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Original Writing - Blog Posts
Dream
"I want to sleep for the rest of my days, because in my dreams is the only place where I have you alone for me and with me; where your love belongs to me and only me."
He held her cold hands, with the intention of heating them as he wore them slowly towards his face. Seeing the confusion in his gaze, he clarified.
"Do not confuse, my beautiful lady, dream forever and dying, then, I do not want to die, but neither live without you, then I will allow myself to dream."
She opened her mouth slightly to refute, but no complaint came out. He continued to extend his idea, in a more delicate, almost ironic tone if it was compared to the message.
"And if I were dying, we both know that your purity will take you to a clear paradise, instead, me, perverse and broken, I deserve a darker destination, if it exists. Rotound irony, as I'm separated from the love of my life, even in death."
original work, I think I'm projecting haha
All the times I have fallen in love with you ✧
I don't get what people mean as falling in love. They claim it as a one-time happening with an specific person. I can't relate to them, since I have fallen in love with you endless times.
One of them which I clearly remember, on a rooftop. Gray clouds wandering above us, but my life had never been so colorful.
We were laying, then you said "close your eyes", I did. "Wait for the raindrops", I waited. It was drizzling so quiet and soft, it reminded me of you. After checking if I was following the lead, you closed your eyes too.
"I like this feeling, they feel like small kisses, don't you think?" I whispered a yes, focusing on the droplets so I could understand you more. "They wash all your thoughts. We are loosing power over something so beautiful, soothing, and we just need to be quiet and breathe through it".
I relate at your words, but not exactly, though. You're enjoying the drizzle while I realize, realize, realize.
And, dear God, I started to shake, tremble, the air leaving my lungs can't be good, the goosebumps on my neck, chest, heart, then my entire world crumbles, utterly destroyed by my longing for you.
Yet I couldn't care less, indeed, I'm pleased, because that means that the previous universe where I used to be, no longer exist. In its place it's just you, and your loving smile.
The realization of my love sat heavily on my chest while I could feel you caressing my cheeks, touching my hands, even though you were far from me. Maybe you are in the droplets, soaking my mind.
"You have to promise me something" I heard you say, quick to agree. "You'll love this, and everything I have loved and will love" I remained quiet, looking at you for clarifying, and your eyes are still closed but you added, "therefore, you will love me, for what I am are all the things I love, and you will forever be with me, 'cause then I would not be just a body" you opened your eyes, "I'll be, through you, in the rain, the sky, the Sun, flowers and all I could imagine". We locked eyes, I simply agreed, then you smiled.
Although I don't move while looking at you, my pounding heart made me realize the fact that I wouldn't have minded if in that rooftop you moved a bit closer to me, to my thoughts, to my soul.
Maybe then you'll see I'm not so far of our promise.
This is an original work, please don't copy!
Any advice or opinion is appreciated ✧
me, physically shaking: don't make another divorcee, don't make another divorcee
the hind mind, chronic divorce trope lover: but they always wanted children together and split amicably because love doesn't always mean devotion
Learn the Differences Between Novelettes, Novellas, and Novels
Since I am currently in the process of writing a story, but I'm not sure what I want it to be... I'd figure I'd go ahead and share the differences!
So let's get to it!
Writing the first draft of a novel can be a daunting, arduous task. That’s why the novelette format can be so appealing. In many ways, a novelette is like a short novel. It allows writers to hone their craft by learning how to tell stories under a strict word count restriction.
What Is a Novelette?
The definition of “novelette” is any short, fictional work of prose narrative. Novelettes have a lower number of words than a novel or novella, but a higher word count than other forms of prose fiction like short stories or microfiction. Despite lacking the page count of a full-length novel, novelettes generally tell a complete story. Some people refer to novelettes as “long short stories” or “short novellas.”
How Long Is a Novelette?
Any work of fiction with a word count between 7,500 and 19,000 is generally considered a novelette. A novelette is longer than a short story, which usually has a word range of between 1,000 and 7,500 words, and flash fiction, which is usually under 1,000 words. Any piece of creative writing that is longer than a novelette but shorter than a novel is considered a novella.
Three Differences Between Novelettes and Novellas
A novella is a standalone piece of fiction that is shorter than a full-length novel but longer than a short story or novelette. Novellas incorporate many narrative and structural elements of novel-length stories—but like novelettes, they often focus on single points of view, focusing on a single central conflict, and rely on fast pacing. Here are the differences between novelettes and novellas:
Word count: The primary difference between a novelette and a novella, then, is word count (novelettes are shorter than novellas).
Subject matter: Traditionally, novelettes tended to focus on whimsical, sentimental themes. The modern-day novelette, though, is more like the novella in that it can encompass different genres like sci-fi, drama, or historical short fiction.
Complexity: In terms of storytelling ambition, novelettes tend to split the difference between novellas and shorter forms like short stories. Novelettes tend to have a greater focus on character development, worldbuilding, and plotting than short stories. However, the stories are generally more concise and focused than a novella-length work, as the word count is often too restrictive to tell a long story.
Three Differences Between Novellas and Novels
The most obvious difference between novels and novellas is page length and number of words. However, beyond this superficial difference, many structural and thematic hallmarks of novellas make them their own standalone genre of writing. Some of these include:
A single central conflict: Most novellas explore a single, compelling central conflict. Because of their shorter length, novellas have less time to explore subplots and tend to focus on the main plot. Novellas generally have one main character and a handful of secondary characters. Because of length constraints, most of the character development will be focused on the protagonist.
Fast pacing: Novellas usually move at a quick pace. Whereas novels can spend time diverging from the central conflict to delve into backstory and explore multiple points of view, novellas generally offer a quick compelling story with a singular point of view.
Unity of time and place: When writing novellas, writers should root the action in continuous time within a limited space, ideally one location.
Benefits of Writing a Novelette
For short story writers or people who generally write shorter works, novelettes can be an opportunity to tell a longer-form, standalone story. For writers who are used to writing, say, full-length science fiction or fantasy novels, the word count restriction of a novelette offers a chance to tell a good story with a simple cast of characters and few subplots.
Seven Examples of Novelettes
Novelette writers know how to tell a complete story in a relatively short amount of time. Here are some famous examples of novelettes, many of which were originally published in literary magazines:
The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe (1839)
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886)
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka (1915)
The Call Of Cthulhu by H. P. Lovecraft (1928)
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1943)
Bloodchild by Octavia E. Butler (1995)
Hell Is the Absence of God by Ted Chiang (2001)
I hope this helps! Thank you for still being my followers and patiently waiting for a post!
kill your insecurities
I just reada really good fic but halfway through I realized "oh shit this is really familiar.... didn't I write something like this once?" And as I kept reading I kept predicting what happened next and the further I went the more convinced I was that they'd ripped off my story-
like, copied the ENTIRE plot and re-written it, just better than I had? The characters were more fleshed-out than mine were, and the POV was more interesting, and the pace made more sense- but it was MY STORY?
So close to the end I was like "holy shit.. do I message them? Ask if my story inspired theirs? Should I be angry? Flattered?" Cause their tags and description didn't mention me AT ALL, which, sure, it's fanfiction to begin with, but if you're using my work than at least credit me as inspo, right? Just to be courteous?
But I get to the end of the final chapter, and it's not finished, and I'm kind of disappointed cause I never finished my story and I was really immersed in their version now and had been looking forwards to seeing how they tied up my loose ends- so I scroll to the bottom to leave a comment, and.
It's MY URL.
IT WAS MY STORY THE WHOLE TIME.
THE ONE *I WROTE*.
In *2013*.
And FORGOT ABOUT
BECAUSE I WAS SO INSECURE ABOUT MY SLOPPY, SHALLOW, AMETEUR WRITING
And I'm just sitting here now staring into space thinking about every shitty story I've ever written now like
IT WAS ALL GOOD?
IT WAS GOOD THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME??
I'M A GOOD WRITER?????
Chapter 6 of RAKUL is UP !
Meiren returns to the Fortress of the Demons.
original dark fantasy romance; Mind The Tags, dark themes.
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Do whatever the fuck you want with your art and body forever and ever, until you die.
Hi!!! I loved the fifth chapter of Rakul and the third chapter of Shimsiam. I'm so happy that you are writing them, and I'm always excited when I see you upload a new chapter 🥰 I was wondering what stories inspired you to start writing about demons. Can you recommend some? 👀
Hello and thank you so much for the Ask! While I can’t think of any one story that inspired my Demon original characters, in my notes from 1/31/22 just over one year ago, I reference a few movies as story and place inspirations: Maleficent, Legend (1985), and The Last Unicorn. I’d written a little over 1k of a story, inspired by the dark and romantic lyrics of the song “The Killing Moon”, about a demon Thrawn who finds a teenage girl, Elise (female Eli) in the forest, captures and seduces her, then takes her to the Black Fortress as an offering to the evil Demon King there (demon Emperor Palpatine), but in the last minute lets Elise escape from the rest of the demons and he is imprisoned. Elise helps him escape his prison cell, but she is severely injured and near death as he flies her away from the Fortress. So there are several elements of that story that DID end up becoming part of Rakul, but that specific story is one of my few truly abandoned ideas. And it was reborn into Rakul and the sequel to Rakul, which will feature demon Thrawn and demon Thrass, as well as Elise as female Eli once again (which is at least half written, but the exact ending point is undetermined at the moment). That sequel was begun on Feb. 2, 2022, and the first chapter of Rakul was begun Feb. 23, 2022 and published on AO3 2/25/22. Anyway, most of the inspiration for all of these stories was simply some dark song lyrics and a certain mood. I actually didn’t start reading a lot of romance novels until later in 2022, and I actually haven’t read any demon stories like mine before, so there isn’t any specific novel I could recommend that inspired my demons unfortunately.
Finally, there IS a very lovely romantic fanfic about demon!Thrawn and human Eli already on AO3:
Chapters 4 & 5 of my original dark fantasy story Rakul are UP.
The Demon King lets the girl sacrificed to him go…
but expects that she will return to him.
Content Warning: non-consent & dark themes, mind the tags.
Follow me on Twitter and Instagram
Chapter 3 of Rakul is up! Mind The Tags.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/37363276/chapters/93232891
Chapter 2 of Rakul is UP
[ CONTENT WARNING: NONCON ]
https://archiveofourown.org/works/37363276/chapters/93232891
![[ Forever_42 ] MasterList Of Fiction](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c3100a224905d90742c38e960ed4b7f7/402371a57bb0e87d-d1/s500x750/45bc3c1c07fc5ad75a86b50b09d4b920286ec9b2.jpg)
[ forever_42 ] MasterList of Fiction
[ Transformers Fanfiction ]
new fandom as of April 2024. Art: Prowlastator Fanart 1. TF1 Megatron. Other: Sixshot.
A Question Of Hope
Optimus Prime/Megatron [ complete, 3600 words ]
The conception had been intentional. He had intended the offspring to be used as a tool. A new and very powerful tool by which to torment Optimus Prime.
The one thing Megatron had not correctly anticipated was the effect the sparkling would have upon himself.
Night Shine
Optimus Prime/Megatron [ incomplete, ongoing ]
Perhaps, in time, with this being before him, Optimus could learn to forgive himself for his failure to save the other one.
Optimus Prime finally kills Megatron and ends the war. Decades later, while leading a rebuilt and now prosperous Cybertron, the Prime takes a young lover to whom he feels a strong and unexpected attraction.
At their spark bonding, the mech that Optimus thought was his spouse becomes someone else entirely. Someone he used to know.
Supply Closet 1501D
Prowl/Scavenger [ complete, 2850 words ]
Scavenger is a simpering, stupid mech, and so ugly Prowl has to dim the lights to their lowest setting. However, Scavy’s sweet nature means that he’ll never gloat or brag about secretly spiking his superior in a supply closet every day.
[ original work ] Demons:
Rakul [ incomplete, ongoing ] Content Warning: Non-consent & dark themes. Mind the tags. The Demon King claims his latest virgin sacrifice. And begins a path to atonement. Male/Female demon/human. 6 of 11 chapters, 24579 words with art by author & fanart. Ch.6 art.
Simshian [ incomplete, ongoing ] Pursued by a demon of the castle, the elven Counselor must decide just how much of himself he’s willing to give his unexpected new lover. Male/Male demon/elf. 3 of 6 chapters, 7795 words with smut.
Follow me on Twitter and Instagram [ @ foreverforty2 ]
[ Star Trek Fanfiction ] Vulcans.
Explicit male/female Vulcan/human
His Eyes Speak [ complete ] Vulcans control Earth. A human woman, convicted as a criminal, agrees to endure a sentence of three years punishment as a sex provider for Vulcan males during their pon farr. Not long after the completion of her sentence while on Vulcan, she is abducted by an anonymous former client, taken to his home and used thoroughly… but finds herself submitting willingly to the needs of her intense and possessive captor. 14.6k words with art by author: Art 1, Art 2, Art 3.
[ Star Wars Fanfiction ] Grand Admiral Thrawn.
(all with explicit content)
Facilitation [complete > but more to come… ] A hot Rukh dominates Thrawn and directs Eli in their threesome. 6626 words with art by author.
Miithrawn [complete] A conventional romance with Thrawn x female OC. 21269 words with fanart.
Vun’kebah [complete] Thrawn x female OC, unconventional relationship. 15237 words with fanart.
Embur [complete] Thrawn, Kallus, Zeb x female OC. Crack pwp with random plot. 15688 words with fanart.
Thrawn Fanart: - Introspective - Bowie -
DISCLAIMER. Reading and writing non-consensual sexual fiction is an exploration of fantasy, and is not at all an endorsement of, nor invitation to, non-consent in real life.
join the monsterfucker nsfw discord server:
yes get ready for my oc / oc fanfic bitches
You are allowed to write about any character you want.
You are allowed to write your shitty OC.
You are allowed to write entire novels about your shitty OC.
You are allowed to do meme fills for your shitty OC.
You are allowed to play Mary Sue Bingo where your shitty OC wins every row.
You are allowed to continue extending your shitty OC’s life whichever way you want.
You are allowed to say “OC” and not mentally prepend “shitty.”
You are allowed to enjoy this creative process even if the entire output is a fat soggy word count for your unimpressive, inconsistent character.
You are allowed to like writing whatever the hell you want.
But let’s pretend this is about this OC.
You are allowed to give her boyfriends, hobbies, quirks, superpowers, crappy AUs…all of it. Totally available.
You are allowed to write. People who don’t want to read it know where the “back” button is.
Thanks for giving me a chance ❤
Alex was widely known as a formidable figure—sharp, calculating and seemingly unaffected by the chaos that surrounded them. As the top negotiator for a prominent corporation, Alex's reputation for ruthless efficiency preceded them in every boardroom and back alley they came across. Few dared to cross paths with Alex and even fewer earned their respect.
Maya on the other hand, was a breath of fresh air in the dull city, a vibrant soul with an infectious laugh that could brighten even the dreariest of days. Maya thrived on the thrill of life, navigating through social circles with ease and leaving behind a trail of smiles wherever she went. But beneath her joyful exterior lay a streak of selfishness, an unspoken desire to put her own happiness above all else.
Fate intervened one evening at Lumina's annual gala, where the city's elite gathered. Amid the opulence and chatter, a sudden power outage plunged the grand event into darkness. Panic ensued as guests fumbled in the pitch-black corridors. Alex, unperturbed by the chaos, calmly made their way towards the malfunctioning elevator, seeking refuge from the commotion.
Unbeknownst to Alex, Maya had found herself in the same predicament. Her radiant smile, usually undimmed, faltered in the darkness. As the elevator doors closed, sealing them together in a confined space, Maya's unease was palpable.
"Great," Maya muttered, her voice a mix of frustration and nervousness. "Stuck in an elevator during a blackout. Just perfect."
Alex, standing stoically beside her, barely acknowledged the complaint. Instead, they assessed the situation with a cool efficiency that Maya found both intimidating and intriguing.
"Relax," Alex said, their voice steady. "We'll be out soon enough."
Maya, surprised by the calm assurance, couldn't help but be curious. She glanced at Alex, noticing the determination etched in their expression. Despite their aloof demeanor, there was something compelling about Alex—a hidden depth that piqued Maya's interest.
As minutes stretched into what felt like hours, Alex's composed demeanor remained unwavering. Maya, feeling a sense of admiration mixed with relief, decided to break the tense silence.
"You seem like you've been in situations like this before," Maya remarked, attempting to lighten the mood.
Alex's lips quirked slightly, a hint of amusement softening their stern features. "A few times," they admitted. "It comes with the territory."
Maya grinned, her usual spark returning. "Well, lucky for me, I'm stuck with an expert."
In that unexpected moment of camaraderie, amidst the darkness and uncertainty, a connection sparked between them—a connection that would set the stage for a remarkable journey. A journey that neither of them were ready for.
The night hung heavy with anticipation as the neon glow of the city's underbelly illuminated the makeshift racetrack. The air crackled with the energy of imminent competition, and the distant hum of engines hinted at the approaching storm.
Amidst the throng of racers, Diana revved the engine of her cherry pink Chevrolet Corvette, the sleek curves of the sports car gleaming under the neon lights. The scent of burning rubber permeated the air as she eyed her opponent, the legendary 'Tyrant' known for his burned orange Toyota Supra MK IV.
Engines roared to life, and the racers edged to the starting line, the anticipation mounting with each passing second. Nick, masked and clad in the shadows of his reputation, revved his Supra's engine, the orange glow of the tail lights casting an eerie aura around the car.
With a signal, the race exploded into motion. Tires screeched as the two vehicles catapulted into the night, streaks of cherry pink and burned orange leaving trails of color in their wake. The city became a blur as they navigated the winding streets, each turn a test of skill and nerve.
Diana's Corvette, agile and daring, hugged the curves with precision. The roar of her engine harmonized with the pulsating beat of the city, creating a symphony of speed. Nick's Supra, a manifestation of controlled power, surged forward like a burning comet, the orange glow illuminating the darkness.
The roar of engines intertwined with the pulsating beat of the city, and amidst the chaos, Nick's Supra and Diana's Corvette danced, each maneuver a carefully calculated step in their high-speed ballet. The neon-lit streets became their canvas, and the race, their masterpiece.
As the racers hurtled through the urban labyrinth, each strategically timed drift and acceleration became a subtle exchange of wits. The neon-lit streets transformed into a high-stakes chessboard, where every move could be the difference between victory and defeat.
The crowd lining the racetrack erupted into cheers, their voices blending with the roar of the engines. In the heart of the race, amidst the adrenaline and rivalry, Diana and Nick pushed their cars to the limit. The finish line loomed, a distant beacon in the chaos.
As the finish line neared, the air crackled with the tension of uncertainty. In a photo finish, the two cars crossed the line simultaneously, leaving the outcome hanging in the balance. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even in the anonymity of their masks, the exchange of glances between Diana and Nick spoke volumes.
The silence that followed was broken by the announcement, "It's a tie!" The racetrack echoed with the revelation, and in that moment, Diana earned her moniker as 'the Empress.' The mysterious 'Tyrant' had found an equal, and the legend of their rivalry had begun.
[dear bird,
protect me.
the fall is too high. catch me.
i'm not ready to fly. eat me.
in your inside, take me.
don't leave me, so i can live in you.
see through you
what i can't be
be for two, for we, for i
and drown deep above
[in the vacuum.
jales.
A promise broken
The two of us had been walking through the Dex, Sophia's hand warm in mine, our fingers intertwined beneath our over-sized sleeves. It was a cold day, so we were wearing sweaters over our uniforms to keep the chill out. I didn't need one, but Sophia insisted, and I just couldn't say no to her when she brings up my health.
We'd been talking about the weather, and whether it'll snow or not when a shoulder slams into mine. I growl and go to say something, but the words die in my throat when I see who it was, memories dulling my tongue at the sight of her. I mumble an apology, and pull Sophia along, trying to put as much distance behind us as possible.
“Who was that? You two know each other?”
Sophia's question, innocent as it was, brings a torrent of memories from behind the walls I've carefully built. Memories of late nights training, movies we were supposed to watch, secrets shared beneath the moonlight, promises of forever made and sealed with kisses. I shake my head, and glance over, my voice soft, as if afraid of being heard.
“Not anymore.”
An interlude in the short series I've been doing, instead focusing on when Rane first started realising her feelings for Sophia.
An important first
Very few occasions call for anything beside our uniforms, since they've become the main outfit everyone wears at the base, so the first time I saw Sophia in a dress was a couple years after her release from the hospital, the pale flowers dotted across the billowy fabric, her light brown hair blonde in the sunlight. I thought I had caught an illness when she smiled at me, that laugh bubbling out of her like the prettiest bell. I didn't understand what I was feeling, the way she made my heart flutter in my chest and the air catch in my throat, until much later.
When she tried to ask what was wrong, I couldn't answer, any words dying in my throat with a strangled whimper. My face burned as I looked anywhere but at her, though I couldn't tell her that it wasn't from embarrassment, or why I didn't want her to see it. I didn't know how to tell her that she was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen, how I wanted to see her like this more often.
My reaction upset her, but I grabbed her arm before she could leave, my touch as gentle as a butterfly's wings. I didn't know how to explain the sensations she was calling, so I apologized instead and asked her to stay.
I spent that entire night trying to figure out my feelings, sleepless in pursuit of what ailed me. I spoke with the guys about it the next morning, only to end up flustered when Don decided to start teasing me. Sergei chuckled before scolding him, and took me aside, giving me a moment to calm down before asking me more questions about my ailment.
I answered honestly, that my mind was still picturing the way the wind blew her dress in such a way to hug her body, that my face catches fire at the memory of her smile and that my breath is stolen by the memory of her laugh. He asked if I've felt these things before, and it gave me pause. I went to say that I hadn't, but then I realized that I had over the past couple years, just never this strong before.
When I admitted this, my voice a soft whisper into the light of the rising sun, he gave me a warm, knowing smile. He ruffled my hair, chuckling as he told me that I wasn't sick. I asked him what the problem was, why I felt such odd things about my friend, and he just smiled, telling me that while I might see it as a problem now, I won't always feel that way.
Another short featuring young Rane meeting her team for the first time.
A new friend, a fellow outcast.
I never understood the need for so many people for these things. Birthdays, graduations, promotions, even something as simple as the weekend drew humans together. I don't even know what the occasion was. The music is too loud, the smells overwhelmingly numerous musks and perfumes, my head is starting to ache from the combination, and worse yet, I am the only Whisper here so far.
Yet I couldn't leave. This was an intentional choice by my Dant, another test to see how I'd react, to see if I caved. It was stupid, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me run away like a kicked dog. I stand in one o the corners, watching the room with a quietly as I study the people in it.
Eventually I notice someone approaching me, and I have to look him over twice just to be sure I'm not seeing things. He's huge, easily towering over everyone else in the room, with broad shoulders and a build that looks like it was sculpted by artists. His pale blue eyes stood out against his dark skin, kindness sparkling in them despite his face being neutral.
He stops a short distance from me, and waves lightly. Confused, i simply stare before giving a half wave back, but he just smiles softly before starting to sign, "It's loud, isn't it?"
I nod, considering how to respond before signing back, "Very. I'm getting a headache form the sounds and smells."
He nods, and gestures for me to follow him, which I do more out of curiosity than anything. He leads me to a balcony looking over the Dex, and the reprieve from the party is an instant relief. I breathe in the fresh air, leaning over the balcony as I listen to the wind blowing over the base.
The man waves again to get my attention, signing once I look over. "Better?" He smiles at my nod, continuing, "That's good. I never really liked these, either. I'm Niko, the mule for your unit, should Sergei's request get approved."
I nod, looking out towards the lake before answering. "I'm Rane."
That's when I heard the oddest thing. A whispered voice, as deep as the rumble of a quake but as warm as the heat from a fire, "He did say you don't talk much…"
I look over, curious about what I heard. "Who did?"
Niko looks surprised, a mix of awe and confusion filling his yes before he finally whispers in that deep, rich voice, "You understand me…?"
After getting to almost 20k words, I've realized something rather fundamental about my story.
I don't even know what genre it is.
An encounter that's anything but chance.
"Why are you hiding over here?"
I don't look over as the voice interrupts my thoughts, my gaze remaining on the lake as it glitters gold under the rising sun. The man's question had been innocent enough, but it was the exact reason why I was separate form the others. There's too many questions, too many attempts to get to know me. I don't want to be known. I'd much rather stick to my own, as I always have. It was safer that way. Less… incidents.
He seems curious enough to stay, and sits down next to me, continuing to speak while he lights a cigar. "You're the silent type, huh? That's alright." We sit in silence for a while, the scent of hickory filling the air as the smoke curled and twisted upwards. He takes a long pull, and slowly exhales. "Listen, kid. I'll be honest with you. I know who you are, and what happened with your last Dant."
I glance over at him, unable to hide the fact that he surprised me. I still don't speak, I don't trust himself or myself enough to, but I tilt my head a bit to the side, letting him know that I'm listening.
He smiles at the gesture, his steel gray eyes lighting up. "Ah, that got your attention. I bet you're curious. 'Who is this man, and why is he talking to me if he knows what I've done', or along those lines, right?"
I nod slowly, considering many things before hesitantly speaking, "… Yes."
My speaking only seems to make him smile wider, and he looks out over the lake, breathing deeply as a crack of thunder echoes across the clear sky. "Well, those questions are easily answered. My name is Sergei Repin, and I want to ask you to join my unit."
"Sergei…" I repeat the name, considering it as I consider the man it belongs to. "Rane. My name is Rane."
I want to share my story, but I'm not sure about how to do that. So for now, I've just got it stashed away.
My writing is going well, but I'm worried about a planned revelation for one of the main cast. I don't really have anyone to ask for advice, and I'm worried that it'd be taken wrong, but I'm also hesitant to ask for advice here, since it could draw the wrong kind of crowd.
I'm really unsure about it, so I'll ask beneath the line.
So, the revelation is planned for later in the story, and it involves a main-turned-secondary character who acts as an early antagonist to the primary main character. He's trans (Female to Male), and because the reasoning behind his behavior isn't revealed until a chapter or two after the revelation that he's trans (I'm doing chapter by chapter), I'm worried that the message will be seen as "He's an annoying/bad/bothersome person because he's trans", and not "He's an annoying/bad/bothersome person, period."
Him being trans isn't a focus of his story arc, and transphobia (as well as homophobia) won't be used as story beats.
I know I can just not say anything about it, but I want him (and other planned trans characters) to be known. I just don't want to imply the wrong message.
I've got so many scene ideas, but I'm a linear writer, so I regularly have to put them back on the conveyer belt for later.
I'm very close to reaching a third of my projected chapter amount, but it's looking like I'm going to need more chapters.
I've recently passed 10,000 words in my original story. I honestly wasn't expecting to ever actually reach that number, and I still have so many chapters to go.
To Adora, From Elliott
To the little girl, I used to be do you remember all those nights when you would stay awake Thinking up all those far away dreams You would stare up at the ceiling planning out how you would do it all
All those years you spent taking care of everyone else Watching your siblings, making sure that they had the childhood you never had. Giving up on all those dreams you had made for yourself Handing them over to your siblings, thinking that maybe they could let them grow. Planning on becoming their superhero, Ready to save their day, Shielding them from all the screaming, The sharp words being thrown like knives. Giving them a haven from the flying fists and broken doors.
But darling I promise you Your life will not have been wasted. I will following your footsteps saving the kids from those monsters that lurk around them. I will keep themself, and make sure they grow
Remember all those nights you would make promises Between you and the world outside that shitty apartment window Telling yourself it would get better, rehearsing it so much it was branded in your heart and brain Telling yourself those thoughts would go away That you could wake up And be the perfect daughter You would wake up and be a girl and believe it Your body would no longer feel so wrong
Spending all those nights and early mornings Praying to that god you were so hopelessly clinging to Begging him to make it all make sense Those thoughts stuck circling in your head All the worries and fears that had kept piling up Tangling themselves together
you were right when you said you’d never see twenty-seven You weren’t even able to see yourself as a teenager The image always seemed so far off, Just out of reach a dream you always had each night but always leaving in the morning light Leaving you with just tiny pieces of it.
You had been off by a few years though There was never a sweet sixteen for you No birthday presents and a new car. You had been long gone before that.
You had barely seen fourteen, Eighth grade was your last. But I think you knew that. I think you had come to terms, Knowing that you would die soon. But that’s how you were always giving, giving, and giving. So I guess it wasn’t that big of a surprise.
What would you think of me now if you saw who you became Would you be proud? Proud that I finally found myself That I had finally realized who I was Would you be happy? Happy that I had made it this far, That I was able to finally make it to sixteen, even though you didn’t?
Because for me to make it, You had to die, I had to kill every part of you. I had to be the one to hold that pillow over your head, I still have the scars from those scratches you gave me. I carry them like war paint, showing the world how I was born.
I had to burn that name you carried for years, Burning it to ashes, spreading them to the world. The name you carried on your back like a shield or a burden Depending on how you looked at it.
I cut off those beautiful brown locks that you loved. Those curls littered the floor of the bathroom, while chopped them off with some old kitchen shears. That beautiful brown color was bleached and turned any color besides that natural tone.
Your skin that was then envy of your family I covered in scars and marks, making it match the way we both had felt. Making your family no longer love it, turning it into something they no longer wanted to see.
I took the breasts that you had always hoped for, And had chopped them off, leaving your chest barren and scarred making it easier for me to live, no longer have those things as a reminder as to who you used to be, while it had made you cry out in shame, for you had lost the things you had been hoping would make you feel as if you belonged in your skin.
but my dear adora, I hope you realize that nothing I had done to this body, that was once yours, was in malice or hatred. it was just something I had needed to do, for me to live happily. please remember I’ll love you forever, my little girl of grey. rest well knowing will live this for the both of us, taking those chances you never did.
always and forever, Elliott Mars Parker.
Take this body I'm imprisoned in,
This prison of flesh and fat
encasing me in something that feels so foreign
these breasts, that still haunt me
always stuck on my chest
reminding me no matter what
That this prison I live in is still female.
Take this skin I wear.
That's not light enough for it to be white.
but too white to be black
this skin that’s made of nightmares and scars
reminding me of all these nightmares, I've lived through.
Take these hands that are so rough and cracked.
Never to be soft enough for any of my lovers
where these jagged nails
are torn enough to rip and tear my cracked skin
Take my hair that’s too white.
To hold these curls of my ancestors
but still too black for my mother's beautiful red locks
take my voice.
That still shakes and cracks at the words,
I've had trapped in my throat.
Burning it raw and ragged
Making it so any words that I still manage to speak
are caked in the blood and pain
of the effort, it took to let me free.
if today was my last
If today was my last How would I spend it? would I take in all the little things, gathering all those little details that I have always missed, my head has always been too full of all these things that keep me up at night. Or would I still just float through it all Still just a shell of the kid I once was, all the vibrancy and wonder having left years ago.
Would I go to the library? to collect a few last lines Letting them live on the tip of my tongue. only to set them free with my last breath. letting the feeling of ink on the page, be the last thing my fingertips will feel. the smell of paper and secrets, invading my senses and welcoming me home at last.
Would I go to the school that has hallways I have haunted? having drifted through them, my eyes empty and my brain always too full with all those thoughts. stopping in the classes to whisper a few final goodbyes even though nobody would notice or hear me pausing the disorder and energy in those hallways, for just a few moments, finally letting myself take it all in.
would I go to the forest wherein the deepest part I could lie on its soft grass floor, in the utter calm of it letting my lungs finally breathe in the crisp air, the feeling of its coldness expanding within them. closing my eyes for the last time, finally letting myself feel at peace and safe, hearing the bird's singing floating around me, their cries being the last thing I will ever hear.
My last words will be uttered so softly that not even the wind would hear them, when they escape this prison of my mind, floating away with my final exhale. My last breath will flow out feeling free for the first time, escaping into the world seeing it all.