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Boring stuff I've done today despite my stupid body
Fun stuff I didn't get to do today because of my stupid body
Things that are still good
Thigs that still do sucketh
Things I'm going to do tonight
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*motherfucking words. remember that time i used to write? and it was good? wouldn't it be nice to have that again?
idfk, maybe some word sketches? snippets from longer fics i'll probably never write but you'd like me to? want to give me some prompts and i will try for, ughhh ten sentences minimum per prompt? they may not be great sentence but there will be words BY SATAN.
pls?
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Boring stuff I've done today despite my stupid body
- Updated a lecture
- Written feedback on a dissertation draft
- Washed dishes
- Changed cat litter
- Prepped dinner
- Unplugged bathroom drains
Fun stuff I didn't get to do today because of my stupid body
- Swimming
- Sub boy
Things that are still good
- Reading some comfort fic
- Skyping with mum
Thigs that still do sucketh
- My body
- Still don't have prescription
Things I'm going to do tonight
- Drink some alcohol
- See if I remember how to write (doubtful)*
- Watch some stuff on youtube
***
*motherfucking words. remember that time i used to write? and it was good? wouldn't it be nice to have that again?
idfk, maybe some word sketches? snippets from longer fics i'll probably never write but you'd like me to? want to give me some prompts and i will try for, ughhh ten sentences minimum per prompt? they may not be great sentence but there will be words BY SATAN.
pls?
***
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[this is fucking bdsm!au now fuck u]
Yoongi doesn't kneel.
No. That's not right. He kneels. He hates it and he kneels; alone, in the bathroom, in the middle of the night when everyone else is asleep, shaking from exhaustion, forehead pressed against the damp shower door while he breathes through the clawing pit of 'not enough' and 'never' and fights off a drop because he's stronger than that, stronger than all of them.
That's not right either, but it's a good story. Yoongi tells it to himself, spits it at his bruised knees, at his balled fists. If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, the tree is still up, whole and rooted. If Yoongi kneels where no one can see him, he is still on his feet, fighting. Winning.
Because Yoongi doesn't kneel. Not for anyone but himself.
[obvs he is proven wrong about that but that's another 7k words i will not be writing i hate u]
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"It's a seed bomb," Ryan says. He's holding a round ball of dirt and looking disgustingly happy about it. "There's like hundreds of wildflower seeds in here. And you just..." He casts about and then jogs over to the narrow strip of overgrown grass between the houses (one supposedly haunted, the other just generally run down).
Shane follows him, because of course he does.
Ryan is already digging a hole in the dirt with his sneaker and then when that doesn't quite work he gets right in there with his hands, kneeling on the ground as he reverently places the seed bomb into its new home and covering it lightly.
"There!" He pats the earth and gets up. There's dirt and clumps of grass clinging to his knees, an insignificant detail which Shane has absolutely no feelings about. "And then..." He flutters his fingers, presumably mimicking wildflowers growing. "Bees and butterflies and pollinators!"
"Pollinators," Shane repeats. There's an ache in his chest which is probably an early sign of heart disease. "That's a big word."
"Fuck you," Ryan tells him cheerfully. "Those guys are gonna have a blast! It'll be like... Bee bacchanalia!" He beams like the sun and Shane swallows down 'bacchanalia' and some other words that don't quite make it to his conscious thoughts but that he knows are dangerous.
"Needs some-"
Silently Shane hands Ryan his water bottle.
"Aww, yes!" Carefully Ryan drizzles half of it over the planted bomb.
Shane tips his head back and looks at the sky, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. There are rain clouds on the horizon, slate grey and deep purple of new bruises. Good for the seed bomb, he thinks. Breathes.
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whowwww, that sounds miserable. Sympathies.
Do you want more "that sounds fun" story prompts, or something more technical?
...oh, craaap. I wanted to rec you Writing Excuses Season 10, but I don't remember who on DW recced it to me, and there's non-zero chance it's been you! Possibly preaching to the choir? ANYWAY, if it wasn't: the first exercise, which has you coming up with ideas from different sources, is really interesting.
If you want fun prompts, I have a Pinterest board full of those "starter" prompt lists, I can throw a few at you. :D
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Definitely wasn't me who linked you to that so appreciated. I've gone with a modified approach here as one of the things it suggests is using song lyrics. So the two songs playing on my list as I was reading your comment and the link were BTS's UGH and The EverLove's I'm Dangerous, both of which are thematically about reaching one's snapping point so...
Some original fic for you since you didn't offer a fandom
***
The spit is warm, sliding down Nieta's cheek, oddly, distantly pleasant even against her half-frozen skin.
"Filth," the man says. It's mild. No raised voice, not even any great emotion behind his eyes, like she isn't even really worth getting angry about.
He's already turning to walk away, to continue his day like Nieta was nothing but a piece of shit he accidentally stepped on and got a bit annoyed over, new shoes and everything.
Two meters away from her, he chokes, coming to an abrupt stop at the end of Nieta's invisible leash. The street is busy, no one notices anything wrong. Not yet anyway.
She walks over, grabs the long sleeve of the man's expensive jacket, and wipes her face clean with it. The man's face is almost the same shade of red as his outfit now.
Nieta smiles with all her teeth and wraps the winter around herself like a cloak. This time, when the cords of power snap out of her, they grab everyone in sight. The whole street comes to an abrupt, frozen halt.
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Possible prompts IF you want some and you're not just feeling the free forming:
1) Why is Qing Ming always swaddled in clothing? Does Bo Ya have theories? I dunno, something like that. I'm just fascinated by how he's always overwrapped even when he just has his under robes on.
2) Bo Ya gets hit with (demon) sex pollen? It's just he's SO uptight.
3) Magic Eyes and/or magic ears
... I am happy to try to prompt for one of your other fandoms if you want to suggest one I know (we do have overlap)
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***
The demon laughs. The sound grates his ears, sharp and full of pain. This one is beyond help but not beyond sympathy, and Qing Ming feels a twinge of regret at having to put her down. It doesn't last long, because the next moment she is running straight at Bo Ya, claws extended.
Qing Ming runs to intercept but he's too late. The demon reaches Bo Ya, who draws his sword, and she... Laughs again?
Qing Ming sees through her plan the moment she spears herself on Bo Ya's sword, not even trying to defend herself, much less attack. Bo Ya's eyes go wild with surprise and she just keeps coming, until the tip of the sword pushes through her back, and she's flush against him.
"Now you'll know," she says and seals her lips on Bo Ya's shock slack mouth, pushing her last breath into his lungs.
"No!" Qing Ming shouts, grabbing her by the shoulder and yanking her off, Bo Ya's sword sliding free with a wet sound. But she's already dead and Bo Ya...
Qing Ming lets her body fall to the ground, the soft thud of it buried under the panicked beat of his heart, like a war drum breaking through all his training.
"Bo Ya? Are you...?"
The question melts in his mouth like an ice-chip, cold dread trickling down his throat. Bo Ya's eyes have glazed over, pupils blown wide. His face is flushed pink, sweat beading on his forehead, the hollow of his throat, half hidden by the collar.
He is very clearly not fine. Qing Ming can see that. What Qing Ming doesn't have is the 'how' or 'why' of it and until he does he cannot undo it and the longer he fails to help, fails Bo Ya, the sharper the ice in his chest gets.
"Are you in pain?" he asks, reaching out.
Bo Ya's gaze snaps to him like whip and he takes a step back. His sword comes up, blood coated blade stopping half an inch from Qing Ming's throat. He doesn't feel like smiling about it this time.
"Don't touch me," Bo Ya rasps. There is something shimmering clinging to the corners of his mouth, the wet inside of his lips. "Don't..." He swallows, licks his lips, tongue gathering up the substance. The arm holding the sword trembles.
Qing Ming closes the distance, trusting Bo Ya not to hurt him even now. "It's okay," he lies. The blade smears demon blood across his cheek, before clattering to the ground.
"It won't be," Bo Ya says, breath hitching in his chest, catching and breaking like he's drowning on dry land. "It won't be," he says, and kisses Qing Ming, hard and devastating, his mouth bitter with magic.
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As for prompts - Zhao Yunlan in handcuffs? *g*
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Why do our bodies thwart us so?
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Yes, would consider bionic body on some days.
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