A Fated Pair Of Star-crossed Bunnies 🩷🐇

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

This is moremysteriesthantragedies here. Just don't want to make anyone panic, so letting y'all know this is my new blog, and I will be making a pinned post for it as soon as I am able.

Tagging the people I interact with the most @akiwitch, @ieppiq, @terrakatten, @likegemstone, @new-royston-cursebreakers, @asher-writes.

Same. I love him already.

Happy storyteller saturday! What are you most looking forward to writing in your current WIP?

Oh yay, thank you for the ask!

I'm very excited about the male love interest's character development. He starts off as grumpy and mostly feral and I love characters like that, but I'm also looking forward to him softening up over time!

Ooo I loved this! It gave me the chills. It felt so visual to, I could just visualize each scene.

— An extra-narrative writing exercise based on my work, The Taste of Hallowed Earth

I adore this so much. The emotions of the characters can just be felt. I don't know the full context, but even so, it was clear how much they cared about each other, and they truly felt like family.

I wish we could love.

WIP; Out of Sight and Mind

Context: Ari, who has returned to his hometown following his parents death, was a teenage runaway who faked his own death to escape abusive parents. This is a conversation between him and his brother about being in love for the first time since he left, and the childhood that pushed them apart.

Neptune is Ari's childhood best friend, who he loved but dragged into some shit situations.

Edward is Ari's current love interest.

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial

--

"I loved her, and I haven't loved another person since," Ari whispered with intense soberness to the ceiling. His eyes were red in the glare of the morning sun, yet dark as if the night had never left him.

"I know," Eli sat down with surprising tenderness in his voice - a moment of peace he rarely had, given only for the expressive heartache Ari rarely showed. Not even time could truly sever a brother's love.

"It feels...wrong, somehow."

"Because you love him, or because you're loved at all?" Ari breathed in the air, and it turned into something sickening in his stomach. Nausea fell like waves upon him, his hand finding his forehead just to press down, feel less like every piece of him was falling away.

"I suppose I don't have a leg to stand on, to be upset she lied to my face...after leaving her."

"It broke her into pieces, but it pushed her to her own freedom."

"I was a chain on her."

"You were," it was solemn, truthful, "...you pulled her downwards, and letting go was the only way she'd see the sky again." Ari felt the tears burn, hearing it spoke so plainly. "But you were a teenager, forced to make decisions no teenager should have to make - it'd hardly a blame you chose the wrong one."

"You never forgave me." What if he hadn't changed, what if all these years were a mirage, and he only ended up breaking Edward the way he broke Neptune?

"I never understood." Ari pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes and begged the tears to stop. His body felt hot with the want to curl up in a ball away from Eli, from Neptune, from everyone. He'd hardly had a second of silence since he'd got to this god-forsaken place. "But I overheard you talking to Edward, and I do now."

"I never wanted you to know."

"I know," Eli's voice cracked, "...you subjected yourself to years of my anger to protect me from the truth."

"I wanted you to have good parents, and they loved you-"

"But they hurt you."

"It made me stronger."

Eli shook his head "...not stronger, traumatised, look at you Ari; a boy tells you he loves you, and you feel like it's the end of the world, that's not strength, that's pain."

"I just don't understand."

"You are so much more lovable than any of us have ever made you feel," Eli's voice shook with a deep tremble that reminded Ari of thunder rumbling through the sky. The natural order, disturbed by a tremor in the humidity. "Alicia is better at this than I," he laughed with discarded mirth, "...you are my brother, and you came here for me knowing it would tear you to pieces, and I love you."

Ari didn't know what to say, his mouth opened and closed, but the words burned and stopped in his throat. He desperately wanted to say it, to tell his little brother he would jump in front of a bullet for him, that he'd tear apart the world to keep him safe. But he didn't. He looked at Eli with something dejected and fearful, and just prayed that he understood.

Me writing Every Hero Needs a Villain like "maybe this is too self indulgent" and encouraging myself to sprinkle in even more self indulgence everytime I think that.

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.

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.

"In a way, there are more mysteries than tragedies"

Kofi | Wattpad | AO3 | Writing Master List | Pillowfort | Bluesky

(Profile art by @floofyboi57)

Hi hi! I'm an aroace trans man in a system that loves to write horror mysteries. Though I dabble in other genres depending on what a story needs. My works typically include morally gray characters, strangely cute monsters, and dark content, so make sure you read the content warnings before engaging with them. Some themes you can expect are light in the deepest darkness, heroes being worse than the villain, weirdcore settings, humans as the true evil, religious trauma, finding queer acceptance, and so on. I also litter my works with trans, plural, and aroace themes.

Important notes:

Why did I make a new blog, outside of wanting a fresh start? To be honest, my notifications were so broken that it made the decision easy. I do recognize that, one day, I'll have to accept having an account for a long time just means things will break, but this is not that day!

Taglist and Tags

@aweirdshipp

If you like our work, please consider asking to be added to the taglist! This shows us people are interested in our writing, and can help ensure you're notified about writing updates. Feel free to clarify if you want to be tagged for things like a specific WIP, writing ramblings, snippets, or if you want to be notified when I need beta readers.

#ourwriting, #writingrambles, #writingsnippet, #wipupdates, #essiehobbies

Disclaimer

I will not follow you if you do not properly warn about or tag triggering content. I'd love to be moots with others, but I can not comfortably follow you if you are not properly tagging your posts. I am a strong pusher for properly tagging content so people can curate their own space.

An Optional BYF For Those Who Want It

This is a Litmus Test

Yep, let's talk about the whole "fiction effects reality" thing. When I use this phrase, what I am not saying is that violent media will make you violent, or that all stories should be squeaky clean with the purpose of teaching a moral. It's a recognition of how harmful feeding into stereotypes can be, and how certain framing contributes to the spread of harmful ideas. For example, a work that glorifies violence done by the military via painting the other side of a conflict as "pure evil". And let me be clear, a character glorifying their own actions is not the same as the creator glorifying their actions, nor are stories where everyone is evil or sucks encouraging bad behavior.

The takes, "writing about horrific things does not make you a bad person", and, "a creator framing a character's horrific behavior as justifiable, and others negative reactions towards it as unjustifiable, could be a red flag", in my opinion, can and should coexist. (Ex: B being painted as in the wrong for not seeing a trans individual as crazy, while A is painted as justified for doing so). I am against censorship and harassment, but I am not against thoughtful critiques or discussions about how we present certain ideas within our writing. Discouraging this makes it more difficult to discuss when harm is intended or accidentally done, and can be used to silence minorities when they ask for better representation. It also makes it harder to blow the whistle on bigots. Both the extremes that everyone who writes dark things condones them, and that no one who writes dark things ever condones them are not helpful. Which brings me to my main point.

TDLR: Framing is everything, and just because fiction isn't going to turn us into murder hobos, that doesn't mean it can't contribute to the spread of harmful ideas. Being against censorship does not have to mean being against thoughtful discussion or critique.

Your reaction to these paragraphs will let you know whether or not my writing is for you. I'm a neurodivergent who's addicted to nuance, and this shows in not only my stories, but also how I approach them. As I write them, I twist the struggles, perspectives, and experiences of the characters to end up with a complex web of considerations. There's nothing wrong with a story full of horrible people being horrible just for the sake of it, or a story full of violence just because, but those aren't the type of things I tend to write. I also often cover the perspectives of trauma victims and plural individuals to put out the representation I as one want to see.

If you dislike horror that takes an interest in examining and criticizing human behavior, this is definitely not the blog for you. But, if you think tackling questions such as how far the heroes can go before they become just as bad, or even worse, than the villain, themes of characters overcoming evil, characters like oddly soft demons, and settings like weirdcore societies meant to comment on American society, are interesting, then I think you'll enjoy my works.

TDLR: I write horror with a gushy center and with representation that is important to me.