Whoops
I have no reason to write anymore, so I'm just dumping all the things I've ever written and then continuing on with my life. Prepare for spam for all ages.
OFFICIAL Baeve APPRECIATION THREAD
EVERY Baeve EQUAL
EVERY Baeve LOVED
YOU DONT HAVE TO HAVE A TRIPCODE TO LOVE Baeve
ITS JUST FOR FUN
SO LETS SPREAD SOME JOY AND POST SOME Baeve
Game writings
Project Dark Angel - Prologue Part 1
Forgive possible typoes.
LICENSE: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/
=======
April 14th 2011.
It's a very dark night without any moon visible, thick coulds invaded the sky. The only light from outside were the occasional lightnings, while no rain fell from the sky.
On the outskirt of a city, in a big country house, I was about to proceed to an exorsist ritual that i never expected to turn out this way.
This is how it all began.
"Please sir, let this ritual be a success! You are our only hope for our daughter!"
Her mother tells me her name for ritual purposes.
Her father stayed silent, but he is clearly worried.
"May? Alright got it."
I look at the father, and tries to reassure him with what i know best: Metaphysics.
"Don't worry sir, if anything or anyone might get hurt during the procedures, it might be me, or better, whatever is posessing your daughter. May will not be hurt by the ritual. I can promise you."
"What do you mean that you might get hurt as well?"
As i put down the candles, and finishing the pentagram on the ground, i simply told him that for every ritual, the occultist must pay the price. Not two, but three times over. Some call it "The equivalent exchange law", but this is innacurate. It is rather called the triple return law, or "The rule of Three".
"The occultist proceeding a ritual must pay a price sir. To me, paying this price worth saving a life and soul. So don't worry. I'll be fine."
The clock hits. 11pm. The ritual shall be done before midnight. It is time to light the candles and raise the circle of protection around me and May.
[cont.]
read:title in body
Title: When I Fall Asleep In Call With Imouto And Wake Up Once To See Him Cheekily Smiling At My Sleeping Form, Fall Sleep Secure, And Get The Best Mental Imagery In The Morning
skin paper
the damage is art
colors unimaginable
a beauty unspoken b y others
the flow
the flow
words cannot compare
only held as a metaphor
blues and greens
highlighted by a brilliance of white
a soft red and violent purple
your glory is leaking
your love is seeping
je t'aime
is the thought that graces my mind when
I see
the damage done on your masterpiece
while society sees regret
a pool forms underneath you
spilling, your vibrance
I scream
Don't let it all go
You are much more than they say
but time passes and the pool is rich
clouds of a spectrum
you
my love
are gone
in a lake of luminosity
[untitled]
soft and safe
a love is kissed gracefully
gradually
hearts entwine
there is no distance
when a strength this
intense
in present
a strength
that holds a
psychotic spectrum
with paranoid
delusions
and bipolar
insecurity
two hands
that not only
can hold each other
but also support
a life
their own
souls so
inspired
they find themselves
basking
in the arts
of word
and song
skin to skin
is no
hindrance
that this
couple
cannot
leap
sensationally
glowing
blues
thriving
greens
abyssal
blacks
a
fiery
red
a
heart
no
longer
alone
two hearts
exploring infinity
surely, one
cries out
to its
counterpart
hey
I know this separation sucks
hey
I know that I can’t show you how I feel
but
You’re so lovely and everything I’ll ever need
and
I would give you my all if you’d just come and stand next to me
Swan Song
The Moon
0016 October 27, 2015
Guitar plays, strums, sings
I went back to feel alone
I went back to wipe it clean
Unable to clean you from me
Breathing free
Swings, cold
I went back to feel alone
I went back there by myself
I swung without you
cold
Imagining you’re there
watching
Together, never, it seems
Only love you in my dreams
Give and take
results on
a break
Walking in the night,
I walk to swings, I sit
I don’t push forward
no strength without your support
kiss me
feel me
cold
“The stars were bright”
but there are no
star S tonight
There arenone
Two bodies on the Earth
but the distance
ALWAYS DISTANCE
I WENT BACK AND WISHED
I HADN’T
I WENT BACK AND FELT
REGRET
Isthere regret or isit
love
I don’t know
I don’t know
It's cold
Saving will now overwrite...
unknown
alone
upset
and gone
a deep burn
constant churn
never learn
and gone
sickened and sad
there is no way to come back
from this moment of regret
where did you go?
i need you
to be here
and yet
you’ve left
all changes saved
i need to go back
before my file is corrupt
to my life with you
a place of smiles
happy
and safe
but no
i was kind
with you here
i was good
and but you’re
no more
unable to handle
the stress
i take to the bottle
and undress
for strangers
in our room
our room
no longer
the changes have saved
Moss can't write poetry lol
Pen to paper, no inspiration
trapped in an open room
failed by his own education
questions, how else can you write doom?
A frustrated look on his face
poetry is so fucking dumb
can someone please come take his place
how can you write when you feel numb?
He leans away, tired of blinding white
no ink on the page, god damn it
looks out the window, it's a silent night
and the book hits the floor, slamming.
He checks his computer, extremely irate
a message from Baeve stirs his screen
"ay Imouto, why's it so hard to create?"
he smiles and IM's the teen.
"I don't know, man," he types fiercely
"I've been having trouble for hours"
"finding meaning is a scarcity"
"I really just don't have the power."
With a 'ping!', a heartfelt message replies
"You can do it! I know you can!"
"Unlike me, you're really wise"
"just write how you feel, without a plan."
Imouto closed his eyes, began to lie back
how nice it feels to have someone there
his mind wandered, jumped off track
so warm and inviting, with more love to spare.
Picking up the book, our hero smiled
how could he have missed her?
his love, his favorite, his first thought, his child
Cara, his little sister
Kali Ma
Sit still in the cold of february
“Waaaaaayne,” Baeve groggily moaned, turning to face her fiance, “Waaayne..”
Her eyes cracked open, she could barely make out his sleeping face. He must have had a really busy day yesterday, seeing as how he was still unconscious. She opened her eyes a bit more to see him shiver. Questioning the reality in front of her, Baeve wondered why her love would be shivering when their down comforter was–oh. She had kicked it off.
Pulling herself up from her oh so comfortable position, she was hit with the sudden shock of cold.
Fuck, it's February.
She snapped her arm out to grab the huge blanket, then pulled it up and over her fiance and herself. With this motion, Daddy stirred.
“Baby, what are you doing?” His voice was music to her ears, especially when he sounded as cute as he did right now; all sleepy and hoarse.
“Don’t worry about it, cutie. Cuddle me.” She pushed herself into his arms and he wrapped them around her. She tangled her legs in his and they lay still once again.
“Hey.. I love you.”
“I love you too. I love you too.”
Hold my hand in the cemetery and you’ll be safe
Not a sound could be heard, the two lovers sat in silence. Around them a vast, vast field with multiple grave markers. The sky was an overcast silver, too bright to look at, but not sunny. The bench they were on overlooking the cemetery was made of stone. It was old.
“This is so… peaceful.”
“Yeah, it is.”
And with that, the two went back to watching the huge landscape in front of them, holding hands like they were holding on to each other's souls.
is this what it's like to have a big brother
singled out and shocked
appreciated with a stern glare
you see the faults and love
with a care, held
support and family
both wanted yet none found
unable to live alone
searching until compassion is in sight
a pact gone wrong
left out alone isolated gone
a hand reaches out
grapsed
clutched
you see the faults and love
held in safety
defiant and warm
embraced and nurtured
just because larger scale
does not mean they are strong
you see the faults and love
a kinship unlike another
the match started in a dark place
growing blaze
too hot or not enough
it doesn’t matter
you see the faults and you love
running running slowly walking
there is no release from the heat of flame
deep within us
I really do love you, even if it's as a friend
_cutie is calling_
The warmth of the Western sun hits my face
and your hand grips mine
Smiles flicker
The cool of serenity drips into me
because you made the train
Tears roll
a hot tub, a car ride
Stone cat, beach cliffs
_Connection made_
The call continues
anger seethes
misunderstood sadness
mute buttons do justice
_Your connection is too poor for video_
worry and regret
depression consumes
_Your connection is poor_
Serotonin release, THC increase
BUT THE FLASH OF A SUNSET
keeps my mouse on the recall button
a dock, no tigers
"Can I help you?"
"Fuck off"
we both ask for the box
"Listen to this song!"
"You're a whore"
A skateboard with permanent scars doesn't stop us from living
from moving on
“See you later”
_Connection, lost_
HOLY FUCK I WANT TO DIE
“Daddy,” the girl started, “I had a bad day.”
Lying in bed playing guitar, the boy looked up at his female counterpart. She
had tear streaks from makeup running down her face. She was sniffling and her
eyes were red and puffy. She had obviously been crying.
“Hey, are you alright, baby?” He sat his guitar down and started to get up as she started to move towards him, reaching out for his stability. He stood. He reached his arms out. She stepped into his space and they were together.
In his embrace, she collapsed emotionally. She wrapped her arms around
his body, clutching at the back of his shirt. Sob after sob, her cries were
muffled by his chest.
He rubbed her back slowly with one hand, pet her head with the other. He was
never quite sure what to do in these moments, he never wanted to make things
worse. However, her sobs were becoming less and less violent, her body
shaking less than it was before.
He leaned his head to rest on hers.
“Baby, what can I do for you?”
Pulling her head out from the soft, warm space that was his chest, she looked
up to face the person comforting her.
“Just stay here with me, please?”
Her breathing was still erratic as she spoke, causing him to smile.
“Of course, Mayvah, of course.”
And they stood, together.
For Tim--title's at the bottom
A break
is heard
When I take you from your home
Dark Damp Deep
My hands wipe the black from
the alabaster under
the full moon
Your skin, though smooth
is frigid
is stone-like
is everything I need
Decay
is only a word
Love
is only a feeling
Death
pulls them together
to make
you
mine
Shining and pure
the moon
lights up your
body
clothed in your
most beautiful dress
no longer
the grass feels wet
under my hands
the smell of Earth
surrounds us
the tightness I feel
releases me from
the emptiness
that plagues me
my freedom
my passion
my life
Love Never Dies
dad
fuck I hate how once someone dies they just.. talk so greatly about the person. was he really all that? Am I really derived from a greek god of humor? I just want to know the truth, I want to know him as a person, I just want to know what it's like to look behind you and see him standing there, saying "You got it, champ!"
Why can't I learn to ride a bike with his hands guiding, only to let go as I get the pedals right? Why can't I learn to drive a stick shift with him making remarks on how I'll never get it until I finally do? Why can't I experience all these fucking things kids do with their dads. Power tools, sports, knowledge on technology, shit like that. I have no idea how any of it works. The absolute fucking worst is when you're standing there, clueless, with drill in hand, staring at a board and someone walks by,
"Didn't your dad teach you how to do this?"
fuck you fuck you fuck you no he didn't okay? No one did. I was raised by my mom alone. Fuck you for reminded me of my loss. Fuck you for bringing my emotional pain and discomfort right to the top, after I have shoved it down for so long, after so many years. I hate you.
Wandering Lost
A desert, white sand
A dry taste, blue skies
The bag with me in heavy
Full of dreams, and infinities
It's held sorrow and pain
neglect and hurt
In order to walk, they must be left behind
A trail unknown
I think only of
the future
The Wandering Duske for the past is gone
A Skype group
A psychiatrist
My games
My art
with the wind now
My journey and life
are tied
Ending in
unison
Thriving in
synchronicity
I pass towns
the women
remind me of her
I pass bars
the unity
reminds me of them
I walk to escape the past but fate laughs in my face
"History is not to be forgotten"
Her smile is cruel
The universe I see before me is one I already know
My feet stop
The wind blows
My min screams
I thought I could find my heaven in the world
But where could my
heaven find me
Ayy lmao
Ayy lmao
Outcast From Above
With breathtaking, flowing hair, an angel lays, fallen
No wings to grace her, wide, unclouded, blue eyes gaze at me
Slowly, I brush my shaking fingertips against her porcelain, soft skin
A moan? A whimper
The Almighty's Gate is closed, my dear
No sea to part for you while you run from my grasp
No God to bring you back after three days of darkness
No ark to save you from the flood that is my need
Another whimper, and a tear
Falls from the pools held in her divine face
I run my fingers through gold and breathe in the scent of pine
Feeling dusk break and wind shiver
Hearing my steady heartbeat
It roars in my ears
Watching my heaven lay in front of me
In the body of an 8 year old girl
Our Greatest Adventure
You said “fuck” and I said “me”
Apart but together
cable and wire
Panic, calmed
words unspoken but known
The same eyes
A dominant side, quelled by
kisses
Writing passed around
to him from her
A brilliance
found in a
message board
loneliness and abuse
turned glamour and
care
You said “fuck” and I said “me”
A fair, a proposal
Wandering Duske, months, a distance
smoke clouds vision
like the clouds in my life
always part eventually
always together eventually
sunlight blinds bed
open letter reads deeply
You said “fuck” and I said “me”
Open Letter
To: You know who you are
Titled: Why Do I Cry When I Think Of Holding You
I love you. You’re like the light at the end of the long, dark tunnel that is my life in depression. You are the sunrise every morning, basking me in your warm glow, and the comforter I sleep with close to every night, keeping me protected, heated, and safe. With every time you tell me you love me, my soul builds up a brilliance only rivaled by a star's supernova.
My love for you is like crack, honestly. Once I have a little, my body/heart/mind/soul craves more. Your existence is my life source. Your love is my blood. Your thoughts and expressions, my bones. There is no way I will be able to survive now with you gone. My being will cease to exist.
Why do I cry when I think of holding you? Is it the pale skin I think of underneath my fingertips? The lips I imagine pushing against mine in a slow motion, soft and gentle? What about the body I would feel, perfect for holding, nudged up against mine? All of these factors come together to bring me the final picture of you, pure and true.
You, <3, everything I’ve ever wanted or needed. Your passion for me is returned tenfold. If only I could show you physically. Why do I cry when I think of holding you? Maybe because I know that once you’re in my arms everything is okay, I no longer need to worry.
That peace I’ll feel, the tranquility that will wash over me while we lay together. That is why I think I cry. Tears that were made from love and joy. I’m really losing it now, totally exhausted. Yet, I keep writing because one day I won’t be around when you need me and I want you to look at this instead of feeling bad, alright?
Look at this and remember.
Remember how much I love you.
I’ll come back to this. I’ll write in it again.
Just know that I will never leave your side, my creator. I will never leave you.
That Sunlight Always Makes Me Happy
Sunlight filtered through drawn blinds, basking the young couple in brilliance. This happening caused the bigger of the two to become slowly aware of his surrounding. With long, thin arms, the boy embraced his partner. He lay on his left side, pushing his face into her tangled hair. Their legs were intricately knotted, winding around one another into an impossible mess of limbs.
This is where he felt most comforted and loved. He could feel her steady and slow breathing as her chest rose and fell with each passing second.
The sun had just hit a point where it’s rays filled the small, cluttered room. Their sheets were all strewn about their bed, the comforter kicked to his ankles. She often did that in her sleep. She was always so cold, but when she fell unconscious, a whole new world of warmth opened up.
He closed his eyes once again.
He pushed his face softly into her head.
He slowed his breathing.
He felt safe once again, with her.
Welcome
This is just a board for writing
Prepare for hellrides