Speaking Of, Tempted To Make A Community Myself, But Since I Have A Variety Of Unconnected Works, I Have

Teenage Wasteland Chap. 2 Snippet

Sunlight streamed into Samantha’s cavernous garage, illuminating a lone scarlet-colored toolbox and stacks of cardboard boxes which smelled faintly of dust and old newspapers. Yet more pervasive of all was that stench of motor oil which clung to the air, a thick, greasy perfume even the strong breeze couldn’t quite shift. This emptiness came with a strange comfort, the perfect canvas for Sam and Tegan’s rehearsal space; the quiet hum of the neighborhood traffic added a low background thrum to their afternoon. Samantha’s parents’ absence, a welcoming situation, stretched out before them like a long, open road.

“Yeah, we both should sing, right? Like, If’n it makes you feel better. I can be the lead, but you got to be my back up.” Samantha offered the well-used can turned weed-bowl towards Tegan. “I can’t be singing alone, ya know?”

The metallic clang of the can against the lighter echoed as Tegan inhaled deep of the weed’s smoke, the butane’s sharp scent stinging her nostrils. She sat the can down on a rough, large cardboard box, its texture a sharp contrast to the smooth metal. “I can’t sing for shit,” she mumbled, her voice husky from the smoke. “You are the one with the beautiful voice.”

“Hah! No! I’m going to go all punk with this shit. Because this isn’t ‘bout beauty. We’re going to make music and say, ‘fuck the man,’ all at the same time.” Samantha’s passion took over as she strummed the V-shaped guitar strapped around her. “Now let’s make some music!”

With a snorting laughter, Tegan nodded. “Fuck yeah! We’ll be the next Bratmobile or Bikini Kill. But before we get to that point, co-band leader, what’cha playing?”

“I don’t know! Fuck it! Let’s jam!”

Not saying a word, Tegan moved over to Samantha, the soft brush of her cheek against Sam’s a fleeting whisper. An almost secret smiled played on their lips; they both smelled of Teen Spirit, the Romantic Rose scent, that is. They’d tried to conceal their affections from the older generations—a hushed giggle, a furtive glance, but here they could do what they wanted. Being so far back from the road, no one could see them.

****

@fablesandfragments @seastarblue @vesanal @theink-stainedfolk @leahnardo-da-veggie

@aalinaaaaaa @an-indecisive-nerd @write-with-will @the-ellia-west @carb0n-m0n0xide

@inadequatecowboy @kitkins13 @watermeezer @shepardstales @bardic-tales

@dyrewrites

The symbolism in this one had me by a death grip. I could picture it so clearly in my head, and I like how it serves as a metaphor for unhealthy relationships. Ones where X takes too much and ends up hurting Y, which hurts X in turn. Or maybe a relationship where Y reacts poorly to love, and X is made to feel like a monster/guilty for it. But, that's just my intepretation.

I spit my teeth into your mouth

so I wouldn't bit your lip

and while your tongue led mine in an aggressive tango

all 28 of them slid down your throat

My canines catch

and rip holes in your esophagus

and my molars create a blockage

at the entrance of your stomach

When our lips leave each other

I grace you with a bloody smile

that stains my white blouse

and drips onto the tile

But my mouth closes when I see the fear on your face

and the pain in your breath

and as my hands meet your's at your throat

I am left with a mountain of regret

I made a song for giving you song recs for your OCs! For those who are into that, feel free to give it a follow.

Songs For Your OCs

Hi hi! This is a blog run by @moremysteries to help you find songs for your original blorbos and original works. Please review the information below, and happy requesting.

Ask Rules

I am not comfortable with minors interacting, so begone minors!

Always assume I am not familiar with your OCs and give the relevant information for whatever you are requesting. If you plan to send me a character bio, awesome! But please point me in the right direction so I know which parts are most relevant for whatever you are requesting. (EX: Can you read the section on their teen years and give me song recs that fit?)

Yes, you can request songs for NSFW scenes. Just please do not request songs for assault scenes, as I find that too triggering. Outside of that, please let me know the vibes of the scene or the character dynamics so I know what kind of songs you're looking for.

I will rec songs for abusive relationships, but please don't send in requests asking me to do so through a romanticized lens. I am also not comfortable giving song requests for CSA or incest, sorry.

I am fine with people sending multiple requests, but please limit yourself to six requests max. I will take my time on requests, so don't pressure me.

I reserve the right to not complete any request that makes me feel uncomfortable for any reason.

What you can request

Recs for songs that fit your OCs or a certain aspect of your OC.

Recs for songs that fit a certain scene.

Recs for songs your OC might listen to based on their tastes.

Recs for songs that fit a relationship between your OCs.

Recs for songs that fit the vibes or a certain aspect of your WIP.

Recs for songs based on a playlist you already have, a song you strongly associate with the OC, wip, scene, and so on, a moodboard, etc.

Just always remember the more relevant details you give me, the more accurate the recommendations will be. For instance, "my OC is named Bill and loves dogs". That's sweet, but will their love of dogs help me find songs that suit them? I personally doubt it. A sentence like, "my OC is named Bill, and he's a sweetheart that works at the local dog shelter because he loves animals," is much more informative. This is just an example of a helpful sentence, but please give me more than just that sentence. 😅

Actually being a little guy? Nah. Little guy status is all you need. /lh

I'm late but happy world building wednesday! Any favorite animals who've created or modified for your story?

I'm late to answer, as always xD

I think the massive spiders in The Poison Complex, or maybe the radiation squirrels that are still really jumpy like they're not the size of rabbits and as fast as a cheetah. They still have little guy status. In my heart.

"You don't know me. I'm not the same person anymore."

"That's okay. I'll get to know you again."

Reblog to give the person you reblogged from the ability to finish their WIPs

Thank you for the signal boost!

Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.

Google Docs

Dating Game Satisfaction Survey

For a writing project of mine, I was curious how people felt about the dating options in games that let you romance the characters. Let me b

Minors please do not interact

I hope you don't mind me reblogging, but I love this addition.

As a college writing major, I am imploring some of you to understand seeing a work in a different way than the author intended is not "media illiteracy". This is not a church and the writer is not the pope.

I am gently encouraging y'all, if you think this, to look into literary theories, because then you will realize there are multiple valid ways to study and interpret a work. And guess what? Some of these theories do not explore the author's original intent at all, but rather let the work speak for itself. That is a valid way of reading a work just as much as researching the writer's intent or background. I am especially concerned about this attitude I am seeing in the younger generation that there is only one way to interpret a piece of art. That is not the beauty of art.

I am especially tired of seeing posts like this about the classics, usually by individuals who make jokes about how people who don't view a work the way the author intended "need to go back to high school". I do not blame them for this ignorance, but I am begging them to learn about media analysis outside of the high school classroom, because high school only teaches you one way to approach stories.

Also, nothing makes me roll my eyes more than when people yell "media illiteracy" towards someone interpreting a work differently due to their unique experiences. The amount of singlets who yell "media illiteracy" when I, a plural person, try to explain my discomfort towards most possession stories, is so annoying. Like, it isn't an attack, it's sharing a different view point based on my unique perspectives as a plural person. This is a great opportunity to learn about experiences other than your own, not to trounce people.

"Why is it a problem if students use AI to get through college"

Because if you demonstrate to me that you're willing to set aside concern for truth, evidence, and verifying things with your own eyes whenever it happens to be inconvenient for you, I have a solemn responsibility to make sure you don't get into medical school.

AH THEY'RE SO CUTE! It's also cool to learn more about their shared apartment. Like the characterization that Jesse is good at tinkering with things, which would make sense considering what we know about her mother. I literally cheered at the TV broadcast. The plot thickens and I'm pumped to see where it goes!

Chapter 3 - Jesse Slept.

As the bandage was applied, Jesse let out a soft sigh of relief. The sharp pain had gradually begun to find into a dull, persistent ache as the burn gel worked its magic.

Lira, still processing what just happened, sat with Jesse, her hands trembling slightly. Tears threated to spill over, but she fought them back. She couldn’t let this happen. Not to Jesse. Not like this.

The silence of the apartment was suffocating, a stark reminder of their isolation. The two were together, but in this moment, they were still alone. The distant wail of sirens cut through the quiet like butter, but inside, the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioning unit, a mechanical reminder of the world that kept turning outside even while they were trapped in this small, quiet space.

“I’m like a little medical doll,” Jesse choked out through tears, her voice shaking like a leaf behind the mask of confidence she attempted to wear.

Lira let out a soft chuckle before giving Jesse’s thigh a gentle, playful punch. “Just focus on staying alive…” Her voice wavered slightly, then dropped to a whisper just loud enough to hear. “…for me. Please.”

“You think I’m giving up that easy? That I’d throw away everything we’ve built together just because some bullet nicked me?”

“Well—I—no,” Lira stammered. “I-I guess I don’t think you would. But I worry you might not get much of a choice.”

Jesse gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. Just like you.”

Tears welled up even further in the corners of Lira’s eyes. Her voice trembled. “Good. I’m just…I’m so sorry you had to take that bullet. I should’ve—”

“Don’t even start,” Jesse cut her off gently. “I stood in the way. You didn’t push me into it.”

“Jesse, we…we can’t do this forever. You know that, right?” Lira’s voice broke while tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I mean…what if that hadn’t been a glancing blow? What if the guard had better aim?”

“I’m not letting you stop me from doing what I can to avenge my mom.” Jesse’s voice was calm—uncharacteristically so. Measured. Controlled. Like she was holding something back.

“I wasn’t planning to stop you, I just—” Lira faltered, her words falling apart as she leaned into her friend, crying—actually crying—for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jesse said nothing at first. She simply wrapped her good arm around Lira and held her close, breathing in the silence between them. Then, gently—unsure why—she pressed a soft kiss to the top of Lira’s head. She didn’t think she felt that way about Lira…at least, not yet. Yet somehow, in that moment, it felt right.

Lira melted into Jesse, clinging tighter until their bodies felt indistinguishable, her cheeks flushed with heat from the kiss. “I’m gonna do better,” she whispered. “I promise you that much.”

Jesse smiled softly and turned on the TV, flipping it to a news channel. Right there on the screen is her completed tag, splashed across a corporate tower like a scar in the skyline. It’s being shown on every news network their basic cable can show.

Jesse let out a soft sigh, the pain ebbing further under the thick bandages and burn gel. The news broadcast played in the background, her tag glowing on screen beneath grainy footage of the high-rise wall. She stares, silent.

It’s done. One step closer.

But that old memory flooded through her again—her mother’s eyes, glassy and unmoving. The sound cut out around her.

Beside her, Lira felt the tension coil in Jesse’s shoulders again. She reached out and flicked Jesse on the forehead.

“Don’t go back to then,” she says, voice quiet but steady. “We can’t change what happened, only what we’re going to do to return the favor.”

Jesse’s laugh is small and dry. “Yeah…I guess you’re right.”

She’s still spiraling, Lira thinks, watching Jesse place a hand over where Lira had flicked moments ago. Every time she sees that tag, she drifts. Every time she hurts, she hides.

Jesse leans her head back against the wall. She always pulls me back. Always. I don’t know how she does it.

Lira shifts closer, brushing her hand along Jesse’s arm. She’s still bleeding for me, even now. And I don’t know if I can keep watching that happen.

Jesse catches the movement and reaches over to squeeze Lira’s hand. Neither of them says anything.

We’re both doing this for the other, she thinks. But only one of us might walk away from it. I want it to be her.

A flicker of pain washes over Jesse’s face as she shifts to lay down on the floor, settling in front of the door. The movement is slow, deliberate, as she tried to make herself more comfortable.

Lira sighed softly and scooted a few inches away, giving Jesse the space she needed, though her eyes never leave her friend. She pulled her knees to her chest, a silent watchful presence.

“Good night, Lira…and thank you,” Jesse murmurs, her voice barely a whisper, still heavy with exhaustion. She closed her eyes, pretending to drift off to sleep, hoping it will give Lira some semblance of peace.

Lira knows better. She knows Jesse isn’t actually asleep—not yet, at least.

The clock on the wall, an old analog piece Jesse fixed up with her own hands, chimed softly. The bells rung out the hour. Ring. Ring.

The familiar melody of the clock echoed in the room, providing an odd kind of comfort in the dim red light.

“I love you, Jesse…” Lira whispered, her voice so soft it barely broke the silence between them.

Jesse fought the urge to smile, her heart skipping a beat at the quiet confession. She wasn’t sure the extent of Lira’s love, but she knew she felt the same. The feeling is foreign, but powerful. After years of pushing away every emotion, this one hit harder than she expected. I love you too, Lira. She thinks, but didn’t dare speak the words. The magic of the moment was too fragile to break.

The pain in Jesse’s shoulder came back in waves, making it feel as if hours had passed. She didn’t move a muscle, desperate to maintain the fragile peace that hung in the air.

Lira counted the seconds every time Jesse’s breath hitched even slightly, keeping track, making she she knew exactly how often it happened—and whether she needed to step in. Whether that meant dragging her to a hospital like she knows she should have done from the start, or springing into action like she always had. This was too much compared to her usual patch jobs. Too different. Too dangerous for her to be the only one working on it.

On the other hand, she knew that if she tried to take Jesse to the hospital now—not even three hours after their little adventure at the Omnigen building—she’d be risking the cops getting to Jesse first.

Jesse shifted slightly, the slight rustle of clothing catching Lira’s attention.

The fragile stillness shattered, replaced by a wave of nerves as Lira watched Jesse like a hawk, heart racing, ready to act if she had to.

Jesse assumed by now that Lira would be asleep. She mumbled, “Fuck, this hurts…Mom, I hope you’re proud of me…”

“You kidding?” Lira’s voice is soft, laced with concern. “Of course she’d be proud of you, Jesse…You went and tagged the main building of the corporation that took both your home and her life.”

Jesse froze, realizing she wasn’t as alone as she initially thought. “Y-Yeah…Right…I guess I did do that…”

Lira let a soft giggle escape her lips and nodded, “Damn right you did. You even beat me to it.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Jesse’s voice floated out, a bit more monotone, drained, forced. “Do you think…tomorrow’s pain is going to be worse..?”

“Whatever happens, we’re still here. That’s what matters.”

Jesse turns her head to look at Lira, lost for words, and offered a small, soft smile.

Lira reached out, brushing her hand along Jesse’s face and rubbing her thumb across Jesse’s cheek.

The moment hung between them—fleeting, but feeling like it could last forever. Both of them were smiling quietly, wordlessly, grateful just for the chance to exist together in this shattered world.

After what felt like hours of unspoken words and emotions, Jesse finally surrendered to sleep, letting it take her into the night.

Lira sighed softly, watching her, before finally nestling her chin between her knees and closing her eyes.