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evadneares · 9 months

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Mary MacLane, "I Await the Devils"

#writing #writers and poets #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #creative writing #literature #writers #writer things #quotes #women writers #mary maclane #i await the devils #canadian literature #canadian writer #books and libraries #books and literature #the wild woman of butte #confessional writing #autobiographical

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theplateau · 2 years

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No Longer Compromising My Values for the Sake of Money

For so long, my need for money to sustain myself has led me to the worst decisions.

And when I say that I want to sustain myself, I actually mean keeping myself in my social class—it’s the tension inside me that pulls me from side to side until I fall into my bed and sleep.

Yes, I tell people I’m motivated but then I realized that my ongoing success has been derived from fear. It wasn’t my hope that made me go the extra mile in almost everything I did. It wasn’t my pure love and passion for what I did.

Unfortunately, it was the consequences of not taking massive, immediate actions that fueled me and kept me pushing through.

The truth is, I can’t imagine myself living the life of a different social class. (Unless it’s higher than me in the hierarchy.)

You see, I’m not as greedy as I might sound. If anything, I actually refuse the concept of taking money from even my future spouse; I just love the idea of being able to make a great amount of money on my own.

But that love for money has almost destructed my aching soul. The glory of being financially independent that I instilled in my mind made me compromise my personal values and even endure abuse just so that I don’t lose my source of income.

But I no longer want to do that. I don’t deserve to become treated as less or be threatened to be treated as a “slave” if I don’t follow the rules of another person when they themself break all the rules they imposed on themself.

I no longer accept forbearing hypocrisy as means to make money. After all, how meaningful would my life be when I actually don’t feel okay?

#self love #self worth #self improvement #self care #writers #writerscommunity #writers of tumblr #writing #confessional writing #emotional abuse #abuse recovery #money slave #moneymaking #self reflection #self concept #self image

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lady-regal · 2 years

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Want, Need, Love

Devoured in the darkness,I am left with nothing but the memory of distracting destruction.You never stay,but that’s for the best,because I’ve so much to be getting on with,and you’re so much to deal with.I’m slipping through hands that are never around to hold me,but scratch their name into my skin all the same.I won’t go to waste here. You want to taste everyone, everywhere,but you cannot…

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#confessional poetry #confessional writing #Creative Writing #fiction-poetry #love poetry #poem #poetry #poetry and fiction #relationships #Writing

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erinlbowe · 2 years

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June 29th, 2022 Wednesday 7:26 pm

The sticky, sweet drumming of air on these summer mornings make me feel like I’ve walked out of the north and into a Florida fever dream. I still wear black jeans – with a tank top of course.

I like the days and nights when I’m not anxious – worried about this or that deal, will my clients be happy, when’s that damned appraisal coming in? I worked too late yesterday, and the thoughts followed me to bed and pounded against my heart.

In the others, I am riding on the top of a wave, living something like a New England dream. A quiet Kentucky girl never imagined this future. But here we are: straddling the lines of New Hampshire and Massachusetts, hustling to sell houses, a hint of red lipstick, Hall and Oates, amaretto sours (stronger by the glass).

And the next morning its back to building business and dreaming of moving out west of Nashua. The rest of the world has not discovered Temple yet, but it is full of forests and dirt roads and the wisest of old New England money. To build a fortress all our own, away from the crumbling of our culture…… the idea seems almost too idyllic to exist. But a vision of paradise can never leave your mind for long.

#journaling #journal #confessional #new england #new england writers #confessional writing #far caspian #a dream of you #Spotify #dream pop

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dragoneye01 · 2 years

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Confessionals

Tangerine x Reader

Word Count: 1,438

Summary: After saving your ass on a job, you end up on a long car ride with Tangerine and Lemon. Some things can’t stay hidden forever.

A/N: Yes, I did spend more time than necessary on the Thomas and Friends wiki page.

“Ok, can I be honest with you?” You leaned forward.

“Of course.” Lemon leaned forward, too. Being the driver, Tangerine tried his best not to pay attention to this weirdly philosophical discussion.

“I feel like I’m an Arthur. I’m too paranoid about failing and I’m too obsessed with being perfect. I think being an Arthur is my downfall, though, because if I never fail, I’ll never grow as a person.” You said. Lemon snorted and shook his head.

“Mind you, I believe you’re wrong. You may think you’re an Arthur because you’re only focusing on your negative qualities, but I think you’re an Edward. Wanna know why?” Lemon held up his finger as if this was a teaching moment.

“Why?” You asked, eyes wide.

“For fucks sake.” Tangerine sighed.

“Because everyone can count on Edward. Just like Tangerine and I count on you all the time if we ever get in trouble. Edward is kind and reliable, just like you.” Lemon went on.

“Aww, do you really mean that?” You beamed.

“Cross my heart.”

“Well, if you’re calling me an Edward, then I’m calling you an Oliver because you learn from your mistakes and are reliable and hard-working. You let it go to your head sometimes, but you take care of others, like that time you helped Tangerine when he had a hangover.” You said.

“I thought we all agreed not to fucking bring that episode up again, you shit.” Tangerine gripped the steering wheel hard.

“He’s acting like such a Gordon right now.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, Tangerine can act like a Gordon, but that’s only sometimes. I mean, he did pull you out of that job just now.” Lemon reminded you. He didn’t need to tell you twice. You had been sitting in the back of their car for the last hour with your arm in a makeshift sling since it got broken while you were in the middle of a high-stakes job. You were in over your head and had to call backup, enlisting the Twins since they owed you a favor.

“I’m not a fucking Gordon.” Tangerine looked back at you through the rearview mirror. “You take it back right the fuck now.”

“I will the fuck not.” You snorted.

“I’ll kick you out of this car right now if you don’t take it back.”

“Wow, you’d throw out an injured friend just because you don’t agree with your Thomas the Tank Engine character analysis?” You put your hand over your mouth in fake shock.

“That’s cold, man.” Lemon shook his head.

“I can’t believe you two. Like a bunch of children.” Tangerine shook his head.

“Hey, you’re the one getting upset because you’re a Gordon.” You shrugged.

“Stop calling me a Gordon, you twit.”

“Wow, nice insult. Did your mom pick it out for you?” You shot back.

“Don’t talk about our mom.” They both chimed.

“Ok, my bad.” You raised your good arm. “How far away is this safe house?”

“We’re almost there.” Tangerine grunted. You continued to chat with Lemon in the back seat, the sky darkening until it was pitch black out. The safe house you’d be staying at with them was out in the middle of nowhere. Lemon had fallen asleep by the time you arrived. You were nodding off, leaning on his shoulder for support.

“C’mon, you two. Get up and get out.” Tangerine put the car in park, shaking his brother until he woke up. Lemon almost hit him out of reflex. Your eyes felt heavy as you pulled yourself out of the car. Lemon took the keys and went to open the house up, while Tangerine held the door for you. The house was small and dingy with only two beds. Lemon took one bed and passed out without even changing his clothes or taking his shoes off. He must’ve been tired after the whole rescuing thing.

You set your bag down on the floor and looked around, not sure where to sleep. You set your jacket on the small couch when Tangerine grabbed it from you.

“Bed, now.” He demanded like an authority figure.

“Where are you gonna sleep, then?” You asked.

“We’ll share.” He shrugged. “I’ll leave you to change.” He walked out of the house, lighting a cigarette to smoke outside. You changed out of your dirty, bloody clothes in the bathroom and walked over to the door. Lemon was out cold, so you didn’t have to worry about being too quiet. Tangerine was sitting on the steps leading up to the house, smoking.

“Those will kill you.” You said quietly, sitting down next to him.

“Your job will kill you first if you keep getting in over your head.” Tangerine scoffed. You were silent and he wondered if he hit a button he wasn’t supposed to touch.

“Can I ask you something?” He finally said.

“Yeah?”

“You’re usually so careful. Why’d you take a job you knew you couldn’t handle?” His voice was tense. Not judgmental, but you could feel his jaw tighten with every word he said. It felt like you were being scolded.

A deep sigh left your mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said I get paranoid about being perfect. I didn’t want word to get out that I rejected a job because of the danger-factor. I just. . . I worry what other people will think of me.” You quietly admitted.

“You’re a fuckin’ assassin, love. What people think about you should be the last thing on your mind.” Tangerine told you, looking up at the dark sky. You couldn’t see any stars or even the moon. Honestly, you could barely see Tangerine in the dark.

“I know.” You muttered. “I’m an assassin with some anxiety issues. How’d that work?”

You looked at Tangerine and he looked at you and you both laughed quietly.

“Did you mean what you said? That I’m a Gordon?” He asked.

“Wow, my words really hurt you, didn’t they?” You smiled.

“No fuckin’ way. I just don’t want to be compared to some shitty-”

“Why do you care so much about what I think? You’re a fuckin’ assassin, love.” You laughed, mimicking what he said. Tangerine glanced at you in the dark, stubbing out his cigarette. He raised his hand and cupped your cheek, letting his thumb run over your skin. You froze in place.

“You know, I could get anything I want. I have the money, the skill, the charm. Yet, things always seem to be just out of reach. Lemon is lemon because our clients like to deal with me instead of him, no one likes lemons.”

“That’s not true-”

“Let me finish.” He took a breath, waiting to see if you’d stay quiet. When you didn’t make a noise, he continued.

“Lemon is lemon. You come waltzing in and you two become best fuckin’ friends. You like him more than you like me, it seems. Everytime I get closer to you. . .” Tangerine trailed off, pulling his hand from your face. Before he disappeared on you, you reached out and took his hand. You could feel his rings and watch under your fingers.

“Stop.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, love. It’s just how I feel.” He moved to get up. But your grip on his hand tightened.

“I don’t. . . I didn’t mean stop like. . . just. . .” Your mind was moving so fast and your arm throbbed and you were at a loss for words.

“I fucking like you, too, Tangerine. Look, Lemon is my friend and he’s easy to understand, but you? You’re like a closed book and I’m dying to get my fingers between the pages and open you up.” You admitted, then cringed at your metaphor.

“You want to open me up? How morbid.” Tangerine suddenly laughed.

“Yeah,” you said, tension easing away. “I want to dig into you like a bug and hibernate in your chest cavity.”

“You’re sick.” He snorted.

“And you love me.” It came out before you could stop it. Love. Love. Love. The air had that sudden tension again and you regretted it so much. You shouldn’t have said it. He was quiet. He was staring at you. Jesus, why did you have to say Love?

“Yeah, I fuckin’ love you.” Tangerine said, barely audible, yet you heard it. You heard those words and you felt like your world expanded. You let go of his hand and leaned your head on his shoulder. Tangerine wrapped an arm around you, keeping you warm in the cool night air.

“Hey, Tangerine?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I love you, too.”

“Well, it’s about time you fucking said it.”

#my writing #dragoneye01 #confessionals #bullet train #bullet train imagine #bullet train x reader #tangerine x reader #tangerine #tangerine imagine #tangerine bullet train #lemon and tangerine

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i-want-to-be-a-poet · 5 months

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God is dead and i wear his skin

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thisispoetrybyamyy · 29 days

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My heart kinda aches when you're talking to someone else. Can't wait for our turn again

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st-alastors-confessional · 2 months

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al, I overdosed on melatonin perc and xanax yesterday, I just wanted to take a nap. r drugs sins? I don’t feel sorry😒just wanted to ask

Drugs? A sin?

Oh-ho-ho, certainly not.

But safe practices are always paramount when consuming substances. I implore you to take care in future, my dear. I’d hate for anything to damage that wonderful soul of yours.

Your sins are forgiven.

St. Alastor

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lunarharp · 10 months

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day 3 - exchanging “love letters” and some greying hair

#witch hat tag #orufrey #orufreyweek2023 #hope it's ok to put prompt stuff with something i just drew for no reason.#agott sees the parchment in the pot while looking for a snack. is foiled by the child lock. puts it back.#also the grey hair thing is like.. definitely PRE any confessional letters..i hope it's obvious when i write pre and post moments...#yeah i drew today but i literally also spent hours on the floor braindead from heat. i dont do much else.#Anyway what if oru got early grey hair. *smiles* i dont have any btw.

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blasphemous-cal · 1 year

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I’m in the mood to take you out for dinner. We’ll dress up nice, walk arm in arm. You’ll tell a joke and I’ll try to smother my laugh so as not to disturb everyone else. I’ll take your hand from across the table, run my thumb across your knuckles. And that’s when the trouble will start.

You’ll see it in the way I look up at you, the mischievous glint in my eye. I’ll motion for you to lean in, and when you do, I’ll tell you how I’ve been thinking about you all day. Thinking about your body, your skin against mine. Those pretty little noises you make. Oh, I make you sing for me, darling, don’t I? I’d give you a quick kiss on your earlobe and lean back, a smirk on my face at that pretty blush spreading across your cheeks.

Throughout the dinner, I’d keep teasing you. Running the toe of my boot up your leg. Reaching over to brush your sensitive neck with my fingers. Aw, it really doesn’t take much to make you all flustered, huh baby? Had you been thinking about me too? About how I could ruin you with my mouth?

We’d finish our dinner, and I’d escort you to my car, my finger’s running slowly up and down your spine as we walked. Play with the hair at the nape of your neck. I’d let you choose the music, love, as I kept my hand firmly on your thigh as I drove. My thumb would trace patterns on your skin, loving how your muscles would twitch with the touch.

Then, finally, we’d be home. I can just see you rushing to get us inside, so eager. But when I shut the door behind us, I’d just casually shrug off my coat. I’d go to the kitchen and pour myself a drink. You’d follow me, of course, pouting like a lost puppy. So cute. Would you be brave enough to ask for what you want then, darling? Could you look me in my eyes and tell me that you need to be fucked? Oh, I’d love to see you try, all blushy and nervous.

I’d roll up my sleeves and sit on the couch, then, legs spread lazily. My finger would beckon you closer, my eyes watching you with hunger as I told you to strip. And you would, wouldn’t you? Because you’re so good for me, my good little pet. It’d drive me crazy seeing you before me, your beautiful body bare. I can just imagine how you’d rub your thighs together, the wetness already slicking across them.

Then, after I was done admiring you, I’d tell you to spread your legs and touch yourself. God- you’d look so amazing, darling. Your fingers teasing your clit as you looked right in my eyes. You put on this act of the shy little sweetheart, but I know you. I know how much you ache to be fucked and used. And I want to give that to you. As long as you’re good, of course.

I’d let you tease and fuck yourself until your legs start shaking and your hips start bucking. Then I’d tell you to come sit in my lap. And- oh- you’d been waiting for this, haven’t you sweetheart? Needing it. My hands gripping your hips, your cunt pressed against the strap bulging in my pants. But I wouldn’t fuck you yet, not when there’s still so much fun to be had.

I’d leave marks all over your neck and tits, make sure everyone knew who the fuck you belong to. If you tried to grind down on my bulge, I’d hold you still, gripping you hard enough to leave bruises. But you’d love that, huh? The way my big hands would rough you up like that as I bite down into your neck. Oh, I know you would, pet.

Finally, after you been so good for me, I’d let you undo my pants and pull the strap out. Aw, baby, I can just imagine how blushy you’d get as it rubbed up against your clit. So sweet. I’d let you settle down on to it as slow as you wanted, taking me into you inch by beautiful inch. God, you’d be so perfect. I’d even let you set the pace, since you’d been so good for me.

I’d suck on your nipple, my thumb teasing your clit as you rode me. The way your moans would harmonize with the sounds of your wet pussy fucking my strap would be heavenly. I’d dig my nails into your thigh as you fucked yourself onto my strap, telling you how perfect you are, how gorgeous, how amazingly you take my cock. I’d make you repeat every praise I give you as you get closer to the release you need.

But just as you’re about to cum, I’d stop you. I’d ignore your protests, your cries, as I pulled out. I’d lay you onto the couch and spread your legs, diving right into that beautiful cunt tongue first. You’d be so fucking wet, it’d be easy to slip my fingers inside of you, curling to press against your g-spot. Then, only then as my tongue was on your clit and my fingers buried deep inside you, would I let you come.

The way your back would arch, how your fingers would grip my hair as you screamed my name… that’d be enough for me, darling. I couldn’t ask for anything more divine. I’d carry you to our bed and tuck you in. Leave just long enough to put our leftovers in the fridge and make you your favorite tea before coming back to rub your back and tell you how absolutely perfect you are until you drifted to sleep.

[MEN, MINORS AND TERFS DO NOT INTERACT]

#nblw nsft #nblnb nsft #sapphic nsft #lesbian nsft #nsft #queer nsft #wlw nsft #men dni #my nsft #my writing #nsft text #dirty talk #t4t love #callisto’s confessionals

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theplateau · 2 years

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Ditch the Kritch Before You Itch to Bitch

So, I happen to have a little friendly advice that I wish someone would’ve given me earlier.

The moment you spot a narcissist, you have to switch to the “Yellow Rock” mentality, immediately.

And I can’t emphasize how significant that mentality is.

To those who don’t know, there are two main ways to deal with a narcissist: to become a gray rock (dull and boring all the time when you’re around them) or to become a yellow rock.

Becoming a yellow rock means that you don’t entertain the behavior of the narcissist but you still safeguard your authentic character from the consequences of becoming fully dull for a long period of time.

That narcissist can be someone you considered a friend, it can be a parent, it can be your boss—it can be anyone. Whoever that person is, don’t let them dim your light.

I’d say that I’ve been feeling my energy being sucked that I literally had to pause and reflect on the situation and how it’s been negatively affecting my mental health.

So today, I gathered all the courage in me to say that I’m ready to let go if that’s really the right decision for me. (Since I don’t want to stoop so low as they do.)

Sometimes you have to ditch the kritch before you itch to bitch.

P.S. Kritch is actually a slang term on Urban Dictionary, you can check it out! Definitely a fun, yet weird coincidence!

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threadsun · 7 months

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i too have a lot of worries about swwsdj being made more 'digestible' for people not accustomed to the yandere genre or hate anything not absolutely morally (christian) good, but thats not what i got from the patron post (this time lmao). but it sounded more like instead of going all out from the word go, sauce just wants to ease into the horror over the course of the story (actually did really like the snippet we got suggesting jack was just as scared we werent real)

Oh my problem with the new post wasn't the slowing down of things. It's the way they keep addressing the no route. The way they act as though there was never any intention of anything but full consent all around. Either it's bullshit or there's more problems going on than we realise. Either way, the idea that horror isn't meant to make people uncomfortable or be too real is bullshit. And the fact that they can't admit they originally intended some dubcon but want to change that, and instead double down on "that was never the intention" is concerning. Especially since if they did admit that there was possibly the intention of dubcon/coerced consent at one point, even if they still change it, the (christian) morality folks will jump on them and eat them alive. So I recognise that they're in a tough spot here, but I think the why and how of them being in that spot is important to talk about to hopefully help get them out of it. To acknowledge that there's people watching them like a hawk waiting for them to fuck up so they can pounce.

And this especially goes with the mentions of how much things have changed since other people started getting involved in the project. Because it confirms that these changes we've been seeing are directly because of the people who have been cosying up to Sauce to try to get their two cents in. The same people who cried when Jack used the word "slutty" and throw hissyfits whenever people talk about Jack being a bad person.

I don't mind the demo being reworked to be slower and less heavy-handed (though I think it's a perfectly good demo as-is), I mind the whole "no route" stuff that keeps cropping up, and I mind the shitty people whispering in Sauce's ear about how everything has to be morally Perfect otherwise they're a Bad Person.

#sunshine #asks #18+ only #it's christian bullshit repackaged is what it is #every single person who wasn't raised christian who I've talked to about this has agreed #that it's got christianity written all over it and then scribbled out in favour of 'morality'#like bro you don't need to go to confessional and get absolution for getting your rocks off to fictional dubcon #all fiction is inherently scene done between consenting adults (creator and consumer) therefore it's cnc #anyway find yourself some new friends who don't suck and want to manipulate you by preying on your insecurities #and write whatever fun bullshit you wanted to in the first place

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i-want-to-be-a-poet · 5 months

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this time last year i was planning on killing myself i dont know whether i am afraid of it happening again or whether i regret not following through

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thisispoetrybyamyy · 29 days

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You shine so bright, all the other stars fade away. I only have eyes for you

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crumbleclub · 11 months

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Thoughts for your consideration: a Michael who's so unused to being treated like a person that he has no idea at all how to respond to people being kind or comforting or even just. Acknowledging that he has thoughts and feelings?

Ik this sounds like an angsty concept but it's intended to be the start of things that are happy for him. Like he's given the chance to have positive interactions with someone (ghosts? henry? does he manage to secure a standard human friend somehow? fuckin helpy?) and yea he short circuits in the short term but in the long term he's way better for it and kind of learns from experience how he can express his own feelings and things which allows him to feel less isolated

#imagine how inherently isolating his whole situation is. like even if he was emotionally stable #(which he's definitely not when i write him)#he is chasing down his serial killer dad and trying to release the trapped souls of kids stuck in animatronics #including his sister who went missing when he was just a kid and the brother he himself killed #like. who the fuck do you even talk to about that.#i don't think the afton family would've been religious but maybe he just traumadumps to a catholic priest in a confessional #since they're not supposed to disclose anything and he wouldn't have to ever see them again #unlike a therapist who would immediately assume he's experiencing psychosis #anyway this was originally gonna be abt scooped mike and the inherent dehumanization of rotting alive but #with his background i can see him being like this even as a kid honestly #fnaf #mike's stuff #michael afton #writing process blogging

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