#short story

[d3r-d4s-di3-dex]

i have a short story with Wasps

When it is summer, Wasps always follow me whenever I sit down. We sometimes go on coffee or soda with my mother and sit outside.

There can be wasps and bees on other visitors tables or none, but whenever I sit down, in while a wasp appear.

They always fly close around me and when they see I don't mind them and I don't attack them, they sit on a table or my hand. Sometimes they sip my drink and sometimes they just look around.

They don't go close to my mom because she is scared and when I see wasps flying around her I always tell them to not fly around her because she is scared and I ask them if they wanna sip my drink. Interesting is that mostly they really stop and I'm always shocked.

Once we were with my mom on a trip and when we got a break and sat down outside of the restaurant, two little wasps appeared.

They looked like baby wasps and we're really playful. They were bumping into each other and then bumping into me. Then one of them started to try to nuzzle me and was tickling me with their wings and mini legs.

It was silly but it got me a bit uncomfortable because they tried to bump in my face and I was scared they would bump into my eye by accident so I offered them my drink and told them to take a break and stop.

They crawled on my cup and took a sip and were chill. But then they took a sip of my mother's coffee and got hyperactive and we're flying around and then again got to our table and we're just chilling here and did no harm.

My mother told me they could probably smell from me that I like animals and am harmless 🐝

i really like nature, whole nature

When I say "connect with nature" I don't just mean the aesthetic forests with deer and beautiful flowers.

I mean the weeds growing through concrete, the fungus that grows on the rotten shed, the nettles that always seem to return and the scary, spindly cellar spider in the corner of the bathroom.

Nature is not always pretty or magical - the pigeons and seagulls you swat at are nature too, the wasps and flies that hover by your meals are animals too, store-bought strawberries and the leaves that fall from your neighbour's tree are not all that different from the Giant Sequoias and it's seeds.

If you want to connect and understand nature, I mean *really* connect to it, in it's entirety, you have to seek out and learn about the ugly, scary and mundane things as well. You don't have to like it, just don't forget that it's there.

[the-modern-typewriter]

hi!! i love your work so much :) could i request something where the protagonist starts to fall in love with their rival (who the protagonist 100% loathed before because they were a total asshole) only to find out that their rival has been possessed the entire time they were falling for them? and then they confront their rival (who’s still possessed) about it? thank you so much!

"Ah," their rival - no, the demon - said, at the sight of them. "What gave it away?"

"You're not them."

"And small mercies for that, am I right?"

"You can't keep possessing them. It's - are they in there? Still?"

The demon's head tilted a fraction.

The thought that their rival might be inside the demon still, unable to move or speak or make themselves known in any way, was a terrible one. The protagonist had kissed those lips. Had their rival been inside the whole time, disgusted and screaming?

It felt like a violation. They felt themselves a violating ting.

"Are they in there?" the protagonist demanded. Their hands clenched.

"Yes," the demon said. "That is how possession works."

The protagonist swallowed. Bile burned down their throat. "You have to get out of them. You can't - you need to leave."

"Are you going to try and exorcise me?"

"If I have to!"

"You don't like them," the demon said. "They didn't like you."

The demon moved closer, and even with the gig up, the way they crossed the room was a flawless imitation. The protagonist couldn't see the stitches, the points where their rival became the demon, except in the simple fact that the demon was better.

"I like you," the demon said. "And I know you like me, despite your every expectation, despite the stench of this body's history with you. You don't want them back. Do you?"

"It's not your body."

"I am the one caring for it and using it."

"But it's not -" The protagonist floundered, and their fists curled ever tighter, nails biting into their palms hard enough to draw blood.

The demon's gaze flicked down. They took the protagonist's wrists, oh so gently, drawing them up to kiss the protagonist's knuckles, before they carefully but relentlessly smoothed out the protagonist's fingers.

The protagonist closed their eyes. The fury that had driven them to the room still lingered, yet with a mere touch the floodgates opened. Hurt. Horror. Sorrow. Betrayal. Disgust. The most dreadful longing because of course they wanted to keep the demon in front of them, of course they did.

"It's not right," the protagonist said, barely above a whisper.

"There are many shades of right and not right in this world of yours. Was this body a right thing previously, despite its tenant being what can only be described as a total asshole?"

"Being an asshole doesn't mean they deserve to spend the rest of their life stuck in the prison of you, screaming."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you that they're not screaming?"

"Would it be true if they did? What would be the alternative? Because they don't-" The protagonist focused their attention on their entwined hands, the soft and intimate brush of the demon's fingers over their skin. "They don't want me. They would never want this."

"Then they are a fool, because you are the most lovely thing on this planet."

"Don't."

A dozen new questions ripped through them. Did the demon truly care for them, or were they simply doing what they needed to do to keep their new body? Was it a trick? A manipulation?

The demon's hand shifted up to cup, to cradle, the protagonist's jaw.

"They are not screaming," the demon said, and if it was a lie, then it was a beautiful one. "They are sleeping."

"Sleeping?"

"Tucked away in a quiet corner of me," the demon said, "where they can't hurt you or anyone else. Safe. Peaceful."

That did not sound like demonic possession. It was their rival who'd always worked more closely with demons - the protagonist's specialty was ghosts - but everything they'd ever heard about demons suggested that they were nightmarish creatures. Bound by deals, but ever tricksters, out for their own again. Sometimes cruel and always amoral.

Possession was not a nap. It was not a mercy. The demon was definitely, absolutely, lying.

The demon leaned in to kiss their forehead. When the protagonist tensed but did not recoil, they kissed the protagonist's lips.

"Hell is a terrible place, my love," the demon murmured. "Don't send me back there. Don't send me away from you. Would you truly kill me to get them back? Is that what I deserve?"

"You're a parasite."

The demon's thumbs stroked the protagonist's cheeks. "I'm still the same as I've been all these months. The demon who loves you, despite everything. The demon you love. I'm better than they were, you know I am. You've told me."

"Yes."

"Nothing has to change," the demon said. "There is no screaming. There is only us. It can be only us. Nothing has changed."

Nothing had changed.

But everything had.

The protagonist kissed their demon, heart pounding, and planned their goodbye.

[amkyor]

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY ᡣ𐭩

From Afar, With Love:

Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t the kind of man to wax poetic about his feelings.

He didn’t write long, sappy letters or make grand declarations of love. But when he was away on long hero missions, he found other ways to let you know you were always on his mind.

This particular trip was one of the longest he’d had in a while. He’d been sent overseas to assist with a high-stakes mission, and as much as he thrived in the chaos of hero work, being away from you gnawed at him.

So, he did what he could to bridge the distance.

It started with flowers. A bouquet of light pink tulips—your favorite—arrived at your office on the second day he was gone. Attached to it was a small note in his sharp handwriting:

“Don’t get too comfortable without me. - K.”

You smiled when you read it, already imagining the gruff tone he must’ve used while writing it.

The next day, a box of your favorite chocolates arrived at you and Bakugo's apartment. The delivery guy handed it to you with a slightly nervous expression; apparently, Bakugo’s no-nonsense instructions had made quite an impression.

Inside the box was another note:

“Don’t eat these all at once, dumbass.”

By the third day, you started to notice a pattern. A small velvet pouch appeared next, containing a delicate bracelet with tiny charms that reminded you of the little moments y'all shared—one shaped like a dumbbell for the gym dates, another like an explosion for his quirk.

The note this time was simple:

“So you don’t forget me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. As if you could forget him.

Throughout the week, the gifts kept coming: a book you'd mentioned wanting to read, a hoodie he’d worn and sprayed lightly with his cologne, and even a short video of him grumbling into the camera about how much he missed you.

“I ain’t good at this romantic crap,” he said in the video, scratching the back of his head, “but I miss your stupid face. Don’t let anyone piss you off while I’m gone, got it?”

By the time the mission was over and he returned home, you were already waiting for him at the airport.

When he stepped through the gate, his usual gruff demeanor softened as soon as he saw you. You ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling back to look at him.

“Miss me, huh?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him. “Tch. Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, leaning you forehead against his. “You’re such a liar. Admit it—you’re a big softie.”

Bakugo sighed, pulling you closer and nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “Whatever."

And as your laughter melted into a kiss, he decided that maybe being a little mushy wasn’t so bad—so long as it was for you.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader

If the link does not work, use the user!!

Wattpad: amkyor

[shepherds-of-haven]

Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! I hope you all are having a wonderful end to 2024. I just wanted to take a moment to reflect on all the progress that's been made on the game this year!

I added 182,000 words to the game this year; that's about a 25% increase from last year (even though I was juggling even more stuff lol) and is about the equivalent of writing The Fellowship of the Ring, Jane Eyre, or Great Expectations over the course of one year! This included the completion of Chapter 9 as well as 14 character interludes!

However, that wasn't all; I also wrote about 55,000 words for the Shepherd short stories on Patreon (bringing the total wordcount of our short story library to somewhere around 440,000 words), and I also started work on my second novel manuscript in earnest sometime in July. Somehow—miraculously—I added 81,000 words to that, working mostly night or "double" shifts, all in the last few months! All told, I wrote something like 318,000 words this year, and of course that doesn't include coding, programming, design, art or music, marketing, answering asks and making posts, and all of the other little tasks and behind-the-scenes stuff I do either for the game, Patreon, or for my job on the author side of things!

We accomplished a lot of other things this year, including completing the second volume of Ivan Duch's original soundtrack for the game, the creation of more art assets, and cranking out more goodies, merch, and codex entries than ever! As ever, much of the stuff I've done has to continue to cook in the background before I want to officially make it all public, but I'm quite pleased with where everything is going and happy that we're slowly inching closer and closer to the game's initial completion!

I also thought it would be fun to take a look back at how you guys have been playing Shepherds of Haven so far! Through our polls, we've learned a lot about your guys' decisions so far, and I hope to resume this series in 2025. You can click the polls link to see the results and data breakdowns in more detail, though of course, this will always be my favorite series of polls! 😉

Finally, I thought it might be useful to post a (possibly needlessly confusing) roadmap of where I hope to go with the game as we head into 2025. Up first, of course, are the remaining character interludes I need to write until everyone's caught up to the Ascendancy Festival, which I'm sure you've all inferred is an important event in the game. After the Ascendancy Festival is complete, we may either continue in a linear sequence, completing the character interludes that occur after the festival, then Lovelace Day, then the interludes after that, and then proceed with Chapter 10 with all characters truly "caught up"... or we may take a shortcut and start Chapter 10 after the Ascendancy Festival is (at least starting to feel) complete. I don't really know how I'll feel yet—I could be sick to death of the interludes by then and may need a break—so I'm leaving room for flexibility for myself while giving you guys a loose picture, in broad strokes, of what the current plan looks like!

And with that, that's all I have for you today! 2024 was its own year of emotional twists and turns. A lot of exciting things happened: I got engaged! I started work on my new book and I don't hate it! We creep ever close to Chase ruining his lovers' lives a lot of revelations and epiphanies for our stalwart Shepherds! But it was also, of course, a year fraught with its own difficulties and challenges as well. Looking back, I want to emphasize how much navigating this journey has been impacted and influenced by this wonderful, positive community. As ever, I can only thank you all for your kindness, encouragement, patience, empathy, patronage, and support as I've continued to learn, grow, and challenge myself as a game maker and creator. So much of this couldn't be possible without you! And with a swell of relief and hope, I can now note that we are slowly chugging along here, and perhaps the haziest impression of a finish line is finally beginning to appear as a smudge on the horizon...

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this session of Shepherds of Haven Wrapped! Happy New Year, and see you on the other side of 2025—may it be a year filled with continued growth, excitement, and creation! 🎊

[firefly-lemons]

I wake up again. and again. and again. But, every day I wake up. Every day I wake up to see her. Evert day I wake up as a protest to my past-self. The one that sulked, moped, that miserable mess who couldn't even wake up and eat some fucking food sometimes. The one who hid for years in the dark, watched generations pass, a faceless observer, because I couldn't even see myself let alone other people.

She was my sunshine, my apple-pie. She is a lingering sweetness that seeps through me still. She was an ambrosia that helped me survive all those years ago. She was a mirror that helped me see. She lay her hands over mine, fingers interlaced helping me-shape-me like pottery. She helped me see what had been hidden in the clay, how to find the arteries. She came to me like an apple fell out a tree, a random chance sparked melody. And God. We were so in tune.

We stayed together, built community, together we were harmony. A random chance sparked melody. A sweet apple song sung preciously. It's not like we were without jealousy. Sometimes we fought in a broken dissonance, a perfect dissonance. A mirror shattered, blood on hands, but still reflecting.

But together. Together we built it back, piece by piece to a blood-on-hands sort of peace. Stained but still going. I offered her an apple, just like when we met the first time. she tilted her head a little, smiled, laughed a little and took it. I remember that moment especially. We were a random chance sparked melody. A sweet apple song sung preciously. But again and again. We chose to sustain. We chose the work. We fought through pain. Together, again and again.

We worked on a house. Slowly from the ground up. Built a home there, spread our roots. Got our hands mud stained. Started a symphony, trumpets and flutes. People added their own harmonies as we sang our apple sweet melody. Took some apple seeds buried deep. Let our roots spread. We wed. Joined together, we fought for this melody that would last forever.

She saved me. Showed me how apple-sweet the world could be. We planted forests. Found family. It felt like fantasy. But as forests flowered again and again. Fruits of our labour reaped. Time started to creep. She started to slow as gray hair started to streaked, our perfect, apple sweet melody. I sat there tear ridden. Love written in the lines on her face. A story told, I let her lean on me as we embrace. Fingers interlaced I help her remember. Show her the healed arteries. Carve a story like pottery. Showing her what was in the clay. Where the love had been. The apple sung melody. The broken mirror put together again, hoping it would spark familiarity.

I remember the morning. That morning. I remember I woke up and was mourning. Sunlight hits and there I was mourning. Some days I woke up and didn't even want to get out of bed. Could've sung but I sulked, moped, became that miserable mess instead. Before someone came to check on me, offered me an apple. Showed me our community, picked from our garden. My heart started to unhardened. I sung. I sung our apple sweet melody. Some new harmonies, not a perfect remedy. Echoes of what used to be. But enough.

I woke up. Every day I wake up. Every day I replay reverberations of the past, Inviting our community generations-past over. A community-A family that can last, that will last.

Every day I wake up I see a little less of her, the apple sweet melody still sung gets some new harmonies. But it's enough to see them all. Together again and again. Thousands of different versions of family. Each one stands there happily. Generation of our community. Apples that stray farther from the tree, taste just as sweet as our apple sweet melody. It's enough that it's sung still. A little in his smile, her eyes, on their lips.

It warms my heart to hear the echo again and again. Evolving but, underlying our undying sort of love. It's enough. I invite people over again and again. I plant roots, still hear echos of that sweet apple sung melody. I look down at my hands stained. An epitaph of love remained. I sit down at the table, our sustained song. Each adding their own harmony. A patchwork quilt remedy. Just like the sweet apple sung melody. Fights away my melancholy. It's new. It's enough.

I look down at my hands stained.

Blood remembered. Lasting love reclaimed.

So let's do it for old times sake.

Again and again

My sweet apple-pie.

Lets sing our apple sweet melody.

Till nothing remains.

Most immortals become the angsty “everyone I have ever loved is gone” kind of immortal. You, on the other hand, instead took it upon yourself to be a loving presence to entire generations of your chosen family, because they are descended from someone you once loved long ago.

[dabiconcordia]

Last year I heard a story about this gentleman who knocks on his son’s door. "Jim," he says, "wake up!" Jim answers, "I don’t want to get up, Papa."

The father shouts, "Get up, you have to go to school." Jim says, "I don’t want to go to school." "Why not?" asks the father. "Three reasons," says Jim. First, because it’s so dull; second, the kids tease me; and third, I hate school. And the father says, "Well, I am going to give you three reasons why you must go to school. First, because it is your duty; second, because you are forty-five years old, and third, because you are the teacher." By Anthony de Mello

[writersbloxx]

Dialogue Prompts

Betrayal

Betrayal dialogue prompts from both perspectives:

“I knew you wouldn't understand.”

“You have to tell me why, please just tell me why?”

“Maybe now you'll open your eyes.”

“We could have done this together.”

“I promise it wasn't supposed to end this way.”

“You are dangerously naive.”

“What am I supposed to tell everyone?”

“I really wanted to trust you.”

“In a weird way, I’m actually sort of glad it was you.”

“If it's any consolation, I’m gonna miss us.”

[opalsimmer]

Short Story Challenge - tell a sim story in one screenshot and twenty-five words or less.

Her first day as a Grimtern. What she didn’t know, was that her own name was on the list.

Thank you for tagging me @strangetownpt99! I've done one before, but this gives me the excuse to make more🤭I'm tagging @sharona-sims @abbysimsfun @finchfin and everyone who may see this and wants to do it!

[number-one-kallamar-lover]

Narinder Angst:

Narinder in his shelter curled up in the dark, ugly crying and sobbing to himself and eating a pint of ice cream because he has nothing and nobody, like, literally nothing in his life

[lettygene]

Tara By Letty Gene

No one alive knows where the giants came from. Stories say they came from the skies, tore through the earth or crawled from the deepest depths of the oceans in order to devour us whole. Their bodies long since decayed, bones returned to the earth, and flesh used to enrich and greenery that continues to grow from its bones.

We called our giant, Tara, for her undead beauty, bound to the earth. The stories may say she came to devour us thousands of years ago, but I still think she’s beautiful…

Monster by JIN LH

[memingursa]

Okay so, for tales of the road, my short story “games”, I intend the framing device to basically be Life and Death arguing with each other. These two eldritch goddess beings as a result of unbridled toxic love have created everything and all of human suffering. Life wants to create more and more to horrific results to honor death. Death tries to guide people to survive and live well as to honor Life. Life giving death meaning, Death giving life meaning. They don’t understand how the other doesn’t devote themselves to their named cause. Death only seeing the beauty of life, life only seeing the beauty of death.

So, my question.

Link for my game if you want to try it’s still a work in progress to make right and I will edit it more. Less a promo and a curiosity about the reception to the general vibe of the idea.

https://tedabear.itch.io/tales-from-the-road-episode-1

(I am still working on it, trying to figure out how to time typing speed out and give options, relatively new at this)

[amkyor]

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY ᡣ𐭩

What A Woman:

Bakugo Katsuki was sprawled out on the couch after a long day of patrols, his arm draped lazily over the backrest as the faint sound of the evening news played in the background.

His hero work had been grueling, as always, but he prided himself on the effort he put in every day. When he heard the sound of the front door opening, he glanced over, expecting you, his girlfriend, to walk in with your usual warm greeting.

But this time, you didn't say a word.

You dropped your bag by the door, kicked off your shoes, and stormed straight over to him. Before he could open his mouth to ask what was going on, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his in a fiery, aggressive kiss.

His eyes widened in surprise, his brain trying to catch up with what was happening.

You kissed him like you were trying to steal the air from his lungs, your hands gripping his shirt tightly as if you couldn't get enough of him.

When your lips finally parted, Bakugo was left breathless, his heart pounding in his chest. "What the hell was-"

SMACK!

Your hand came down on his cheek with a sharp slap, leaving him completely stunned.

His head turned slightly from the impact, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of the television in the background.

Bakugo blinked, his cheek stinging, but his expression slowly morphed from shock into something else entirely.

His lips curled into a smirk, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

"Well, damn," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly.

You crossed your arms, your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. "That's what you get for ignoring my texts all day, Katsuki."

He let out a low chuckle, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly. "You call that a punishment?"

Your face turned slightly red, but you didn't back down, leaning closer to him. "Maybe next time, you'll think twice before leaving me on read."

Bakugo's grin widened as he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her down onto his lap. "Tch. You're crazy, you know that?"

You rolled your eyes, but the playful smirk on your lips betrayed your amusement. "Too bad, you're stuck with me."

With that, you kissed him on the cheek, got up from his lap, and turned away from him, making your way to the bedroom as your hips swayed side to side as Bakugo watched from afar.

Bakugo sat in silence in the living room for a couple of seconds before he stood up and made his way to their bedroom with his unusual, hungry, smirking face.

"What a woman."

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader

[trustinsturniolos]

The green hills on Alpine Meadows (2)

pairing : chris x reader

warnings : use of ‘y/n’ , swearing , might be a little confusing , not the best descriptions , pet name (‘pretty’) , not proofread.

────୨ৎ────

I don't bother to see who was sat near me, I just look at where the yellow tinted screen with greasy fingerprint marks on it said I was sat, which was next to Christopher on the third row, two desks from the right side of the class, and try to find where the desk was in the classroom.

I eventually find where it was, and coyly walk over to it, inspecting the mustard yellow coloured workbooks placed in front of the seats, one with 'Chris' labelled on it in scruffy writing, one blank. I gently pull the chair with the blank book in front of it back and sit down whilst I place my bag on the floor with a soft 'thud' noise as my pencil case and equipment softly drops onto the floor. I open the zip of my bag and pull my light, plain, sage green coloured pencil case out of my bag and bring it to my lap, scrambling through it to find a plain black biro pen. Placing the pencil case down once I'd gotten the pen I wanted, I instantly started writing down the title on the work book in front of me once I'd opened it, leaving the front cover blank without realising.

────୨ৎ────

Not long after I'd set to work, the popular group of students came striding in confidently, lead by the boys, I’m the girls clinging behind like desperate, attention seeking koalas. With an unbearable amount of high pitched, over-the-top, tacky and fake giggles and squeals emerging from the girls mouths who were tagging behind Christopher, obsessively craving his attention as if they were going to die unless they got some form of attention from him. Chris, being the same smug, insufferable, cocky, arrogant and confident popular frat boy as all the other boys in his group of friends, obviously only the pompous and irritating boys, indulged in the girls' crave for his pointless attention, grinning proudly as the girls followed behind him. The around average height girls with varieties of hair colours, mostly deep brunette or honey blonde coloured, quickly scurried to their seats, biting their nails whilst squealing and giggling pathetically at their brief and slightly flirty interaction with Chris, as they heard Mr. Watson raise his deep, croaky old man's voice when the girls and Chris ignored his previous comments telling them to sit down. "Sit down! Now." Mr. Watson demanded repeatedly in a stern tone, an irritated and wound up frown displayed on his face, highlighting the wrinkles in his forehead as he furrowed his brows. He pursed his pink tinted lips tightly together, frustrated with the lack of care the students had as he watched the girls care more about talking than getting work done.

────୨ৎ────

My focus snaps off Mr. Watson as I hear an aggressive thud against the floor, causing the ground to vibrate. My gaze turns to the loud noise, and I realise it was Chris putting his bag down. What could be in his bag to make it so heavy? Geez.

My focus lingers on his bag for a second, as if there was something majestic about his simple but heavy bag, before realising he was looking at me. I divert my gaze up to his eyes, and meet his confused but curious gaze. I realise he was probably wondering why I was staring at his bag for so long. Great. That was embarrassing. I don't even know myself why I was staring for so long.

────୨ৎ────

I quickly look back at the teacher, who was now ranting angrily on about how 'important it is to be on time to lesson', and how 'it's extremely rude and disrespectful' to waste his time. After his dreadfully deafening lecture which caused all the students to groan the minute he started speaking, knowing what he was about to rant on about, he announced to the whole class that he would be walking around the class and monitoring everyone even closer than usual today, making sure everyone was doing all the work. I quickly finish writing everything in the board that we were instructed to write down, worried about getting in trouble on my first day and making a bad impression on the teacher.

────୨ৎ────

I overhear a couple people talking together, passing notes or happily feeling confident enough to talk out loud to each other, before they were told off by Mr. Watson. "Excuse me! I'm speaking!" He scolds everyone, snapping his head viscously in Chris' direction, meeting him with a firm scowl to show his feeling toward Chris' 'disrespectful behaviour'. "Sorry, sir." Chris shrugs, stifling a laugh by covering his mouth with his hand.

────୨ৎ────

Not long after Mr. Watson turns around to continue explaining what was on the board, the boys begin to speak to each other again. This time, with Chris sat next to me, I overhear their conversation, unable to hear what sir was saying over their talking. "Yeah, this seating plan's shit. I've got to sit next to 'her." One of the boys murmured glumly, shifting his shoulder to direct Chris' eyes to the girl sat next to him. It was the girl I was sat next to during form time. She seemed really sweet and kind, making me instantly feel sorry for her, knowing she could hear the boys talking about her.

────୨ৎ────

"Wait, Chris, who're you sat next to?" The boy asks, intrigued and looking over at me. I keep my gaze straight, looking forward at the board, nervous and worried they would say something bad about me, even though they didn't even know me.

────୨ৎ────

"D'know. The new one, can't remember her name. She's quiet." He mutters back, glancing over at me with a blank expression, scanning over my facial features as I try to focus on the work.

────୨ৎ────

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him murmur something to his friend, before leaning back in his seat and turning to face me. "Hey, you, 's your name?" He bops his head up, waiting expectantly for my response with an emotionless expression on his weirdly attractive face. I turn to look at him. "Y/n." I reply coyly in a quiet voice. "Mm. 'Kay." He muttered, turning back to face his friend, who was almost the opposite of him.

────୨ৎ────

The only thing that made them similar, was their attitude. The other boy was blond with hazel eyes and pale pink lips with a little, dried out, red cut on the left side of his bottom lip, indicating he tended to chew on and bite his bottom lip.

Chris huffed and rolled his eyes slightly, almost seeming irritated by my unenthusiastic response to his question, clearly expecting more of a reaction from a girl. Especially one who had 'the honour' of spoken to by Chris.

────୨ৎ────

Chris and his equally smug friend continued blabbering on to each other carelessly, clearly not interested at all in this boring. I don't even blame them, this lesson was dull and repetitive. At least in my old school the teachers didn't repeat the same load of rubbish they'd already said about a thousand times, each time getting more and more boring.

────୨ৎ────

As the lesson went on, the boys began to become more disruptive. They were talking and laughing as if they weren't in class, most had moved seats, including Chris who had shuffled his dark grey plastic chair to the desk next to ours, and a couple boys had even been recklessly throwing carefully folded paper aeroplanes around the class.

────୨ৎ────

At this point, Mr. Watson had given up with trying to prevent the class' ridiculous antics from continuing. He stared furiously at everyone who was disrupting the class, pursing his small lips and furrowing his bushy, dark brown eyebrows.

────୨ৎ────

Just as Mr. Watson was about to attempt settling the class down again, I feel a light prick to the side of my head. I whip my head around to see what hit my head. I notice a folded piece of paper now resting on the floor.

Of course.

A paper aeroplane.

"Sorry," Chris chuckles lightly, trying to hide a devious smirk. I scoff quietly and lead over, reaching my soft arm down to pick up the poxy paper aeroplane. I pick it up swiftly and crush the paper in my hands, loud crinkling noises emerging from the paper until it forms a slightly misshapen ball. Without thinking, I throw it back at Chris, it landing in his lap.

God, why did I do that?

That was so fucking stupid.

I'm new, and I had the guts to do that shit?

Am I high or something.

────୨ৎ────

Chris snaps his head up, his brown locks flopping down onto his face. He doesn't say anything, just rolls his eyes, picking the crinkled piece of paper up and throwing aggressively down onto the ground.

────୨ৎ────

˙⋆✮At the end of the day, I begin walking home. ✮⋆˙

────୨ৎ────

I speedily turn around a corner, desperate to get home. I inhale the smell of the moist, cool fresh breeze, before I soon feel a strong, muscular, warm arm get slung over my shoulder, using it to gently pull me closer to the owner of the arm's warm, inviting body. "So, what's up with chucking paper at me, pretty?" He says teasingly in a slightly deep voice. I look up at the person, and see Chris looking down at me with a grin. "Shut up. You threw it at me first!" I respond argumentatively, returning the same teasing grin.

────୨ৎ────

I guess there was one really good thing about moving here. To beautiful Alpine Meadows. I got to see my precious boyfriend without having to drive hours to see him.

❀ I LOWKEY DONT  KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT  THE ENDINGGG!! It was really fun to write, but I don't know if I should've just kept it as classmates for a while?? Also, I'm sorry but I love the nickname "pretty"!! I just find it so cutesy!! I know it got rushed towards the end, but I thought of the idea for the ending of this part when I was writing about the paper aeroplanes, and I just wanted to get it finished.❀

[lundorealityrewriter]

And thats from just eating one slice of pizza imagine what finishing the whole pizza would do.

Did a comparison pic with my last office shirt before I gave up and started wearing polos. First was from a year and a half ago.

[whumperwithwings]

Whumpuary 2025 Day 1

Day 1: Sacrifice, Headache, "This will hurt"

Whumpee heard the door open, but couldn't see who enter through their closed eyelids. Still, the noise pierced their brain with a shock of pain, which they tried their hardest to ignore as the person began to softly speak in the darkness of their room.

"Hey, Whumpee, are you doing better then this morning? I got some food on the way here, if you are. I can put it in the fridge, of course, I don't mean to pressure you. Just wondering." Caretaker sat down on the bed in front of Whumpee, and Whumpee could hear them putting the food down on the bedside table as they tentatively opened their eyes to look up at their concerned face, feeling another pang of pain in their brain.

"I'm doing alright, but it's not that great. Sorry for making you get food for me." Whumpee's voice sounded weak as they tried to avoid large amounts of effort, the pain still strong despite their words to the contrary.

Caretaker's voice sounded concerned and slightly exasperated as they turned to look at Whumpee and replied. "Don't apologize, Whumpee. I'm perfectly fine doing stuff for you, you know. If only you could accept that."