GOD
He/Him
41
December 25th
Spikemunth
Northeast
Monster
Rocket Beast
I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.
TAG WITH @shredzeppelin
Shred
Ouroboros [M]
POSTED ON Jul 13, 2024 16:40:34 GMT
[googlefont=Rubik Burned]What the fuck is wrong with you?!
That was a question you'd been forced to reckon with for your entire life. A question asked to you since you were old enough to remember. Asked by your parents and your teachers whenever you'd cause trouble and misbehave. Asked by your mates when you'd snitch them out and girlfriends when you'd cheat on them. Asked by cops when you were locked up in cells and judges when they read out your sentences. Asked by debtors as they squirmed under your grip and defectors as they pleaded for mercy. Asked by doctors and nurses as they stared upon your scarred body, touched by fire and envy and ruin. Murmured by grunts under their breath as you stormed past them in the halls.
Every time, you'd swear you'd be better. Every time, you'd falter. But every time you failed you were punished, and every punishment hit the nail harder. Eventually, you'd learn your lesson. Still, they asked.
You learned to keep quiet and stay in your room. You learned to do your homework and speak when spoken to. You learned to never betray your friends and stay faithful to your lovers. You learned how to dodge the cops and legal trouble alike. You learned to break the jaw first so rats couldn't squeak. You learned how to wrap bandages neatly and tightly so nothing was revealed. You learned how to bottle up your anger so it wouldn't spill where people might step.
And still, still, STILL, they asked.
What's wrong with you?
What WAS wrong with you?
What was the problem that they saw in you that you couldn't see in yourself? What was it that constantly made you the outsider where others were allowed in with open arms? What was it that made you the Kyurem and not the Palkia?
What was so bad about you that was so good about everyone else?
Her boot hits your face hard. As it pulls away, so too does your skin. Little pieces, breaking and crumbling and falling from your face. Blood pours from the wounds. Only the bone remains. That, and your rage.
"Fuck's sake! It's three in the fuckin' morning! And you're fuckin' screaming at the telly! AND I GOT FUCKIN' WORK AT SEVEN IN THE MORNING! KEEP IT FUCKING DOWN! I swear to God, Paul... Why the FUCK are you like this?!"
"Shut up!"
You stomp hard on her flailing leg, pinning her to the ground.
"You're such a dick, Paul. No, stop, just-- JUST STOP, OKAY? I gave you a second chance, and a third, and I'm not giving you a fourth. If you want sympathy, then why don't you go back to Roxy? No, Paul, stop, stop-- Stop crying! I warned you, and you... Oh, grow up, Meatles! Why are you even like this?!"
"Shut up!!"
Your hand lunges out. Yellowed nails drag against her face, leaving bloody marks behind.
"Let me see here... Paul Alexander Meatles, arrested for... Shoplifting, vandalism, and picking fights? What a disgrace! It's young men like you that give the rest of us a bad name! Tell me, why'd you do it, son...? For fun?! You find wrecking my town fun?! What's wrong with you, you scumbag?!"
"Shut up!!!"
And again. Another strike. Another scratch. Another set of claw marks upon her face.
"Please... Please...! I already told you, I can't pay you this week! Just one more extension! Please! I won't be able to make rent! I'll... We'll all be homeless! No! PLEASE! STOP! WHY! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?! PLEASE!!"
"SHUT UP!!!"
And again, harder, deeper, angrier. Your nails begin to crack and break and fall apart. The wounds are jagged and uneven.
"Major third degree burns to the entire body, that's gonna need several months of transplants to fix, and there's no guarantee you'd survive one, let alone multiple... Honestly, Beast Zeppelin, I don't know how you got like this, but I don't think anyone in the world could help you."
"SHUT UP!!!"
And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again--
"H-Huh. So, that's Beast Zeppelin, huh? What? No, nothing! It's nothing, sir, nothing... Man, what a fucking freak... Why the fuck is he like that, anyway...?"
"▂▄▄▃▄▄▅▅!!!"
--Until your fingers are left mangled wrecks and your words are little more than the pained howling of a man who had lost everything long before the Silent Icelands. Her face is covered in blood. More hers than yours.
Ironic, isn't it? That this childish spat between wayward childrens means everything, and the battle between distant aeons is meaningless.
This isn't the first time they've fought. This isn't the last time, either. Across a million years and a million universes, this clash must have played out a billion times. Maybe not with this King, and this Serpent, but this Scarlet and this Violet? They are colours that reach far beyond what you can see and echo even further than that. It is destiny that they meet like this again and again. Destiny that is playing out once more.
Scarlet eyes Violet from across the clearing. Is it even possible for one to truly best the other? Can the mouth swallow the tail whole? Can the tail pull free from the mouth? Across those million universes and billions of battles, there are no answers to those question. Only the continuation of the cycle, going onward and onward and onward.
And now, onward.
The Scarlet challenges the Violet with a Collision Course.
june sleigh
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