BassGuitarGirl

To those who feel that their world is shattering From those who are picking up the pieces. Gazing at the glass walls, Watching the cracks form in the reflection gazing back at me, Slide a hand over the growing lines Crisscrossing like veins along smooth and transparent skin. Force a hand through. Claw at the shards, Let them pierce tender flesh, Let them break through that delicate shell holding you together. Let them shred your vulnerability. Reach through to the other side, To what weighs on the sturdy walls of your prison, Drag it in. Pull it in with you. Capture it. Kiss it deeply. What has broken down your walls, Your comforts, Your

Reno crawled to Nero, a paintbrush swathe of blood coloring a trail behind him as he made his way to his lover's side. Metal wings were in tattered pieces all around the man, plucked and ripped from his back like the feathers of a fallen angel. They were scattered in dirt that had been drenched into mud by the blood flowing thick and fast from Nero's broken body. Reno crawled to Nero's side, ignoring the pain pulsing through him with each beat of his fading heart. All that mattered was making his way to Nero. He needed to be with him. Death was inevitable, there was no one to save them and no one who even wanted to. Their love had driven any

 “Did a bee just fly in here?” Reno frowned and whipped around in his seat, twisting to see if he could spot the yellow-assed pest that he thought had flown into his car. “Focus, Reno!” Rude slapped the roof of the car, peering into the window with a scowl. “You’re late! Take those to Tseng and then get your ass back here to help me finish up, alright? We’ve got a lot of shit to do today!” “Alright, alright, keep your panties on.” Reno pulled his seatbelt over his shoulder and clicked it into place, deciding that the bee must have been his imagination and nothing more. Couriering

 Smoke billowed out of the apartment, every fire alarm on the floor was going off, and Tseng was horrified by the stench occupying the disaster area. It was a wretched, horrid odor the likes of which he had never before smelled. He broke down Reno’s door, coughing as he inhaled the putrid smoke. There was no visible fire, no flames licking at the walls or crawling on the floor, but a spot of red was easily seen in the middle of the room; a sopping wet red mess that was standing on a chair and desperately trying to deactivate the fire alarm on the ceiling. A towel was knotted around Reno’s slim waist and it threatened to drop at a

“Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop, chop, chop! If I miss the spaces in between, my fingers will come off. And if I hit my fingers, the blood will soon come out, but all the same, I play this game ‘cause that’s what it’s all about. Oh, CHOP, CHOP, CHOP, CHOP, CHOP, CHOP, CHOP!  I’m picking up the speed and if I hit my fingers then my hand will start to bleed.” Reno sang under his breath as he waltzed through the warehouse, his EMR rotating in his hand as he swung it by its thick leather strap. The carnage around him was horrendous. Bodies were strewn across the floor, some crumpled like old new

 A slip of the tongue was all it took and then Reno was on the floor. He quickly used the chair behind him to pull himself up, his cheek smarting from where he had been hit. Considering who had hit him, Reno felt lucky to be conscious. He frowned at his attacker, his brows knitting together as he rubbed his cheek. “What the hell, Rude?” Rude’s stony expression was enough to tell Reno exactly what he had done wrong, but the bald man spoke anyways. “Don’t’ talk like that. It’s too damned soon.” Reno could tell that the words ‘you insensitive bastard’ were written into every syllable u

 The lights flickered on the transport, each bumping rock of the vehicle threatening to make them fall onto the people below. A shattering of glass amongst the huddled, weary, war-worn group might have been a welcome thing. The smell of blood and sweat mingled with an indistinct scent that reminded one of pure, unadulterated fear, but the smell itself was just a suggestion of the terror they all still felt and none of the men could identify it for what it was. These men had just had their first taste of war and none of them could say whether they had won or lost their battle. Had it not been for the Second Class SOLDIER who was currently movi

 “Yes, Sir.” Reno sniffled, tears streaming down his young, thin face. He rubbed his rear, which felt raw from the stinging spanks that Sir, his caretaker, had given him earlier. The way to his room was cluttered, filled with the merchandise that Sir sold in his junk shop in Sector Seven, but Reno navigated through the labyrinthian maze of odds and ends with practiced ease despite the tears blurring his vision. A mass of tangled, shoddy blankets on a thin and tattered cot served as his bed, but at six years old he wasn’t quite mature enough to realize how poor the conditions he and Sir lived in really were. In Reno’s y