#lgbtq writing
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bugboy-behaviour · 1 year ago
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a collection of queer Palestinian stories in Gaza from queering the map.
Don't let pink washing get to your head. Queer people live everywhere, including in Gaza, where they are currently being massacred.
images are from the tiktok link i attached, there's even more there.
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yuriskies · 9 months ago
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Can't recommend the Otherside Picnic novels enough as a Pride Month read. I could write paragraphs about how good the romance is, the humor of its narrator accidentally casting sanity damage on the people around her, its handling of family trauma and the downstream effects on relationships, or its brilliant use of ghost stories and cognitive science fiction to really take apart and understand queerness, but honestly it's best just experienced for yourself. It all comes together in the most beautiful and ethereal way, and I don't think you will regret the effort at all.
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itgetsbetter · 7 months ago
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🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ Call for writing submissions: we want your queer back-to-school blogs! 🍎✏️
We're looking for new (very gay) guest blogs for the blog at itgetsbetter.org relating to the back-to-school season!
Are you an LGBTQ+ high school student, recent grad, GSA advisor, or queer teacher?
What's something you want fellow LGBTQ+ students to know going into this next school year? How about a queer school survival guide with tips for navigating bullying and bathroom bills, making new friends, or finding trusting adults? Or maybe the story of "that one teacher" who made a difference for you?
You can read the guidelines, see example blogs, and submit a piece here (accepted submissions are paid)!
Plus see other topics we'd like to highlight soon, including:
❤️ Hispanic Heritage Month
🧡 Bi Awareness Week
💛 LGBTQ+ History Month
💚 NCOD
💙 Indigenous Peoples' Day
💜 Ace Awareness Week
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lgbtqwriting · 4 months ago
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imagine if people wrote queer characters like so many men write women. “she gayed gayly down the rainbow sidewalk”
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angstyandromanticwriting · 5 months ago
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Regina George X Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute, and Fluffy Prompt [Sneak-Peek]
• Takes place after the occurrence of the film [2024 ver. with Reneé Rapp]
• Some mild changes made to some elements of the story
• The prompt will be dropping in its entirety on Saturday + There will be more!
• This is another new idea, but does not impact the other ideas I am already writing for!
!TW: Being stuck in a toxic relationship, insult(s), mention of previously being kidnapped, implied suffering from PTSD + Depression + Separation Anxiety + Anxiety in general, mention of previously being abused + injury detail - If I’ve missed any, please let me know ❤️!
Birds’ Eye View/Heart’s Desire
“Are you done, or-?” You inquired, raising your eyebrows, after Regina threw another line of insults at you; you’d told her to rant, seeing she needed it, but…
“No,” she answered, without hesitation, even though she appeared a little exasperated, wincing, before she looked away from you, and sighed heavily, knowing she shouldn’t get you involved with all that was currently frustrating her following her recent arguments with her boyfriend, Shane Olman, especially when you didn’t even know him, and hadn’t ever talked to him, only a recent student at Northshore High School, managing to take on Senior Year after you’d been expelled from your last school. “Yes,” she added, barely audibly, and you would appear surprised, not expecting such an answer from her as you tilted your head partially, a pained as well as skeptical expression on your face; you didn’t want her to feel as if she couldn’t talk to you about all that was burdening her the way you feared she did, hoping against hope - however - at the same time, that she had instead managed to clear her mind a little, until she crumpled, and looked up at you again with a hurt look on her face before she said ‘no’, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. “N-No, I’m not, I-.. I’m-..” She shrugged, before awkwardly bowing her head, and you would nod gravely, smiling sadly over at her, before you timidly inched closer to her to gently squeeze her shoulder, prompting her to express relief, her heart skipping a beat, before she glanced up at you again, and felt strong enough to continue just by having her gaze lock with your own in the best way possible. “I hate you,” she spat, her gaze never leaving your’s, whilst you couldn’t help, but smirk in her direction, amused though you knew you shouldn’t be, but it didn’t stop your heart from aching as you wondered who had hurt her the way you could tell that they had, before she’d come back to your Uncle’s ranch with you. “Y-You stink, and I hope an air conditioner falls on you,” she added sharply, clearly through gritted teeth, whilst you appeared taken aback - of all things you thought she might say, that was one of the least you’d been expecting to hear, but it still made you have to fight back a giggle regardless of how it had shocked you, at first, “okay.” She drew in another shallow breath, before releasing it through her nose like you’d told her to, just to try and calm her down when she’d almost broken one of the mucking up shovels you and her had been using to tidy up the horses’ stalls here. “Okay, I - I think I’m-.. I think I’m done, now,” she stated, and you would almost feel disappointed, though at the same time of course you were relieved to know that she seemed at least somewhat relieved, now that she’d slung out yet another insult in your direction, though she wasn’t directing anything of what she meant toward you; she couldn’t.
The thought startled her, just for a moment, as she winced again, and forced a smile in your direction, trying to hide that such a small thing had flustered her the way nothing else ever had before.
“That’s good,” you stated, and she would hesitate, before nodding, and smiling softly over at you, this time the smile was genuine; it was hard not to allow the corners of her lips to curve upward whenever she was around you, “that’s always good - so-.. are you ready to talk about it, now?”
She would appear taken aback by your question, her smile faltering a little, before she awkwardly cleared her throat, and nodded slowly, though you could tell she was reluctant to discuss what had been happening between her and Shane recently.
“I guess,” she answered, and you would smile warmly back at her, glad that she felt able to talk about such things with you - it even made you feel a little warm and fuzzy inside, like a sense of pride was washing over you in response to your hope that she seemed to trust you, just as much as you trusted her, and somehow had ever since you’d first met her that day; the day she’d first been sent here by her mother to distract her, and take her mind off of the tense situation between her and Shane, before you’d even started at Northshore High. “But - if we’re gonna talk about it,” she began again, and you would tense up for a moment, wondering what she might be about to say, next; you were always terrified that maybe something bad would happen - that maybe she would up, and abandon you, though you couldn’t imagine why. You always put such dread up to how you’d been kidnapped, and abused the way you and, a few years ago now; you were quite young when it happened, and the nights you’d spent screaming and crying had never left your mind, especially not at night, where your nightmares were at their most vivid moments. For a moment, you remembered your kidnapper coming in to kick at your side for how you’d tried to call your home, after successfully sneaking out of his basement, but that wasn’t the worst of the punishment; he spent every night after that breaking each and every one of your fingers, and he would have moved onto your wrist, or toes, if the police didn’t locate you when they did. You winced at the memory, but you wouldn’t let her see the pain in your eyes as you bowed your head, before she could lock eyes with you again, making her heart sink a little as soon as she realised she wouldn’t be able to lock eyes with you again, if you didn’t lift your head the way you had, before, trying to act as if you were distracted by the next pile of dung you were shovelling up at your feet. “Can we do it whilst we’re mucking up, l-like we are, now?” You appeared taken aback again by her request, forgetting your previous thought as you looked up at her again, forgetting how to breathe for a moment whilst she silently admired your eyes without even realising that she was, trying to tell herself that it was just because it made sense to make eye contact right now, rather than glance down at your lips, or just down at the ground when you were both in the middle of a conversation the way that you were, or had been, now.
You appeared skeptical again, once you’d recomposed yourself, and could finally breathe again, as soon as you remembered how your lungs were supposed to work, ever since you’d been born a few years ago, now.
“I don’t know,” you answered warily, prompting her heart to sink, and eyes to darken a little; it made something ache within her for a reason unbeknownst to her to see that you still didn’t seem to trust her with the shovel, but she guessed she understood after she’d been wielding it the way she had earlier, wanting to either break it or smack someone over the head with it whilst she’d been thinking about her and Shane’s recent argument. It was seeing the hurt on her face - even if it were only there for a moment - that made your heart cave in, as you - without hesitation - took up her shovel, before holding it out to her, and forgetting how to breathe all over again as you waited for her to take it from you. “Here, of - of course we can,” you reassured her gently, a little breathlessly, but you tried to hide that you couldn’t breathe as you tried not to watch her hand as it inched closer to your own, before she accepted the shovel from you, and couldn’t help, but allow the pinky finger of her left hand to brush against the back of your own, prompting your heart to stutter, and you to tense up again as a makeshift spurt of electricity seemed to run down your arm - something you’d never felt before. You wondered if she felt it too, noticing the dazed expression on her face, making your cheeks heat up as you hastily looked away from her again, though you longed to keep your eyes focused on her, and only her, despite your not knowing why you’d even had such a reaction to her skin touching your own the way it had, for a split second.
“Thank you,” she replied, once she’d been able to find her voice again as she smiled timidly down at the ground beneath her, “that was-.. really brave of you, considering.”
You lifted your eyebrows again as you glanced over at her, confused by her praise, but still you couldn’t keep the smile from your face as your eyes glinted a little over at her, prompting her heart to skip a beat again as soon as she felt your eyes upon her, encouraging her more than enough to glance up at you again, her eyes not hesitating to lock with your own as you both faltered in place for a moment, staring over at each other as if nobody else existed anymore, besides you two, right here, right now.
It took her more strength than it ever had before to stay stood where she was, seeing herself in another universe inching closer to you, whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, only making her heart begin to pound a little as you warily glanced over at her, your heart skipping a beat, almost as if you were picturing the same thing as she was, hardly breathing, just like she was, stood before you, before her eyes darkened, and she awkwardly cleared her throat again to break herself from her previous daze, as well as you from your own as you silently cursed yourself, before digging up at the muck again to try and clear your head somehow, only to fail miserably as soon as you felt her hand upon your shoulder.
“Reg-” You spluttered out, before you even knew her name was slipping from your lips, but before you could continue, she pressed on, determined to show you that she meant everything she told you, whilst she knew you silently doubted some things about yourself, though you’d not even told her her about what had happened to you, when you were younger, and felt more hopeless than you ever had before.
“I meant it,” she cooed, gently squeezing your shoulder as you timidly glanced up at her, wishing you could breathe normally again, whilst at the same time you were terrified of losing the way she made you feel, whenever she was with you the way she was, now, “you’re the bravest girl I know.”
You tried not to shudder, your eyes threatening to fill with tears as a lump began to form within your throat, only making it harder for you to not break down in front of her as you forced a shaky smile in her direction, before bowing your head again as soon as small tears began to form within your eyes.
“Bravest, huh?” You mused, and she nodded hastily, not hesitating at all because she meant every word, and knew she always would. Being hit by a bus the way she had last year had made her feel different; more grateful, of everything, as well as everyone, around her - for a split second, whilst she was unconscious, she swore her life had flashed before her eyes, and it made her feel guilty for almost everything she’d ever done - well, everything, until now.
“You - mean a heck of a lot to me,” she expressed, and you would appear taken aback again, your heart skipping a beat, before you glanced up at her again, and wondered why your heart felt as if it were being squeezed even though at the same time it felt as if it were currently soaring with every word she shared with you, and you’d reacted in similar ways ever since you’d first met her, and began to feel alive whenever she was with you the way that she was, now, “you always have, e-ever since I-.. y’know, got to actually know you, and talk to you, and that’ll never change, I promise - you know that, right?”
“I know,” you reassured her, your voice briefly trembling, prompting her heart to squeeze alongside your own as she frowned, and carefully eased you into a hug whilst you melted into her embrace, and wouldn’t hesitate to return it as you buried your face into her left shoulder, feeling safer than you ever had before as you subconsciously drowned within her sweet scent in the best way possible.
“Good,” she returned gently, “I’m glad.” You both fell quiet for a moment as you tried to recompose yourselves, before she held you at arms length blissfully, her eyes glinting alongside your own. “So,” she chimed, and you couldn’t help, but giggle softly whilst you carefully brushed away any remaining tears, “should we continue mucking, or-?”
You smiled warmly at her, before nodding, and taking up your shovel again, as if she hadn’t had you almost breaking down completely within her arms a brief moment ago.
“I’d love to,” you replied, brighter than she’d ever heard you before, prompting her heart to jump alongside your own as she smiled sheepishly back at you, evidently glad to see that you were happy again, now that she’d admitted to you that you were more than what you thought you were to her, before, “as long as you’re still up to talking about whatever you wanna talk about, as we go?”
She tensed up again, remembering Shane, and the fight he and her had had, earlier today, and for a moment you regretted more than anything bringing up the situation, until she smiled reassuringly over at you again, and nodded, before taking your free hand within her own to soothe you even more, indirectly making your heart pound faster than it ever had before as you tried not to glance down at her fingers intertwined with your own, whilst also silently praying that she couldn’t hear what was currently going on within your chest.
“Always,” she answered, and you would express relief, your expression softening, before you glanced down at the ground again, your cheeks heating up even more than they ever had before, “but before that - where should we start?”
~~~~~
Hope you enjoyed it, and are looking forward to the dropping of the full version! ❤️
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maveras-posts · 5 months ago
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Funky ART HC’S
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Some ✨FUNKY✨ Art Headcanons:
This fucker has IBS I mean he shat his brains out (I feel his pain ngl🤡)
It’s a trade off to being ✨ImmOrTal✨
(Shi at least he has SOMETHING, I got NOTHING)
Art can also play the Kazoo at the professional level
You’ll be running from him and he’s doing the Gangnam style whilst ✨KaZoo✨ is in his mouth 😭
Also Penny, Jack and Art are besties the iconic trio we didn’t know we needed frfr
They try to force him to take a bath😭
He’s like a hissing cat
Art actually is good at keeping generally good hygiene but it has to be on his ✨OwN TeRmS✨
Also is a major pothead I don’t make the rules
Also he smells like nickels (it just seems fitting)
Honestly Satan has a hold on him and it only got worse after Art witnessed what he was contributing to
I feel like after the events of All Hallows Eve he descended more into madness
He has a short attention span you gotta *jingle jingle*
It’s all one big comedy to him, it’s all organized chaos🤪
Hes also obsessed with any and all popcorn he has tried every flavor at least once
Art also has a Dr Pepper ✨PrObLem✨
Like fr he will drop kick a child for one, he’s a fiend
Art also hopes somebody would try to mug him, he wants any chance to uno reverse with his ✨Mouse Ka Tool✨
SO…. Art the clown has taken this page by storm, I have to keep giving the ppl what they want. I never realized how many fans there are of Terrifier. I shall continue to write more slasher content as the spooky season progresses. Also I’m gonna go watch Terrifier 3 to get more ✨ConTent✨ also might show my Art cosplay here someday…anyways… TOODLES
Mavera (V)
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shadybiotics · 5 months ago
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T a r g e t p r a c t i s e
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× pairing: Grayson x reader
× words: 887
× content: fem!reader, subtle student/teacher dynamic, implied age gap, suggestive, reader is pining
× summary: You are at the training range working on bettering your aim, but seeing you struggle Sheriff Grayson offers you her help.
[ A/N ] Something shorter cus i rewatched Arcane for the nth time and fell for Grayson all over again... Also i know nothing abt guns so dont expect this to be accurate or anything ok im just gay and horny for older women.
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With the rifle securely in your grasp you focused in on the wooden target planks in the distance as the cold winter wind passed gently through your hair.
With one eye shut and a slight tilt of the head you took aim, and pulled the trigger.
A sharp bang echoed through the sparse woods but the bullet barely grazed the stand.
"Dammit" you cursed under your breath.
You were so shocked by your own amateurishness that you failed to register the footsteps approaching. Almost immediately you were ready to take aim once again and give it another try.
"Your stance is off" A voice stated plainly from behind you. In the same second that it almost startled you you quickly recognized the voice. Sheriff Grayson.
You didnt know she was watching the whole time.
"Im fine" You scoffed stubbornly without turning, not wanting to meet her heavy gaze. Instead you tried focusing back on the target once more. Rolling your shoulders you took a new stance until you felt a pair of hands sliver up yours that held the gun, making your breath hitch as the Sheriff took charge of the gun and you.
Grayson usually kept to herself and stayed within her own business, but with you, she always seemed so eager to help. To guide your ways. You assumed it all came down to you being not as experienced as the other enforcers, thats what you always told yourself.
She almost chuckled. "Oh is that so" Her raspy voice with a tinge of humour was right in your ear as she leaned closer to you.
But her touch only made you falter more. Her gloved hands made yours almost jitter out of nervousness. The woman was much older than you, and much more experienced. Definitely more experienced with a gun, amongst other things.
You have always looked up to her as the Sheriff of Piltover and head of the enforcer team, but you couldnt deny the feelings that sprouted within you quicker than you wouldve liked. Overtime, respect grew into interest, adoration into excitement.
With a firm grip on your hands Grayson guided you and thus the gun, straightening out its direction. All of the focus you cultivated quickly left the targets that sat in the far distance and instead latched onto Graysons touch on your skin. Your heart was pounding.
Her one hand kept the rifle steady while her other wrapped around your waist suddenly, making you hold your breath for a second, and pressed you assertively against her. Your eyes widened.
"Straighten yourself" she commanded.
Immediately you did as you were told.
Her tender yet demanding ordering you around, positioning you to her liking quickly took effect on you and made your core tense up with developing desire that you tried your best to ignore.
But for a moment, you wished she had grabbed you harder, dug her fingers deeper as she held you closer. Roughly pulled you to her liking. . . or gripped your neck tightly while-
With a gasp of surprise you were abruptly ripped out of your fantasies as she slid her thigh between yours, separating them and your feet. Grayson hand fixed on your hip helping you retain balance. Skin almost burning at her touch. Even in the cold winter afternoon your face began feeling incredibly hot.
"Legs apart"
God, you wished she had said that under different circumstances.
You tried your best to focus and not let your mind wander. She leaned her head closer checking the alignment of the muzzle and the target, her cheek grazing yours ever so slightly as she looked over. Her slow and controlled breaths contrasting your shallow ones.
This was insanity. She had to know what she was doing to you and you swore she would soon hear the thrilled pounding of your heart. You felt as though you might break at any moment if Grayson didnt stop.
"Take aim"
You tilted your head somewhat and intensely eyed the target, or at least tried to but your sight kept darting between it and Graysons hand, which still held yours. As you waited for her next order the older womans hand reached up without warning and gently tucked few loose strands of hair behind your ear. In that moment seconds felt like hours, the womans movements slow and deliberate. A shaky sigh escaped you.
Fuck. You shut your eyes trying to recollect yourself before your head became too fuzzy but you werent allowed no break.
"Shoot"
With your eyes still shut you instead put all your trust into her judgement and pulled the trigger without looking.
Bang
You slowly took a peak as you opened your eyes. Sight passing through the thin smoke leaving the barrel and onto the wooden target ahead now with a new cavity.
A perfect shot.
"Good job" She complimented proudly after a moment, still holding onto you for longer than necessary, before letting go. As Grayson stepped back you didnt dare to turn, scared to reveal how flustered you have become in these short but tense moments, but you trusted she would be smiling.
You dropped your shoulders, finally able to relax.
"And dress better next time, you shiver too much" She added half jokingly as you listened to her footsteps leaving your side. Leaving you hot and bothered.
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visionsofaselfmademan · 3 months ago
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icaruswithwingsofwater · 11 months ago
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Enjoy this frazzled meme I made today while procrastinating 😵‍💫😅
Whether you’re writing drunk or high, remember to edit sober, my friends ✌🏻😌✨
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reliablegal · 4 months ago
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Do not put two neurodivergent transfems who are writing in the same room. We’ll will come up with the most heinous tragic comedy this side of the planet.
Yes my story has some brand new ideas and a million more are on the way. Are they any good?
What are you a cop?
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kaceypink · 5 months ago
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My Novels
Hey, did you know I have three trans lesbian indie novels up on my itchio page? If you're interested in adult (18+) romance novels you can check them out here: https://pinkkacey.itch.io
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beemoon17 · 16 days ago
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I’m in such a writing slump and have been for a year. I used to be able to come up with ideas and write so much, and now I can hardly get a sentence out, I have zero ideas. I read constantly, I’m not depressed, I have no clue what’s wrong with me. Any tips or advice?
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imbadatparking · 2 days ago
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origin of something evil; 
The pale blue wall holds his attention at a sharp standpoint, the same smooth sight that’s been there since before he was born. The ceiling fan flickers, wavering shadows playing out a vision of his parents dancing and smearing azure paint across each other’s skin. Rolling brushes and Simon and Garfunkel and plastic on furniture, laughter ringing out. A time he doesn’t remember but aches for anyway. 
The pale blue wall holds his attention at a sharp standpoint, the same smooth sight that’s been there since before he was born. The ceiling fan flickers, wavering shadows playing out a vision of his parents dancing and smearing azure paint across each other’s skin. Rolling brushes and Simon and Garfunkel and plastic on furniture, laughter ringing out. A time he doesn’t remember but aches for anyway. 
Soccer trophies line the shelves next to school awards and a family photo. Him, Mother, Father, in their best clothing tastefully arranged on their stairs. They are all smiling, but before, what's unseeable, is that they were all arguing loud enough for the photographer to hear behind the closed door kitchen. If one squints, the premature gray hairs in Mother's hair, the hard lines of Father, and the tightness around Adam’s eyes becomes visible. Adam hates the picture.
The decorations have been standing, unchanging since forever. Besides the addition of his achievements, what Father says is the only thing worth showing off, it is a stranger’s room. Its inhabitant does not belong in it like it does not belong in the house.
He’s never considered changing it, but if he did, he'd make it less… blue. Father doesn’t like the idea. Father, I hate blue; Harhar, since when? ‘Sides, it’s a great color, an honorable color, a real man’s color. 
He’d choose purple, maybe. A dark purple. Royal or plum or hippo or —
The color of a fresh bruise. 
The darkening shade around Jackson’s eye after his fist landed in it, that smudgy sludge green, brackish mess, a bloom of violet crimson.
The sound had been sickening, a whistle of air and then skin against skin. Exhilarating adrenaline coursing through his arm as he pulled back and released before he even realized he lost control. The headspace of that awful rush of power that comes from having of a weaker thing at your mercy.
It was all kind of a blur. 
A slurred word, one too many jeered comments. A slam against the locker, hands curled into the school’s uniform collar, tight around the tie. One yank and he could’ve choked him. 
Close enough to hear his hitched breath, the soft flutter of his eyelashes. 
One hit, two hits, the spurt of vibrant blood from a crooked nose, a shouted curse, and frantic hands pulled him back. 
Only one voice registered in that panicked silence: Don’t — stop, Adam, stop. It’s not worth it, it’s not — 
More hands, more blood, more voices. White-hot anger. 
Then: Mr. Adam! Mr. Jackson! Both of you in my office. Now. Voice stern like his father. 
An acute walk of shame, every pair of eyes on him knowing what happened, waiting for the moment the hallways cleared so they could go back to spilling gossip. In the gray locker, a flicker of his reflection: narrowed, pinpoint eyes, dilated hazel to black, dark eyebrows drawn, mouth tight, a near-mirror image of Father on his worst days. All traces of Mother gone, only the cruelty of anger arranging an even crueler face.
In Jackson’s face, he saw intimate familiarity; bloody and bruised by the hands of a man too broken to love. 
When he got home, sullen silence from Mother emptying the car, reminiscent of the aftermath of stone-cold nights with too much wine and a heavy lifted arm, he didn’t dare let out a breath out of line.
Father had been rightfully pissed, but the straight of his back recalled something like pride. 
Adam spent years scouring over textbooks and bibles and handbooks, looking for a how-to on How To Be The Perfect Son, and the one time, the second time, the third time he gets into a fight, full pot of water filled with boiling rage spilling over and over and over, Father’s expression is the least concealed arrangement of pride he’s ever seen. 
Know what you did was no good, and there’re consequences to your damn actions —  spittle flying and bruises forming and bit-back groans — but if my son knows one thin’, it's howta swing one like a real man. 
I learned it from you, Dad.
The seed of rot has been planted, the roots have grown and knotted together in the dirt of his soul. Like the Apricot trees out on the lawn, blackening from the inside with a bitter swing to the ground and an unsalvageable likeness. A taste of him is already too much before he is spat out into the trash with the lid sealed shut.
It’s too late for him; one bad tree and now the entire grove is poisoned, generations of peeling bark and falling , no matter how often they prayed for redemption. Someone should uproot these trees and destroy them; someone should plow over it until it is nothing but pure again. But it’s stood here far too long thriving in its own ugly and no one has the tools to do it. It will continue to fester, diseased and alive, spreading fruitlessly to whoever dares eat what their branches bear.
Adam’s sins are intrinsic; internal; melded into the metal of his bone and sparked by his father’s hands, crafted into the perfect weapon. 
The blue laughs at him, having known this for years.
In the corner, an oil spill seeps from the creases, running down his wall and swallowing him in a black hole of darkness. The devil lives in these walls and he is staining the foundations. 
Maybe the only way to get rid of it is by praying, to baptize it free of the ever-present evil, and emerge blissfully clean. Wash his hands, rinse the blood off his knuckles, scrub these walls, and find his own.
He presses his hands together in that familiar fold, fingers laced, closing his eyes softly. Grounding, grounding.
Dear God. 
Don’t let me be him, don’t let me be him, don’t let me be him —
> @nosebleedclub prompt xxiv. > from an excerpt of my tentative book, Apricot Seeds > ask to be tagged
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emophia · 6 months ago
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I miss the bruises my neck once wore, with recent experiences of exploration fresh on my tongue
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kazy-writes · 10 months ago
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publish your shit work. put it out into the world regardless of how you feel about it.
I've been reading a lot lately, and my current DNF list is longer than my 5⭐ list, but here's what I discovered that I want to share with you. When I finish that book, that hidden gem that lights me up inside, my next move is to research every other project by that same author. Same with movies. I see a movie with a performance that rocks me, I watch every other film on that person's filmography.
And not once has it made me like that person less. Yes, I've watched a lot of cringe movies because of this, and now I'm reading a lot of books that don't get finished, but I'm still following these people and their journeys and I'm still so so happy to find other content with them and by them for me to indulge in.
So, publish your shit work. Give people a chance to go feral in their consumption of you.
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