It Will Develop Like Everything Else Through Time, Care, And Effort.

Senseless death in combat should have been something Ares had gotten used to after so long, but it still pulled at his chest. It was unpreventable but it didn’t have to be callous and the scene in front of him was most definitely that.

Ares bellowed as his racing footsteps shook the earth with his fury and his sword, raised high, sung through the air as he whirled it above his head. Soaring over the young soldier on the ground, cutting down the man above them whose grin had been sadistic as he tormented them seconds prior. Cut after cut, pulling weak cries from their lips as loss of blood pulled them closer to death.

Ares panted over their wilting form, his gaze full of fury as the enemy soldier took his last breath, before turning back to the child at his feet. The face of war softened on theirs, the flames in his eyes subsiding as he knelt by their side. They couldn’t feel much, but the hands lifting them into his lap were more gentle than they would’ve expected from a god so fierce. As was his caress smoothing the blood matted hair from their forehead and his words soothing their fear.

He stayed with them as they slipped in and out of consciousness. It didn’t take long for them to succumb to their wounds, but Ares never left their side.

He had to wait.

“Thanatos,” Ares’ whispered eventually in begrudging acknowledgment of the newcomer now hovering by his side, looking down at the sleeping figure.

“I’m here now, cousin. You can let them go. I’ll take good care of them. I always do.”

“They’re so young,” Ares’ stiff shoulders slumped in defeat before he finally lifted his gaze from the child in his arms, chest barely rising with breath as their skin paled and their lips turned blue.

“Aren’t they always?” The God of Death’s words weren’t intentionally cruel, his tone was sympathetic even. It was simply a statement of fact.

“I truly despise those cowards that hide behind my name and send children to my battlefields in their stead.” The sound that rumbles from Thanatos’ chest is comforting but noncommittal. They both know that there was little either of them can do to stop the senseless theft of youth in the world of humans.

Even if Ares slit the throats of every one of those pathetic warmongers as they hovered over their miniature scenes of combat - simulations of war that they would never have to witness, playing at battle like a children’s game with no real consequences – it would make little difference. Like the Hydra, humanity never let themselves have peace, someone would always step into the power vacuum before it could close in on itself.

They both knew well that they would never rest as long as humanity persisted. They would always be at war and they would always die.

So Ares passed the duty to Thanatos as he always did, knowing that his cousin’s earlier words were true. He always showed Ares’ soldiers the utmost care on their journey.

The soul, gray and hazy, of the youth who rested in his lap rose from its body, groggy and confused but Thanatos simply held out his hand and helped them steady on their weightless feet.

That was one thing War could always count on: that Death would be there waiting at the end of every soldier’s battle.

- A. Yenzer

I scream “SCREW YOU”

To the lies I tell myself

Insecurity runs rampant

In a head full of the voices of others

Hatred and jealousy spawn venomous words

And insults that burn

Like acid in the blood

And shred self confidence

So combat fire with fire

Until hate has no more fuel to burn

And the words of others

No longer sting

Spit venom at that hateful voice

Until the infection of their jealous words

Is burned out by the fever of self-love and spite

- A. Yenzer

You will delve into the depths of your emotional dumpster fire and gorge the rodents on the remnants of your imagination, suffering for inspiration with the rest of us.

You will not use AI to get ideas for your story. You will lie on the floor and have wretched visions like god intended

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

Home Is Where The Heart Was

My chest was a home

Filled with warmth and light and love

My sternum the front door

That had welcomed many a friend and family

My ribs were once brightly painted siding,

A soft gray exterior that protected the treasures inside

My heart pumped hot water through my arteries

Providing warmth for nightly baths and mugs of hot cocoa

My lungs were the sturdy walls that kept the roof above our heads

My diaphragm the soft carpeting and cool wood

That had known running and cuddles from feet and paws alike

My spinal cord and nerves kept the lights on and the temperature just right

My vertebrae were a strong foundation

Solid and secure, keeping everything upright

My chest is an old, abandoned house

My sternum is the slamming storm door

The broken latch leaving it to swing wide in the wind

My ribs, the battered siding

Years of abandonment leaving them caked in dirt and grime

Termites and rot have eaten through the panels, leaving gaping wounds

My heart is the failing water heater

My arteries are the corroded copper pipes

My lungs are the creaking walls

Shifting and sinking, slowly collapsing

The wood floors of my diaphragm have sunken in, and the carpet is threadbare

Torrents of tears have seeped in through the leaky roof,

Now darkness grows from rotted wounds and mold scars stale strands

My spinal cord is the busted breaker box; My nerves: fraying electrical wires

My vertebrae are the crumbling foundation

My chest will be condemned someday

Caved in like a house of cards, not wood and stone

The love it once housed has moved on

And its protection is no longer needed

There will be no one there to witness it’s fall

And no one to grieve for the memories lost

- A. Yenzer

The Duties of The Older Brother Of A Magical Girl:

1. Do not get in her way while she’s fighting monsters.

2. Do get in the way when humans don’t know boundaries

3. Do kill the men who put hands on her without permission

Magical girls kill monsters all the time, but they're not allowed to kill humans. But you're not a magical girl; you're her older brother.

I am aching with the urge to run.

To express my own

personal form of violence.

To pound my feet into the earth

until they burn and bruise.

To cut my arms through the air

and make the world pull away from me.

I am vibrating with the need

to punch and kick and scream.

To make myself a separate

entity, all my own.

To break and destroy things

until there is nothing left

but my broken body.

- A. Yenzer

How many tears had the Doctor shed,

Before his sorrow was thoroughly fed?

How many times has the Doctor wept,

Comfortless, until he slept?

Each day, after the close,

It was enough to water a Rose.

When he realized she could never come home,

And that he was left to hopelessly roam.

After the angel made them blink,

And she said goodbye with a final wink;

Nourishing an almost bond,

Flowed enough to fill two Ponds.

Finally, a River,

And, alone, he was left to shiver;

When after the final breath,

Greeted like an old friend, was Death.

- A. Yenzer

“Burn.”

The power of a spell is inversely proportional to the amount of words in its name. You, hated and exiled, invented the first single word spell:

Duplex Dream

I grew up in duplexes and trailer homes

A trailer home for two with no fence for the yard

No fence for the yard is no pets, just us two: me and you

Us two, mother and daughter; it takes a village to raise a child

Our village was small. Small but good, dysfunctional but strong

Raised in dysfunction, but strength brought me up; helped me grow despite the odds

The odds that I wouldn’t make it this far; my own doubt that I'd ever see eighteen

Eighteen years don’t seem so long, but I always thought something would cut them short

Cut short but not by my own hands; it was just so hard to look for life ahead

But now, ahead of me a future lies, one I did not expect

My expectations far surpassed what I might have ever imagined

The imagination and dreams of that little girl who struggled to grow

But grew nonetheless from the love I found

Found but never lost in duplexes and trailer homes

- A. Yenzer