How Did I Do? - Tumblr Posts
There is a silence that befalls the world in the middle of a snowstorm. When the sky and the earth melds into a singular shade and everything disappears under a covering of snow. It sits unblemished and deep, erasing any memory of warmth, of familiarity, of humanity. The landscape is gently shaped by a silent wind that can just as easily slice through warmed skin, corrosive and biting.
These are the nights that our parents latched the doors and told us stories of spring.
If you hear a knock at the door sweet one, it is but the wind, pay it no mind and huddle closer, closer still to the hearth. Soak up the warmth because you can and rejoice for the warmth does not give relief to the truly cold, but instead it blisters their skin.
The hearth of our home fluttered with the bellowing of the wind and our every breath. Each thump at the door and window would be swallowed by the pop of fresh wood. And yet every splutter and spit made us twitch, the threat of a burn being something instinctual, just as much as the flame had been mesmerising. Every ember that was spat fourth drove us back while the hands at our backs urged us forward.
There are no worries for we are warm, fear no flame for a burn will never hurt like the chill. Fire breathes and welcomes us home but does so to the lost as well. Never lose sight of the hearth on these nights. Now huddle closer and tell us what you see, what you see within the heath. Look away from the window, what tales do you see within the hearth.
No matter how much they insisted I couldn't help but look out the window. Snow fell like stars, creating patterns and shapes that passed by and rattled the glass. Shapes that knocked at the door. I would be scolded for turning away from the hearth only to do so again and again. The warmth felt so permanent, so present, it would never leave my bones.
I suppose I felt that that warmth had become too stifling. I must have turned away from the flames more times than I could find my way back. Now as I try to move closer to the heath, to home, my feet feel heavier with each step. Weighed down. I can feel the humanity leaking out, calling to me with each distant pop of wood, can smell the blood of family. I hear a mumble.
Pay no attention to that my youngest, she is lost but with the sun she shall be found.
The snow is thick outside. I know this because my feet, black and hard, sink lower, but I move forward, I must get to my hearth, to my blood. The warmth, their warmth will save me. A window, I stop before it and tap, tap at the warmth. A door, its familiarity is all but lost to me and I knock because that is what we do to be welcomed inside. I open my mouth to call out but my mouth is dry. I lick my lips, my tongue solid between them but it does nothing to wet them. I huddle, huddle closer. I can feel the warmth, only just. It seeps through the wood, and I can see it, much like I can feel the heart beats of my family. We must huddle together, huddle around the fire and rejoice as our skin splits. The rush of blood, inside or out, is something we will have no need to worry about but first we must huddle close, closer still, till we share space, breath, and blood once more. I remember how we used to and I yearn, hunger to do so again.
tap, tap, tap
My version of a genderbent Inosuke because it's a crime how skinny I've seen other people make her. Like, come on, dont be scared, GIMME DEM MUSCLES
I was torn on if I should make her more masculine, seeing as the person I'm genderbending is a feminine looking man, but I decided against it
Lemme know if you wanna see a more masculine version