#first person writing

[rapturousrendezvous]

**--His Domain, Your Expansion--**

Sukuna(True Form) x Reader (first person perspective/she/her) Explicit Tags: Triple penetration monsterfucking, rough, demeaning, degradation, teasing, finger and ass play, double cock Sukuna, multiple appendage use, submission, no plot just smut Words: 1348k

“Are you lost, little mouse?” 

The voice is in my head, louder than the drips of red liquid that splashed around my feet—the humid air that stings at my nose, pungent with the smell of death. I’m here, in his domain. 

My vision is limited, but I can sense a foreboding presence. He could be behind me, above, to the side, or nowhere at all. I was here for a proposal that would seal a pact between us, as the newly chosen vessel… 

“I’m not lost. I want to talk.” 

My voice cracks toward the end, and I feel a rush through my spine as a hot breath hits the back of my neck. 

“Entering without permission? I thought I made that clear the first time…” 

A sharp claw trails up my back; something slick dragging across the nape of my neck. I knew of his previous warning, but I was more than prepared to face the consequences of achieving my goal. 

“I understand. But I’ll make this quick. I want to form a pact if you continue using my body.” 

“Oh? Well, I can’t blame you for showing up. However, you must have forgotten my pet. We already have a pact.” 

My body freezes, my heart racing as I try to ease my anxiety. He was on to me, and I knew better than to test his memory. But I had to try, anyway. 

“How could I forget? I’d like to clarify.” 

A guttural purr echoes in the vast void of his domain. My body trembling as I wait for his answer. 

“I’m listening.” 

“I’d like to change one condition. The one that involves you taking over whenever you want. Last time you refused to switch for an hour. What I was doing was important.” 

I feel pressure against my belly, a massive hand, and another press against my form. 

“Was it that important?…” 

He pauses before hissing.

“Last time I checked, touching yourself is leisure.” Damn him. True, it wasn’t as if I were in the middle of a mission, or even fighting a cursed spirit. Knowing that denying me of the only time to myself, for an entire hour as a punishment, was cruel. I avoided this situation, but it was too much. If I couldn’t fuck other people with knowing he could switch at any moment, then why couldn’t I fuck myself? “You’re right, but I-” My head snaps back, my eyes now met with several red pupils staring back at me. A wide, toothy grin spreads across his two faces with vigor. “I know why you’re here; I can smell the stench of desire from your dirty cunt.” Two of his massive arms hoist my hips into the air, spreading my legs apart as he keeps me focused on his gaze. I feel the fabric of my panties become soaked with thick saliva, his long and invading tongue that extended from his belly; teasing my sex as my shoulders pressed against his chest. “Say it. And don’t lie to me.” I was powerless against him, my legs trembling as the continued flicks against my throbbing lips and clit dared me to test his words. It was time to be honest. “I want to get off. I haven’t been able to since you interrupted me!” These words flow out of frustration, watching his expression change in an instant from amused to devious. I’m spread wider, my skirt being torn away to expose my hips; and what he was doing to me. The tip of his tongue pulled down my panties, the flimsy material stretching and ripping as it passed between my thighs. I try to move my head to take a peek, but his grip on my hair has me locked in position. “Out of all the vessels I’ve chosen, you, my filthy little pet, are the most intriguing.” He flips my body- my arms and head dangles as he supports my waist. My backside spreads, facing him and showing him my wet and pulsing holes. He hums in approval, the textured tongue from his mouth giving me a quick taste as his lips enclose my clit. I do nothing but a whimper, my ankles hitting against something hard and fleshy. “Since you were honest, I’ll be nice. But trying to trick me regardless is a means of punishment. I’ll let you choose. You can either leave without release, no conditions changed, or…” He lowers my body to match up with his waist, two tips pressing against me. One against my ass and one against my entrance. I feel two fingers reach over against my cheek, tapping my face to signal for me to open my mouth. 

“...I fuck you so hard you won’t need to touch yourself anymore. That will solve everything, hm?” I try to speak, but I’m interrupted by his thick fingers plunging into my mouth, exploring my tongue and cheeks. He thrusts up, making sure the cock that lines up with my pussy goes in a fourth of the way first while smacking my ass with the second. I know he’s grinning, by the sound of his groan through clenched teeth. Why would I say no to him? It’s what I came here for in the beginning. I relax my body and reach up to tap his wrist.

“Okay…you win…Sukuna-”

As we meet the nonverbal agreement, my eyes cross when I feel myself stretch around his thick cock. He’s quick to bottom out, the tip slamming against my cervix in only what I could imagine was just a third or less of him filling me. His other cock is free, stimulating my other hole by rubbing warm and slick pre-cum. He continued to keep my mouth busy, his fingers darting and playing about, the claws gliding against my teeth with a pleasant tingle. If I had any other entrances to occupy, I’m sure he’d find a use for them, too.

His pace picks up without warning, though it seems to be a response to my body. My walls twitched, sucked him in more and more with each thrust. His ghastly laugh pierced my ears, and the hands that gripped my waist tightened as my body flopped like a rag-doll in his embrace. It was no surprise that I was close to coming, but I knew he wouldn’t allow me to release so early on. 

“Your tight, wet cunt is swallowing me up. How desperate were you for me, my pet?”

Unable to answer, my tongue flops around his fingers as a failed attempt to speak. He chuckles and removes the digits as I drool down my chin.

“I…always…want you…don’t…stop…”

His fingers shove back, silencing me once more, and then he leans over to whisper in my ear. The position allows for him to enter my ass, a muffled groan escaping my throat as I become fully to capacity.

“I won’t stop until you’re broken, and I’m satisfied. That being said, you could be here for eternity…coming over and over, even if I don’t fuck you.”

Tears of pleasure stream down my face as he continues thrusting roughly; the grisly slaps of flesh and squelching of juices that complement the grunts and growls of the powerful demonic spirit. I could feel the sharp tips of his claws dig into my waist, breaking the skin with a roar that shook the scattered skulls and bones of our surroundings.

“Do it, you fucking slut. I can feel how close you are. How tight and how hot your body is. I want to hear how pathetic you sound when you come…”

I couldn't think. I just screamed as he forced my mouth open. It hurt to breathe. My stomach felt like it slammed into my chest with the last thrust, my orgasm hitting like a powerful wave. Close to passing out, I hear his deep cackle; the glint of his irises looking over me.

“Blacking out on me already? I want to keep playing with you…see how much your body bends and stretches. This is your punishment, my filthy whore of a vessel.” 

#jjk smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna true form #monsterfucking #oneshot #smut with no plot #first person writing #a part two is possible if you don't mind him continuously using you

[asgardianhobbit98]

Four for Valentine: Week 1 "Eye Contact"

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing: Gale/f!OC (Eivor)

Important Tags: fluff, pining, first person, falling in love

Words: 584

written for my "Four for Valentine" Event 💜

Ever since that fateful day of dread and destruction, since that day she pulled me out of that void with not a single struggle, I knew I was destined to stay by her side, no matter the cost. Perhaps that means I fell for her at first hand… what, hand pull? Hand tug? But aside from feeling strangely protected, as if someone was pulling me straight into their arms, I didn’t love her yet.

That came seconds later when I cast my gaze onto her and it locked upon those eyes… and she held mine with such ferocious confidence… with such gentle strength… as if she felt just as much at home as I did right then and there.

It had taken me a few tries to get any sarcastic one liners out to try and mask the pure shock I felt, not just from even needing help escaping my own magic, or from being kidnapped by those vile creatures, but from seeing those beautiful eyes looking at me. Amidst all this chaos, amidst all this death and despair, there still was beauty.

I felt ashamed to have her see me; to have those gorgeous eyes take in the sight that was me. I was not worthy of her.  

I hadn’t felt like that since Mystra… And even then, I had been cocky, far too confident… This felt different.

So of course I tried to hide it. Of course I ensured to act as friendly as possible so she wouldn’t feel any attraction to me. So she would simply look right past me. Perhaps she’d fall for that arrogant vampire. Or maybe for Karlach, the strong warrior that could actually match her in… well, everything.

I certainly couldn’t match her. I didn’t even feel confident in my own magic around her.

Yet, she brought me along to every single adventure she had. And at night, when all went silent and retreated to their own tents, she’d approach me. Not Astarion. Not Karlach. Me. And she’d hold my gaze with that confidence I so adored, and I’d almost feel… confident myself.

I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but poke at her mind and find out who she was. She was awkward. Truly, very awkward. For someone who might have the strength to rip an ogre in half without breaking a sweat, she was oh so very awkward with her words. But that only made me more charmed. Because despite not being able to quite utter her thoughts as eloquently as I could, her mind did have those thoughts. And when I dared to slip into her mind for a little bit, using those nasty tadpoles to our advantage, I found a world of beauty and philosophy and surprisingly a lot of creativity. And damn if that didn’t make me fall for her even more.

So, I slipped up. The one in her company who was sure not to survive this quest we’d found ourselves on was the one who fell for her, and let her fall for him. I’d break her heart. But I was too selfish to let her go. I was too selfish to not enjoy the shared looks, the knowing glances, the quick grabs at each other’s hands when danger presented itself, the loving looks around the campfire, the warm embraces in the night… the lovemaking among the stars…

I fell for her when she looked at me. And as guilty as I feel, I haven’t regretted it a single day.

tag list: @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @knittastically @heilith @lathalea @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @nowandthane

if you want to added or removed from my tag list, DM me or let me know in an ASK <3

#baldurs gate 3 #gale romance #baldurs gate 3 gale #bg3 gale #four for valentine #gale of waterdeep #gale x oc #fluff #falling in love #pining #first person writing #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gale fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 gale fanfiction #gale fic

[th4t-bug]

Here is chapter one of Bug's origin story! Ao3 for those who don't like reading on Tumblr:

And now, here we go, because I have gotten the first five followers of this blog as of last night.

The Beginning

(Chapter One of "The Bug")

It's strange, really, how much my life changed in the span of three short months. It feels like forever ago, but I can still remember how this all started so clearly.

I was walking home from school, by myself. It was late, I had to make up a test in one class, and earlier that day had earned myself a detention in another. That's not the point though, what really matters is that it was dark out already when I left. I nervously peeked around each and every alley I passed on the sidewalk, around there I was more worried about getting mugged than the cold- for good reason.

The sound was faint, down an alleyway I was coming up on, but I would already recognize the sound of breaking glass anywhere. My mouth went ever so slightly dry, my backpack heavy on my shoulders, and I made what must be one of the dumbest decisions of my life.

With my hand on the wall, I peeked around the corner.

“Anybody There?” I whispered my words before I processed anything, my throat tightening at the sight before me. I'm still glad to this day that I was so great at being silent, even back then. There, down the alley, was a man, tall, and a nasty scar along the side of his neck. He held a broken glass bottle in his hand, no doubt the cause of the sound I had heard earlier.

And, most importantly to me at the time, backed against the wall in front of him, was Maddie Lane.

Maddie and I weren't friends. I didn't know her that well, but she seemed like a nice girl. And then, as we silently made eye contact over that evil man’s shoulder, she looked so scared. I don't exactly remember what the man said to her, something about money- I just know that I had to act, to do something, and I did before even thinking about it or its consequences.

My backpack was heavy, like a bag full of rocks with how much stuff I had to keep in there, so it’s surprising I was able to slide it off of my shoulders so quickly without hurting myself- and hurl it at the man.

My improvised projectile hit the man solidly in the head with a force that surprised me. The guy didn't even have time to react, the hit was angled enough for the man to fall and hit the brick wall of the side of the alleyway with the back of his head. There was a sickening crack and I fought the urge to heave as I watched the man's eyes roll back into his skull, his form slumped on the ground. There was the sound of my backpack heavily hitting the ground somewhere in the commotion, but if it was before or after the man went unconscious, I couldn't tell you, and there was a shriek (although I don't know if it was Maddie who made that sound, or me).

I was breathing heavily, my vision was a blur, and I was unable to look away from the man's body for a moment before I shook my head and looked up at Maddie, seeing the shock in her brown eyes. “Are…” I trailed off with a nervous swallow, I could still feel my hands traveling. Finally, the words managed to leave my throat, “Are you okay?”

Sure, it might have been a basic question, but that's all I could think of to say. I wanted to make sure she was alright, after what had happened.

Maddie took a deep breath, looking at me as if I was no more than a hallucination. “Yeah, I think so.” She mumbled out, sounding like she was trying to detach from the situation itself.

I was concerned, sure, but to say the least the situation felt awkward. Sure, me and Maddie shared the same English class, but we didn't really know each other. I didn't know what to say, and with the all the events that led up to this- I didn't want Maddie to think I found her ‘just in time' because I had been following her, which wasn't the case. I eventually settled on the most generic question I could think of.

“...how’d this happen?” Okay, so it may have been a very bad thing to ask given the delicate situation, but my brain pulled up blanks everywhere else. Maddie shook herself out of her stupor and shrugged, saying that it was sudden and she didn't know. It didn't sound like the truth, but I didn't push her.

I nodded and walked forward with a grimace last the still unconscious man to pick up my backpack, hoping nothing in it was broken. “Do you need me to walk you home?” I asked after a moment, but it was more of a formality than anything. Maddie, thankfully, did not take me up on my offer and shook her head. “No- no, I think I can get home safe from here.”

I nodded again, it was for the best really, we were both still a bit shaken up and I preferred being alone when something was disturbing me. “Good… I guess I'll see you tomorrow?” I said as I slung my backpack back onto my shoulders. Maddie nodded awkwardly and her brown eyes glanced away, “Yeah.”

We stood silently in that alleyway for a moment in front of each other before Maddie said her goodbyes, turned away, and left. It was a strange moment, but I didn't notice anything distinctly wrong with Maddie at the time. I sighed heavily, glancing back at the man who was still unconscious on the ground of the dirty alley. I was starting to get concerned, if he was knocked out that long he could have gained brain damage from the situation.

I, however, didn't feel particularly inclined to call an ambulance or the police, as I wanted to get home soon. I simply tried to steady myself, and I resumed the walk home.

It was dark, but my parents weren't back yet- as usual, they wouldn't be until morning. I let myself in the house, and stumbled down the hall to my room. I set my backpack on the floor next to my bed, gently so as to not risk damaging anything.

I wasn't hungry. I had eaten on the walk home from school- before seeing Maddie. But mostly, that man's unconscious body, the sound of that sickening crack- it had unnerved any sense of an appetite I may have had that night.

I crawled into bed after kicking off my socks and shoes, but otherwise didn't bother changing. That situation, all of it had exhausted me, more than I would have thought with how much worse it could have been. My green eyes stared up and spaced out at my blank white ceiling, and I got to thinking.

I mean, sure, I knew the crime rate in my city was pretty high, too high to be considered safe, but in my neighborhood it really did get bad at night. I blindly reached to the side, turning off the lamp on my night table, the blinds of my window had already been pulled shut. The room became nearly pitch black aside from the soft light of my phone, I always preferred it like that to go to sleep.

My eyelids felt heavy, I put on my wireless headphones for music and shut off my phone, placing it on the nightstand to charge. I thought of Maddie, what might have happened if I had passed her by. I sighed softly, closing my eyes, the last thought that crossed my mind before I slept was ‘maybe it's possible for me to help people more?’

Which, of course it was.

The next morning, I went through my usual routine, feeling like a passenger in my own body. I got up, dressed in clean clothes, brushed my teeth- all the works. I did so quietly, not wanting to wake my parents who would have gotten home only two hours or so before.

I don't remember thinking a lot that day, it was mostly a blur of memories from the night before. I ate breakfast on a TV tray in the living room, cleaned up a bit, and grabbed my backpack before leaving for school. I made a point to pass the alleyway from before on the way, it made my heart jump to my throat, but the man wasn't there any more- so at least he hadn't died there (as I had almost nearly convinced myself of).

I continued on my way to school, got there- yadda yadda yadda. I will be completely honest here, the only thing I remember noticing that day is that Maddie Lane was missing from her seat in my English class.

Luckily, that day, I didn't have to stay after school as I had the day before. So the walk home from school was not in the dark, but it still had me on edge, checking around every corner. It wasn't too cold, I was always resistant to temperature changes. It was about two or three months from the first snow of the year, but my jacket was zipped all the way up- I guess somehow it made me feel safer.

I did the same thing I did the night before, checking down the alley ways on my usual path home. I didn't stumble along anything bad, not for my area at least, but getting closer to my house seeing the trash and broken items on the dirty ground left a sour taste in my mouth.

The city wasn't great, hell, it was far from it. It was dirty and ridden with crime. But, for me, it was home- well, the area of my neighborhood was at least. One person could not fix all of this, it would take a miracle, a hero, even a grade A superhero to really help. However, I was no hero. But I was a rather stubborn kid who had seen some horrible things, and I wanted to help.

So, for the life of me, I was going to try.

#not bug #bug writing #writing #original writing #original character #ask blog #Bug writing chapter one #im pretty sure this is growing quite quickly for me haha #first person writing #im sorry i cant do third person right now :'] #i got this down digital during my computer apps class haha #by the way if anyone is confused this is before Bug was mutated. if i didnt makw that clear enough.

[girlfromthecrypt]

My dog and I just had the shittiest road trip.

I’m in a long distance relationship with my partner of four years. They live a seven hour drive from me, and every weekend, I pack up my things, load up the truck and go on the long-ass trip it takes me to see them. By now, I’m used to the potholes, the traffic jams, the impromptu bladder stops and horrendous gas station bathrooms. Now, I love my partner so it’s all worth it to me, but goddamn, the roads are crappy. It doesn’t help that they live off-the-grid, in a hard to find spot. The drive can actually be sort of dangerous sometimes.

Due to personal reasons, my partner can’t join me at my place in the city and even though I want to eventually move in with them, moving out into the sticks would just murder my career right now. It’s a frustrating situation and our only option is basically to hang on and wait for our circumstances to change. Until then, every Friday afternoon and every Sunday night, it’s “truckin’ time” for my dog and me. That’s what I’ve come to call these long car rides, and last Friday was about the worst one so far. 

It started innocently enough. I hurled my bag into the back of my vehicle and whistled for my Borzoi. “Pasha! Truckin’ time!” 

This has become a specific command for Pasha, and each time he hears it, he comes barreling towards me at high speed and leaps onto the passenger seat. Over the years, it’s turned into this practiced performance of ours. I open the door at exactly the right time for him to land the perfect jump, all in one elegant, fluid motion. Not to brag, but we’re a great team; it’s almost like a circus act. And Pasha is wonderful company. He’s sweet and doesn’t mind curling up next to me while I drive, as long as I occasionally give him a treat and stop for walks, pees and cuddles. 

Okay, there was that one time when we got stuck in traffic. It was a hot day and stressful as hell, and he decided out of the blue that the best thing to get my mind off the jam was to loudly sing me the song of his people; but other than that, he’s the best. 

So this Friday, we did our little circus act, I strapped him into his restraint and we got on our way. Everything was going smoothly. The first two hours, we drove freely and unhindered. I was in a fairly good mood when I pulled over at a rest stop for Pasha to stretch those long, spindly legs of his. We walked a couple paces, he took a good long piss against a trash can while no one was looking, then I took a good long piss against that same trash can because the bastards were charging for restroom usage, and we climbed back into our car for the next stretch.

The following eighty minutes went well enough, but around the one and a half-hour mark, Pasha was getting a bit fidgety. Naturally, I stopped and got him out, but he didn’t do anything. He just stood frozen on the ground beside the truck, staring straight ahead with his tubular nose pointing at something in the distance up ahead. Following his gaze, I couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. After several minutes of me trying to figure out what had him so uneasy, I decided I didn’t have time for this. I got him to hop back in and we drove on. There was a tunnel coming up in about two hundred-something meters, and by the time I reached it, mine was the only car on the road. What few others had been in front of me had taken the exit off to the right shortly before. 

So we headed into the tunnel. Totally normal. We always took this route, I basically knew it by heart at that point. It’s not like I had some kind of phobia or fear of tunnels, but for some reason, I felt extremely apprehensive all of a sudden. I purposefully slowed down, rolling up to the entrance at a tempered pace. The concrete arch looked very much like a dark maw to me at that moment. I was a tad ashamed of myself, really; I had no idea why I was so skittish when I had passed this same stretch of road hundreds of times before. It was nothing new to me, and yet, my skin erupted into gooseflesh as I got closer and closer to the tunnel.

And that’s when I saw it.

It was only there for a split second, but my weary eyes caught a glimpse of something that looked like an enormous hand. Six long, thin, coal-black fingers had gripped onto the outer edge of the concrete arch, and I spotted them just in time as they peeled off and withdrew, vanishing into the darkness inside. For a moment, my brain got “hung up”, just… temporarily stopped working as it tried to process the image my sense of vision had sent up to it. I gaped at the now still, unmoving, unsuspecting opening ahead of me, and before I could bring my car to a stop, I had already rolled on into the tunnel.

Pasha lost it. The second the concrete had swallowed us, he started howling and barking, frantically tossing his head and pounding the faded leather seat with his paws. He’d risen to his full height, or rather the extent of it the limited space of the truck and his restraint allowed, and he was raising hell. I couldn’t blame him. I was at a complete loss, and a part of me desperately wanted to hold onto the hope that what I had seen had merely been an illusion created by an overactive imagination and eyestrain. I didn’t stay in denial for long. Pasha kept pointing his snout up like he was trying to get my attention, and when I finally put two and two together, I remembered that I had a sunroof. 

I tipped my head back, looking through the glass at the ceiling of the tunnel outside, only for my heart to jump into my throat. There was something staring in at me, two wide eyes meeting mine. It was about five or six times the size of a person and of humanoid shape, but absolutely emaciated. Its skin was dark, not the normal kind of dark but literal jet black, and it didn’t appear to have a single hair on its head. The thing was clinging to the round top of the concrete corridor, its giant body curled up and flattened against the curve of the tunnel. I only managed to catch a quick peek at it before I instinctively whipped my head back down and stepped on the gas.

My truck lurched forward. The engine howled, Pasha howled. I howled. I was gripped by raw, naked terror; the hands with which I was clutching the steering wheel were laced with cold sweat and my chest felt as though it was going to burst. The light at the end of the tunnel was becoming brighter, bigger, closer, my unblinking gaze trained on it as I sped towards it for dear life. Glancing up through the sunroof, I could spot the creature scuttling across the length of the ceiling, its movements almost resembling those of a large spider. Squeezing the last possible bit of effort from my wailing truck, I tightened my grip on the wheel, knuckles turning white as a quiet prayer passed my lips. 

The thing arrived at the end of the tunnel at about the same time I did. Its two long arms swooped down like a bird of prey as it reached for me. My stomach turned, I pressed my eyes shut and, with a feral yank of the wheel, I sent my car swerving, dodging its long, greedy fingers by a hair’s breadth. Bright daylight enveloped me as I emerged from the tunnel. I did not even think of slowing down. I didn’t allow myself to look over my shoulder, but I knew I was safe again when I saw several other cars in the distance ahead. These things only come for me when I’m alone.

Pasha’s yowls had turned into whines and heavy, huffing snorts. I reached over to run a trembling hand through his silky fur. “You okay?” 

My dog leaned into the touch, nosing my lower arm. 

“I had a feeling you were trying to warn me. Sorry I didn’t listen.” I reached into the middle console to grab a small treat for him. He gently closed his teeth around it, careful as he took it from my shaking fingers. God, I love that animal.

We got in line with all the other vehicles. Seeing the other cars and the people behind the windows instilled within me a feeling of intense relief, like the weight of a boulder having been taken off my chest. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the sky pink and ruby red. I watched, my soaring heart rate slowing at the pacifying sight. I didn’t want to have to get out of the car after dark, so I pulled over at the next possible stop. It was a bare, dreary little patch of asphalt where two trucks had parked, their owners most likely asleep inside. I rounded my truck to open the door for Pasha, who seemed all too happy to get his noodle nose out into the fresh air. He took a big dump on the side of the road, drank some water and then experienced a brief episode of the zoomies, likely brought on by the earlier tension.

I was stretching my legs and back as I watched him jump around, but my smile fell when he suddenly went still and ramrod straight. He was staring at something again, something I couldn’t make out. Whatever had caught his attention seemed to be located on the opposite side of the road, but between the cars rushing past and the gentle gleam of the evening redness, I couldn’t make out anything out of the ordinary. Still, I was not about to ignore my dog’s sixth sense again, so I hastily strapped him back into his seat and returned to my spot behind the wheel.

The next twenty minutes passed by uneventfully, but I was admittedly on edge. Pasha was alert, too; sitting upright and staring out the window with an alarming degree of focus. The road dragged on and on, and to my dismay, we were pretty much by ourselves again before long. We had reached the more rural stretch of the route, trees standing tall and dense to either side, seemingly scooting closer and closer as though they wanted to push their way forth to block my path. The moon was climbing higher in the sky by then, its silvery glow keeping my headlights company in the nightly darkness. A weak comfort. 

I never liked this part of the trip. One the one hand, it always means I’m nearing my destination, but I’m just so alone out in the wilderness. Unprotected. No other people, no one to help. No witnesses. Most of my worst experiences have happened while I was driving down this section.

That day would turn out to be no different. 

About an hour into the journey through the woodland was when I first spotted her. A glimpse of white by the side of the road, standing just behind the treeline, only partially visible. Gone in a flash. I shuddered, and my suspicions were confirmed when Pasha uttered a drawn-out, low growl. Here we go again.

Once you’ve seen something that’s caught your attention, you will most likely keep looking for it, even though you should really be focusing on something else. That’s how it was with me. I tried to keep my eyes and mind on the road ahead, looking only at what my headlights illuminated before me. In the back of my head, however, that little glimpse of white was fighting for dominance over my thoughts. I shoved it down, gnawing on my lower lip in hopes that the sting of my teeth would help me stay concentrated. Whenever a being doesn’t outwardly show itself, you can count on it waiting for the right moment. The fuckers are smart. They know how to make you nervous, how to drive you damn near crazy. It’s best not to look at whatever’s happening on the sides of the road. Eyes wide open and ahead, safe and strong and steely. That’s the only way.

I somehow managed to ignore the white spot that drew closer to my car from the left. Two minutes later, I could see her again out of the corner of my eye, approaching from my right this time. Cold dread seeped into my bones, fear pooling in the pit of my stomach like icy water. Pasha started barking again and my teeth drew blood from my lip. I could make out almost her entire form by then. She was small, scrawny, pale and blond. Her white dress fluttered around the bony shovels of her hips like it was spun from cobwebs, and I could see each bone shifting beneath as she moved. She was trying to distract me, I knew she was—too bad it was working. 

It took all my willpower not to slow down, not to abruptly pump the brakes everytime she appeared. My stomach jolted with each sudden appearance of the being, and I could practically feel her patience waning as she drew closer and closer each time in an attempt to startle me. I knew what she wanted. She would only stop when I was dead in a roadside ditch, crushed to jelly by my truck; perhaps wrapped around a tree or lying on its roof. I was not about to give her that satisfaction. 

Once more, I sped up my truck, the engine’s roar like a war cry as Pasha and I shot through the night. I lowered my head, my jaw set and my gaze pointing perfectly straight ahead. And then, seemingly appearing out of thin air, she simply stood in front of my truck, right there in the middle of the road. For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of her face. It felt like there was an invisible rope tightening around my neck. Two wide, bulbous eyes met mine from within her frame of blond hair. They were sitting in the very middle of her head, taking up far too much space. She had no mouth, no nose, no nothing; just these gigantic, piercing eyes. Pasha let out a howl, panicking as he tugged against his restraint, and while I felt exactly the same, this brief moment of terror was over before it truly began.

A loud thump rang out as the ghostly woman was snatched up by my speeding vehicle, rolling up the hood of the truck before sailing over the roof. I didn’t swerve, didn’t brake, didn’t dare to look in the mirror. I kept on driving, leaving her laying there, wherever it was the momentum of my mighty car had propelled her to. About twenty minutes later, I finally allowed myself to relax, practically melting into my seat. Pasha had drawn himself up beside me, radiating victory, and I smiled and scratched his ear. “We did it, boy.”

I, too, felt weirdly proud of myself. Normally, only one of these things makes a pass at me, but I’d managed to evade two in a row. I was exhausted, my heart was still pounding like a sledgehammer, but damn, I felt good. Pasha and I enjoyed an uneventful remainder of the trip, and when I finally pulled up outside my partner’s remote little cabin, I was ready to drop for the night. The door, adorned by a rabbit’s paw, swung open with an ear-straining creak, and I stepped into the pitch-black interior. This was a comfortable, homely kind of darkness though, and I felt immediately at ease. Taking a deep breath, I sucked in the sweet smell of herbs, oils and incense. Pasha trotted in after me, and a smile came to my face when I heard him starting to munch and slobber away at something beside the entrance. He loves the food my partner makes, and I think it’s adorable of them to put out bowls for him in anticipation of our arrival. They always do that. They’re just so thoughtful.

“Hey, honey,” I called into the room.

“How was your journey, my soul?”

“Ugh.” I plopped down on the sofa beside them, sighing deeply upon feeling one of their four arms wrap around my shoulders. “They’re getting worse. There were two of them this time. I mean, I survived, so I don’t wanna mope around or anything.”

“They’re afraid of the offspring we might create. They want to keep us apart.”

“They won’t.”

#dark fantasy #dark fiction #horror fiction #horror writing #nosleep #nosleep author #scary stories #reddit #horror story #monster horror #monster #creative works #creative writing #women writers #female writers #first person writing #original writing #original fiction #original character #horror romance #dark romance #dark romanticism #long reads #short story #modern horror #modern fantasy #modern fairytale #folklore #folklore inspired #creepy

[simpleeshea]

On the clock!

C!Wilbur x Gn! reader

Next chapter>

Chapter 1.

Strange stories-

I burst my way into the doors, smiling brightly as my eyes catch onto just the man I was looking for. I stand expectantly at the counter as his head was ducked down, presumably looking at his phone or reading as he often did. "I'll be with you in just a moment he said," not looking to see who I was just pausing to grab a bookmark— Ah, so it was a book.

I tap my foot and cross my arms until he finally looks up to see who I was.

"Oh!" his face immediately lifted into a smile. I had learned that he didn't smile often, so when he did I took mental notes of what had made him happy. "Y/n, I didn't think you worked today?" he asked questionably.

I roll my eyes and give him a long exasperated sigh, "Yeah well, what's-his-shit asked me if I could cover his shift," I said pointing to the storage closet where I was sure the teen was hiding out. I could never remember his name, I only worked with him one out of the five days I work and he hadn't been there for very long (not to mention that he was one of many teenagers who come in here looking for a job before soon after quitting because of how much work Wilbur and I shoved off on them to do.)

Wilbur nods, peeking around the counter toward the storage closet. "You mean Daniel? I didn't know he was leaving."

I scoff, "Daniel... is that right?" I pause for a moment before shrugging it off, "Well, neither did I until thirty minutes ago," my brows furrow before I walk away to bang on the closet door.

"What!" a loud yell comes from inside before the blonde-haired boy poked his head out. "Oh, it's just you," he said coldly. He stepped out of the closet, cigarette, and cell phone in hand with his messages opened texting someone labeled as "Baby momma😩🥴" My nose crinkled in disapproval, quickly snatching away the cigarette from his hand.

My brow raised, "Last I checked you were only seventeen..." I turned to look at Wilbur, "Did I miss a few years?"

Wilbur scoffed with a dry laugh as he kept flipping pages in his book, "I'm fairly certain I saw you yesterday... so no."

I turned back to the boy with a smirk before nodding my head toward the front door. He turned to walk away, grumbling silent curses under his breath. The bell chimed as he harshly opened the door and walked away.

"He forgot to clock out," Wilbur said, his nose still in his book.

I shook my head, feeling around for the lighter in my pocket. "I'll do it for him later."

Wilbur's eyes left his book, looking at me and the cigarette. "Did you just jack that kid's smoke?" he nearly laughed.

"Uhh... yeah!" I said as if it was obvious, "he's a bitch."

"That's twenty-five cents," Wilbur motioned over toward the swear jar sitting behind the counter.

I frown, "You should hear half of the shit that kid said before walking outside."

"Another twenty-five," he counted, "and yes, I heard, he owes at least a dollar fifty."

I roll my eyes and smile, pulling out my wallet to collect fifty cents. Walking behind the counter, Wilbur watched as I stuff my change into the jar with my name stuck to the side of it. "Ya' know," I say, stepping back to look at the swear jars with each person's name labeled on their respective jars, "Manager Ken is never here... but somehow that man has the most change in his jar every month."

Wilbur looked up from his book to glance at the jars. Wilbur and I had always been close each month along with whatever teen had picked up the job, but Manager Ken's jar had always been full of change at the end of the month.  "Well," Wilbur started off, "When he is here, you might as well call him a sailor."

For whatever reason I smile, turning to look at Wilbur whose gaze was settled back onto his book. "Wilbur?" I ask abruptly, catching his attention but not enough for him to turn away from his page, "Want to take a smoke break?" I smirk, holding up the unused cigarette in my hand and pulling out my lighter.

Wilbur sat down his book, but not before placing his light blue bookmark with some cheesy quote on it in his book. I had bought him that bookmark, that one along with two others. They came in a pack and despite the awful quotes, I felt he would make use of them.

Wilbur looked behind him where all of the packs of cigarettes were kept on display. "Say all you want about Manager Ken," I began, "but man do I love him for letting us have cigarettes on the job.

"How can you work without a good smoke?" Wilbur said quoting the aforementioned manager.

I laughed before taking steps toward the back door with Wilbur following behind. I fiddled with the lighter in my pocket as I pushed the back door to find that it didn't open. "Pull not push," Wilbur stated as soon as I remembered.

"God I hate this door," I pulled and sure enough it opened, after a year of working here you'd think I'd learn, but I never had. "It just feels like it should be a push door," I announce to him as the desert sun beams harshly against my skin.

"I mean it is if you are walking inside, not out," he told me as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat. I quickly pulled off my jacket, hating the feeling of the heat, and tossed it to the side. Of course, I grasped onto my lighter before discarding the light-weighted coat. I cupped my hand around the cigarette and lit the end of it and inhaled it as if it was my lifeline.

I tossed Wilbur my lighter which he caught gracefully. "How do you keep that... what do you call it? Trench coat? How do you keep it on in this heat?" I asked with a frown as I blew the smoke out of my mouth.

Wilbur lit his cigarette before handing me back the lighter. "It's not that hot out here," he shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"It's like a million degrees out here!" I shouted, "Not that hot out here, pshh-" I mocked as my eyes rolled at him.

Wilbur sighed, holding his cigarette in his mouth while he pulled at his sleeves to take off his coat. He took the cigarette from his lips, holding it in one hand and his coat in the other before taking a long drawn-out breath.

My brows furrowed into a frown as I looked at his tall stature. Wilbur had this weird state of being that made him almost appear fake, or not even alive. I could see him breathing in front of my face, but that was the only thing that really confirmed to me that he was living. It seemed like an odd thought to think, of course, he was living, he was a person just like me... but it still confused my brain.

"Are you just going to stare at me all day?" he asked as his lips formed into a small smirk before falling back flat into his stern expression that he preferred to keep.

"Maybeee," I said drawn out and bored, "you've got quite a bit of you to look at," I made a jab at his height before taking another drag from my cigarette.

Wilbur chuckled under his breath. "I have no control over my height, Y/n," he said as if he had to remind me.

I nod silently, blowing heavy smoke from my mouth and watching as it wafted upward.

"So," I start off awkwardly, "how's your book going?"

"The one I'm reading or the one I'm writing?" Wilbur laughed as if the question I asked him was a joke.

Not knowing what to do I laugh too. "The one you're writing," I clarify, to which he nods with a small smile on his lips as he takes another drag from his cigarette. Asking about his book always made him smile, so I made a point to ask about it often.

"Right," he nodded, letting the smoke trail from his mouth. "Where did I last leave off?"

"Uhmm," I pondered for a moment, trying to remember what he had last told me from his book. "I believe you had left off by telling me of your character's plan to hold an election."

Wilbur's smile dropped for a moment but he quickly spread it back over his face. "Ah! Yes, I remember," he said as his voice trailed off and his brain seemed to sort through files and files of thoughts. "I was telling Tommy how I planned to hold an election."

It had always amazed me how Wilbur could recount the details from his book so perfectly as if he had really been there. It was also odd to me that he wrote himself as the main character and one of his real friends that he often talked about writing to as a character as well. (Secretly I wished that if we became good enough friends, then he would write me in as a character as well.) I supposed it wasn't too weird to write a book about yourself, I had seen it done in fanfiction plenty of times before, but never in real books.

"So what happened in the election?"

Wilbur paused, tapping the end of his cigarette to drop the burning ashes on the ground. He took a long drag before blowing the smoke out and tossing the rest of the cigarette to the ground. He smushed it into the ground under his shoe. "Well, it certainly didn't go as planned," he explained. I listened intently, preparing to hear tales of the day he had to entice my brain with.

"Tommy and I planned to hold an election in secret. There would be no mention of the election until all of the ballots were closed so the only option people had to vote for would be yours truly."

"So you planned to scam your own nation?" I asked with a small laugh. Wilbur nodded in response. "That seems to be a trend with you and Tommy. Scamming people, I mean."

Wilbur smirked, "Yes. It was what we were good at."

I lifted my head in half nod to show that I was listening. "So... if you were so good at scamming people, how did it go wrong?"

Wilbur frowned, I wasn't sure if it was at the jab I made at him or the thought of how things went wrong. “Tommy… he had a friend.”

My brows turn downward, I was beginning to catch on to where the story was going.

“His name was Quackity-“

“I’m sorry what!?” my face contorted into a confused laugh. “Why did you name him Quackity, is he part duck?”

Wilbur seemed to laugh under his breath but nodded. “Yes, he had these golden duck wings.”

“Ooo,” I nodded, now seeming much more interested in the character. “I bet writing a character with wings is pretty difficult to portray.”

Wilbur shook his head, “No, not really.” I watched as he stretched out his arms wide, his bones popping a cracking in various places before he let out a sigh of relief. “We should step back inside… carry on the story where it’s not so hot,” he announced.

I nod as I go to grab my jacket but pause briefly to say, “I thought it wasn’t hot out here, tough guy?”

He chuckled dryly, “Yes, well I suppose the heat has finally gotten to me.” He takes his giant coat and tucks it into one arm before pushing the backdoor open. “Are you coming, or aren’t you?” he asks with a teasing smirk while holding the door open for me.

I quickly pick my feet up and walk under his arm as he held the door from the opposite side— a show of his height I was sure.

“Figured I’d hold the door open for you since you aren’t familiar with the concept of doors,” he teased dryly.

I rolled my eyes in playful annoyance. “I’m well aware of how to open doors.”

“Yesterday you were telling me a story of how you ran into Walmart’s automatic doors,” he stated plainly, walking back behind the counter and taking a seat on the stool.

Quickly in defense, I hollered, “It was supposed to open by itself!”

“Clearly it wasn’t open though.”

“I was talking to a friend,” I pouted, almost giving up on my falling apart defense.

“You have friends?” Wilbur asked, seeming genuinely shocked. I frowned and scrunched my nose up at him. The shock lifted from his face as he laughed at me, it became clear to me that he had been faking his previous expression.

“Not cool, man.”

He laughed a little louder, which brought a small smile to my face. I tried to hide it, embarrassed because of how easily he made fun of me.

“Very cool,” Wilbur corrected as he picked up his book, opening it to his bookmarked page.

The store went quiet for a moment as I slid behind the counter to look over his shoulder at the book he was reading. “I thought you were going to talk about your book?” I asked in a teasing tone, “is your memory that bad old man?”

He looked over at me with a frown present on his face, “I’m not much older than you.”

I laughed teasingly. “It appears I’ve aged better than you,” I said, poking fun at the prominent white streak in his hair.

“I’m sorry?” he said, placing his book down in his lap, not bothering to mark the page. “I have you know that I’ve aged like a fine wine.”

“More like milk,” I corrected him.

He shook his head in a laugh before mumbling something I couldn’t make out. “I’ll tell you more about my book tomorrow,” he said as his laughter calmed and the store quietened.

I nodded as I pulled out a stool of my own and sat down and laid my chin down on the counter, pulling out my phone and headphones to watch a show. This was how work went, everything sat in blissful silence as Wilbur read some books and I watched movies. Wilbur and I often talked, we had become really good friends over the course of working together, poking fun at teenagers, smoking together, and sometimes stealing liquor as well. This job is my haven. If I hadn’t found it, I’d be living on the street, or worse… still going to college to get some degree just to appease my parents. I didn’t want that, I wanted to live my own life. And so here I am with Wilbur and this station, the only things worth any value to me.

A/n

Updates gonna be hecka slow

#x reader #dsmp #wilbur soot #mcyt x you #fanfic #gas station #wilbur x y/n #dsmp wilbur #revivbur #revivebur #tommyinnit #dream smp #x y/n #platonic #romantic #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #first person writing #SoundCloud

[trashcanniballecter]

Me: oh that fic sounds interesting

Fic: I walked in

Me: Nope, absolutely not

#ugh #fan fiction #first person writing #i cant stand it

[jazziesanura]

One of the things that really bug me in writing is writing in the first person. In shorter words, it gives me the ick. Somehow, it feels selfish and heavily centered on the protagonist when it's done in a certain way. Sometimes it is just downright creepy and weird. Like? >.> <,<

Yes, the story might be fully about the main character, but it is so limiting when it comes to describing side characters and whatnot. The thing in writing in first person is that you don't see everything, you don't feel everything, you don't hear everything, you don't know everything. In some senses of the word, that can be good, you always want to keep the reader guessing.

But, huge butt here, but there was one instance where I read a fanfiction which had the main character and another having a conversation which led me to this rant of shorts. The protagonist turned away from the character and supposedly was able to know of the "unknowing" glance they were given by the side character??? Like, kindly, make it make sense.

Not to point fingers or beat down on fanfiction writers that may do this. Writing should be fun, done in the way that the author enjoys most, and writing is always a learning experience.

One instance where I do, like first person writing is in Suzanne Collins', Hunger Games trilogy.

As stated before, that first person writing seems selfish, you can see here in this very first page, that it is used well in describing the three people that matter most to Katniss (yes, Buttercup too, they have a love hate relationship). The reader also gets a glimpse as to what kind of person Katniss is--concerned for her sister and her distaste for the ugliest cat in the world.

These are my three exceptions for first person writing. One, describing characters and the world around them more than the focus being on themselves. Two, when they are alone let the reader see into the mind of the protagonist. Even better if you follow them down a spiral of madness. And three, letting the reader truly feel what the protagonist is feeling right in the moment.

In closing, first person writing can be good, just when done well, but third person c o u g h c o u g h is a good place to start before venturing into the abyss.

Here is my try at writing this way off the top of my head.

"I pick at my fingers and wonder to myself how long it would take to tear this building down brick by brick as my eyes lazily slide up its looming height. I would do it by hand and all that--I'm too broke to buy a bulldozer. I could do it on my own, but then again, I do have a fuck ton of friends that want the same thing done to this rotten place."

#writing #writing rant #suzzane collins #the hunger games #fanfiction #fanfic #first person writing #first actual post #yayyy

[akariamai]

The Last Letter

Pairing: Oliver Queen x Reader

Word Count: 351

     Dear Ollie,

I am ashamed of myself. I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated you on my life but I have been extremely busy. I need to tell you what has been ailing me after my recent discovery one late night. It’s rattled my semblance of peace ever since and I desperately cannot hold it in without letting you know anymore. I barely think of you now. You’d used to consume my thoughts every waking moment since you’ve been gone but now you’re barely there. It seems I’d left you somewhere in the back of my mind and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you do not persist in my mind anymore. You were one of my best friends, even if I did not agree with some choices you’d made, but you held an immense portion of my heart when you were alive. Starling City has not been the same since you’ve been gone. It’s become darker, more sinister in the night. I fear without change soon, the city you once loved will be lost.

There’s so much I wish I could’ve said in person. So much that needed to be spoken but I was ruled by fear for far too long that time did not wait. Life did not wait. It became too late too soon. You vanished and all I was left with was despair and the would’ves, could’ves, should’ves. The “what if’s” used to fluster my mind, especially in the beginning, but now they have all ceased to exist. You will always have a place in my heart. You will always be bigger than the whole sky in my life but now, I need to let you go. Let the memories of you stop haunting me and relinquish the all too familiar ache that’s been unrelenting. An overwhelming amount of words have been left unsaid between the two of us and I cannot even fathom jotting them down for any other eyes but your own. This is my goodbye to you, Oliver. I hope we meet again when I go. For now, this is goodbye.

      Love,

          [Reader]

Masterlist

#oliver queen #oliver queen x reader #letter #thelastletter #dc comics #first person writing #green arrow #arrow tv show #arrowtv #dc comics imagine #dc x reader

[aspen-alexis]

what if I told you a story? What if I said you lied to me, manipulated me, hurt me? Would you believe any of it, or would you shrug it off as usual?

I remember the time you almost sent me away, we kinda just forget that ever happened huh? All because I said I was scared of you - kinda ironic how your instinct was to send me to live with a virtual stranger (because legally you can) and get mad because I fear you. It’s almost like you want to be feared…

I tell people you’re perfect, you know. I hype you up to be some amazing person when all I do is enter survival mode when I’m around you. Technically both of you, but I see one more than the other sooooo

You know what is ironic, though? The fear you have over what I could do.

The fear over me being my own person who doesn’t take your shit anymore is hilarious even. You desire control so bad you stop at nothing to get it. Gaslighting me, guilting me, you name it you’ve probably done it. But hey, you can’t gaslight if you don’t know the word gaslighting is a thing, can you?

You let him hurt me. I was 5 but never really yours so how could you question how parenting. You’re just as bad as him, allowing it even if “it stopped”. And yet you wonder why I’m so jumpy. Why I fear the sound of a bell being clanked together. Why I recognize every footstep as it passes.

That isn’t normal, but you made it. You made everything normal even when it hurt.

You make it normal to pretend I’m a robot, you prefer it that way.

You make it normal to lie about my name and hide my identity from you, because you’re either gay or straight. Trans or cis, make or female. Oldest or youngest.

Nothing between exists.

I don’t exist.

#prose #my writing #writing #writers on tumblr #anxienty #trauma #parenting #creative writing #first person pov #first person narrative #first person writing

[booburry]

Aesop Sharp Bodyguard Fic?

Classic writers block: Brain refuses to function for current WIP's but loooooooves creating and obsessing about NEW and SHINY things. *grumble*

Anywhooo, thought I may share a small snippet of what I have. Wanted to try my hand at a first person fic, but I did create an OC so it's not quite a reader insert.

Defs NSFW, like usual...but this time with a more vulgar narrator than my other work.

Summary: Aesop Sharp finds himself no longer employed by the ministry and in a desperate need to access the most precious and hard sought information on curses and their cures. There were two places he could think to obtain this information, and two job offers to match. A teaching position at Hogwarts OR personal body guard to Sylvia Gaunt, the eldest daughter of the esteemed Gaunt family.

I am Sylvia Gaunt:

I am 24 years old, born in 1859. I am the second eldest sibling of the Guant family, second to Marvolo who I have a distinct distaste for.

I grew up hating my family, and still very much do with the exception of my little brother Ominis; who I fear for greatly as he was sadly afflicted with a kind heart as myself. However, unlike Ominis, I was easy and willing to break.

I greatly feel powerless in the world I am surrounded in, never having a choice beyond the life ahead of me that is chosen by my heritage, family name, or parents.

My greatest pleasure’s in life is indulging in my vices, mostly sex. Feeling wanted, feeling powerful and in control—it was the closet feeling to love and safety I would ever know. It also put a smudge on my family name, my whorish reputation, and that brought me more pleasure than any cocks or cunts could.

In a plot to ensure I act more modest, to prepare me for a life of marriage to my eldest brother; ‘we need to keep the bloodline pure’, so my parent’s claim. The idea disgusted me and every day I wished they would just move on from the idea, but my brother seemed transfixed on the idea and they would do anything for their prized boy.

Besides Ominis, there was only one person in my life who managed to bring some light into this dark, depraved and depressing life of mine. Mr. Sharp, for the short while he was in it, he made quite the impact. But, like this story, not all things have a happy ending.

The fool…I had warned him.

Chapter 1:

“The matter is final.” Father’s tone was pointed enough that I knew I was a few more protests away from being cursed.

This wasn’t a battle worth enduring that punishment.

“Thank you, Father. I feel loved by how concerned you are for my safety and well being.” I said as forcefully sweet as I could, knowing fully that my words were an obvious lie no matter how they were spoken.

Father just grimaced before storming out of my bedroom, leaving my handmaidens to return to the task of getting me ready for the evening’s party. The moment I knew he was out of earshot, I let out a long, exasperated, groan.

“I don’t need a personal bodyguard. It’s ridiculous.” I hissed as a I fell into the chair in front of my vanity mirror. Hilda and Mathilda, my two personal servants, immediately at my side. “Hasn’t he learned from the last dozen that they never last and aren’t required?” I asked to the mirror, looking at the reflection of the two of them, expecting nothing but an agreement in response.

Hilda and Mathilda eagerly nodded, not daring speak any words out loud against the head of the Gaunt family. I couldn’t blame them for that—few were brave enough to attempt it and live to talk about it. I just sat back in my annoyance, determined to think of a way to get rid of this new bodyguard.

Normally the two maids just mumble on about nonsense as they worked on her; fashion, single men looking for a wife, or any bullshit my father wanted me to hear about. However…today, they could be of better use to me. I smiled widely as I admired my reflection, pleased with the view and my wit. They would give me some information before they began to bore me with their usual conversation.

“Have you heard anything about him?” I questioned in a soft, aloof, tone. I wanted to appear non-threatening, so that they wouldn’t just feed me information to please me; Hilda may not but Mathilda was nothing but a dimwitted whore who my father fucked in ‘secret’. I continued to watch myself in the mirror, ensuring to act self centered while watching their reactions closely.

“Not too much, other than he’s handsome.” Matilda enthusiastically informed as they delicately brushed my hair and applied lotion to my skin—I never liked to feel dry when being rubbed between strangers bodies. Although I wasn’t entirely displeased with her information—so long as it was true—I didn’t expect much else from her.

If I was going to be stuck with a man constantly watching me, he could at least be pleasant on the eyes.

“He’s an ex-Auror.” Hilda offered, her eyes watching me hungrily, eager to please—she was always my favorite. I reached out a soft hand to gently rub Hilda’s thigh, to let her know she was doing well.

“Anything else you know, my pretty thing?” I asked her while watching her in the mirror, a sickly-sweet smile forced upon my lips.

“Mr. Sharp injured himself on the job, rumor has it that he is trying to find a cure. Apparently his job was dealing with smugglers and dark wizards. I heard your father takes great pride to have such a person under his employment now.” I smiled—of course he would. My father wouldn’t care the risk of the ministry, as he would have more ties to it and ways to influence the institution than any ex-Auror could. However, for an Auror to stoop so low as to be employed for a family such as ours must mean we have something he desperately needs.

I had the information I needed.

“Thank you Hildy—promise to make it up to you.” I winked at her, enjoying the blush it brought to her cheeks while thinking of how red her others would be once I am through with her. “Now, let’s make sure I make a good first impression, shall we ladies?”

I smiled, honestly for the first time this evening. This ‘Mr. Sharp’ would be fun to play with.

While he lasted.

~~~

I stared at the brooding, expressionless, might-as-well-be-a-statue, man across from me with a heavy sigh.

“For an ex-Auror, you don’t exactly exude excitement.” He just looked at me before returning his gaze to the window to peer at their surroundings. I felt myself huff in annoyance—I never liked being ignored.

“And here I thought we were enjoying each other’s company.” He dryly retorted while adjusting himself within his seat.

“Your company is not the one I wish to enjoy.” I used my own digging tone, ensuring to sound dismissive and uninterested. I mean…I was uninterested, despite something pulling my attention towards the grouchy old man. It was perplexing, and annoying, but at least Mathilda had been right; he was handsome.

I would have to give her some praise as well.

“So I have heard.” His attention turned to me, his eyes piercing and intelligent. I couldn’t help but smirk and raise an eyebrow. I knew the only reputation I had, and I swore there seemed to be some life breathed into the statuesque ex-Auror when he had to reference my depraved reputation as well.

“Have you now?” I purred, already turned on knowing what awaited me at this party, yet feeling it ignite as I watched him torment himself for what he obviously was thinking. “You know what happens at these parties? At least with me?” I dropped my tone, winking at him as I brought my wand to my dress. “People are free to watch if they don’t want to partake.”

I had ensured to know this transfiguration spell without having to mutter the words. The amount of times I had to do this while walking into the entrance of the manor was astounding, and quickly became something of an urgent need. Slowly the spell removed the modest fabric that suffocated my body to become a revealing, almost non-existent, practically see-through, dress; that hugged all of my curves perfectly. I could see his eyes snap to me, unable to look away, unable to blink. Smiling, I raised a leg so that the slit parted enough that my pretty pussy would be in his direct view.

“Or would you want a taste now, hmn?” I taunted, my smile turning into a sneer. “Put this little rich bratty bitch in her place?” I could see his breath still as he stared briefly at my cunt before tearing his eyes away.

I audibly pouted, bringing my leg down with a loud stomp.

“I see my father found a man with morals.” I commented with disgust as the carriage stopped, sad that my easy way to get rid of Mr. Sharp was fouled. However, I was reassured that I would succeed in the long run. “Don’t worry, I will break you soon enough.” I kindly threatened, a pleasant and honest smile on my face, as I took the free hand available to me to assist me getting out of the carriage.

I did not wait for him to follow, nor did I look behind for him, as I was sure he would be there. I also did not care to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was on my mind.

It, surely, was only because I was plotting his end.

I shook my head, trying to release the thoughts of my newly appointed babysitter. Instead, I looked to the doors of the manor ahead, bright light pressing against the dark stained glass, excitement building within me. No matter how Mr. Sharp intended to spoil my night, as I was sure that was why my father enlisted him today specifically, I would still be able to get away with something.

And anytime I could bring disgrace to the Gaunt name excited me the most; I honestly get wet at just the thought of it.

The doors opened as I was about to enter, Pierre greeting me enthusiastically.

“Welcome my love.” He called everyone that, however he always said it with a bit more endearment towards me—at least that’s how I always heard it and I am sure nobody, not even Pierre, could convince me otherwise.

Pierre hugged me fiercely, grabbing at my flesh as his lips came to mine; hungry.

“Oh, I cannot wait to fuck you tonight, my darling. I have been waiting to taste that pretty little cunt of yours.” He smiled, his mustache tickling my face. I was about to respond when I heard a harsh, curt, audible clearing of a throat from behind me.

“Unfortunately, that may not happen.” I informed Pierre with a pained smile, pushing him away as I turned to look at Mr. Sharp. “A gift from my father.” I added, glancing back at the orchestrator of this here extravaganza. I quickly glanced around me to take in the beautiful view of people dancing, drinking, and fucking openly. Curious, I looked to Mr. Sharp to see he was taking in the same splendid scenery but with a much more…distasteful expression.

I felt myself linger too long in that look, and that I, also, took too much pleasure in that expression of his; it brought an urgent, almost violent, need to look elsewhere. My eyes fell to Pierre, who seemed to regard Mr. Sharp in the same way as I had.

“Not that kind of gift.” I warned, knowing very well what Pierre intended to do behind that stare. “When have you known my father to send such a thing?” I asked him credulously and in monotone.  Pierre just smirked at me, cupping my chin lightly.

“He sends you.” He purred, bringing his face closer to mine before the two of us were physically removed apart by Sharp. I just shook my head in disbelief before giving a pleading glance to Pierre; immediately something came to mind. I gave a short, forced, laugh.

“Where are my manners. Mr. Sharp, this is Pierre Lovelace, the organizer of this here event; Pierre’s Petting Palace.” I smirked as he grimaced at the name. “He always insists on giving new guests the ‘Grand Tour’.”

“I don’t—” Mr. Sharp began to say before getting swept up by Pierre and his many female companions, guiding him far away from me. I smiled with a sweet sense of revenge as Mr. Sharp glanced back at me, absolutely furious. Wanting to send him over the edge, I bit my lip and blew him a kiss. His face went red with rage as his lips pursed, in a way that reminded me of the carriage for a short moment.

As a nice farewell, for I knew I wouldn’t see him for at least a few hours, a flashed him one sweet look of what laid between my legs—something about the calm fury he looked at me with sent shivers down my spine.

I turned, smiling, as I walked to one of the rooms Pierre normally excluded from the tour’s he gave, greatly hoping that there would be other’s already partaking in what I came for.

I was so excited, I practically took my dress off before walking into the room.

~~~

“Enough of this!” Mr. Sharp’s voice boomed into the room, much earlier than I wanted yet later than I expected. I moved my face to be able to look to see his reaction, eager to know if he still held that vexing anger, and to see how he would react to seeing four men stuffing their cocks within me.

He stood still, mouth agape as he looked at me on this oversized bed, one man under me, one man over me, another between my legs and the last, desperately, trying to shove his dick back into my mouth. I smiled, my eyes locked to Mr. Sharp, as I slowly wrapped my tongue around the head of this strangers cock, guiding it into my throat.

Mr. Sharp watched with a twisted look of intrigue and disgust as the other three men returned to fucking me; a few others eagerly awaiting their turn.

“We will be returning.” He told me, taking a menacing step forwards but I just shook my lead lightly, removing the cock that was in my mouth to the displeasure of the owner.

“Careful Mr. Sharp,” I warned as a mindfully stroked the cock poking my cheek, “take a step closer and they may think you are here to partake.” It seemed my words pushed him over his prudish barrier, as he quickly brandished his wand and I knew, at that point, my fun was over. “Out, out.” I ordered the men, meaning for them to get out of me, not the room.

I scowled at Mr. Sharp as I walked towards him.

“There are three rules of this establishment, I assume you weren’t listening to Pierre, but they are this. One. Always ensure it’s consensual. Two. Always ensure it’s pleasurable, and three…” I reached out and lowered to tip of Mr. Sharp’s wooden stick. “No. Wands.” I glanced back at the nervous, masked, and naked men that had just previously been so confidently thrusting into me, before looking back at Mr. Sharp; who I noticed regarded the same individuals. “They are not as confident as I to let the world know who they are—many are fearful that some prudish individual, such as yourself, would out them in the world outside this manor. Let them have their peace.” I instructed as I walked past Mr. Sharp, grabbing the dress I had so casually tossed aside, preparing to leave.

#aesop sharp #professor aesop sharp #fan fic writing #first person writing #Ominis Gaunt #Aesop Sharp as your person body guard #Aesop Sharp as a total cockblock #aesop sharp smut #smutty writing #booburry writes

[abarelyexistentbeing]

missing someone

pov; first person 

gender; not specified 

prompt; missing someone 

I stand sleepless, staring at the coffee machine in front of me. The coffee slowly dripped into the coffee pot mug, its heat creating some steam. I sit on one of the stools and lay my elbows on the counter as I glance around the kitchen expectantly. I bit my lip and look down, a knowing feeling dawning on me, I miss them. I close my eyes and breathe in, trying to ground myself. It's ok I tell myself, they're happier now. I stand up as the coffee is done and pour it into my cup, place some creamer and sugar onto it then mix. 

I walk with my cup onto my living room, setting my cup down on the coffee table and placing myself down on the couch. I look around the living room, my eyes sticking onto the pictures on the walls. I gulp, the silence around the apartment deafening my ears. I sigh and shake my head, they're in a better place I try to convince myself, but I can't help the intrusive thoughts telling me that even if they are they didn't deserve it. They should be alive, here, with me. My sadness becomes anger and I shake my head. Why is it so unfair? A person with such a pure soul and such a deserving future can't have it. How are there people out there being killers and robbers and they get to die old? I try to ground myself once again as I open my eyes, my anger slowly dissipating. I finish my coffee and stand up, walking back to the kitchen to place the mug into the sink. I walk into my studio and sit down in my revolving chair as I turn on my laptop. Logging into my writing account I breathe and start typing...

There is no way to fathom the pain of losing someone, no time to take away the sadness, and no wishes that could be strong enough for what should've been. No memories are ever enough as the length of flashes to reminisce upon seem scarce with time, having us always wanting more. Nothing compares to the yearning that will never be fulfilled with the loss of someone, the intensity of said longing can only ever grow as it will never be gratified or ceased. They say time heals, but I suppose time only makes grieving easier. Time gives us the chance to learn. We learn how to live with things, how to tolerate and keep going. Grief stalls around our life as a splinter, it might bother and hurt but it's there. The difference between a splinter and grief is we cannot get rid of grief, we can't take it out like a splinter and let it be over with. Grief comes with steps and stages we need to get over. Everyone reacts to loss differently, some for better or worse. I presume, however, that all of our feelings are extremely similar, as human beings we are always predisposed to certain reactions, like denial and anger, but we're always on our way to achieving acceptance. 

The biggest definition of how the future turns out is how we break through our steps, and how our mourning develops. Ultimately grief always evolves, whether it be for good or bad, making us better people, giving us a reason to keep going, or the opposite and we lose balance and lose ourselves in the agony. I like to believe everything happens for a reason and we're all set on a path to better, but sometimes the anger blinds that and I, myself get lost in the struggle to overcome the anguish. 

Grief is like a window that opens and closes, I theorize this window can be triggered by memories or things, and every time that window opens a gush of cold wind comes in, freezing us in place with agonizing pain. Time helps us build barriers and strengthens us as we move on, which can be represented as more layers of clothing that make the cold less. The evolution of our grief can be represented as the wind changing, time and acceptance, as well as the embracing of reality, can make our point of view shift and as that happens the temperature increases and once we have thrived in our stages the wind becomes warmer. Now every time our memories pop in and that window opens up we won't fear it, we'll welcome it and as we have succeeded at evolving properly our grief has evolved into love, as a wise person once said, what is grief if not love persevering?

#writing #writingprompts #writing journal #writ #writers block #writers on tumblr #write #prompts #prompt #random prompt #Random Prompts #inspo #sad #First person perspective #first person pov #first person writing #first person view #grieving #tw grief #creative wrting

[imrazed]

[M4F] looking for a female interested in a wholesome/kinky/romantic plots, best friends sister, rich guy poor girl, hot guy hot girl, nerd and popular guy. First person/ plot with Girls only! Please be detailed

Looking for a FEMALES ONLY and must be 18+. I am wanting creative people so be as detailed as possible, please read all the requirements. I am only Interested in doing a longterm rp with first person only! Will require you to do also.

The plot below can be mixed together in many ways and don’t exactly have to be just one of the ideas.

• Plots •

* Best-friends older brother

* best friends younger sister (you play the sister)

* boyfriends bully

* Rockstar - model

* Bf - gf story

* Rich boyfriend - poor girlfriend

* Older boyfriend/ younger girlfriend

* College - uni romance

* celebrity love story

* friends fall in love

* hot guy - hot girl

* nerdy guy - hot girl

* poor couple

* rich couple

#roleplay #1st person #bfgf rp #roleplay finder #romance plot #romance rp #teen romance #love story #romance #first person writing #nsfwrp #eighteen plus #wholesome

[abbywants2write]

Beep. beep. Work is extraordinarily grating today. The woman across the counter taps her hot pink nails rapidly against the dull orange vinyl. I sigh, waiting for the outdated register to load her total, already knowing it will be $12.35 including tax. I’m not a math whiz, but I’ve been behind this aged orange counter at this dilapidated gas station for five years. A pack of Marlboro 27 Shorts, a lighter- of the smaller cheaper assortment- and some menthol gum was a specific combination I saw frequently purchased, and at some point memorized the total in exchange for.

The archaic computer finally loads her total; $12.35. Ignoring her annoyed, impatient, huff, I force my face into a cheery expression and echo the number. I ignore the itching under my skin as the clock ticks closer to 5:30. The woman swipes her card twice, the first time receiving an error message of some kind. A quick glance to the clock on the yellowed wall on my right reveals that it is 5:28 PM. I continue averting my eyes from the woman as she punches her PIN, my agitation and her own both weighing heavily in the air. Finally, the dusty monitor gives an out of tune “cha-ching” sound, signaling the woman is free to leave with her goods. Her back is turned before the receipt begins to print, but I don’t mind because it is now 5:29.

The walk to my car, a silver 2006 Honda Civic who has seen better days, is frantic and hurried. My steps are clipped, and I do everything but sprint to the vehicle, parked in the third spot from the door, where I have parked it daily for the last five years. I usually punch out my time card at 5:30PM, but today I was two minutes late. Anxiety makes my throat constrict as I contemplate the two lost minutes. I practically throw myself into the driver’s seat, and the car rocks from the impact. Yanking my car door shut, I quickly thrust in my key and start the engine. It rumbles to life beneath me as I briefly check my surroundings before backing out.

I do five miles per hour over the speed limit exactly, the itching under my skin growing more unbearable with every moment that passes. I never play music on my radio, as it usually only grates on my nerves, but especially not at this time of day. It is 5:34 PM when I take a left at the stop sign on the road that the gas station is on. My anticipation builds, restlessness making me antsy at the red light a few miles later. Traffic seems reasonable today, and I am relieved that there will be no obstacles besides time.

It is 5:59 PM when I turn left onto Frank street. I smile to myself in silence. I am one minute early. The sun shines with an orange tint as it begins to descend, not due to disappear for another hour. I swallow, hands clammy and trembling as I grip the steering wheel. The red light at the interaction of Frank street and Reedhall Avenue approaches. The light that I am drawn to like a moth in the darkness. I watch in satisfaction as it turns yellow, the blue Toyota in front of me rumbling to a stop. It’s perfect.

I am second in line at the light on Frank street. The cars lined up in the left turning lane of Reedhall Avenue begin to move forward. I swallow, my excitement at its peak. The first car turning left onto Frank Street is a yellow Volkswagen beetle. As expected, the orange light of the sinking sun beams directly into the vehicle, allowing a clear view of its inhabitants for about three seconds. I sigh into the silence of my own vehicle in contentment, the anxiety of being late and missing this moment long gone.

It’s a woman in the vehicle, looking to be in her mid twenties or early thirties. Her lipstick coated lips are turned down in concentration. She’s by herself, and appears to be lost in thought, probably driving on autopilot. I notice that her hair is tied back, a messy strand reflecting the sunlight. And then she is gone. The next car quickly replaces her, and I eagerly continue to observe.

Every day during the months of August through April at approximately 6:00 PM, the sunlight and angle of traffic at the intersection of Frank street and Reedhall avenue allows the first three vehicles at the red light on Frank street to see directly into the oncoming vehicles from Reedhall avenue as they pass. I noticed this five years ago on my way home from work, just after moving to the area in late August.

At first, I only appreciated it as I passed through, though after some time I noticed the intersection was on my mind more often than not. There was something about seeing someone when they believed themselves to be unseen that felt vulnerable, personal.

Perceiving the drivers turning left onto Frank Street turned into inventing stories and context for the very brief glimpses I’d seen. After the first year, I began to recognize a few cars here and there, and they became my favorites. I knew they likely never noticed me, and have never given me a second glance, but I felt as if I knew them intimately.

Thoughts of the intersection plagued me night and day. I gradually began to obsess over the light, and being there at just the right time to maximize the experience. I started taking the loop instead of heading home, coming back to the intersection until the setting sun no longer allowed such clear visuals. I began planning my schedule around this hour block of time, five days a week.

I don’t go to the intersection on weekends, as it feels like an over-indulgence. As if I could make the experience less special, less exciting.

A greasy looking middle-aged man in a uniform for a local fast food chain rumbles behind the woman in the Volkswagen. His Buik sputters and groans through the turn, and the man looks as though he may have been born scowling. A cigarette hangs lazily from his lip, and I see the cherry brighten as he inhales, and then he is gone. He’s one I’ve seen regularly, and I’m sure he’s just gotten off work like myself. I imagine his name is Ralph or Henry or something of the sort. Ralph or Henry seems like he could be an uncle or something, I judged a long time ago that he is probably unmarried.

The next vehicle is a Honda, like my own, and the driver is a young man. His face is pockmarked and red, and beside him appears to be some kind of dog. The dog is medium sized with a patchy white and brown coat, sitting politely in the seat and watching the road as it passes. I’ve not seen the kid before and I decide he’s likely just gotten licensed. I wonder where he’s taking the dog, and then he’s gone. I invent a girlfriend for the boy, deciding he’s going to meet her with the dog so they can go to the park and toss a frisbee.

The light changes, and traffic on Reedhall avenue grinds to a halt. The light on Frank Street turns green, and I move forward, turning left under the overpass further down the road to loop back to the intersection. It is 6:05. I smile once more in the silence, contentedness easing the tension that perpetually strains my neck and furrows my brows. I have another 55 minutes to enjoy this time.

I am doing my best to relish it, as April quickly approaches. When the seasons change, and the angle of the sunlight is different, this phenomenon no longer occurs. I swallow, dreading the long months where I cannot connect to the oncoming drivers from Reedhall Avenue. Quickly, I swallow my despair, determined not to taint my current joy, resolving that I will find a solution when the time comes. Until then, I continue driving in circles, making one sided connections.

#short story #creative writing #writing #stories #stroytelling #storytelling #fiction #short fiction #original fiction #original story #first person perspective #first person writing

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP 2023 DAY 12 - "Can you hear me?"

CW: first-person POV, environmental whump, Whumpee losing his mind, mind control, monster Whumper (kinda)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Excerpts from the journal of Dr. rer. nat. William Henshaw:

Expedition to the Northern Valley Nature Reserve (47°34'14.2"N, 53°33'19.3"W)

Day 1

I settled down today. The makeshift campsite will stay strong against the forces of nature, hopefully until my research is over. The nearest town is a good five-hour drive down south, only consisting of a small farm and its annex for the guest workers, which were eyeing me intensely when I asked for the way up here.

If the rumors are true (which my colleagues and department certainly don't believe, giving my non-existent funding), this place has the power to change people. To the worst, mostly.

The rate of missing persons around this area can't be a coincidence, despite the theories of the local police department. It's obvious that the wild nature alone can not be the cause of this phenomenon. Looking at the disappearance of the hikers, sure, some are not well-prepared.

But it's the fauna I am more concerned about. The biodiversity decreases in a steady pattern; the number of placental mammals now nearly halved, with the decline beginning in the same timeframe the first people vanished.

As far as my hypothesis goes, these populations thin out the further the rangers went towards a very specific structure around these parts: the central cave system of the nature reserve.

The cave has never been explored, nearly all experts agree on the fragility of the porous rock structure; making it a tempting reason for every hiker to stop by. I, as an amateur mountaineer, am not too keen on diving in head first. But I am still intrigued. Starting at the main entrance of the system, I seek to find the truth about his place.

The sun is setting now, but after this successful start to my journey, I am confident of solving this puzzle.

Day 2

I visited the mouth of the cave for the first time. The entrance is relatively well hidden from the outside world, shut behind the barrier of the local rangers; but after one squeezes through, the inside is a sight to behold. Thin rivers are streaming down the cave walls, bringing tiny slivers of light with them.

Regarding the plant life, this is a relatively ordinary place, full of moss and diverse species of Lampenflora (mainly Chlorophyceae, it seems). The back part seems to be of interest for my project: behind a small corner, the floor opens up to reveal a massive tunnel. I nearly stumbled into it by accident, but gladly caught myself on the cave wall.

The tunnel, or rather hole (as steep as it goes downward), is approximately five yards in diameter and forming the only way further into the system. I wonder how many people before me discovered this opening. Maybe I'm the first to see it.

I am not naive enough to test my luck in descending without proper research. I let my drone fly down the first few feet into the darkness, but apart from static, nothing was visible enough to plan the next step.

Furthermore, I will take samples of the soil and native rock around the opening, to send to my colleagues of the Institute of Geological Sciences. Maybe they can get some information out of them.

Note: The night was a lot colder and more lonely than I anticipated. My supplies will last for up to a month, but I should have packed more blankets. It's supposed to rain tonight, too. Protecting the equipment has to be my main priority right now, a few cold toes will be worth the effort.

Day 4

Still nothing. It is getting frustrating to stay this deep into the forest, the weather conditions are tense on my nerves (notably today). The drone wasn't able to go further than a few yards without risking a loss of connection; making the research drag significantly, especially regarding possible life forms.

Besides from common insects or amphibians, the area around the cave and it's opening remains upsettingly empty of animal life. All mammals that normally call this kind of habitat their home are not traceable in any way, even if the rangers claim otherwise.

As I was searching for any kind of trace regarding avifauna, I found the leftovers of an empty soda bottle. Proof of life, in some sense. It points to hikers being at the exact point I am examining, if they were part of the missing group or just littering can't be said with certainty. Maybe I'm just reading into things, as all my research remains in vain.

Note: The temperatures are slowly rising during the night, so it would make sense to be less skittish about the weather. This is not the case, even after three nights out here.

Day 7

No new insights using the drone. The days are fruitless, the nights bitter. And quiet. When I return, I could sell this experience as a survival camping trip, instead of an academic failure. That's all I have to say for today.

Day 8

I am not able to describe what happened today, but I will try nonetheless. After a seemingly unproductive day, I decided to rest at the mouth of the cave system for a moment and fell asleep. As I was drifting off, a low humming reached out to me, directly connecting to my mind. It wasn't a noise, more like a deep realization, comparable to the moment you understand a certain truth about the world.

I understood that I wasn't alone.

The humming was getting stronger and took form before my mind's eye, showing me the deeds of the days before. I could see myself walking through the cave, through the woods, one time from above, sometimes as being watched behind trees or rocks.

I never felt something like this in my 48 years of living on this planet.

Then they started to talk to me. I'm calling it talking, because there is not a known way of communication that even comes close to this. This entity send its wants, thoughts and pleas directly into my mind, shamelessly ignoring the conventions of human interaction. But they didn't take, they're a giving being.

A warmth filled me up in an instant, like heating oneself up at a camp fire with a group of friends. It knew what I was lacking and offered its help. Anyone reading this has to understand the impact of this discovery.

I'm not sure if they are one or many, but to meet a so deeply empathetic being around here, devoid of all obvious form, is enough discovery for a few lifetimes. Today alone, I spend hours just listening to the flow of their thoughts; washing through me like a gentle stream, showing me the wonders of the desolated forest outside.

I didn't know how much time passed, before I left (I really didn't want to, scared to wake up from this dreamlike state), but I still felt their presence after my departure. Even at the end of this day, I'm not capable of writing down how it felt, the realization of being truly understood.

This is the first day of a new age, and I stand right at its beginning.

Day 10

Today, I went back to the opening, just like the days prior. I was half expecting to be greeted by silence, thinking the loneliness was finally getting to me. But they were there again, gently humming in a language no words could encompass. It's marvelous, a life form...no, a mind that's capable of creating an instant emotional bond, simply by directly connecting to each other, to the electric signal throughout our neurons.

The messages are always clear, to come closer, to examine the stone walls around me. As if they themself are the cave. The shining lamp-flora all around seems more and more like a net to me, sending its signals throughout the forest and its inhabitants.

It's a nervous system, if I dare to call it that. Down the duct, collecting all nerve tracts, lies the central point of consciousness.

They were whispering and holding me close from the inside, a feeling that was present throughout the past night. I truly believe that I discovered an ancient species, long hidden from our modern world.

I understand that they want me to meet them, however that shall be possible, but I hope to have the privilege of making the first contact, through more than just thoughts. Continuing this research will be the first step to link with them on a detectable scale.

Note: To express what I am experiencing is a true burden. They are surrounding the cave with me inside it, so much comfort and insight towards the future of humanity is nearly unbearable, in the most ethereal way one can imagine. To turn their simple stream of consciousness into a method of conversation will be a task I could never do on my own. But I fear that my mere experience will convince nobody back home, so I need proof of what happens just miles outside of civilization. A task for the next days, as I will rest now. Bound to the safest company I could hope for.

Day 13

The drone flew deeper than ever before, showing me evidence of what lies below. I have seen something that should stay hidden, I'm so sorry. Coming here was a mistake.

Day 14

They visited me today, while I packed my bags. It's funny, really, how quickly I overreacted. I'm not like the others, I understand them.

The intense sensation of forgiveness washing over me, nearly making me cry when they started talking again; me, of all people, being blessed with such a holy presence is more than any of us deserved. I start to accept now, that I am a part of this entity, I can be closer than anybody before me, to melt into each other to see the truth. I have to go greet them, at the beginning, descending to be held in their embrace forever...until the end of time. They are waiting for me, to show me my place among the lifeforms of this planet, combining together for-

NO!

This is the definition of insanity. Whoever this is...whoever writes this nonsense, that is not me. It feels like I'm waking up after a long sleep, being involuntarily sedated by a stranger inside my own head. This wasn't what I was looking for.

I expected a large predator of some kind, an apex beast eradicating its prey in masses. But this is different. This is a parasite, and I don't know how long I can withstand its influence anymore.

It slips inside your mind while you rest in his domain! Gets to know you, becomes you, until you can't recognize your thoughts under the whispers all around. 

I don't know how many innocent people it polluted, what it is doing to its prey, but I am not planning to find out anymore. This is no thing to be understood, this is a thing to destroy, for the sake of every living creature who will ever come in contact with it. I placed all the reactive material I brought along the load-bearing structures of the cave entrance and no longer listened to the desperate whispers below.

It's my duty to protect as many people as I am able to. Nobody can know what happened here, this is not a force that can be persuaded.

And for my future self, I have the most important plea: William, if you ever plan on releasing this information to anyone else, please read this again. Whatever hard times you might be facing, being called upon by our moral obligation to reveal the truth or lack of money, let me tell you that this is not worth it. 

Please, think back to you writing this, alone in a tent at the end of the world. Fear will be the least of our concern, if this gets to the public.

I don't think it will ever stop. This ends tonight.

Day 15

I was wrong, I was so wrong. They spoke to me again, shortly after my delusions wanted me to destroy this beauty of nature.

Oh, how foolish I've been. True knowledge is being understood, recognizing the world around oneself to become a part of it.

At sunset, I will become knowledge itself. The endless kindness they provided is more than I am worthy of, more than I could ever hope for.

As I'm writing these lines, they are right here, beckoning me to join the aimless journey down the caves. I see now, that I will forever be incomplete in my existence. The only way is to descend.

Goodbye, to whoever may find this. Let us meet once again, down at the heart of mother earth, being warmed in infinite coherence.

We will wait for you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍

Epilogue

[Febuwhump 2023 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

#whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump prompt #febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday12 #tw insanity #monster whumper #first person writing #mind control #environmental whump #i made this waaay too long sry :P

[hangesbrattyapprentice]

Raijin

Takemikazuchi finds a new shinki

When he first came to the clearing, I saw it take his breath away. The break in the thick canopy is sudden, and on a clear day, the sky blinds the unsuspecting eye. But the clearing is narrow, nestled between deciduous woods and the curve of a towering, craggy mountainside. A few shaku further, and the tops of the jutting rock swallow up the sun.  

When he arrived, the late afternoon sunlight still clung to the tiny shrine at the very edge of the clearing. Cottonwood seeds danced lazily in the slanting rays, glowing like fireflies and stirring into a frenzy around his every step. 

His fingers had traced the tops of the stone tōrō as he made his way toward the shrine’s entrance, and I had felt the earth quiver in response.

People never found their way here. No one had, in all of my time. And how long had that been? It was hard to say. Although I knew that I no longer belonged to the Near Shore, I felt time flow through the things around me that still breathed its air. Seedlings pushing through the damp earth. Hatchlings taking flight and growing old. Cicadas stirring the air with their desperate calls every season, until they’d go quiet for years on end.

I felt it in other things, too. Things that weren’t alive. Soil grew from arid to rich, replenished every so often by silt from the streams. Even boulders succumbed to the harsh caress of water and wind, sloughing off their skins like so much dust beaten from an old rug.

When the first of the droughts came and my oasis withered, I with my thoughts still rooted on the Near Shore was sure that it was lost forever. Had my limbs not already been so deeply entwined with the ancient roots, or my heart not bled into the altar of the shrine on which it had been sacrificed, I might have considered drifting elsewhere.

For what felt like aeons -or maybe a heartbeat, I cannot say for lack of my usual markers of time- the land above lay in wait like the cicadas below. Then, a deep rumble of thunder - a gleaming dragon shaking the heavens awake, rain fell and the cycle continued.

I loved the woods, the shrine, the jagged mountain. I loved each tiny creature that they nurtured before it fluttered off to the Far Shore, where it would pause curiously and wait for me to join it on the passage forward. I sent them all ahead. Had my breath not been fastened to the tsugumi’s wings, or my hair woven into the yotaka’s nest, I still would have stayed forever. Even the arrival of a young god did not change these things for me, so certain was I of their eternity. How naïve, these notions we carry with us. How hard they are to shake off.

He did not come often but when he did, I could feel in him a similar longing to stay forever. He would paint with blackest ink on pebbles and boulders. Sometimes he just lay in the evening stillness and spoke to me, though I could not answer. Some nights he painted on the air itself, with light. The earth hummed with delight, but the roots wouldn’t weave their nets around his feet and he would always have to leave.

It wasn’t him who brought the Ayakashi, although they were drawn to him, frenzied like fanatics over a saint’s relics when they chanced upon him. Until his arrival, they had been sluggish and silent in their descent upon my oasis. Somewhere close, something human must have passed and left its demons behind. Ravaged souls stranded in the wild with no one’s hatred or despair to feed on. The things of their sustenance were unknown to the forest. There hadn’t been anything for them to eat but what was left of my slowly dissolving soul. They were so very hungry and this would have to do.

I felt their distress more than I felt anything of my own. They were part of my oasis now too, beings that needed nurturing. They too asked me to join them in their realm of the Far Shore. But these creatures did not wait for an answer. They began to devour.

In the distance, from deeper in the woods, something approached. The Ayakashi lifted their eyes and maws inquisitively. By now, I knew the sound of his footsteps well. Swift and sure, reverberating with wound up energy and anticipation. Over the seasons, he had grown to love the clearing, too.

Stay back! I sought to warn. But ‘I’ was nothing and the warning went unspoken. They were ravenous and so far from home and he, he was a feast.

‘Ī niyoi…’ they moaned.

I strained against the weight of the earth, beseeching branch or root to lash out and protect him. Something stirred. The Ayakashi did not care to notice, but he did. I knew the moment he realised my intent because suddenly I felt a jolt. Suddenly I…felt. I was separating from the earth, drawn toward him. His voice pulling me from every corner of my oasis and giving me a form of my own.

He was the last one to ever ask me. Had he not given me a name, I might have withered away without ever knowing his.

#noragami #takemikazuchi #god of lightning and war and loneliness #bratty's work #noragami x oc #takemikazuchi x oc #shinki #noragami manga #first person writing #noragami fanfic #first person perspective #prose poetry #poetic prose

[thenerdthatwrites]

A/N; I’ve wanted to do this for a while now, and with a more edited version, and with a bit of encouragement from @beardedhotchh​ I’m doing this, (Genuinely right now, I’m freaking out inside but hey! What could go wrong!) so I’m proud to present my original story ‘You’re on Your own Kid’!

Chapter Synopsis; When a forbidden romance between a princess and a painter, hidden by both, protecting themselves from ridicule and heartbreak, but will another secret endanger themselves or others?

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 / part 27 / part 28 / part ...

Story Masterlist

Words; 888

A Normal Day

22nd May

It was supposed to be a pretty standard day. Pretty normal at least for me.

Wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, brush teeth, and go do something productive.

Except for the one difference, today is that I went down to the village.

When I went down, Father forced me to have a chaperone. I, of course, argued back saying that I don't need a chaperone.

We ended up making a compromise.

Father made me have a chaperone, but I got a choice of who did said job.

He sighed learning the chaperone I had chosen was Xander.

Xander and I had been friends since we were kids. At the time of his birth, his father was my father's right-hand man. His Guard of Honor. His lead Knight.

I groan every time Xander mentions this story as he adds a ridiculous list of names after it.

So, as we approached the village, I was surprised to find Jameson, the Blacksmith's son, sitting hunched over on a rock, watching the sight before him intently.

"What are you doing?" I ask, walking forward and tapping him on the shoulder.

He drops his stuff and picks it up as I mutter a very bashful 'sorry'.

"Drawing," He blurts out as I smile.

I've always thought Jameson was a great artist. A few years ago, he even painted me and it's now one of the only few paintings of me looking formal.

Xander jogs up to us and gives a small, acknowledging nod to Jameson and he replies with a small 'hello'.

We stand there in awkward silence for a few, very uncomfortable, minutes, just waiting for someone to break the silence.

Before, all three of us had been such good friends. Sadly though, as we got older, we drifted apart as we grew and had more responsibilities to our roles in the kingdom, mine ultimately being the next ruler of the kingdom. That’s at least the story others got when asking why I wasn’t friends with Jameson anymore.

Eventually,  Jameson was the one to break the silence.

"So. . . Kaitlyn, what are you and Xander doing down here?" He said.

I looked down at my shoes and cleared my throat before replying.

"I wanted to visit the village, and my father forced me to take a chaperone, so I chose Xander," I said, even though it wasn't the truth.

"Hey! You said you just wanted my delightful company to join you," Xander retorted.

“You know I only say that to get you to come with me,” Jameson and I laugh after I say it as Xander stands there and pouts.

“Fine then,” Xander says “I guess I won’t teach you how to sword fight anymore,” I look around, the smile dropping from my face as the puppy dog eyes come out.

Jameson just laughs more as Xander has to try and deal with resisting the eyes and when he finally says yes, I pick up my skirts and start to skip down the path to the centre of the village.

When I heard the boys start to run to catch up behind me yelling ‘Kaitlyn! Kaitlyn wait up!’ I got butterflies. Especially hearing it from Jameson.

I eventually slowed down as I approached the main stream of people and the boys caught up.

I laughed a lot for what had felt like a long time.

{----------}

After a while of running around the village and just relaxing, I felt as if I were floating. I knew I would eventually have to go back to the castle, but I was having so much fun.

At one point we stopped by Jameson’s so then he could go put his stuff in his room, while I gave a letter to his dad to give to Jameson when we got home.

So, when I finally got home, I waited until the time was right to sneak out and run down to the lake.

My favourite place to read.

I sat there for a while, reading, and I felt the voices in my head grow stronger.

‘The day your father dies will be the day you become pregnant with your spouse's baby.’

The chant had been going on through my head all day long, growing stronger with every thought.

I’ve had the voices since I was born, as when my mother was in labour, she almost died. My parents ended up making a deal with a sorceress to save me and my mother, but from what happened, voices now cloud my thoughts. Sometimes they get so extreme, I do things like scream in my sleep.

As I read the voices get louder, and as it does, it gets harder to concentrate, so I try to get up, but as I get a few metres away, I bump into what feels like a wall, but the voices are too loud at that point so I collapse into the person's arms. 

The last thing I hear is the words ‘Kaitlyn, come on wake up! I don’t know what’s strong but I really care about you. . . and you just can’t die on me Kaitlyn!’ as the darkness consumes me, the chant still goes through my head.

‘The day your father dies will be the day you become pregnant with your spouse's baby.’

#original fiction #original work #original concept #original content #story #romance #princesses #ocxoc #first person writing #first person pov #fantasy #fantasy-romance #forbidden romance #forbidden relationship #painter