ใใใใใใใใใใใ ๏น โ ๊ท๊ฆ ๏นโ: โโก โ๐๐๐พ ๐๐พ๐๐บ๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐ฝ๐พ๐ . . .
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welcome to my page! my name is cherube, i'm 20, my pronouns are she / they, i'm non-binary, & afro-latina ( dominican + puerto rican ).
this page is dedicated to my writing + sharing of writings of other blogs for fictional characters for various universes! I do welcome any type of discussions in my inbox! <3
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please do not repost, copy, or translate any of my work. I am only posting my work on tumblr currently, & my official wattpad account is the same user as my tumblr ( @/theseraphsorder ). if I decide to post on wattpad or ao3, i will update this post & create an entirely new post to notify you!
I currently do not have a full masterlist considering I am just now posting content, but one will be coming soon!
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๏น๏น ๏น fic rating: R ( mature, 18+ audiences only. mdni. )
๏น๏น ๏น warnings: violence, death, walking dead level gore, suicide / suicidal ideations, mentions + descriptions of abuse & mental illness, suggestive / sexual themes + content. these are warnings needed throughout the series. will be updated if needed.
( teaser here! )
x ๐ง๐๐ ๐ฆ๐๐๐๐ก๐๐ ๐๐ฆ ๐ข๐๐ง๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐๐ก๐๐ก๐... you find, however, that it is easier this way, easier to fade away. to blend into the background, to be another blur of a faceโ easily forgotten, & overlooked. you prefer it that wayโ the isolation, the solitude. after all, if you are alone, who will be around to question the parts about you that you donโt quite understand? the stoic expression that hardly cracks, the calculative mannerisms, the burns on your forearms? you donโt mean to seem apathetic, truly. it is just easier that way.
๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ข๐๐ข๐ฅ ๐ข๐ ๐ฆ๐๐๐๐ก๐๐ โโ ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐ฝ๐พ ๐๐๐๐ฝ๐พ :
๏น๏น ๏น ep. 0. "the prologue" ( coming soonโฆ )
๏น๏น ๏น ep. i. "bare tracks."
๏น๏น ๏น ep. ii. "face-full of spider lilys."
โ๏น๏น fic rating: R-- this fic is meant for mature ( 18+ ) audiences only. minors do not interact.
โ๏น๏น warnings: violence, death, walking dead level gore, suicide / suicidal ideations, mentions + descriptions of abuse and mental illness, suggestive / sexual themes. these are warnings needed throughout the series. will be updated if needed.
โ๏น๏น desc: the silence is often deafening. you find, however, that it is easier this way, easier to fade away. to blend into the background, to be another blur of a faceโ easily forgotten, & overlooked. you prefer it that way, the solitude. after all, if you are alone who will be around to question the parts about you that you donโt quite understand? the stoic expression that hardly cracks, the calcutative mannerisms, the burns on your forearms? you donโt mean to seem apathetic. it is just easier that way.
โ๏น๏น notes: this fic is still in writing! this is simply a teaser for it & the first chapter will be posted soon. a taglist for this will be created, so if you're interested pls let me know <3 ( masterlist here! )
fiddling with the woven bracelets, her gaze stays glued to the way they rub against her wrists. he canโt help but feel like there's something different in her expression-- almost like there was finally something there. there is something that aches deep within him as he watches her once stoic facade break slowly like glass chipping underneath the pressure of crisp, harsh winter wind. โhave you ever heard of the story of the two birds on the wire?โย
his eyebrows furrow, lips twitching downward. โnaw,โ he tells her. โi ainโt never โeard of it.โ
โwell, there's two birds on a wire,โ she starts. he watches as her eyes finally look up, but not at him; part of him is disappointed that she didn't quite catch his eyes, but the other is sure he would have froze on the spot, like a gazelle in headlights; her gaze, much like others have described, is blinding, and he was sure he wasnโt too fond of anything remotely close to spotlight. she watches the fire in front of them crackling and in the embers glow he can see pain etched in the cracks chipped in her broken look. he didnโt think his chest could tighten any more than it already has. its become a common thing with her now. hes sure that, with her, hes never sure just about anything anymore. โone bird says cโmon and flies away, the other watches โem close and says i'm tired. tells โem that he wants to fly, too, but he's lying, because see, theyโre two birds of a feather, swore to each other that they are always gonna stay together, but ones never going to let go of that wire. so the one that does want to fly is left with an impossible choice.โ
see, he can remember quite clearly the day he finally felt understood-- heard, even if he didnโt speak a single word. he associates such a day with the smell of burning wood, maple tree sap, and the feeling of wet grass and moonshine on his skin. daryl dixon also remembers this as the day he fell hard, harder than that day at the quarry, and boy did he fall hard that day.
โdoes the bird stay with him on the wire, or fly away?โ
