circus. The circus is like his family, he has siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins. The Ringmaster, Madame Rosswelt, is his 'mother' figure(more just most prominent adult woman in his life atm) and is abusive. The toxic, manipulative, taxing, traumatizing type. And then there's her right hand, Seval, who tries to soften the blow of her abuse. He is very much the father to the entire circus. There are families, orpans, random people who came looking for shelter and stayed because they found community. Even if the ringleader is horrible, they're family. Plume was an orphan kid(up to the age of 4) on the streets when Seval found him, and the man tried to hide him from Rosswelt the best he could for months. But when she found Plume she out him right to work, blah blah blah, abuse, trauma, sprinkle some toxic romantic partner at one point, have a lil more trauma, get some hugs, give some hugs, yaayy. And the direction I want to take with this is finally, when a member(probably Seval) goes missing Plume goes out to find him, leaving the circus for the first time.

Sooo... I'll probably post what I got so far later in terms of actual writing. It's a WIP so I'm editing as I go lol, so lots of things might change.