#bitts writing
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Only one person asked but that's all I need, so: here's my little excerpt from one of my writing pet projects! Content warnings for: fictional depictions of incest between brothers, offscreen homophobia, and uhhhh silly names
Some info on the setting and characters! The Cobbler family, parents Lisa and Jeff Cobbler, and their nine kids, from age 7 to 26, all named after types of cobbler dessert (their mother is... an eccentric powerhouse). This excerpt centers on two of the older set of triplets, fraternal brothers Blackberry and Strawberry, who are 21 years old and in their junior year at the same local university. Rumors have been flying and things come to a head.
âAre you hurt?â he asked, breath rushing warm and humid across my cheek. I laughed, just a little bit.
âIâm okay, I promise. Are you?â
âStrawberry, Iâm not the one who got in a fist fight ten minutes ago, Iâm fine!â
I smiled at him, feeling my face protest loudly. âI did, didnât I. I got into a fist fight, Bick!â
The anger in his eyes softened, and was replaced by a questioning look. âWhat they were saying, Berry, was it true?â Flashes of audio came through my mind. Queer, I think they had been saying. Like it was an insult. I might have said it the same way, once.
âYeah, I guess it is. Though it seems like they might have figured it out before I did. Funny, how shit happens, huh bro?â
We were standing close to one another, still in the entry to Blueberryâs dorm room, dusk-blue light filtering through the curtains, just barely. I made a move to step back, to give him some space, but he grabbed my arm, searching my face for something.
I donât know if he found it. I donât even know what he was looking for. But I do know that the light coming into the room made him look like some kind of painting come to life, and that his eyes were shining, and I swear Iâd never seen something so damn beautiful as he was in that moment.
âYeah,â I repeated, dumbly, âitâs true.â
And the moment that had stretched thin in the air snapped, just like that.
He pushed away from me, off of the entry wall, and began pacing across his room. He was mumbling, I realized, agitated in a way I had rarely seen him.
âBickâŠâ I started, but he didnât let me finish.
âNO, Strawberry. No, no, no, no, donât you even talk to me right now. I never should have- this is all my- UGH. If I had just kept my fucking mouth shut, none of this would have- fuck, who told you? Was it David? It has to have been David, thereâs nobody- oh my god, I trusted him-â
He stopped abruptly, turning to face me with something that I almost thought was, was fear, but that didnât make any sense, why would he be afraid. Was he afraid of me?
And my brain caught up with his words, finally.
âWho told me what?â
Iâd never seen my brother look so defeated.
âThat Iâm in love with you, Strawberry.â He laughed, a little, but it sounded a lot more like grief than joy. âIâm in love with you, and youâre going to hate me, and Iâm going to be known as the guy who couldnât maintain a goddamn relationship because he wanted to fuck his own brother. God. God, what have I done.â
Oh.
OH.
I felt like I couldnât breathe. I saw him like Iâd never seen him before, in that moment. Like Iâd always seen him. Pacing again, pulling at his dark hair, a silhouette against the fading evening light through the windows.
My brother. My triplet. My favorite person. My life.
I stepped towards him, stopping his pacing with just one touch. He whirled towards me, tears in his panicked eyes, his mouth open just a bit, breathing heavily from his panic.
I took his face in my palms, feeling the beginnings of stubble catch on my skin. I stared into his eyes, seeing his hands hovering in my periphery, halting in mid-air, like he wanted to touch me but didnât know if he could.
âBlackberry Mint Cobbler.âÂ
He flinched, just the tiniest bit, and I almost lost my nerve in the face of his fear of my reaction. I pushed on.
âI have never hated you, not one second of my life, not even in sixth grade when I said I did because you gave my lunch to Rebecca Simmons. I donât hate you now, and nothing you could ever do would make me love you any less than I already do.â
His face screwed up on a shaky inhale, and I was helpless as I leaned my forehead in to meet his.Â
âIâm not good at words, Bick, you know Iâm not, but for you, Iâm gonna try. I love you. I have a list in my head of the most beautiful things Iâve ever seen, and three quarters of it are mental pictures of you.â
His knees began to buckle, and I pressed him to the wall with just my body, refusing to let go of his face or let him fall. He made some kind of sound when I did, some mewling exhale, eyes sliding closed, and I decided in that moment that I would do anything to hear it again, for the rest of my life.
âI know Iâm slow on the uptake sometimes, and I think maybe Iâve made you wait for me to get it for far longer than you deserve, but if what you said is true, if you love me. If you want me. Then⊠then Iâm here. Iâm here Bick.â
I felt tears running down my cheeks, felt my brotherâs tears on my fingertips.
We always did match each other in the ways that counted.
He exhaled, that sound that he made when we were nine and he fell off of his bike down the street from our house slipping out from his lips. When I had gone to him, limping over, restricted by my knee brace from when I had torn a ligament a few months earlier. âHey Bick, donât cry,â I had said, pointing to my knee, âwe match now!â He had made that sound, like I was being ridiculous or maybe incredible. I never found out which.
He spoke, and I came back to myself.
âWhat are you doing, Shortcake?â he asked me sadly, like he had resigned himself to his fate without ever asking me, using my oldest nickname, like he was trying to remind me who I was talking to. He pulled back, making me meet his eyes again, though our bodies were still pressed tightly to one another against the wall. I didnât think he could stand right now, and I wasnât about to risk him falling.
I thought about his question, moving one hand to trace over his brow, pressing out the tension, though it returned immediately.Â
âI donât know,â I admitted. âWhat do you want me to do?â
He shook his head, displacing my hands momentarily, tensing up again.
âNo, no, Strawberry, youâll hate me,â he said, tears in his voice.
I pressed against him just a bit more, an idea forming in my mind. He inhaled sharply.
âYou already told me so much, Blackberry, whatâs one more thing?â My tone was cajoling, almost demanding. âIâll even help you.â He looked at me, like he had never seen me before. To be honest, I hadnât ever seen this side of me either. It felt dangerous, almost, but right. Like right now, in this moment, this was who I needed to be. Who he needed me to be.
âItâs okay, brother. Just repeat after me.â
I saw a flush begin on his cheeks, different than the one he got from crying. One I hadnât seen before. In that moment, I felt him twitch against me, and knew that what I saw was arousal.
âI,â I began.
â.....I-I,â he echoed me.
âWant you to.â
âW-want you to.â
I smiled, feeling a new edge to it. Predatory, I thought.
âItâs your turn, Bick. Tell me what you want.â
He closed his eyes, clearly fighting himself.
And I saw the exact moment he gave in.
He opened his eyes once more, meeting mine, scared and fierce, beautiful and messy. He spoke.
âKiss me.â
----
I pressed against him, burning hot, pressing my lips to his, remembering everything he had ever told me he liked. I kissed him, and felt him shake, and knew that I would do anything for him, that I would take on the fucking universe for the man against me, kissing me like he thought I might disappear at any second.
I pulled away, panting, and got to watch his eyes flutter open, dark with want in the rapidly fading light.
âTell me, big brother,â I said, rolling my hips into his, âdoes this feel like hate to you?â
His eyes rolled back, and then suddenly, he pushed me. I stumbled back a step, ready to catch him if he ran, ready to ask what the hell he was doing, but he was dropping.
To his knees.
I looked down, and I saw my brother press his mouth against my jeans. My hand went to his hair, his hands to my thighs, and when my hand tightened on accident, he fucking made this sound- like a whine, and pulled harder against my fingers.Â
And my vision blacked out.
When I came back, ears ringing, I had pushed his head against the wall, and my cock to his mouth, harder than I had ever been, painfully constricted in my jeans. I made to pull back, worried I had hurt him, but the moment I moved he reeled me back in by my thighs, trying to get a hand between us to open my jeans without moving his mouth.
I was helpless to stop him, to help him, to do anything but stand there, shaking, my triplet whining on his knees, struggling with my zipper before giving up and yanking my pants down, my underwear going with them.
He crowed a wordless victory, and cut himself off by shoving my cock in his mouth, down his throat, gagging and pushing through it, and my mind shut off, and I pushed further in, and he moaned on my cock, and I came.
My hand yanked him onto my cock by his hair, as heat tore me apart from the inside out, and as I began to come down, I realized what I had done, and I pulled back, out of his mouth, afraid I had hurt him.
I dropped, wincing as my knees hit the floor in front of him, cock out, still half hard, hands in his hair, and I met his teary eyes as I said his name.
âBlackberryâŠâ I said, and my voice was deeper than it had ever been, and he keened wordlessly at me, jerked his hips forward, and came, without a single touch. He shuddered, his body tensing, shaking, never looking away from me. I could have cried with how beautiful, how fucking hot it was. Maybe I did.
He collapsed forward into me, and I twisted to get my back against the bed frame, and dragged my exhausted brother into my lap, curling us into each other in a strange mirror of how we had been in out motherâs womb, so long ago.
----
We didnât talk, that night. Eventually, when we had both stopped shuddering, I pressed a kiss to his hair, and scooted him off of me, helping him up. We made our way to the bathrooms, co-opting the one private shower, uncaring if anyone were to see us entering or leaving.
The halls were empty, but still, we didnât speak. We just got there, locked the door, and began peeling each otherâs clothes off, slowly and carefully. I turned on the shower, and when I turned back, he was there.
I mean, obviously he was there, we went in together and there was no one else around, but. He was there. My brother was there and he was naked and his cock was beautiful and smeared with come, with his come, and I did that, I made him come, and before I even knew I was moving I had stepped to him and kissed him, reverently, softly, trying to say everything in one kiss.
When we finally pulled apart, I took his hand, and led him into the shower, which definitely wasnât made for two people, much less two 6â4â athletes. It was perfect.
#bitts posts#bitts writing#< a new tag! perhaps there will be more some time#fauxcest#brocon#idk man im pretty sure my posts dont show up in tags but just in case#i wrote this... some years ago. ive been a freak this whole time lmao#this is NOT the only incest pairing in this family just for the record because i have a very specific brand of brainrot#anyway. david knows bc he and blackberry hooked up and blackberry said the wrong name#david's cool and not a snitch though blackberry is just making assumptions about what caused the fight at the beginning#um. if you read this and enjoy it please tell me? ive never posted something like this
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don't wanna see Luigi and Bowser smooch? Keep scrolling.
I made something. But it might be nice to have context. The thing is... I can't write. Not even in my first language, I suck hard at this. And I don't have the patience nor energy to draw much more at the moment.
But here I am -putting something together. And maybe I will be able to write something properly.... one day.
A smoll Bowuigi thing my head spat out...
Short;
We have peace between the Mushroom Kingdom and the Dark Land.
And of course they have a party. XD
Luigi and Bowser become friends after the truce started and they spend some time together (on a professional level of course XD) And later in private (As friends! calm down you)
So thereâs a party planed for the âpeace agreement anniversaryâ (is this a thing?) and Bowser asks Kamek to shrink him a little, since he always (almost) crushes someone of the little mushroom people + he thinks it would be nice to be closer to Luigis size â it could make conversations easier of course.
One problem; Kamek feels under the weather, and his powers are limited in his state. He agrees anyways BUT the spell is temporary.
At the party, everyone notices the change but they do not comment on it.
He tells Luigi about the spell and that it expires at midnight. The plumber only smiles and mutters âLike Cinderellaâ â whatever that means, Bowser has no clue and doesnât ask.
He is still bigger than he hoped for, but still- Chatting is easier â Handling the small food is easier - Dancing is easier â were Luigiâs eyes always this blue?
I think they are flirting most of the time. Awkward flirting and maybe donât even realise it. XDD
The evening is pleasant for everyone, and they have a great time with Mario and Peach as Luigi gets startled from the first Gong at midnight.
Luigi reacts immediately, grabs Bowser by his Hand?... and drags him across the room to the door leading out into the Castle GardenâŠ
#i tried this page like 5 times and then forced myself to just finish it#bowuigi#luigi#bowser#bowluigi#super mario#bowser x luigi#luigi x bowser#fanart#fanfiction#i suck at writing#read more#story idea#digital painting#digital art#digital drawing#otp#clip studio paint#why do I love what I did in the beginning and hate it in the end?#bitte nich haun!#first kiss#bowser fanart#luigi fanart
675 notes
·
View notes
Note
Okay so i know the whole 'Santa is a ghost' thing is always brought up but i just watched a christmas carol for the first time and i couldnt find this anywhere when i tried looking, so consider: the ghosts of christmas past, present and future are real
No idea where to take this, i just had the hilarious image of these three ghosts who are used to changing the hearts of greedy capitalists trying to help Dannt see 'the magic of christmas' but they have no idea what to do since this is a CHILD and Danny is just Not Having It
I have been cackling on and off for the past half hour about this. Just- the image in my head after reading this is Danny desperately trying to fend off the three ghosts with a baseball bat and itâs far too funny for my sleep deprived delirium
#yâall istg Iâm losing my mIND#if gummybearstastelikesadness hasnât caused me to lose it already Iâm certainly losing it now#danny phantom#writing prompts#bones replies#bitt-better
215 notes
·
View notes
Note
22 :)
22: "It's like they always say..."
âDisgusting,â Wyll repeats â the point as accurate as it is unnecessary â and Row, staring up through dappled leaves, gestures lazily at him. They blink, careful. It doesnât feel tender; their eyelid doesnât stick. They kind of thought theyâd be able to feel it more, but it doesnât seem to make much difference.
âYour feedback is noted,â Row tells him, and lets their arm drop back into the dirt.
Theyâre lying on their back in the scrubby grass, the stuff lurid-green and itchy against whatever of their bare skin it can reach â hands, neck, lower back where their jack is riding up. The tree branches rustle up above, sending leaves drifting down around their head. Past that, the sky gleams, blue as cobalt pigment and utterly cloudless. Itâs hot. Theyâre sweating something horrendous in their one dear shirt. Even the jack is probably beginning to smell.
Wyll is pacing around somewhere to their left. Heâs got ridiculous amounts of energy â comes of spending years on the road, maybe, but it just makes him seem like a farmland dog. He seems like the sort of man that would need to be walked daily before he could get anything done. But heâs staying with them, kindly enough, because the others went ahead â nominally to scout a path, and actually because they looked justifiably disgusted almost to the point of illness, and Laeâzel in particular looked like she wanted to enact violence on something. Row suspected the thing would be them. They canât even really blame her. But Wyll stayed, when the rest went off to do something else down the little dirt track, to make sure that Row doesnât drop suddenly, startlingly dead or explode into a mass of tentacles. Itâs very sweet of him.
(Nothing is happening. It doesnât feel different. They might be able to see a little more, or a little clearer, but itâs hard to really tell; they arenât dying, though, and their number of limbs remains steady. Theyâve got the very barest edge of a headache, but thatâs as much from staring into the sun for ten minutes as anything else.)
âUgh,â Wyll says again â his revulsion is beginning to feel a tad performative â and he skims the edge of their field of view as he turns around, they think, to look at them. âHow are you feeling?â
âTwo eyes, all my hair, no beak,â Row reports. âI think weâre good.â
Thereâs a pause; Wyllâs horns come properly into their vision, followed by a vague peripheral smudge of his face. âYes,â he says, âbut how are you feeling? Did it â do anything?â
Row squints up at the quivering leaves.
âIt didnât kill me, or anything,â they say, because that had been their main concern â and not a very big one, seeing as they still did it. âDidnât really hurt. It doesnât feel any more crowded, back there â Iâm not sure how that works. It doesnât feel that different, yet.â (It doesnât; it all feels a little sharper, the things the first tadpole gave them taken a little closer to the bone, but it isnât as changed as it feels like it could be. Should be.) âBut it will. Iâm certain of it.â
Wyll thinks about this, if the slow tipping of the horns is any indication; âAll right,â he says, and then he appears much more distinctly in view, face silhouetted against green leaves and blue sky. âDisgusting. Why?â
âYou donât need to keep saying that,â Row says, squinting at him.
Wyll twists his lips, wry. âYou said you didnât trust our nighttime caller,â he says. âSo why in Balduranâs name would you put that in your eye?â
Row scrunches up their face. âDonât sound judgemental,â they complain, largely facetious; âWhat, youâve never gotten curious?â
Wind rustles its merry way through the leaves, sending one dried-out brown one fluttering down between Wyllâs horns. He raises a brow. âIâve done many stupid things out of curiosity, but voluntarily housing an illithid parasite? That would be a first.â
Barely even a headache, and two tadpoles swimming around their orbital nerve; Row presses a finger to the hard-curved bone of their eye socket. Wyllâs brow furrows. He says, âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to call you stupid.â
That makes them snort. âYou can,â they say, and shove themself up to sitting. âIt was.â
After a moment, Wyll sits down in the dirt next to them. âThen why?â he asks â and why, indeed?
(Why would Row do such a thing? What reason would be consistent?)
(They know why they did it, of course â for the sixth sense the worm bestowed upon them the first time, garishly colourful and bitter-sweet on the tongue, the spiderâs web of links between them all and the easy paths to follow down. Wyllâs body sits next to them, blood-warm and sticky with sweat, and Wyll sits next to them, and they can feel him there, all open spaces and effort. And disgust, right now, which is still fair enough. It feels tangible and present in a way that people so often arenât; like his mind is a plum in their hands, the skin thin and smooth and yielding under the callused pads of their fingers. He would notice if they dug their nails in to reach the flesh, which is why they donât, right now, but they could. Itâs there. And the surface is mapped out, simple as anything, in the space behind their right eye.)
(Itâs been, what, a week since the crash, and with all these new colours to watch â new cartography with every new face, charting what they want, what they donât, how it all pins together â Row hasnât slipped up once. Not with any significance, anyway. Theyâre a social person, but itâs never been this easy.)
(They look at Wyll, and they could crack him open like a walnut shell and make a home in the feast of his organs, and if they play it right then he would want them to.)
But no-one likes it when they say it like that, so they shrug, carefree, and say, âHonestly, I donât know. I saw it crawling out and â I donât know, Wyll, it just seemed friendly.â
âThe tadpole,â Wyll says. âThe parasite.â
âYes!â It was friendly â very excited to see them, and quite desperate to make itself at home somewhere less exposed than the open air and a cooling corpse. It was mapped out, clear as their companions. âIâm not saying I thought it through. But I got curious, and it would be dangerous to just let it roam free, and surely two tadpoles isnât much worse than one as far as removal is concerned.â It had been a snap second decision; perhaps they should have thought about it more, but Rowâs never been good at worrying about consequences â never been able to fear anything other than imminent death, and that didnât seem likely. They might be doomed for all eternity, but eternity comes later. âIf itâs bad, at least now we know. And if it can help, we need all the help we can get. Itâs like they say, you know â a tadpole in the head is worth two in the jar, or whatever.â
âPerhaps,â Wyll says drily, âthatâs a newer Baldurian idiom that Iâve missed in my time away.â
There is a pause; some sparrows twitter in the distance.
âI understand some of that impulse,â Wyll starts, and Row tips their head to look at him. âBut unknowable powers come with unknowable consequences. We would be rash, to take anything weâre offered until we know what it will cost.â
Thereâs hair in Rowâs face, its curl dragged-down and greasy. Wyll is a better sport about himself than some of the others, theyâve learned; thereâs a line they donât want to cross, but he takes jibes easier than most, and he likes banter. âThatâs good advice,â they say, considering, and they crane their neck, flicking their gaze just above his eyes. âDo you follow it?â
He smiles, lips droll, and leans over to jostle their shoulder with his elbow. âAs I say,â he says, ânot as I do. Do you think we can catch up, now, or should we give Laeâzel more time to cool off?â
#I'm a bitt unsure about this one... mostly because wyll is in it probably#I like him a lot but his voice is not intuitive to me so I feel like it's all. off#ah well. practice!#my writing#row tag#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 tav#wyll ravengard#normal times#normal events#etc
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
weil deine Augen, wenn du gehst, die Farbe mitnehmen, und ohne dein Lachen, die Sonne nicht scheint.
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Weil mein Gehirn keine Ruhe gegeben hat
#tatort#tatort frankfurt#anna janneke#paul brix#janneke x brix#anja writes things#hab am montag 2 stunden vor dem ende gesessen und gedacht da fehlt was#dann gedacht nee da fehlt nix is perfekt so#und dann abends mein gehirn: ĂŒbrigens da fehlt was hier ist ne idee#ja danke jetzt musste ich n 2. kapitel schreiben#wie unnötig#naja bitte danke gern geschehen oder so
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh lmao they don't have a do not disturb sign at this place but they very much do have daily cleanings đ
#is it extra to just write bitte nicht stören on a piece of paper#by extra i mean is it unforgivably rude#by unforgivably rude i mean im doing it anyway
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
#part of the reason i started writing fic in german was coz of like#the way a love confession is so serious in german#and cant be mistaken for platonic/familial love#like 'i love you' can in english#also 'ich bitte dich um verzeihung' translates to something like 'please forgive me'#or (more dramatically) 'i beg for your forgiveness'#alv posts#fic#alv writes#leotello#LD#leonardo#donatello#tcest
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
i finally deactivated my old dsmp/mcyttwt acct two weeks ago and now i have all these old pictures/art pieces saved to honour that account đ part of me wants to mass-post the old dsmp art so i have them here for reference... ourgh
#i didnt save anything :) related because. well#but theres a lot of art that made me so emotional that i went through like. damn your girl really loves the dsmp so much and feels so bitte#bitter and bittersweet and nostalgic and OURGH. where is ezra i need to be put down#i am in the process of making peace with being an ex dttwt fan but the dsmp undeniably gave me so much joy i am. augh agony painpainpainpai#im not going to write another 30k words about my feelings again so uh. if you see me posting old art mind yo business!!!!!!!#thello babbles
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alter Leute so ein bisschen Sexting Schreiben kann doch nicht so schwer sein ahhhhhhhhhhhh đ€Żđ€Żđ€Ż
#ich hab ja was aber der vibe gefÀllt mir irgendwie nicht so das muss anders#of course this is about hörk#writing#spatort#liebe Muse bitte sprich mit mir#my post
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'm being sooooooooo normal about your erotica rn, like, totally absolutely normal about it bestie (lying, whine gripping my thighs).
100% did not get stuck in my head at all (lying, I'll be thinking about it for a week now)
Totally didn't up my embarassing sibcest kink to eleven (lying, it did and now I'm having thoughts)
But anyway, that was so nice, cute and hot!! Love the dynamics and the sneak peak at the world building!! I hope we get to see more of it đ
- đČ
Aaaah thank you darling!!! This project is my baby and I care about these characters (and their many siblings) so so much, its my love letter to family and loneliness and suburban America and the bonds that tie us to one another, and also how sometimes your other half is your sibling who you want to fuck you
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Leo in einer corsage lives in my head rent free
#checkt innovacorsetry auf insta#then you know what i am talking about#leo hölzer#hörk#spatort#kann jemand bitte mit mir darĂŒber reden#tatort saarbrĂŒcken#pls someone write a fic about this
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here are the lyrics to my singable English translation of âEhrlichkeit und Vertrauenâ from Rebecca. At the moment I donât have a proper title for it (âHonesty and Compassionâ doesnât really have a nice ring to it) but anyways:
My opinion isnât worth much
But I speak it nonetheless
What creates a loving marriage?
I think I could certainly guess
For if all one has is beauty
Nothing more and nothing less
There is something else thatâs lacking
Something more I believe you possess
Honesty and compassion
And a love without conditions
With the strength to take whatâs given
And overcome any storm
You are the one my friend was chosen for
Deep down inside youâre worth much more
Than all the grace and all the beauty
In the world
To be loved for a lifetime
Finding hope among the shadows
To be free from every burden
Forging ahead unafraid
She is the one my friend was chosen for
I clearly see sheâs worth much more
Than all the grace and all the beauty
In the world
So much more
#someone suggest a song title bitte#frank crawley appreciation hours#this song is criminally underrated#why did it take me so long to write this#if kunze sees this: hi you can have your lyrics back#kunze approved english demo#i feel like this is implying frank has a crush on ich#but then he also says she was âchosen forâ maxim#so either itâs unrequited or heâs just a good bestie#rebecca das musical#rebecca the musical
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
someday my sister, her boyfriend and I are going to speak completely incoherently to everyone else
#Example: the words for 'please' and 'you're welcome' are the same ('bitte') so I started saying 'please' instead of 'you're welcome' as a#Joke but then I started to just write 'pls' and one time I was thinking how that looks like the word 'piss' while trying to write 'pls' so#Accidentally typed 'piss' and now we all say tgat instead of 'you're welcome'#Sometimes we also say 'piss piss'#draft time draft time draft time draft time#Hell yeah#Piss for posting so much#Piss piss even#Hahahaha piss is funny word
1 note
·
View note
Text
Tw self harm?? Violent thoughts. And flesh
I wrote a bunch of poetry here. I was very proud of it. Then my fucking dumbass of a kindle deleted it in front of me and I could do nothing as each letter disappeared. I'm Now having violent thoughts. The poetry was supposed to help so I could sleep. Now I'm angrier than before. I want to hurt and hurt others. I want to destroy. I want to rip and tear and shred. I want to harm. I want to scratch my skin till it falls off. I want to rip it from my body. To tear my muscles off my bones. To shred my body to a fine dust of constant meaty agony.
#The flesh#It consumes me#-that actually made me smile#How I love the Magnus archives#Destroy me please#Bitte#the knowing fish#This writing is sit but I'm exhausted#Goodnight for now
0 notes
Text
oh no ich habe die fic zuende geschrieben und jetzt beeinflusst das ende den anfang und ich muss den anfang nochmal neu schreiben...
#bitte bitte bitte lass sich das nicht immer weiter ouroborossen#dann werden wir hier ja nie fertig#writing is hard
0 notes