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@Morals-are-for-mortals language

As the title says. On occasion, I’ll post my works that I need to keep somewhere or just works that I’m proud of here. Anyone is welcome to comment and give critique in parentheses (like this.) If possible, do not quote things to reply. Especially if something is in parentheses. . . It’s a peeve of mine.

I’ll be posting one of my works immediately, since I have it on-hand.

With that said, let the chaos commence :}

Also, @ame-the-impatient-dumbass I know you’ll want to stalk here.

@Morals-are-for-mortals language

Trigger warnings: Violence, gore, blood.


One wolf.

One civilization.

Beautiful black and white coloring, marbled and pristine.

The red and blue, coexisting in a single society.

It travels through the pines draped in white, watching over weary travelers. Something is different. It is aggressive.

The red is spreading. The blue grows in strength. Tensions rise.

At night it grows restless. Endless scratching, clawing, tearing chunks of fur from its pelt.

Protests, discrimination, acts of violence. The peace is breaking.

Morning rises. A trail of blood slicing through the pristine snow. It is too late.

Armies marching through the snow, marring the landscape with their trails of footprints.

Pieces of skin and flesh join the trail of blood. It cannot stand what hides under its own skin. It needs to be freed. It needs to be clawed out.

The first battle cry. The first strike of the sword. The first scream of terror. The first bloodshed.

Biting, gnawing, ripping, tearing. It is uncontrollable. It is ugly and unrecognizable. It falls to the ground in a restless sleep.

So many injuries. So many deaths. The red and blue nearly wipe each other out. At the end of the battle, they limp back to their homes and pack their things.

When it wakes, it is not one wolf, but two. Each recognize itself in the other. But each can only focus on the differences. They go their separate ways.

The red and blue create their own societies. Each under watchful, predatory eyes.

When the wolves meet again, it is a kinder welcome. Despite their conflicts, they can see past their differences now. They see the truth.

Red and blue. Black and white. Two sides of the same coin.

The wolves, different as they may be, were both born of the same conflict. They were brothers.

@Morals-are-for-mortals language

Songs of Safety

21 years ago

Thunder crashed from outside. A small, shaking figure laid wrapped in a blanket. Kody had never experienced a storm like this. Not at his home in the snowy mountains. It scared him, a lot. “Ma?” He called out warily.

“Yes, dear?” The mother—Medea—said, poking her head through the doorway. When she saw the state of her child, her expression turned soft. “Oh no, are you alright?” She said, stepping into the room and sitting down next to him. Kody shook his head and clung to her. Another crack of thunder reverberated throughout the air, and he jumped.

“I’m scared, ma,” Kody said.

Medea looked down at the small child. She gently stroked his head and hummed to herself. “Do you know what helped me when I was scared, Kody?” Kody tilted his head to look up at her, and he shook his head. Medea gave him a small smile. “My mother would sing a song to me. Would you like to hear it?”

Kody’s eyes lit up the slightest, and he nodded. “Yeah. . .”

”Fear not my child
For despite the dangers of this world
And the fright’ning monsters that lurk the shadows
There is one that will protect and not harm. . .”

The quiet tune filled the air, almost immediately putting Kody at ease. He barely paid attention to the next words his mother sang as he closed his eyes and his breathing evened out.

8 years ago

Kody had been falling in and out of consciousness for days since he had been released from his prison in the enemy palace. He was terribly injured, and the only thing that could heal him now was time. His family had barely left his side for fear that he might be alive one moment and. . . gone the next.

Medea carried this fear heavier than most. If she left his side, it was never for long. How could she leave her child like that? A weak cough caught her attention, and she looked over at her son. He had his eyes open again, blearily staring up at nothing. Medea reached out and took his hand gently. He tensed the slightest and looked at her. When he realized who it was, he relaxed and lightly squeezed her hand in response.

“Mother. . .—cough—you’re here,” Kody said, smiling the slightest.

Medea smiled back at Kody. She blinked away the tears that were forming at he corners of her eyes. “Yes, Kody. I’m here.”

“Do you remember that song you sang to me as a kid? When I was scared?”

“Of course.”

“Would. . . would you sing it for me again?”

“I would love to, dear.”

The song started out quiet and soft again, just as Kody had heard it the first time when he was a child. But he was fighting to stay awake for it, to not fall into unconsciousness again.

”-monsters that lurk the shadows
There is one-“

Stay awake. Please.

“-The pow’rful Guardian sees all
It knows when you are scared
It knows when you are weak
And in your time-”

I might never hear this again.

“-of this world
The pow’rful Guardian will protect you from the monsters
The swords and spears
The. . .”

Damn it.

And again, he was asleep.

Current time

“Mother?” Kody said, looking over at her suddenly. He was visiting his parents for the day. He rarely saw them recently, these days. They had spent most of their time catching up and conversing.

Medea looked over at him curiously. “Yes, dear?”

“I. . . Thank you. For everything.” For making me feel safe.

@Morals-are-for-mortals language

Song of the Guardians

Fear not my child
For despite the dangers of this world
And the fright’ning monsters that lurk the shadows
There is one that will protect and not harm

The pow’rful Guardian sees all
It knows when you are scared
It knows when you are weak
And in your time of need
Your Guardian will come to aid

So fear not my child
For despite the dangers of this world
The pow’rful Guardian will protect you from the monsters
The swords and spears
The hateful cries

@Morals-are-for-mortals language

Hello all, this has been barren for more than I’d like to admit. Oops. Well, to the point! If you haven’t been around Ame and I for a while, we’ve gotten into another fandom together. Namely the Chonny Jash fandom, centered around his “Chonny’s Charming Chaos Compendium” album and the four prominent characters in it. The Heart, Mind, Soul, and Whole. If you haven’t seen her writing bits about it on her dump, go check it out. It’s very good.
What you might not know is I’ve also made my own interpretation of these four characters separate from hers (and most of the fandom, oops.)
So, why am I saying any of this? I’m writing a little bit about my version of these characters. I’m going to post a work called “The Mind’s Obsession” which will be split into an unknown number of parts. This is before the main conflict between Heart, Mind, and Soul.
Also, I will be posting part 1 immediately.

@Morals-are-for-mortals language

The Mind’s Obsession Part 1: A Small Delay

I need to be better. Those words echoed throughout Mind’s head as he obsessively scribbled complex notes on sheets of lined paper. He had made too many mistakes now to let this flaw go unaddressed.


He needed to fix himself. Make himself his own version of perfect. No more slip-ups, no more messy mistakes that delayed his projects. He would be the most efficient version of himself possible if he finished this. But of course, neither of his counterparts understood it. They’ve tried to help him, but Soul thinks of it as mutilation while Heart. . . she’s trying to be supportive. As always. Besides, this plan wouldn’t work to its full without her.


If only he could get past this one issue. The mechanical connecting to the biological. Mind knew that he would need to figure this out if any of it were to work. If he couldn’t, all of his efforts were in vain. Every possible answer he had, when applied, had to be crossed out and re-worked. How long had he been writing, thinking, crossing out, and starting over? It didn’t matter anymore. He needed to figure this out.


Snap! The pencil breaks.

Mind looked up from his notebook. Up to Heart standing next to him. Forced out of his fanatical haze, Mind realized just how terrible of a state he was in. He hadn’t moved from his chair since he first started writing. His eyes were strained from his focus. And he also had a notable headache. But did any of that really matter if it was for his greater good?

Heart was looking at him, her eyes hinting at concern. No, she wasn’t just hinting at it. If she felt the need to interrupt him while he was working, she was very concerned. She shouldn’t be.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. He dropped the pencil and let it roll across the paper. He realized that for the first time in a very long time, he was tired. Very tired.

“Mind. . . You’ve been doing this for hours. I’m worried for you. Well- I was worried when you first had this idea, but now I’m really worried! Can’t you take a break?” Heart pleaded, her free hand making gestures as she spoke. Mind sighed and held his head in his hands.

“I need to finish this. Sooner rather than later.”

“You’re overworking yourself. Please? Just for a little bit. We can talk. We haven’t talked that much ever since-”

“I can’t stand being in my own skin, Heart. If I don’t figure this out-“

“Mind. There’s nothing you can’t figure out. But can’t you see how. . . How good of an idea it is to let yourself rest once in a while?”


“Thank you.”