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The Train Station
(Also posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38088436)
An older woman stands on an old and overgrown wooden station platform, waiting for a train to round the bend into the station. It’s foggy out, so foggy she finds herself unable to see anything past the platform and the bend where the tracks come from. In the corner of her mind is the faint memory of drifting onto the foggy platform and exchanging some coins for a one-way fare at the ticket booth.
She’s not alone in waiting, but she ignores all others in favor of looking at her watch. The hands don’t appear to be moving but she feels a strong anxiety in looking at the watch face.
“The train is late.” She mutters to herself, trying to explain away her stab of anxiety. “I don’t need to take a late train.”
She looks again at the watch with a frown. Making up her mind, she turns and walks through the crowd to the ticket booth. The young man stationed there has his feet up on the counter, leaned back with his hat over his eyes. Soft snores rise up every few seconds from under the hat. The woman huffs a sigh and rasps loudly on the window, startling him awake.
“Excuse me,” she said, but her tone held no politeness. “The train is late. I don’t even need to take this train, and I would like a refund on my ticket.” The man sits up, rubbing sleep out of his pale eyes and readjusting his hat. He takes a moment to look out over the station before leaning back into his chair.
“The train will be coming along soon, ma’am.” He mumbled sleepily.
She scoffed. “But I don’t need to take the train! I’m not sure why I wanted to take it in the first place, but I changed my mind. I don’t want to take the train. I would like my refund. Please.” She emphasized the last word like it was all she needed to get her way. The man just shrugged.
“Train’s coming. You got a ticket; you get on board. Look there.” He pointed down the tracks into the fog. She turned to see a bright headlight, a train following close behind. It emerged from the fog to come around the bend, breaks squealing as it slowed to a stop at the platform. Its cars were completely empty.
The woman resisted the childish urge to stomp her foot out of irritation at the whole situation. She wasn’t going to admit she was wrong.
“Fine!” she snapped. “I’ll take the damn train. Your customer service is terrible! You lazy kids nowadays. I should report you.” The man looked unbothered and slumped back into his chair to resume his nap. The sight only further irritated the woman, and she stomped off to join the others boarding the train.
She stood in the line as the conductor took tickets from the passengers. The conductor wore so much black that in the foggy station they looked almost like a shadow. People around her seemed to drift in and out of line with no real organization. She refused to look them in the face, their bodies like ghosts out of the corners of her eyes. She shoved past a few, who made no noise of objection as she did so.
“This train is late!” she exclaimed loudly to the conductor. “I came here to take the train, I expected it to be on time. This is unacceptable.”
The conductor offered her an apologetic look that looked out of place on their bony face. “There were more passengers today than normal ma’am.” They said in a soft tone.
The woman huffed. “That’s not an excuse. The train is empty! And this is your job, you do it every day! Shouldn’t you be able to do your job right?”
The conductor simply tilted their head and offered a small smile. “Apologies ma’am. Are you ready to board? I understand you are upset, but you are holding up the line I’m afraid.”
The woman scoffed. “I don’t know, are you going to do your job and get me where I need to go? You need to run a tighter schedule. This is ridiculous.”
The conductor sighed and shook their head. “This sort of attitude isn’t going to get you anywhere ma’am.” They said in that same soft tone. “If you aren’t ready to board, I suggest you wait a bit longer on the platform. But right now, you are disrupting the other passengers who are just trying to get on board.”
The woman glanced around at the people in line behind her. Her eyes slid off their faces like water off a duck’s back but seeing that no one else was making a deal out of the lateness of the train she felt a bit embarrassed at making a scene. She turned back to the conductor, who was waiting patiently.
“I have old eyes and waiting for so long on this foggy platform didn’t help. Now you get here late and embarrass me. I have rights as a customer! You should do a better job to make your customers happy.” She said with an air of entitlement.
The conductor didn’t rise to any bait. “Alright ma’am. Would you like to board now then? I can show you to a seat.”
“Well can’t I get some sort of compensation for being made to wait? Some decent customer service?”
The conductor shook her head. “We don’t do anything like that ma’am. Either you get on or you don’t, but everyone paid the same fee to board.”
The woman though for a few seconds before trying again. “Can I get a refund then? There are other trains, I could just take my business elsewhere. Just fix this.”
The conductor leaned against the door to the train car. “Good luck with that. This is a train station ma’am, I’m not sure what you would have me do. If you don’t get on this train, you’ll have to wait for the next. Or you can hand me your ticket and hop on the train and be on your way.” They said, soft and slow like they were taking to a wild animal.
“That’s not good enough.” The woman said crossing her arms across her chest. “I’ve been waiting for so long and I have places to be. Can’t you just do something for me? What about customer satisfaction?”
The conductor opened their mouth to speak but was cut off by the woman’s rambling.
“I’ve been so stressed out and I just want to get where I’m going. Can’t you just find me a seat away from others or something? I’ve never been on a train, but I don’t trust people on trains. I want to sit by myself. Can you do that? Do something?”
While she rambled, the conductor had started taking tickets from other passengers as they slipped past her into the train car. She attempted to glare at them, but they were gone before she could get a good look at their faces.
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. This train will be leaving soon, with or without you. That’s a choice only you can make, ma’am.”
The lady’s anger drained out of her body as frustrated tears filled her eyes.
“I’ve been waiting so long.” She choked out, trying to hold back tears. “I’ve been here in the fog on this falling apart platform, and no one is helping me! I just want to be on time and now I’m going to be late!” a few traitorous tears fell from her eyes. “Don’t you understand? I can’t be late! I can’t be!” she broke down in sobs as the conductor gestured to the few left in line to wait a moment. Carefully they circled their bone arms around her and gently coaxed her into the train car, slipping the ticket out of her hand and into the handful of others they had collected.
“Hush now, it’s okay. You’ll still be on time no matter what.” The conductor pressed a handkerchief into her hands as they lowered the woman into a seat by the window. With one final smile, the conductor slipped away to get the other passengers boarded onto the train.
The woman slowly stopped crying at rested her head on the cool glass of the train window. A few more passengers boarded the train before she heard the voice of the conductor ring though the car. “Now leaving the station. Thank you for riding today.”
As the train slowly started to pull away from the station, the woman saw that some people had stayed behind, although her view of them was quickly blocked as the train turned the conner into the fog. Suddenly she was aware of a figure sitting next to her. Turning, she met the eyes of one of the passengers who had taken the seat next to her. He seemed pale, no just skin but his whole person, like all the colors of him had been dulled.
“Hello.” He said, in a voice that struck a chord of familiarity in her.
“Hello.” She responded, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “Have we met before?” she asked. “You seem familiar.”
His face took on a thoughtful expression as a hand pushed his hair out of his face. She noted the wrinkles on his face and figured they must be around a similar age.
The passenger gave a shrug. “I can’t say I’ve seen you in the station before. I’ve been waiting around for a bit. I’ve never gotten on the train before today.” The woman studied him, the familiarity he carried making her heart ache with fond memories she couldn’t quite remember.
She leaned towards him. “What changed this time?” She whispered.
He frowned and said, “I don’t know. I was waiting for a while at the station. The train came and went a few times, but I just wasn’t ready to get on yet. Today I felt I had to.” Then his face broke out in a smile. “Glad I did, or I wouldn’t have met you.”
The woman smiled back before her face fell. “Where are we going?” she asked, suddenly worried when she realized she didn’t know the destination of the train. The passenger turned his whole body to face her in the seat and slipped his hand in to hers. When she looked down, she saw her hands too had that pale, dull tone. Looking back at the passenger’s face the woman noticed that he looked nervous as well.
“I don’t know.” He said honestly. “Does it matter?”
The woman pulled back. “Of course it matters! We got one-way tickets!”
The passenger’s smile returned, but it was sadder. “I don’t think the destination is important. In the end, we are just moving on. And that’s okay. The train won’t be late, and neither will we. We got on the train today, so it must be our time to move on.”
The woman again smiled back, a smile his eyes had seen many times before, although he didn’t know it.
“Well,” she started, “Your right. It doesn’t matter where we are going, only that we are going together. It feels right.”
As a blinding white light began to fill the train car, the woman stayed calm and for the second time in their intertwined existences, the last thing the two passengers were concerned about was seeing each other’s smiles one more time.
And somehow, that was enough.
Hello!
This message is meant for every author in need of a proofreader. I am just animaginationformyself (just call me Imagi) and am really interested in writing (any form). I myself like to write in my free time, but lately I simply haven't managed to due to time stress and other stuff that's happening in my life. However I still really enjoy the process of this art form and love to see a fic's or a story's development from a rough draft to beautiful words and sentences strung into a story. So in case you are in need of a proofreader, just hmu and I'll try to answer as soon as possible (I live in Europe so I might answer a little later, but I assure you that I will!) I only ask for you to briefly credit me at the start or end of your fic just to prove that I was a part of this lovely writing process.
Sincerely,
Imagi
PS: I am proficient in multiple languages, so if you need proofreading in Chinese or German, I am also ready to help!
PPS: I swear I'm not doing this for ulterior motives. I simply have massive respect for fanfic authors because everything they do is truly just in the name of passion and love. Fanfic authors deserve to be cherished and have all the appreciation in the world :)))
Character Flaws
When creating characters, it's all too easy to envision the most perfect people, especially when it comes to creating love interests. Even our loveable morally grey characters are mostly perfect, if only they would stop killing...
So, here are a list of some flaws (based on personality, not appearance) to help round out your characters. While it's nice to be good at everything, it's abnormal. No one is perfect, and your characters will be much more relatable if you knock them down a bit.
Please note, none of these are (specifically) mental disorders, as I don't consider those a character flaw.
The Good (aka little flaw):
Absent-minded, aimless, argumentative, audacious, awkward, blunt, bold, boring, capricious, childish, clumsy, competitive, complainer, cowardly, critical directionally-challenged, dubious, finicky, fixated, flake, flirty, foolish, gossipy, gruff, gullible, hedonistic, humourless, hypocritical, idealist, idiotic, ignorant, illiterate, immature, impatient, impetuous, impulsive, incompetent, inconsiderate, indecisive, indifferent, indomitable, irrational, lazy, lustful, materialistic, meddlesome, meek, mischievious, nagging, naive, nervous, nosey, obnoxious, overambitious, overconfident, overemotional, overprotective, overzealous, passive-aggressive, paranoid, peevish, perfectionist, pessimist, pest, predicatable, pretencious, prideful, rebellious, renege, rigorous, sarcastic, skeptic, seducer, selfish, self-righteous, shallow, slacker, solemn, spacey, spoild, squeamish, stubborn, supersticious, sycophant, tactless, tease, tempermental, tenacious, theatrical, thoughtless, timid, unpredictable, unsupportive, vain, workaholic
The Bad (aka big flaw):
Addiction, adulterous, aloof, anxious, apathetic, arrogant, belittling, belligerent, bigmouth, bitter, bully, callous, deceptive, dependant, deranged, dishonest, disloyal, disrespectful, egotistical, envious, erratic, exploitive, fanatical, fickle, fierce (at the extreme), gluttonous, greedy, harasser, hubris, impious, infamy, intolerant, judgemental, lewd, liar, meglomaniac, morally grey, narcissistic, negligent, obsequious, obsessive, offensive, prejudiced, quixotic, reckless, rigid, self-martyr, self-righteous, short-tempered, spiteful, squanderer, stingy, unethical, unforgiving, untrustworthy
The Ugly (aka cross the street when you see this person):
Abusive, bigot, controlling, cruel, explosive, immoral, inhumane, intolerant, machiavellian, manipulative, murderous, neglectful, oppressive, racist, remorseless, possessive, self-destructive, threatening, treacherous, vengeful, vindictive, violent
The seven chief features of ego: self-deprecation, self-destruction, martyrdom, stubbornness, greed, arrogance and impatience.
Some of these may not even be considered flaws, and some may jump from one category to the next. It's all about how you present these flaws in your characters.
Have any more to add? Did you find this useful? Let me know down in the comments :)
Words to use instead of ‘said’
**Using the word ‘said’ is absolutely not a bad choice, and in fact, you will want to use it for at least 40% of all your dialogue tags. Using other words can be great, especially for description and showing emotion, but used in excess can take away or distract from the story.
Neutral: acknowledged, added, affirmed, agreed, announced, answered, appealed, articulated, attested, began, bemused, boasted, called, chimed in, claimed, clarified, commented, conceded, confided, confirmed, contended, continued, corrected, decided, declared, deflected, demurred, disclosed, disputed, emphasized, explained, expressed, finished, gloated, greeted, hinted, imitated, imparted, implied, informed, interjected, insinuated, insisted, instructed, lectured, maintained, mouthed, mused, noted, observed, offered, put forth, reassured, recited, remarked, repeated, requested, replied, revealed, shared, spoke up, stated, suggested, uttered, voiced, volunteered, vowed, went on
Persuasive: advised, appealed, asserted, assured, begged, cajoled, claimed, convinced, directed, encouraged, implored, insisted, pleaded, pressed, probed, prodded, prompted, stressed, suggested, urged
Continuously: babbled, chattered, jabbered, rambled, rattled on
Quietly: admitted, breathed, confessed, croaked, crooned, grumbled, hissed, mumbled, murmured, muttered, purred, sighed, whispered
Loudly: bellowed, blurted, boomed, cried, hollered, howled, piped, roared, screamed, screeched, shouted, shrieked, squawked, thundered, wailed, yelled, yelped
Happily/Lovingly: admired, beamed, cackled, cheered, chirped, comforted, consoled, cooed, empathized, flirted, gushed, hummed, invited, praised, proclaimed, professed, reassured, soothed, squealed, whooped
Humour: bantered, chuckled, giggled, guffawed, jested, joked, joshed
Sad: bawled, begged, bemoaned, blubbered, grieved, lamented, mewled, mourned, pleaded, sniffled, sniveled, sobbed, wailed, wept, whimpered
Frustrated: argued, bickered, chastised, complained, exasperated, groaned, huffed, protested, whinged
Anger: accused, bristled, criticized, condemned, cursed, demanded, denounced, erupted, fumed, growled, lied, nagged, ordered, provoked, raged, ranted remonstrated, retorted, scoffed, scolded, scowled, seethed, shot, snapped, snarled, sneered, spat, stormed, swore, taunted, threatened, warned
Disgust: cringed, gagged, groused, griped, grunted, mocked, rasped, sniffed, snorted
Fear: cautioned, faltered, fretted, gasped, quaked, quavered, shuddered, stammered, stuttered, trembled, warned, whimpered, whined
Excited: beamed, cheered, cried out, crowed, exclaimed, gushed, rejoiced, sang, trumpeted
Surprised: blurted, exclaimed, gasped, marveled, sputtered, yelped
Provoked: bragged, dared, gibed, goaded, insulted, jeered, lied, mimicked, nagged, pestered, provoked, quipped, ribbed, ridiculed, sassed, teased
Uncertainty/Questionned: asked, challenged, coaxed, concluded, countered, debated, doubted, entreated, guessed, hesitated, hinted, implored, inquired, objected, persuaded, petitioned, pleaded, pondered, pressed, probed, proposed, queried, questioned, quizzed, reasoned, reiterated, reported, requested, speculated, supposed, surmised, testified, theorized, verified, wondered
This is by no means a full list, but should be more than enough to get you started!
Any more words you favor? Add them in the comments!
Happy Writing :)
About me 💋
I’m a just a french girl who need to react to every event of his life. And tumblr is the best to do it !!!
ps : I’m still learning English, so don't hesitate to correct me if I make mistakes !!! ☺️
🍓 My favorite artists
American artists :
Ariana Grande, SZA, Kali Uchis, Raye, Rhianna, Mélanie Martinez, Lady gaga, Drake, Childish Gambino,
French artists :
Damso, PNL, MZ, Luidji, Tsew the kid, Hellcat, Stromae
🍓 My favorite movies
- Hunger games, the best of all time, I’ve loved this movie since I was born !! ( TEAM PEETAAAA )
- White chicks, I can to die of laughter when I see this masterclass
- Mathilda, all children should watch it
🍓 Hobbies
- photography
- writing and reading
- football, I’m just watching
- clothes and snickers
- makeup and skincare
That’s it, I think I’ve been around !!! 🪩
If you have any questions don’t hesitate to come and talk to me !! 🩶
Love u guys and see you soon
Kiss kiss 🍓
Two Years Deep into Depression
I have become A half-empty fishtank What remains within me is gasping for breath.
The stagnant water Circles my hands In the corner the filter struggles to work.
You can hardly See inside me anymore I haven’t bothered to clean the surface.
You will find me Outside on the curb Unwanted and free.
A poem inspired by a lack of motivation to maintain daily hygiene. Depression is so hard sometimes.
Photo credit to Shopify.
probably the best irl example of "show dont tell" is when you go through the video progress bar on a song on youtube and on the start of the song it says "most replayed"
A special, awesome thanks to @darkmary for all of her inspiration while I was writing this fic!
I am really intrigued by the special relationship that Kefka and Terra share during the Final Fantasy Dissidia series. His obsession/fascination with her is a lot more obvious, and Terra...well, Terra is confused as usual. Here are some canon pieces of dialogue that inspired this specifically.
“Please, come back to me.” - original Japanese Kefka dialogue when fighting Terra, compared to “Come home to Papa,” in the english translation, which I also love lmao.
“After all, she always comes running straight back into my arms anyway. What do I care?” - This implies that Terra has escaped his control, only to come back, multiple times, which is very intriguing.
Anyways, onto the smut!
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Dissidia Duodecim: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VI Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tina Branford/Kefka Palazzo | Terra Branford/Kefka Palazzo, Tina Brandford & Kefka Palazzo | Terra Brandford & Kefka Palazzo Characters: Kefka Palazzo, Terra Branford, Tina Branford | Terra Branford Additional Tags: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Consensual, Confusion, Dominant Terra, Memory Loss, Memory Alteration, Smut, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, okay maybe a little plot related to how Dissidia cycles work, Angst and Fluff and Smut Summary:
“If you were always this good, I wouldn’t have to keep your strings so tight.”
In a thousand lifetimes, a thousand cycles, Terra Branford would always wake up next to him. She imagines feeling the ghosts of a hundred hands on her, all belonging to previous incarnations of themselves. Touching her, teaching her, pleasing her in all manner of ways. She knows that this is where she must be meant to be.
(A musing on the relationship between Terra and Kefka in the earlier cycles of Dissidia.)
That feel when you get hundreds of hits on your filthy smut when you thought the fandom was dead
Support me, A. R. Brookshire in my creating of off-beat fairy-tales, and the publication of my novel, ‘The Glass Fortress’ on patreon! http://www.patreon.com/arbrookshire
Don't talk to old lovers.
You will think only of old conversations.
Old feelings.
You will constantly seek what once was.
And you will only see them as they once were.
Cooking for dummies (Pt 1)
TW: Fluff, slight angst (Mentions of loss of a loved one)
Hosting a get-to-together for all the ladies on the block was not how Lauren planned her weekend. But being accepted by her neighbours was a must. To add on her already ginormous load, Avery, her teenage neighbour showed up, begging for help.
Help for what?
Cooking of course!
Ms. Chandler was feeling quite stressed this particular evening. The mix of aromas coming from various dishes in the kitchen was starting to become more and more nauseous.
Her normally cozy kitchen was now feeling uncomfortable to be in as all the dishes cooked simultaneously. The pile of silverware in the sink did not make her feel any better. The thought of having to clean that up just added to tension building in her forehead.
Unfortunately for her, she was chosen to host the monthly gathering for all the fellow neighbourhood ladies. She always thought the idea of having one person to prepare a feast for about 10 people (and that was only counting the invited ladies) was highly inefficient but who was she to speak out on the neighbourhood’s traditions?
She only moved in a year ago, and wasn't as close with the other ladies on the block. This was her chance. To finally be a part of the inner circle which she so desperately craved.
Before she could even worry about the other recipes she had to cover, the doorbell interrupted her thoughts.
Ringggggg!
She groaned audibly. ‘I swear if it’s Kimberly.’ She hated the lady on 143. Her passive aggressive tactics always got to her one way or another. Always showing up early to events to shame her, constantly trying to one-up everyone on the block, god how she hated that lady.
She rolled her eyes, ready to hear the sickly sweet voice of her favorite neighbour.
“Hey Kimb- Oh, it’s you, Avery dear.”
The scowl on her face immediately softened at the sight of the sixteen year old boy standing nervously on her doorstep.
“Hello Ms. Chandler.”
“You can call me Lauren dear.”
She hated to see the poor kid so miserable and nervous all the time now. Her heart ached at the sight of his now prominent eye bags and his constantly wet tear ducts.
Of course, the reason was obvious, the poor boy had just lost his mother, leaving Avery in charge of his two younger siblings.
She had held back a sob at the news, she wasn’t particularly close to Michelle but she was a joy to be around and she always had this mischievous glow to her that was a breath of fresh air compared to the kill joys this neighborhood was inhabited by.
Michelle had always made her feel welcome, even if it was in subtle, minute ways. When she had first arrived she never bombarded her with loads of freshly baked goods and leftovers like the others, their pity for the new single woman on the block barely contained. Their assumptions that she wasn’t able to take care of herself made her clench her knuckles till they turned white.
Michelle was never like that however. Whenever she took notice of the smell coming out the window of Lauren’s house at dinner time, she would always ask her next day for the recipe before she dropped her kids off to school. It always made her feel warm inside, the appreciation.
The other women soon lost interest in the new-comer and started to converse with her less and less. Michelle soon started to invite her over, often having baking sessions together, getting to know her children better.
Maybe she was close to Michelle.
—-
“Uhm, I’m sorry to bother you but, i'm kind of in need of a..”
He trailed off, sighing loudly, muttering sorrys under his breath. He tapped his foot against the cement anxiously, his usual charm which he inherited from his mother gone.
She nodded, beckoning him to continue.
“How do I say this… a cookbook?”
His voice cracked at that last bit, his eyes immediately shutting closed, scrunched in cringe. She couldn't help but smile. All of this over a cookbook?
“A cookbook?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve kind of realized I can’t just keep feeding Fred and Kat fast-food for every meal and I don’t know how to cook, but you’re really good, so I thought I'd ask you.”
He fumbled at the jumbo multi-colored bracelets on his wrists. She distinctly remembers being there, when his sister Frederick made them in the living room, scattering the beads all over the floor, while her brother Catherine groaned before bending down to pick them up from the carpet. Avery had laughed at the time, slumping on the couch, not even moving a muscle to help his younger brother.
He never really showed it much, at least to his siblings, but he took his job as elder brother very seriously and him showing up on her doorstep was proof.
She really, really wanted to help.
“Okay…”
She nodded slowly, going through her mental library of cookbooks that would be easy enough for Avery to follow and healthy enough for Frederick and Catherine to eat repeatedly.
“Wait, give me a minute Avery!”
She went back in, scouring through the shelf in the living room to find the book she was looking for. She flicked through each volume that were haphazardly stacked, separated by random snow globes she had collected throughout the years.
‘Moro: The cookbook? No.’
‘Single Malt Whiskey: An Italian Passion- Hell no'.
‘Bread of Three Rivers: The Story of a French Loaf- No, just, just no.’
‘The Minimalist Cooks Dinner: More Than 100 Recipes for Fast Weeknight Meals and Casual Entertaining- Maybe? Yeah no- nevermind.’
Ah. There it was. ‘The taste of home’.
She held the magazine, dusting the cover off. She was skeptical of the magazine, she only tossed it into her cart because it was on sale. It wasn’t her usual style, but it would be simple enough for a teenager to understand.
The name made Lauren flinch a little, feeling as if it would add salt to Avery’s already open wound.
She pushed the thought down, walking back to the door. She pushed the door open slightly. Avery was still there, waiting politely.
“Here Avery, I think this suits you guys well. Tell me if you have any issues.”
She handed him the book. He studied the cover for a while, cocking his head to the side like a tiny puppy who’s seen something for the first time. It was pathetically adorable.
“Thank you so, so much Lauren. I really needed this, I don’t know how to repa-”
“AVERYYYYY!”
He was cut off by a yell coming from the direction of his house. He groaned, rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath how he was going to kill Catherine.
“Give me a minute!”
He yelled back in the same direction, yelling even louder than the person who was presumably Catherine.
“Sorry, I’ve gotta go, thank you!”
He scurried off, yelling while running through the lawn.
After waving goodbye, she sighed loudly, slamming the door shut. She slumped onto the floor, staring at the mess of dishes spread throughout her kitchen. Lauren groaned.
Now to get back to her own mess.
Writing Masterlist!
OC fanfic:
Late night adventures with your friend (In progress)
Summary:
In the summer of 1999, Avery and Evan sneak out in the middle of the night to break in to the neighbourhood pool. Avery's excited, and Evan is... kind of not. Spending all that time with Avery? Alone? Ugh...
TW: Sort of suggestive, mostly fluff, experimentation in sexuality.
Late night adventures with your friend (Part one)
... To be continued
The warmth of his flesh: (Completed one-shot)
Summary:
Hyacinth can't help herself, she really can't! She wants to consume her lovers' flesh and she hates herself for it. What was she think of course he's going to say no! He's going to be so disgusted, what if he reports he- What? He said yes? He said he'd be honoured to?
Oh...oh.How very lovely.
TW:
Cannibalism (no gore actually described, just.. subtle descriptions? Probably could make you queezy idk) This is my first time writing a fic, so critique is welcome! :)
NOT A KINK/FETISH!! (i'm not weird trust)
I specifically wrote this for school in like 1 hour after the submission time so it's rushed... uh yeah that's it from me! :))
The warmth of his flesh (A one-shot)
Drabbles:
(1) Avery begrudgingly cuddles Evan in Florida heat
(Credits to @bernardsbendystraws for the super cute dividers!)
ARGHHH LEAVE ME ALONE
Avery's back is dripping in sweat, staining the bed covers along with his pillow. The fan's on the highest speed and the windows are open. Despite all of his attempts to cool down, the room was still burning hot, his vision hazy from the heat. Summers in Florida are not for the weak.
It would probably help if Evan stopped sticking to him like a rat in a glue trap.
"Evan I swear to god, get off of me." Avery groaned attempting to push his lover away from him. In response, Evan pulled him in closer, his eyes still closed, his lips slightly upturned.
"Babe, my back is literally dripping in sweat."
"Don't care."
(Attempt at writing for my ocs :)))
The warmth of his flesh (re worked)
CW: Cannibalism (no gore actually described, just.. subtle descriptions? Probably could make you queezy idk) This is my first time writing a fic, so critique is welcome! :)
NOT A KINK/FETISH!! (i'm not weird trust)
I specifically wrote this for school in like 1 hour after the submission time so it's rushed... uh yeah that's it from me! :))
Summary:
Hyacinth can't help herself, she really can't! She wants to consume her lovers' flesh and she hates herself for it. What was she think of course he's going to say no! He's going to be so disgusted, what if he reports he- What? He said yes? He said he'd be honoured to?
Oh...oh.How very lovely.
Continue reading!
“I’m rather disgusting aren’t I? I must reek of death.” He didn’t flinch, he didn’t look surprised. He just stared. “I will never be able to get the feeling of death off of me.” He just sat there. He didn’t say a word. “Especially after becoming one with it.” Hyacinth paused, waiting for a change in his expression. She gripped the fabric of his dress, waiting for the worst to come.
“What an odd name you have, how come I've just noticed?” He ignored her, continuing with his ramble. “Hyacinth, Hyacinth, Hyacinth… surely you know what it means? He laughed. “What am I saying? Of course you know. A desire for forgiveness. Is that why you’ve come to meet me, at this hour?”
He looked back at her, her body tensed, her hands curled into his fists. “I’ve.. consumed flesh before.”
“How many times?”
“Three times- it’s a horrible feeling though, it's honestly quite disgusting-”
“Then why do you do it?”
“I…” She sighed, pushing her hair back with her hands. Her mind was racing. What a stupid, stupid idea. Why did she think this would’ve worked? She should’ve just kept it in. But she couldn’t. The thought was consuming her every moment of the day. Every glance at him would make it even worse. She tried to rub the feeling off, taking hour long baths, scrubbing her skin till the water turned brown. She was disgusting, thoroughly disgusting. What a disgusting, terrible human she was. Was she even human?
What kind of human would have thoughts of consuming their own lover? Her wretched flesh had to be punished, for thinking in such ways. She’d scratch her skin, days on end, attempting to rip it out, to pay for the terrible things she’d done, yet she just couldn't stop. She never threw the meat out of her cellar, she never stopped using it. And now she keeps on going, now with her fourth lover. But this time felt different. He was different. He provided her comfort like no one else could. To have that comfort within forever, would be an ultimate bliss.
He snapped his fingers. “You okay love? You seem disoriented.” Even now, after hearing what she’s done he still cares for her. His care disgusts her and comforts her at the same time.
“Did you hear me? I said i-”
“Yes, yes, you’ve cannibalized your lovers before, what else?”
Her blood ran cold, her eyes wide. How did he know about that? She never told him that detail.
“How did you know?”
“You forget I've known you long before we were even together darling. Of course I noticed when my friends went missing, it’s just now I know why.” He chuckled.
“You don’t care? You’re not mad?”
“How could I be? I haven’t done anything remarkable in my entire existence, except being with you. Now you’ve done something that people wretch at the thought of. How wonderful.”
She scoffed at him, angered by his unexpected acceptance. “You know what I’m going to ask you then, right?”
“Of course, I recognize your patterns, and I graciously accept.” He bowed dramatically, unable to hide his laugh.
“Don’t mock me!” She looked at him, tears starting to well up in her eyes. “It’s not like I want to! hate the very thought of parting with you!” It was true, she really hated herself for wanting to do such a thing.
“Now why are you crying? I didn’t yell at you did I? Even better, I accepted!” He sighed, putting his back against the wall.
“But why?” She was confused, concerned, scared, but another feeling was creeping up her back. Glee. A lover becoming a part of you is one thing, but when they accept and are willing? Now their souls really would be intertwined. It would be her perfect happy ending to her love story.
“Because all I am is yours. I’ve never done much in my life, and I don't think I will. All I want at this point is to please you. My death will be meaningless. But if I offer myself to you, perhaps..” He paused, refusing to continue further. He decides to go on, realizing that this would be the perfect to let out his inner most feelings. "All my life, I've just, been there. I'm not good at anything other than being with you. You're all I am. I've dedicated my time to being yours, yours to control, to give you everything you've ever wanted. That's my only purpose."
He stopped to lower on to his knees, holding her hands while staring right into her widened eyes.
"Who even am I if I can't make you happy?
She looked at him, unsure of what to do. Thank him? Cry? Hyacinth froze, unable to respond.
“I ask for one thing from you though.”
“And that is?”
“Time. Time spent with you.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
At 6:00 in the afternoon, Hyacinth dragged her lover to her house, or rather her mansion. They rarely spent time there together so he often forgot about his darling’s lavish lifestyle. He’d rather go somewhere else, somewhere less stuffy, somewhere less… uncomfortable. It wasn’t her peculiar diet that made him feel uneasy, nor was it the way her wide eyes bore into his soul. It was that wretched mansion. The entire estate was gloomy, adapting a color palette only a ghost could enjoy. It was painted a dark grey, the roof an even darker shade. The windows loomed over him, reaching the ceiling. The entire mansion was surrounded by long, thin trees. Oh how he hated her place, but whatever would make her happy.
At 7:00 pm they were sitting in the living room, the fireplace warming up the entire room. Hyacinth was laughing at a dumb joke he made, one that he didn’t even find funny. They were laying on the wooden floor, talking about the most trivial things in existence. She played with his hair while he went on about his day, before he saw her, which instantly brightened his day.
At 9:00 pm he attempted to fancy up the dining room, with much disapproval from Hyacinth. “I’m just preparing the dining room for your meal”, he joked. She didn’t find it very amusing. He stuffed random flowers such as lilies and hydrangeas into the closest vases and pots he could find. He lit candles all across the room, turning off the chandelier, making the entire room illuminated by the melting candles.
At 9:30 they sat down on opposite sides, discussing the most random topics they could think of. She laughed at all of his poorly thought out jokes, cracking a smile that could light up an entire room. “You know I love you right?” He smiled at her, resting his head on his hand. “I’m aware.”
“I’m doing this because I love you.”
“Yeah.”
“You provide me with a comfort that I want to be engulfed in forever.”
“Then I'll give you that.”
“I really do love you, I really do. I can’t help myself.” She started to cry.
“And here comes the waterworks.”
“I hate myself for doing this to you.”
“I don't mind.”
“I love you.”
“...”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
At 2:30 am Hyacinth’s full course meal was prepared. There was everything he could ever ask for. She grabbed her knife and fork hesitantly, staring at her meal for a while. She told herself to stop staring and start eating. If she didn’t start soon, the food would probably go bad, then it would all be for nothing. She slowly picked up her fork, stabbing the meat, slowly carving into it with her fork. She opened her mouth, her lip quivering. She took her first bite.
At 3:15 am the entire dining room was a mess. There was food scattered across the long table. She had long forgotten about her utensils, instead opting for her hands. She was probably eating her entire stock in one sitting. She had never done that before, but this time it was worth it. Every bite she took provided more and more comfort, her insides melting from the chewy texture. She just couldn’t stop herself. She grabbed at more meat, her face stuffed to the brim with the meat, the remnants spilling on her white, floor length frock. She tried to make herself throw up, but she just couldn’t. Her face was stained with tears. She sobbed through each bite. “I’m really sorry, I really am! I just couldn’t help myself! You just taste too good!” She shoved her face with more bites. “I’m so disgusting, aren’t i?”
Found a Robb Stark bot from the request box.
Let me know if it works!
What if I wrote a smau Hawks x reader AU where Hawks is a baseball player and the reader is a dancer.
What then.
I was so scared of the MHA fandom that, instead of writing a ff about it with a Jūni Taisen crossover, I wrote a whole ass book just to run away from the fandom.
people are S C A R Y
happened to me this morning tbh i’ll just die at this point
so real for this
the problem with reading and writing leading to a strong vocabulary is that you tend to know the vibe of words instead of their meanings.
if I used this word in a sentence, would it make sense? absolutely. if you asked me what it meant, could I tell you? absolutely not.
Recording of Aki Y. (Waring: Slight Body Horror and REALLY long post)
If I die in this world,
Who will know something of me?
I got to record this, through the tremors erupting from my body, and hope that our guardians can decipher this.
-Aki Y.
[...]
"The lifeforms of Earth are ignorant to their fragility. They can be easily exploited by their blissful imagination."
"I agree with you, these creatures often think they're superior. Yet they can't see that we are inside. Breathing in them, LIVING IN THEM. And this machine will be the key to our assimilation."
"And then our master will be invincible."
[...]
01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010
01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010
01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010
It's spreading...
The lesions consume the host,
It's skin will not outlast
the many worms burrowing within.
They wear a void [but as long as breath comes from the mouth]
Not even hope [their bodies never stood the slightest chance]
CAN COMFORT THE SOULS OF THE UNTOUCHED [THEIR PRAYERS ARE SILENCED]
All they see [to cease the darkness digesting them]
Is a galaxy of light & warmth [it's not theirs, it doesn’t belong to them]
Even a fake sky will suffice. [As their souls fight for their lives.]
As the deep ocean rises over time itself. [No one will be granted protection and love.]
War will be no more and all wisdom will be lost...
The mystery will be revealed
and shall the old world be reborn.
Come to us Holy Messiah of Silence.
Desaparición de hojas y árboles
ㅤㅤLa brisa abrasaba su cuerpo, haciendo que su cuerpo temblase de arriba abajo a pesar de estar recorriendo las calles donde se encontraba su nuevo hogar. Era invierno y los árboles se encontraban sin sus bellas hojas, a veces se preguntaba: ¿a los árboles les dolerá dejar caer sus hojas y que el viento se las llevara? ¿A los árboles les dolerá dejar caer sus hojas y que las personas las pisaran? ¿A los árboles les dolerá dejar caer sus hojas y no saber más de ellas?
ㅤㅤ
Interrumpió su propia reflexión para exhalar con liviandad mientras intentaba acomodar su bufanda y gorro, la temperatura seguía bajando, lo que significaba que la nieve se aproximaba. Eso le hizo pensar en su reflexión como una metáfora, donde el árbol era ella misma y las hojas eran las personas que ha perdido en el camino de su vida.
ㅤㅤ
Estaría mintiendo si dijera que no sabía en qué momento se convirtió en un árbol de invierno, porque en realidad sí sabe cuál fue el momento exacto en que sucedió.
ㅤㅤ
Toda su vida había intentado ser un árbol de primavera, donde las hojas crecían y crecían con una facilidad increíble, eso le fascinaba; ser un árbol de invierno era algo que jamás se le pasó por la cabeza. Porque ella no quería ser distinta, ella quería ser igual que ellas, igual que todas y todos.
ㅤㅤ
Pero él. Una hoja amarillenta que comenzaba a tornarse café. Fue él quien la convirtió en un árbol de invierno.
ㅤㅤ
Esa hoja amarillenta media marrón, con quien convivió en una primavera que, según ella, no parecía tener fin. Ella creía que con él sería una primavera eterna, en la que no importaba cuántas hojas verdes florecieran, siempre serían solo ellos dos.
ㅤㅤ
Pronto se dio cuenta que aquella abrasadora y cálida primavera ya no tenía el mismo significado para él. Ella hizo florecer tantas hojas en primavera que no se dio cuenta cuando lo marchitaron a él.
ㅤㅤ
No hubo verano ni otoño.
ㅤㅤ
La primavera se fue con él y con todas las demás hojas.
ㅤㅤ
Fue allí cuando se convirtió en un árbol de invierno. Ahora ella vivía en un invierno eterno.
HIII, I’M BACK WITH A MINI FIC OF MY BELOVED ANDREIL
I started a personal project a few months ago, although it has been slow and tedious I hope to finish it, I really don't care if it's not something that becomes popular or not.
I wanted to resume something I had abandoned a long time ago (writing fanfics) and now I'm venturing into writing something longer, but above all my own.
It's funny because I'm writing this in Spanish, but my native language is Spanish, so I still want to try my luck. 🙂↕️🤍
omg hi here's the link — this contains smut btw 🔞
a gift and reminder
andreil: my beloved
im cooking something for my beloved andreil
andreil: my beloved
im cooking something for my beloved andreil