Hold me close – it is dark
In the failing light, I am weak
Alone with the demons without known faces
Unseen in the grandest of lands
I pray for the night to end
And for daylight to embrace my fears
Do you believe in vanquishing your fears?
Or succumbing to the beauty of the dark
Know this – there shall be an end
This darkness preys upon the weak
Across the harshest of lands
But we seek to only find their faces
It is time to look past the faces
For it holds no bearing upon your fears
As they travel alone the distant lands
Constructs of a mind that is dark
But make no mistake for it is weak
Oh it knows, yet, fears the end
Will there be ashes or a gravestone in the end?
Will you recognise the faces?
Or shall they turn away from the weak?
As they try to conceal their own fears
And disappear like many into the dark
Where are these cursed lands?
Hell is what they call these lands
Where we shall all be in the end
For you could never outrun the dark
Or recognise any of those hidden faces
No one here can repair your fears
We are all the same – weak.
A broken soul – mark of the weak
Across all of these cursed lands
But we try again to run from our fears
Yet we know there is always an end
In this hell where we hide our faces
Even though we are consumed by the dark
Face your fears for it is now the end
No grave for the weak in these blasphemed lands
You chose the dark even when you feared unknown faces
“Mr. Nolan.” The blonde calls out as he begins to follow the rest of the students out of the classroom. “Not so fast.” She’s looking over his grades, noting the dip in consistency. Just this past week he had failed three assignments. Overall his grades were declining, and she figured perhaps a little extra study time was in order.
“Sit.” She gestures to a desk in the front row. “We need to have ourselves a little talk.”
I’m behind on asks asodifjdsofdi sorry about that. I had a hell day at work and need to just do nothing tonight, but Thursday should be a good ask answering night, I’m thinking.
Lately all I’ve been doing is working on the next two CWU chapters, and it’s going well so far, Chapter 22′s 1st draft is done (currently at 30k and likely to get longer when I edit :x) and I’m working on 23 (which will be a lot shorter, like half that at most) this week. Then I’ll take a week for editing– I want these chapters to feel this VERY PARTICULAR WAY that will take some time to get right, so I’ll go ahead and say now that they’ll be up on October 9 (instead of that Thursday), probably in the early evening.
Any chance for an updated Fuckpig chronological order post?
Hi, darling! Sorry this took so long. I’m virtually NEVER on my computer and this wasn’t one I wanted to answer on mobile.
First, a small disclaimer: the Fuckpig verse wasn’t written in chronological order so it’s TOTALLY okay to enjoy it in the order the stories were posted in! It has parts that are linear, parts that are flash backs, and parts that take place in the future. It wasn’t created “in order” so it’s really a more honest experience to read it “out of order.”
However, this is something several people have asked so here’s my best attempt at providing a linear flow. I’ve broken it into sections based on when the stories take place.
I’ve not read these in this order personally so I’m not even sure how well this works? I hope it helps!
There’s also a plethora of aesthetics and art and inspo that help make up the verse I really recommend you hang out in my tags (or the assorted tags of my lovely partners in crime) to really get the full experience.
they say that again out of
hoary middle-eastern nights
full of the aphrodisiac incense
and nitre-smell of storied
and ruined egypt, sumer,
babylon, the desolation
of salt -
they say that the darkness
takes on a form and shape
and comes to honored leaders
in the dawn before they wake
and whispers to their dreams
of what they must say and think
and do, ah a deed, a deed was done
discharge six chambers of the loaded gun -
and shatter the forehead of the walking corpse
o roiling mess of pure insanity -
o drowning darkness, herald of calamity
o entropy-blessed thing of night,
crawling chaos blasted in the elder grip -
“You have to be bloody kidding me. Do you know who I am? And you’re going to serve me this garbage of food? I wouldn’t even feed this to my fucking dog. You serve this to people. People. This is the best you got to offer? Damn. Damn, damn, damn.”