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#me writing: pain
moistbread · 1 year
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dadrius reunion huh
extra:
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gay-impressionist · 9 months
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france is burning.
667 people were arrested last night. they are curfews in place. public transport is partially closed at night.
nahel, a 17-year-old, was shot tuesday by the police during a traffic stop. he wasn't violent or armed, he wasn't a threat. but he broke the law and tried to drive away, so the cops killed him.
and now france is rioting.
there is a video so the government isn't trying to deny the facts for once. but the minister of the interior (in charge of the police) still insist that the police shot less people since the 2017 law on public safety.
but an analysis of police statistics by Le Monde, the most read newspaper in france, says otherwise. when the police shot on average 250 people each year in the five years prior to 2017, that number became 297 after 2017. for shots fired specifically on moving vehicles, the average used to be 119 and it's now 150. before 2017, there was an average of 0.06 deaths per shot. now it's 0.32.
more than ever, the police shoots to kill.
so france is burning.
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clairenatural · 5 months
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Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.
It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.
It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.
He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.
Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.
So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.
It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”
Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long. 
Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.” 
The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”
It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.
Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.
"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.
Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.
"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.
"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.
He turns the keys. He drives them home.
Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).
Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.
It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"
Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."
"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."
"You didn't correct her?"
"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.
"Uh huh."
"It felt trivial."
"To tell her we're not married?"
"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.
Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."
"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.
Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.
"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"
Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"
Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."
Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."
Across the table, Cas grins at him.
"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.
"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."
"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."
They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.
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zosanbrainrot · 10 days
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part 2 of Zoro in WCI
01 02
I tried to write something to sum up my thoughts on this, but then it got longer and longer and tbh I'm itching to write a fic set in this AU djjdkf I think I could develop on their inner feelings more than in the comic form
Before posting the first part I didn't realize people had such strong opinions on how this would play out lmaooo
imo, of course Zoro wants to fight Sanji, not with actual intent to harm (they threaten each other on the daily, come on), but because that's how they are together, how they communicate. He respects Luffy's decisions and their goal here, which is to learn what's really going on with Sanji, but he's gonna be pissy about it all he wants. They both have so many intense and conflicted feelings about this and neither has any idea how to resolve them. So they fight.
ofc yall are free to headcanon this interaction any other way you want <333
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actiniumwrites · 1 year
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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓
synopsis: how they react when they find out you’ve never had a date on valentine’s day
based on the prompt: “you’ve never had a valentine’s date?”
characters: diluc, kaeya, mona, zhongli, xiao, kujou sara, kazuha, itto, tighnari, cyno, and childe x gn! reader (separately)
warnings: fluff, a bit of angst in some of them, these are meant to be pre-relationship but you can interpret them how you want
notes: releasing this a day early because i know i’ll forget about it tomorrow lmao. also i was gonna do more for this than just a bullet scenario, but then i realized there was only like a week left until valentine’s when i wrote this so i couldn’t do anything big 😭 but i did really like this prompt so enjoy!
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diluc:
his facial expression contorts into one of confusion as he wipes the inside of the glass in his hand
you’re sitting in front of him, legs crossed one over the other as they dangle over the barstool you’re on. your head rests in your hand innocently, as if what you had just said hadn’t affected you at all
you’ve never had a valentine’s date?
no. diluc just can’t accept it, at least, that’s what he decides as he puts the glass down and starts to remove his apron
before you know it, his hands are gripping yours, pulling you out the door and into the now sunset painted city you called your home
valentine’s wasn’t over yet, and diluc was sure as hell going to make sure you got that date
kaeya:
he laughs, his smile wide and his eyes teasing as he blinks through his tears
but then he sees the way you grimace and your eyes look anywhere but at him. he sees a sense nervousness and embarrassment wash over every inch of your face
he feels awful
kaeya hadn’t meant anything bad by his laughter. truthfully, he thought you were joking with him because, how could someone so utterly beautiful in every which way, someone so full of life, someone so perfect never have been asked on a date on valentines?
you were all he had ever wanted and more, and yet you weren’t even his
apologies come flying out of his mouth for a solid two minutes before you assure him it’s okay and, as expected, that stupid smirk appears on his face again
his hand is latching onto yours as he leans in close, asking you to join him on a date so he could make it up to you
and although he seems rather nonchalant on the outside, his heart is beating rapidly on the inside, begging you to accept so he could finally make you his
mona:
her mouth falls open at the sound of your response to the question
then it shuts…and then it opens again
meanwhile, you have to keep yourself from laughing too hard because of the way she currently resembles a fish
she huffs as she ignores your muffled laughter and tosses the pen she had been writing with to the side and gathers her papers on her desk
you’re still laughing, but her face is as serious and determined as ever
and before you know it, you were getting dragged out of her room and into yours. and your best friend tells you to get ready, as glammed up or as comfortable as you want
she was going to take you out on the best damn date of your life and maybe, just maybe, finally confess her feelings to you
zhongli:
his eyes widen in shock and he immediately sets his tea down to clasp his hands together
he’s silent, thinking carefully about what to say to your response to his question. honestly, he looks like someone had just murdered his grandma
deep down, he wants to ask why
but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel bad never having a date on valentine’s
his hand aches to reach for yours and hold it tight in his. secure it with all his adoration and love for you, make you realize he’d do anything to take you on a date — valentines or otherwise
slowly, his eyes reach back up to meet yours and he stands, unclasping his hands and extending one out for you to hold
“if you do not mind, i would like to have the pleasure of being your first valentine’s date. and, perhaps if you enjoy it, you would consider allowing me to take you out again.”
xiao:
he scoffs — why were you even telling him this anyway? he didn’t even like valentine’s day so what does this have to do with him?
yet, he doesn’t miss the way his heart seems to skip a beat before pounding furiously against his chest
was he angry? upset? emotional? sad? he wasn’t sure but, whatever it was, it was not a good feeling
he masks whatever emotion it was and displays the most neutral expression he could come up with
because, no, xiao is not jealous and most definitely does not care
yet, as much as the adeptus claimed to hate valentine’s day, he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit interested if it means he gets to spend the day with you
his eyes avoid yours and a small blush crosses his face as he offers a proposition:
“if you would like…maybe you could spend the day with me?”
kujou sara:
her arms cross as she leans sideways against the wall, staring directly at you as she scoffs
“who wouldn’t want to take you out on a date?”
shit
the general definitely did not mean to say that out loud
suddenly, she’s standing upright and stuttering left and right as you stand in front of her in shock
her hands are waving in front of her face sporadically as she desperately tries to explain herself
but then your silence turns into laughter and it feels like the world around her completely stops as you reassure her that it’s okay and that you’re actually quite flattered
embarrassed as she is, sara sighs and stares at anywhere but you, “i know it’s your favorite, so meet me at uyuu restaurant at 7 tonight. please don’t make me regret this.”
kazuha:
he offers a gentle smile and covers your hand in his own
“that’s okay, neither have i.”
you’re quick to ask him why, but he’s quick enough to ask you the same
you’re dumbfounded, but argue that you asked him first. and he explains, saying that he’s always preferred the wind and spending his time in nature rather than out on silly dates
and your eyes loose their shine a little, not only upset because you have to talk about the fact that no one had ever asked you on a valentine’s day before, but also because it meant you likely wouldn’t have the chance to ever go out with him
and he notices, because that’s just how kazuha is
“just because i said i don’t prefer to go on dates, doesn’t mean i don’t enjoy them. in fact, i would greatly appreciate it if you would join me at chinju forest later today. perhaps we could have a picnic and enjoy the scenery together?”
itto:
he gasps loudly, almost as if he’s in a horror movie and the killer just found him
it scares you at first, thinking that his sudden expression was not in reaction to your response, but then you realize itto was in fact reacting to you
it’s just his dramatic nature
his hand is over his heart and his eyes are shut, acting as if he’s in pain
“oh no! no, no, no! this just won’t do!”
and you laugh whole heartedly at him. a smile irresistibly tugs at your lips and your eyes are all wrinkled
and when you recover, itto’s looking at you with the brightest, most fondest look you think you’ve ever seen in your life
and it hits you: he was trying to make you laugh so that you wouldn’t feel bad
and then he’s all serious, but you can tell he’s really just nervous, “uh, hey listen, i can take you out…but only if you want! not that you have to or anything — no, no that would be uh…yeah!”
tighnari:
“valentine’s day is a rather trivial holiday. there’s no need to be so upset about never having had a date.”
your eyes fall to your hands as he says those words. not that he sees of course, seeing as he’s turned around at his desk, writing away at some papers
“yeah, no! i get it, you’re right,” you say. but your words don’t match your tone, and you hate how quick tighnari is to pick up on it
he sighs and turns around, still fiddling with the pen in his hand, but you don’t meet his eyes
you knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way, that’s just who he is, but you couldn’t help the hurt you felt when he spoke
and then he sighs again. although, this time a small, but genuine, smile graces his expression, “if a date is what will make you happy, then i would happily take some time off from work.”
cyno:
he’s hesitant to respond
not because he finds it appalling that you’ve never had a date on valentine’s day, but because he’s simply not well versed in relationships or emotional comfort in general
his eyes stay focused on the ground and his fingers tighten against the barrel of his polearm
he’s so quiet that you’re not even sure he heard your response
and he continues to think for a few more moments before huffing and just saying everything outright
overthinking wasn’t the mahamatra’s style
so he asks you out to dinner that night. not out of pity either, just simply because that’s what cyno wanted
sure he wasn’t a fan of the holiday, but his feelings for you are certainly enough to make him want to celebrate it
childe:
his hand is intertwined with yours as you walk together down the streets of liyue
“wait so, you’ve never had a valentine’s date before? as in, this is literally your first one ever?”
you don’t respond. instead, you stare at the buildings around you and all the other couples adorning the different restaurants and gift shops
childe isn’t stupid. he sees the way you get uncomfortable and instantly regrets making the comment
he speaks softly, “i’m honored, you know? besides, you couldn’t get a better first date than me.”
you’re slapping his arm in a matter of seconds, trying to hold back your laugh, but acting angry nonetheless
but then you’re laughing together and you realize, yeah, it really couldn’t get any better than him
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crippledpunks · 27 days
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chronic fatigue is such a bitch because it's not super obvious at first. it creeps up on you some days, but other days, that's just the entire day. you start your day exhausted as hell, and like yeah, you're aware that you're tired, but you blame yourself for feeling this way. it's always your fault somehow. then comes the end of the day and you realize that it was your chronic fatigue, and you blame yourself for beating yourself up all day long. you can't win
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gardenofnoah · 1 year
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“you’re going to hurt yourself like that, my love.”
you startle at the voice over you, having been nearly asleep.
“—uh?”
you turn your head to see Nanami looming over your side of the bed. if you were fully conscious, you would see the tiny look of mischief in his eyes as they roam your body, but you’re not, so you take it as his tendency to mother hen you.
and then he’s pushing you to the middle of the bed despite your whining, climbing in beside you. you try to settle in and find you’re still being moved—he’s on his back, shuffling himself down the bed and pulling one of your legs over his chest. you feel him turn his face into your belly in a move that feels suspiciously like nuzzling.
“what’re y’doin,” you slur, a little petulant at being woken up like this, despite it being well past the time you meant to rejoin the living and despite your own desire to seek out the warmth he’s emitting next to you.
“you’re going to hurt your hip, laying like that,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. he runs a hand up the back of your thigh and over your hip, and you sigh a little bit, comforted by the feeling of him.
“i don’t know how you sleep like that,” he continues, absentmindedly dragging his fingers over your skin, making you shiver every now and then.
“feels good,” you grumble, face shoved into the pillow. talking about your bizarre sleeping position and maybe also the way the rough pads of his fingers leave a trail of warmth in their wake. you think you hear him chuckle softly, and you feel him press a kiss to the skin of your belly, right above the hem of your sleep shorts.
it’s soft, chaste—and then it’s not, and you suck in a breath when you feel him kiss you there again, feeling the tip of his tongue drag along the skin that stretches over your hip bone.
and evidently he hears your sharp inhale, because you feel a strong arm sneak around your lower back, pulling you closer to him.
“was still sleeping, you know,” but it’s lost all of its bite and you’re a little breathless now, fixated on the way his free hand slides up the back of your thigh to brush over the sensitive spot just under the curve of your ass.
“go to sleep then,” he says into the soft of your belly, pressing another kiss, opening his mouth a little wider to catch the skin of it between his teeth. he’s turned into you now, and despite yourself, you drag your leg up from his chest so it’s over his shoulder.
he moves to rest his head against your thigh that’s trapped underneath him, and distantly you think that it is more comfortable like this— his head squeezed between your legs having alleviated some of the pressure against your hip from laying on your side. that thought quickly becomes muddled in your head when you feel him latch on to the skin of your inner thigh that rests against his face.
you whine, hips bucking weakly as you squirm under tongue and teeth—both leaning into and trying to get away from the sting of his bite.
“my sweet love,” he coos, running his tongue over the fresh bruise, placating you. you shiver, pressing your face further into the pillow to try to breathe—to ground yourself despite the heat that curls up your spine. he stops, then, and you peak down at him to find that he’s staring back up at you.
“hi,” you whisper, fighting another shudder at the way his lips pull at the corners into a smirk that looks absolutely sinful on him.
“good morning,” he drawls, deep and far too awake. he rests his chin in the space between your hips, pressing a quick kiss above your pubic bone. your hips buck toward him a tiny bit, and his smirk widens when he feels it.
you bring a hand down to run it through his hair, tangling in the blond strands and scratching at his scalp. he closes his eyes and hums, deep in his chest, nuzzling into your thigh. it makes you smile, and it makes you ache.
“want you, ken,” you murmur, squeezing him gently between your thighs and reveling in the groan he lets out.
“i know, sweetheart,” he coos, hands coming up again to grope whatever skin he can reach and pressing a tiny kiss through your shorts, “i can smell you.”
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theramblingvoid · 1 year
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Low level/continuous pain tips for writing
Want to avoid the action movie effect and make your character's injuries have realistic lasting impacts? Have a sick character you're using as hurt/comfort fodder? Everyone has tips for how to write Dramatic Intense Agony, but the smaller human details of lasting or low-level discomfort are rarely written in. Here are a few pain mannerisms I like to use as reference:
General
Continuously gritted teeth (may cause headaches or additional jaw pain over time)
Irritability, increased sensitivity to lights, sounds, etc
Repetitive movements (fidgeting, unable to sit still, slight rocking or other habitual movement to self-soothe)
Soft groaning or whimpering, when pain increases or when others aren't around
Heavier breathing, panting, may be deeper or shallower than normal
Moving less quickly, resistant to unnecessary movement
Itching in the case of healing wounds
Subconsciously hunching around the pain (eg. slumped shoulders or bad posture for gut pain)
Using a hand to steady themself when walking past walls, counters, etc (also applies to illness)
Narration-wise: may not notice the pain was there until it's gone because they got so used to it, or may not realize how bad it was until it gets better
May stop mentioning it outright to other people unless they specifically ask or the pain increases
Limb pain
Subtly leaning on surfaces whenever possible to take weight off foot/leg pain
Rubbing sore spots while thinking or resting
Wincing and switching to using other limb frequently (new/forgettable pain) or developed habit of using non dominant limb for tasks (constant/long term pain)
Propping leg up when sitting to reduce inflammation
Holding arm closer to body/moving it less
Moving differently to avoid bending joints (eg. bending at the waist instead of the knees to pick something up)
Nausea/fever/non-pain discomfort
Many of the same things as above (groaning, leaning, differences in movement)
May avoid sudden movements or turning head for nausea
Urge to press up against cold surfaces for fever
Glazed eyes, fixed stare, may take longer to process words or get their attention
Shivering, shaking, loss of fine motor control
If you have any more details that you personally use to bring characters to life in these situations, I'd love to hear them! I'm always looking for ways to make my guys suffer more write people with more realism :)
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azul-marie · 6 months
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— a touching of souls.
their kisses with you. fem. reader. suggestive. feat. bi-han, kuai, tomas, syzoth.
bi-han —
steady and sure, grabbing at your waist, wrapping a hand around your throat to keep you still as he indulges himself in your lips. although he is not the most affectionate man, bi-han has an exceptional fondness for kisses. perhaps it’s the breathless sounds you make, or the soft gasps in between his tongue — perhaps it is simply that he prefers you at his mercy, a pretty little thing caged beneath or within strong arms. typically at night, when the moon is high and all is silent, he allows himself to calm, to open before you and allow you to initiate. bi-han tends to lose himself in these moments all too easily, an annoyance at his expense. most times, without even trying, simple kisses from you lead to sleepless nights and sore bodies.
kuai liang —
ardent, unrestrained, grasping at hips and breasts and hair, unable to keep what little space remains between the two of you from heating up — figuratively, literally. his lin kuei ways may have taught him restraint, focus, but kuai’s hotheaded tendencies always get the best of him when it comes to you, only for you. his kisses trail like fire all across your body, his teeth leaving scorches in their wake, a tongue like that of flames licking at tender flesh until you melt like caramel in his hands. kuai is unrelentingly keen on smothering you with every bit of adoration he has; his lips alone are more than capable of proving it. you are a goddess worthy of worship, and he a devotee all too willing to bow down and serve, evermore shall his love burn for you.
tomas —
soft like daytime mist, cupping apples of cheeks, the tremble of fingers when his lips touch yours. he has little experience with romancing women, much less the gift of their kisses; you are his beginning, his end. it is precisely why tomas pecks, rather than lose himself to your lips, for a bashful nature keeps what eager will he has in check. his boyish charm only adds to the endearment, and often he finds you to be the one most content in initiating them. it’s a strange comfort, that you still pursue him despite his meeker approach to affection and love. assuring him that he is wanted sends his self-confidence soaring, and gradually does he ease into the idea of receiving and giving kisses on a more constant basis — privately, of course.
syzoth —
quick and light, flurries of kisses, all about your pretty face, your petalsoft lips, sometimes at those sensitive sweet spots across your décolletage if he’s feeling cheekier than usual. syzoth, fairly new to the concept of kissing with warm, wet mouths, tongue and teeth and all, hadn’t expected warm-blood affection to be so pleasant. he is cautious of physicality, having grown to live without its softer aspects for years prior to you, but kisses are easy, innocent enough to practice. you have made it this way for him, precious as you are. he kisses you hello, goodbye, as luck before either one of you leaves for calling duties, and simply when he feels like it, even if friends are around to witness and tease. he doesn’t mind them, as long as you don’t.
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hel1anthus-annuus · 5 months
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Love this bitch for having multiple gender filters on. He’s transmasc, he’s a woman who’s a man, she’s nothing at all
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being a writer is spelling disembowelment correctly on the first try but somehow always screwing up definitliely
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vaspider · 2 months
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Feisty Lady Anger and other things about me you hate
My mother prizes her anger, for all that she doesn't express it openly. I tell stories about her spiteful, steel-spined responses to people who told her, "You can't do that," and I point to them as Why I Am How I Am. Her father told her he wouldn't pay for her college because "women only go to earn the MRS degree," and she could "get married and have babies" without college. In response, Mom got her bachelor's in Mathematics in 1970 on her own dime, back in the days when in-state students didn't pay tuition at state schools (just another thing Reagan ruined). She worked and paid for her books and housing, got her degree, paid for her own wedding because he wouldn't do that either. Taught school, got her Master's, had three kids, started her Ph.D. with 3 under 6 and became a professor when the youngest was 5.
Tell me I can't, my mom told the world, and I'll show you that I can. I won't just do it, I'll become a department head and a Distinguished Professor and retire after 30 years of teaching other math teachers with a list of achievements as long as my arm.
There is an anger that runs deep in the women in my family. Tell me I can't, and I'll show you I can. Show me injustice and I'll tear at it with my teeth and hands, staring you down while I do. Backwards and in heels.
I can't tell you the moment I crossed out of Feisty Lady Anger in the eyes of the people close to me, but I can tell you the moment I noticed. Maybe it was when my voice started dropping or the growing muscles on my shoulders pulled my stance more square and upright. Maybe it was when I moved from they/them to he/they, and somehow I stepped from Diet Woman to Too Close To Man in their eyes.
It's a funny thing when all of a sudden your anger becomes real enough to be startling to people. Your anger is no longer feisty, charming, and attractive. This thing that people liked about you, that people who say they love you said they loved about you, suddenly becomes frightening, upsetting, and terrible. The way you didn't let people mow over you and fought back used to be a thing that people admired. It was actively attractive. It was one of your best qualities.
Now? It's ugly. It's disgusting. It's scary. The thing you were is gone, and now your anger is real to them.
It's in that moment that the blade cuts back towards you. You realize the reason your squared shoulders and set jaw drew people in couldn't be squared with the stubble on that jaw or the newfound strength in your arms. Feisty Lady Anger isn't real, not in the way a man's anger is real. Feisty Lady Anger is admirable, sure, but it is admirable because of its essential ineffectual nature. At most, Feisty Lady Anger fixes minor problems for the kids at school, gets the principal to back down from scolding your child when she politely asks the kid calling her a faggot on the bus if he knows what that really means, pushes a woman to achieve for her family, in appropriately neutered ways.
When you stop pretending to be a woman and become who you really are, when your anger becomes real, you realize both that the thing about you that people loved is gone and that this thing was attractive in the first place because of its ineffectiveness. Your anger wasn't scary because it wasn't real enough to be threatening.
Now you have Man Anger, and, you're told, you should apologize for that. It doesn't matter if it's the same anger you've always had, or that you're angry about the same things. It comes now in baritone, with belly hair and bellowing, and now it's both real and disgusting.
The worst part is watching it come from people you thought should know better, the people who should understand. You spent nearly 40 years being told to sit down and shut up because the men in your professional career were speaking, assured that if you just waited your turn, you'd be given a place to speak eventually, and now here you are being told within a community that claims to love and understand you, by people that claim to be in community with you and love who you are, that you actually don't have any real problems to speak about, also your Man Anger and Man Privilege (when do I get that, please?) are Scary and mean you should sit down and wait, and you'll be given a place to speak eventually.
It is the Transmasculine Catch-22: if you become Man Enough to no longer fit into Almost Lady, your anger becomes Real, which makes you realize that your anger wasn't Real before, but because it's Real now, you're not allowed to have it. And by the way, you're not allowed to be neither Man or Lady - now you're Man Enough, and that makes it all the more clear how you were simply Kirkland Signature Lady right up until the point you weren't.
There will be a few people who Fucking Get It, who don't see you as either a Failed Lady or a Broken Man, and you'll love those people all the more for their rarity. It won't take the sting out of realizing that the things people you love loved about you before now disgust and repel them, but it'll make it enough to keep going.
You couldn't stop, anyway. You've never felt more yourself, and the people who don't love you, the actual you, the real you... the loss of that hurts, but not nearly as much as the idea of pretending to be something else did.
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lorelune · 8 months
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(continuation here)
"do you remember me?"
"no."
blade stares at you, tilting his head to the side with a blank expression. you wish you could see any recognition on his face. but it's blank. nothing behind those eyes-- nothing for you, anyways. his hands twitch and itch in his binds. he's coiled, ready to strike. not you though.
(you can delude yourself into thinking that this makes you special. that him not pulling at his chains to hold a sword to your throat or squeezing your neck until it snaps, makes you different. perhaps his urges are curbed at the sight of you--)
(this is wishful thinking.)
he should, maybe you deserve it. it's your sin to bear and remember, maybe. you couldn't dare to tell jing yuan of all of... this, hence why your trip to the shackling prison was in secret. why you're holding your body so tightly.
"i thought so." but i hoped differently. you sigh.
"... why should i?" blade asks, voice hoarse and rough. you can't tell if its from disuse or overuse. he's lived too long.
"we knew each other, once."
('knew'. you're simplifying things for the sake of convenience. lessening the story you share, the lore you carry on your back like a uneroding stone. it's not like blade would care to hear it. you've read his file. he has only a few goals, which he doesn't hide upon interrogation. only one relates to the past, to a different face that you can only scorn along with him.)
(it's all in hate. anguish, under that. nothing of love. nothing at all.)
you laugh, weakly. it feels useless.
your phone vibrates in your pocket. you think it's jing yuan, without even looking at the message. probably wondering where you are. you're a few minutes late for your lunch date.
jing yuan knows this ache too, you think. he knows the feeling that's bloomed in your chest over the course of your visit. how each step that brought you closer to blade's cell pulled and tugged at your ribs like an overgrown flower. petals slicing flesh from the inside out.
(longing that would kill you, maybe. if you could die like that.)
"unsatisfied with my answer?" he asks. there's a soft quality to his voice, just for a breath. it makes you horribly nostalgic.
you need to leave.
"perhaps." you kick the scuffed metal of the floor. the sound rings out through the room as blade's chains jingle. like bells. "it was foolish of me to think you'd have any recollection of it."
"you seem unimportant to me."
it cuts through you. like a knife. as if you didn't once hold the world up for the man in front of you. as if you didn't beg and scream and raze anything in your path for his sake. as if you didn't bear his many burdens. as if you didn't labor to find something, anything, that could've prevented your fates. your current situation.
a prisoner and one freed. aeons know which of you is which.
"goodbye, yingxing." you don't know if he'll recognize his old name-- a name that isn't him anymore. your once-lover is simply a tool now, and he's taken the name of one. you knew this before you entered the prison. and yet--
(you ache with it.)
you turn away without taking in his expression. blade remains silent as you exit his cell.
(part of you prays he'll call out to you. that he'll sound like he once did. that there will be a kind reunion.)
(he doesn't.)
but that's alright, you tell yourself. it's misplaced hope after all. jing yuan is waiting for you, and you know he'll already have ordered your favorite dish. yanqing may join you, given the time of day. he would have just finished up his mornings spars.
all you have to do is compose yourself by the time you reach the general's favorite picnic spot.
(you almost collapse once you leave the shackling prison. the moment you are alone, tucked into an alleyway, you cover your mouth with your palm and weep. you cry until your chest hurts. you cry with a grief that guts you, as it always has. over and over.)
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qtboni · 9 months
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╰﹒ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 !
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PAIRING: Ooc!Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader
OVERVIEW: He lashes out on you + very dismissive over your efforts for him :((
C/W: Angst, no comfort (see p2 for comfort!), mentions of toxic behavior (bcz words), offensive languages, depictions of mental health struggles (anxiety, but js tiny amount). [ fanart credits : ave661 on tumblr ]
W/C: 1.1k bubs
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Simon had been going through a lot lately, and you could tell it was taking a toll on him. He had been working overtime at work, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes every time he came home.
You want to do something special for him, something to lift his spirits up.
The air was charged with anticipation as Simon stepped through the door, making you want to burst out of happiness.
You had been eagerly awaiting his arrival, eager to show him what you'd been working on all day. You had been so excited to do something special for him, and you had gone the extra mile to make this night perfect!
The air, still thick with tension, Simon walked through the hallway. He'd had a long, hard day at work, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with anything else.
Price had been nagging him more than usual on the mission. Simon was tired and just wanted to rest, but Price's constant barrage of questions and commands was starting to get on his nerves.
He tried his best to keep his cool, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit frustrated. Despite his best efforts, he managed to keep his emotions in check and focus on the task at hand.
After the mission was over, Simon was relieved to finally have a moment to himself. He just wanted to rest and have a good night, but there you were, being a nuisance to him.
You could see the weariness in his eyes, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He shrugged off your attempts to engage him, not wanting to deal with the small talk.
As Simon dropped his collection of his military wears in the near cabinet, you approached him, your heart still pounding with excitement.
"Simon," you said, your voice trembling and a cheeky smile forming on your lips. "I've been working on a special surprise for you all day. I made your favorite snacks, decorated the living room, and even picked out a movie I know you'll love! I just wanted to make tonight special."
Simon looked up at you, his expression unreadable. "What?" he asked, his tone sharp and exhaustion palpable in his voice.
Despite his attitude, you pushed forward, eager to show him the cozy living room setup you'd created.
"Ta da!" you exclaimed, gesturing to the cozy space. "I wanted to make our movie night extra special tonight, so I went all out."
You'd decorated it with fairy lights, set out the popcorn and drinks, and made sure the couch was nice and toasty with a mountain of blankets.
"I just wanted to do something special for you," you added, your voice light and upbeat.
Simon's expression fell. He looked at the setup as if it were an annoyance, and you felt your feelings going down the drain.
You tried to hide your disappointment though and put on a cheerful smile, but it was hard to hide the hurt in your eyes. "What's wrong?" you asked hesitantly.
Simon shook his head, and for the first time, you saw the signs of his stress and turmoil. His lips were thin, his brow furrowed, and you could tell that he was struggling just to keep it all together.
"I can't take on one more thing right now," he said, his voice rising with frustration. "I'm exhausted. I can't deal with this right now."
You felt a lump form in your throat as you realized the full extent of your mistake.
"I..."
Your heart sank.
You couldn't believe you hadn't realized how tired he looked, how haggard and stressed. You had been so caught up in your excitement that you had missed the signs, the signals that he couldn't take on any more.
You had been so eager to do something nice for him, and in doing so, you had only added to his burden.
A tense silence fell over the room, and you could feel the tension rising between you. You wanted to comfort him, to make things right, but you didn't know how.
"I'm sorry," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to do something nice for you."
As you stood there in silence, your heart racing and tears swimming in your eyes, he finally spoke.
"Well, don't," he snapped, his irritation evident in his tone. "I can take care of myself. And I didn't ask for any of these."
You watch as he points to the decorated living room. Your efforts. Your hopes of having a good night of movies with him.
You felt the tears spill over and course down your cheeks.
"I didn't mean to make things worse for you," you said, your voice trembling. "I just wanted to do something nice for you, to lift your spirits. I didn't realize..."
Simon sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"I appreciate the effort, really I do. It's just..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "Can you just stop being a bother? I can't take on anything else right now. I'm already stretched so thin, and I can't..."
You felt your chest tighten at his words.
You had always known that Simon was a hard worker, but you had never truly appreciated the toll it took on him. You had always been there to support him, to lift him up when he was feeling low, and you had always assumed that he would do the same for you.
At that moment, you realized that you had been asking too much of him. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.
The realization hit you like a punch to the gut.
Your voice barely above a whisper, you managed to say, "I... I understand. I shouldn't have pushed you like that."
You could feel the hurt in your chest, like a physical pain that made it hard to breathe.
“Stop being a bother.”
The tears were already falling down your face, and your heart ached with the weight of your mistakes. It was just a reminder of how much you loved him and how desperately you wanted to be with him.
Simon didn't utter another word, just nodded his head, but his silence spoke volumes. An oppressive and heavy sense of unease permeated the air, leaving no doubt that there was nothing else to be said.
You stood there, feeling numb and defeated as you watched him leave to the bedroom.
You had learned a difficult lesson that night, and one that you would never forget. The road to happiness was not always smooth, and sometimes, even the people we love the most can hurt us without meaning to.
Tears filled your eyes over and over again as you realized how much your effort was taken for granted.
In that moment, you didn't understand why he was being so cruel to you, especially when you had put so much thought into making him happy.
All you wanted was to see Simon smile.
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A/N: okay.. well.. he was an ass.. HELP simon pookie why would u do this to us? :(( we even made you popcorns and and even bought you your favorite drinks :(( we had to even ask ur best bud soap what kind of movies you like :(( we did so much for you :(( but it's okay ig. . . as long as you can have your rest. . . and well. . . goodnight :((
lmk if you guys need a part 2 cuz i be crying in my sleep
EDIT! part 2 is posted !!
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How You Turn My Word; Chapter 2
The day continues, and this time you find yourself in an entire new world... a world called The Underground.
Character; Lilia Vanrouge
Content; Gender-neutral reader, more shenanigans, reader isn't happy
Content Warning; Intoxication (Lilia), swearing
Word Count; 2.7 K
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |
Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you end up in the Bog of Eternal Stench.
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Lilia’s night was not going according to plan and he was mentally cursing himself over it.
Thing Lilia did not plan for #1; he got lost. To be fair though, many a thing had drastically changed since the last time he romped around the mortal realm. A few hundred years would do that though. Humans now seemed to live in tall metal boxes rather than the humble cottages of ages past. 
Thing Lilia did not plan for #2; a red flower deceiving him and containing something akin to liquor. So he was flying around lost while under the influence, which only worsened his situation. (Lilia did not know it, but the red flower was in fact a hummingbird feeder with sugar water which had been left out in the sun for too long and had fermented. Make sure to change your hummingbird feeder often on hot days so you don’t cause a nectar-loving friend to fly while wasted) 
Thing Lilia did not plan for #3; getting himself stuff in one of those tall metal boxes, and he was now stuck inside some cursed metal labyrinth. At least it was not iron or silver, as it did not burn, apparently, humans no longer fortified their abodes with those metals. Perhaps the times have changed for the better?
But Lilia finally escaped the infernal metal labyrinth, perhaps luck was finally on his side tonight after all! He bumped around a few corners. My my, what a small hovel. Perhaps things have not changed all that much from the last time I was here… But Lilia was rudely pulled from his thoughts when something swatted him clean out of the air. And the culprit? A rather rotund grey cat with large blue eyes, which was now carrying Lilia into its lair, most likely to play with him for a bit before deciding that it had had it’s fun and ultimately put him out of his misery.
His night went from a jolly and somewhat embarrassing tale he would regale about at the local tavern, to a bedtime story parents would tell their children about the dangers of going places that you really shouldn’t. Should he get out of this sticky situation Lilia would not live this incident down. 
The cat placed Lilia in a collection of socks and then sauntered off, calling out at the top of its lungs. Great, it's getting company for supper, and I’m the appetizer. How lovely. But Lilia knew he would have a better chance of getting out of this situation if he stayed calm and waited for an opportunity to escape. Even while tipsy, he could keep his cool.
And the feline was back and yanked Lilia out of the sock hole. Cracking open his one eye he saw that the cat did not come back with its hungry friends, but rather, a human. That was both good news and bad news. Good news; he most likely was not going to be eaten tonight! Yippee! Bad news; the last time he was in bat-form in a human’s abode, he was chased around with a torch, which he really did not want to go through again. So his best course of action was to play dead in this situation.
When the human left the room though, he took his chance and took flight once again, trying to find a way out. The cat was trying to catch him again, but Lilia knew of its tricks this time and dodged every swipe it sent his way.
But he was pulled out of his thoughts when the human screeched at the cat, “YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!” 
Oh yeah, they did not sound happy, not at all, but it seemed to be directed more at their feline companion rather than him.
As he was busy flapping around, trying to find an escape but to no avail, he also heard the human whispering to him. “Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat.”
Were he not preoccupied and in a better state of mind, Lilia would have been amused by this. Currently, though he was occupied with trying not to be eaten and finding a way out of this cursed place. He was not in a laughing mood. All Lilia wanted to do was get back home, pass out in his bed but he would also be happy with his sofa as well, and pretend that this was nothing more than a bad dream after a night spent tavern hopping. Dealing with a horrid hangover would be better than this… and he was most likely going to have one of those anyways. Tonight really wasn’t Lilia’s night, not at all.
Then the human grabbed the cat, and Lilia was finally left alone. The window was open, but he didn’t know that, as his mind was too preoccupied with you know, not dying, that he hadn’t noticed that the human had opened it for him. So where did Lilia go? Well, he went back into the metal labyrinth (air duct), and fumbled around until he tired himself out. It wasn’t the most ideal of spots to crash for the night, but it was better than going back and possibly being eaten, Lilia would rather avoid that. So this was going to be his bed for the night, a lonely quiet corner of the air duct system, where he could hopefully wake up sober tomorrow. But he yearned for his warm quilts that awaited for him back at home, back in Faerie, or as some call it, the Underground.
Lilia wasn’t even supposed to be in the mortal realm in the first place, but curiosity had won him over, and he even ignored the travel advisory that was in place. Some crow fae had travelled there about a century or so ago and had yet to return back, hence a travel advisory. But yet here he was in the mortal realm, tiny, drunk, and utterly lost. His bad decisions could be looked into further detail once he got some shut-eye. So he wrapped himself in his wings and passed out in the corner of the air vent. Hopefully, when he woke up he could turn this disastrous day around.
Upon waking up, Lilia groaned — or rather, in this case, squeaked — and stretched his wings out. So the wretched metal maze and last night's fiasco was not some liquor-hazed dream; how lovely. Utterly delightful.
At least the strange maze echoed sound quite well, so he knew what exits to avoid. Not that one, he could hear a dog barking, and the feline encounter was enough for him. No, not that one either, he could hear children screaming.
Finally, he came to an opening, there was some quiet chatter, but it was far enough away where Lilia felt comfortable enough to explore this potential escape route. 
Why does this look familiar? AM I BACK IN THE BUILDING?! Yes, yes he was. At least there was no sign of the ca–
“Mrp?” Speak of the devil.
The cat got out of its den and lept at Lilia, who dodged the attack, and the cat pushed some books off a desk. The cat was also screaming at him, and causing an all-around ruckus. Lilia managed to outmaneuver the feline, but soon a brand new human came into the scene.
The new human took one look at Lilia and backpedalled out of the room. But the human had just created another escape route for him, and Lilia flew, well, like a bat straight out of hell for it. Too bad the next room contained two more humans, including the one he had encountered from last night… maybe they would be nice again and spare him for trespassing on their small abode?
In the midst of the chaos, the human from last night knocked him out of the air with a broom. Okay, that hurt little Beastie. But that swing and the crash landing into a table caused Lilia to shift back into his human form, which also caused sparkles to happen. Did humans still think magic was evil? Well, he was about to find out.
Everyone remained silent, and after the sheer noise of the chaos, it was deafening, even the cat was quiet. And Lilia stared at the human that had knocked him out of the air, you. And you were staring straight back at him, looking utterly baffled. Well, this is awkward… I think I have overstayed my welcome… 
Lilia snapped his fingers, and he started to disappear into sparkles yet again, this time going home since he wasn’t able to use his magic when stuck in bat form. And it was happening without a pinch, but you seemed to trip on thin air and crash landed on his feet, disappearing with him; a stowaway coming to Faerie. 
… Well this is no good now, is it?
 When the green sparkles subsided, you found yourself sitting in some sort of bog, and the water had made it into your mouth by some twist of fate. While you were busy spitting the bog water out of your mouth, the stranger was standing by the bank, dry, without any sulfuric-tasting water in his mouth, and looking better for wear.
Pulling yourself out of the bog water — eugh, you smelled like eggs now, great — you pointed an accusatory finger at him, water dripping from the end. “Where,” you spat out some extra bog water from your mouth, “am I? And why does it reak of eggs?!” You would have looked and sounded more imposing, but you were sopping wet, covered in mud, and spitting out coughs trying to get the bad taste out of your mouth; which wasn’t really commanding any sort of respect.
The stranger, Lilia, snorted before letting out a cough, trying to hide his amusement very poorly. He waved his hand, green sparkles surrounded you and you were now dry, still covered in mud, but dry. “Faerie, although some call it the Underground.”
You opened your mouth, but he wagged his finger at you. “And before you blame me for bringing you here, you have no one to blame for this but yourself!” Despite the cheeriness, there was something cold and off putting in his eyes, like he was calculating something. But that moment passed, and the almost annoying cheerful facade came back in full. “As for the smell? That so happens to be The Bog of Eternal Stench!”
“Like eternal eternal?” You really didn’t need to smell like rotten eggs for the rest of your days.
The stranger just chuckled, “Fret not, Beastie, I decided to return the favour, since your feline friend decided not to eat me. But it is indeed ‘eternal eternal’ if you don’t have the means to get rid of it.”
Beastie? “Uh, okay.” not the most eloquent of things to say, but really, could anyone blame you? You just fell through some kind of portal, magic(?) was real, and oh yeah, so were fae/faeries or whatever the hell they called themselves. So ‘Uh, okay’ was perfectly fine in this situation.
Mr. Sparkles — if he was going to call you Beastie, he deserved a dumb nickname — just gave you a smile, exposing the barest hint of his fangs; despite his small frame, he was still dangerous, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. It was as if he was assessing you, to see if you would be worth the trouble to help. You didn’t know if either option would be good by the way his magenta eyes twinkled with mischief.
He let out a huff and started walking away, and you followed. “I wouldn’t recommend following me, Beastie,” he hummed, and you tripped over a rock, vines keeping you to the moss. “The court would not take kindly to you.” 
You glared at him and tried ripping the vines off of your feet, but they didn’t budge. “And why should I listen to you?” 
Mr. Sparkles booped you on the nose, “Well, it would ensure that you made it out of here alive, which I believe you would find beneficial and all.” 
Obnoxious prick. But he did have a point, you would rather make it back home alive rather than fucking around and finding out (aka dying). “So what? Are you going to just leave me here? No welcome brochure? Thanks.” 
You were being sarcastic, since it was either sarcasm or having a full-on existential crisis, since hey, magic wasn’t real in your world! Dimension? Galaxy? Where the fuck was this place?! How the hell did you end up here?!
“Hmm good point…” he snapped his fingers and there was now a book sitting in your lap. “This should suffice, do be warned though, Beastie, I may call on you later to return the favour. For now though,” he started to turn into green sparkles, “toodaloo!~” And he turned into a bat, flying off into the sunset, leaving you alone at the edge of the swamp with the only things to your name being the clothes on your back and a book in your lap.
How to Survive the Underground; For Humans! … Did he just give you this world’s equivalent of a For Dummies book? What the fuck? Was this kind of sick joke to him?
Once some of your ire had subsided, you decided to sit down on a boulder and read a bit of the book while there was still some sunlight out, but it was dipping into the horizon fast.
How to Survive the Underground; For Humans! By Yelworc Erid Preface …… i - iv Chapter 1; Surviving Your First Night…… 1 - 10 Chapter 2; Edible Food for Humans …… 11 - 31 Chapter 3; The Basics of Fae Etiquette …… 32 - 35 3.1; Species Specifics …… 36 - 146 3.2; Government Specifics …… 147 - 169 Chapter 4; Help! I Have Been Indentured to a Fae! …… 170 - 200 Chapter 5; Adjusting to Fae Social Life …… 201 - 224 Chapter 6; Transmittable Illnesses & Diseases …… 225 - 261 Chapter 7; Fae Courting Practices …… 262 - 264 7.1; Species Specifications …… 265 - 366 7.2; Government Specifications …… 367 - 389 7.3; Accepting a Courting Proposal …… 390 - 393 7.4; Refusing a Courting Proposal …… 394 - 401 Chapter 8; How to Handle Fae Children …… 402 - 452 Chapter 9; How to Leave the Underground … 453 Chapter 10; Adjusting to Life in the Underground …… 454 - 482 Acknowledgments …… 483 - 485
Looking back up to the horizon, you quickly turned the pages to Chapter 1; Surviving Your First Night.
“If you are unable to find yourself some suitable shelter, one should find themselves safe by camping out in a rowan tree. These trees can easily be found by their vermillion clusters of berries. They keep away all native species of the Underground,” you read out loud, turning your attention to the trees nearby, searching for those berries. “Rowan tree, rowan tree–”
A loud screech coming from the undergrowth only pushed you further. 
Nope, I do not want to find out what THAT was! Nope! NoPe! NOPE! 
Finally, you found a tall enough tree and you hauled your ass up it like there was a fire below you, and you were up in the canopy, far enough up that nothing could reach you, but also high enough where you needed to be careful, since you didn’t want to meet an early death because you made a wrong move. But for now, you were safe.
“Nice try buddy,” you muttered to yourself, trying to get comfy. Wood wasn’t the comfiest thing in the world, but you weren’t really in the position to be complaining. “I am not on the menu.”
The screech came again, this time closer; yeah, you weren’t sleeping tonight. The sun was now beyond the horizon, and there was no moon, the only light coming from the stars above; it was very pretty, but you could see jack shit. This was going to be a long night… and not a fun one, since you could also see the glowing eyes of unknown creatures which were, quite frankly, freaky as fuck. So yeah, no sleep for you.
“This fucking sucks,” you grumbled, and a chittering from the bog seemed to mock you. “This really fucking sucks.”
Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @lucid-stories, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii
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Author's Note; This chapter is shorter, but it felt natural to end the chapter like this. This chapter, and the previous one, were both rewrites of an old WIP, so from here on out I don't have to rewrite! YIPPEE!!! Rewriting takes me forever, so we shall see what I come up with next.
If you liked this, do check out my masterlist for more content!
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kentopedia · 3 months
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since i've seen others talking about this, as someone who writes predominately lengthy fics (5k+ words), what annoys me the most is that i've seen so many people on tumblr & tiktok specifically say "i hate when writers have too much build-up and don't get straight to the smut, i just skip to it." ???? writers spend HOURS on pieces like that, and to find out you don't really care is very disheartening & is quite literally going to kill not only writing on these platforms but literature as a whole
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