Short Story - Blog Posts

Guys I gotta wrote a short story in under 2 days am I cooked?

♡ Restless Nights ♡ (Levi x Reader)

No one asked for this but I changed some things around to make it a (Y/N) instead of an OC of mine, I like writing for him, it's easier to input (Y/N) in there since the terms were gender neutral for my OC to begin with. It's….endearing but I wouldn't call it fluffy, I might write more of it and make little stories that follow a timeline if that's what anyone is interested in reading.

Word count: 1.2k

The soft sounds of Cadets snoring could be heard throughout the halls; rest seemed so easy for them, trapped within the confinements of the walls where safety is secured within the capital of Trost, it would be a lie if I said all of them were asleep, the real restless people tend to be the squad leaders, and (Y/N) seemed to be no different, tossing and turning in their sheets as they were unable to find a position best suited for their comfort, but it seemed hopeless, it was well past midnight at this point before they decided to get up from their bed, a sigh leaving past their lips as their feet touched the cold wooden floor. Their face contorted to one of discomfort at the cold chill the room seemed to have.

They stood and stretched out their limbs hearing the popping sound release some of the stiffness within their joints as they grunted out a noise before they stopped digging around in their dresser for something more comfortable to wear, it was winter time yet no snow fell onto the ground, it was just so….fucking cold. Once they found more suitable clothing to leave their quarters in the barracks they changed into them before slipping on their boots and leaving their room, the halls were illuminated with the candle lights, a deep frown was etched onto their face as the soft pitter-pattering of their boots hitting the wooden floors was all that seemed to be present, the guards….well they were in their stationed but snoring away causing them to roll their eyes, but they didn’t do anything about it.

They continued to walk down the halls, with no destination in mind, they didn’t expect anyone to be awake this late into the night, oh how mistaken they were. As they reached the end of the hall where a balcony was overhead they noticed a particularly short captain, he wasn’t in his uniform but he did seem to be stuck in thought, his lips pursed into a thin line, but they were unable to see his face with his back turned towards them. Biting the inside of their lip, they sighed before stepping towards the balcony where Captain Levi was seated, he seemed to like looking up at the moon and stars from her understanding, from their observations that is. They noticed when she had to work late that he was here almost every single time.

They never approached him during those times however….far too introverted for their good, he intimidated them, and his harshness towards the younger soldiers, although they noticed how his attitude wasn’t as bad when they had their very brief interactions, they noticed that he would stare a little longer than was needed when they were speaking to someone, they just never broached the topic, not being sociable themselves they found the situation nerve-racking. So when they approached him they leaned against the edge of the stone balcony, although regretted their decision quickly with how cold it felt under their fingertips. (Y/N) and Levi sat in comfortable silence for a moment before his eyes that stared up at the sky looked over towards them before he raised a brow.

“The hell are you doing up so late?” He asked, his voice holding its normal edge to it, although his comment was lighthearted in nature, their eyes drifted to him. “Couldn’t sleep…” they said softly, sleep was hard for them after all, night terrors often waking them up at night if they were in a deep enough sleep. “I see…” he hummed before glancing back up at the stars and the moon that was now suddenly covered by the clouds in the sky before frowning again before he turned his attention back to (Y/N) who looked over at him. “Tch, well you should go back to bed, we have an explanation in the morning.” He said, his signature scowl on his face, (Y/N) chuckled at this. “Well, I could say the same for you Captain.” They mused softly causing him to huff.

“Don’t worry about me, I'll be fine. And don’t call me Captain, it’s annoying. I never refer to you as ‘Captain (Y/N)’ , the title is fucking ridiculous.” He waved them off, their heart seemed to skip a beat at his harsh words, he seemed so detached, that it caused them to smile. “Alright, then Levi….I couldn’t help but notice how often you’re up here is all, I likely won’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night.” Levi scoffed, his attention shifted away from them as he stepped away from the balcony brick. “When was the last time you slept?” His voice got low as he shifted closer to them his fingers barely brushed under their eyelids as the dark circles were prominent but nothing extreme. “Yesterday…?” Their tone came off as more of a question, Levi was quick to retract his hand away from them, a look of disbelief written on his face. “That explains why you look like shit. Can’t even remember the last time you slept.” His tone was low, almost a whisper as he spoke before he ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t understand why you care so much about my sleep…” they said as they felt blood rush to their face as they looked away, a light pink tint dusted their cheeks as they looked away from him trying to calm down their racing heart. He didn’t respond for a moment until they looked back at him, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts again. “It’s my job to care idiot, otherwise you might slip up and a Titan might eat your entire team. Don’t screw it up.” He definitely didn’t need to care for their well-being, he could care less about everyone else it seemed, although they knew he cared and hid his feelings from everyone to make it look like he was a hard ass. “Why the fuck are you smiling it’s creeping me out.” He spoke before his hands reached up and squished their cheeks together to get them to stop that nonsense. “Stop that.”

Levi chastised softly before his thumb gently brushed up against the warm plumpness of their lower lip. It was smooth against his coarse fingertips After a few moments he let go of them, and realizing the gravity of his actions he quickly deflected it. Sucking in a deep breath of air he muttered something quietly to himself. “Whatever, get lost, go back to bed, I’m sure Hange will be around to wake you up whenever they get up in the morning.” So he did pay attention….(Y/N) was normally around Hange, but it wasn’t as noticeable to most. “Huh…how the bell do you know that-“ Levi was quick to cut them off with a wave of his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter brat. Okay, goodbye, goodnight.” He urged her to go back to their dorms. “Okay…goodnight Levi.” They bid their goodbyes to the man who held his face in his hands, he normally never ever slips up like he did just now.

Maybe he was just tired…yeah that’s it. That’s all it is, he’s just tired. As they parted ways, (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile a little, they made their way back to their dorm removing their boots, and climbed back into bed finally finding a spot that was comfortable enough for them to doze off in. The pleasant thoughts on what the future had in store for the scouts and the possibility of getting closer to Levi, although it was a slim chance he would even entertain the idea. But anyone can dream.

So not that long ago the group that I take part in writing workshops with did a workshop on Haiku and Haibun, and I went a little off the deep end and wrote a funky sci-fi short story Haibun thing. Anyway, here you go. *Note: I might end up editing and changing it later. ------------------------------

The docking bays stand tall over the promenade, a pier of iron and steel beneath which roam hundreds of arriving faces. Shuttlecrafts slowly empty themselves of scavengers and refugees, survivors who have seen their homes destroyed. Around me every face has been marred by desperation and every arrival is heralded with relief.

Sea of brown and gray Hungry mouths, aching bodies Safe for the first time

Legends stalk through the crowd, saviors from a bygone age. A steel-suited force once thought forgotten. Staves, swords, knives, guns, all equally deadly in their iron grip. It is hard not to notice the breaks and dents in their once exquisite armor.

Warriors of Old Leaving their worlds behind Battle among stars

Through the translucent sheen of the docking bay’s energy shield we watch as our once blue and green home is overtaken by a swath of shining red. The promenade’s steel booths, once dedicated to trade and commerce, are repurposed and used to distribute food among the starving crowd. A violent plague sweeps across the planet below, and we know we will never return.

Eating at long last A first night among many Watching our world burn

Days become weeks, weeks become months as our would be saviours repeatedly plunge to the planet below. Whispers of small victories spread through the station’s corridors, rumors of safe havens and thriving populations feeding desperate hopes. It would be easy to miss that our saviours’ numbers seem smaller with each return they make.

Battling the plague Plunging Heroes Fall Beneath The Hope of Masses

The station slumbers, its people adhering to their anachronous routines, small comfort for the displaced. My footfalls ring out among reticent corridors, the night quiet giving its own familiar ease. Reprieve is broken as metal clashes. Nearly hidden, two legends quarrel.

A knife is fumbled Shining steel shears armor Sword slides between ribs

Hasty, heavy footfalls rush from the secluded battlefield before fading into obscurity. Unseen, I approach the fallen champion, unprepared to give the aid I offer. Their wound does not bleed, streaks of red splayed beneath steel skin. Trembling hands open damaged armor, as I make my greatest mistake.

Plague engulfing me Tendrils through body and mind It’s taking control

My world becomes red. All consuming Rage. All Consuming Hunger. No Me, only Us. One body perishing, the other still weak. The enemy’s strength lies ready before us. Our forming corpse drags itself from the wreckage. Our weakling slides inside. We are weak no longer.

Wielder unwell Infestation levels high Simply will not do

WE CANNOT BE PURGED. Pain runs through our body, lightning through my bones. THERE IS NO YOU, THERE IS US. Screaming assaults my ears, my mouth dry from the exertion. YOUR TIME IS LIMITED. THERE IS STILL ANOTHER. Vision grows black, consiousness fades.

Recover, wearer. Infection levels dropping, You will be alright

An electronic voice speaks into my ear as my eyes slowly open. A steel second skin covers me, though I do not feel it’s weight. I begin to sit, to stand, slow careful movements made easier on my aching body by armored systems I do not understand. My eyes catch sight of the corpse beside me and it is made clear, plague has reached us.

Carrier running Searching for the next victim To give to the plague

Screaming pulls me from my stupor and I begin to run. As I near the sound, I find three survivors laying before me, red streaks running from superficial wounds. ‘They have been infected,’ the voice informs me moments before they begin to stand. They lunge, but I am armored and they are not.

Blood now on my hands Refugees become corpses I do what I must

Running. Fighting. Running. Fighting. I pour through the hallway, my steel steps echoing just behind my mark’s. Each moment his steps seem closer. Each moment my armored hands are stained with more of the blood of fellow survivors. I see him turn a corner and he is mine at last.

Nowhere left to run I must bring this to an end Lest he doom us all

His rust-red sword lashes out, skilled, but worn. Expert strikes slowed by fatigue are easily dodged. He pulls back and begins to circle, I cannot let him recover.

Fist stands against sword A sharp pain through my belly I cannot fail here

YOU COULD HAVE BEEN US. My arms wraps around him, pinning his in place. NOW YOU SHALL PERISH. My head impacts his again and again. WE SHALL BECOME ALL. He struggles, but despite my wound he cannot escape. YOUR EFFORTS ARE FUTILE. His body goes limp, but I continue until my own sight grows dark.

Neophyte Legend Dying alongside first foe Fate has other plans

Bright light in my eyes awakens me. Rage, Hunger within my mind. Deep breaths keep it calm as my body recovers. Months pass, armor and body are both repaired but my mind is not the same. I will learn to manage. Soon I take my first plunge.

Fighting planetside I can sense its location A boon from my curse

Armored warriors, we battle the plague below. An unexpected boon becomes our greatest strength. We gain ground, make progress, and our numbers remain strong. In moments of reprieve my mind turns to the station above.

Watchers from above Spots of blue on a red sphere Fueling their hopes

Alright, here ya go. I hope in these trying times a more heartwarming trans story can help people feel a bit better.

Word count: 4,942

Cowboys 

I woke up early on Sunday with the neighbor’s rooster and rushed down the stairs in my pajamas to make it to breakfast. Mama made good bacon, and it was worth scarfing down my share, even if she fussed at me that young ladies don’t eat that way. I never cared much when she tried to tell me about being a lady. I let her tie my hair back into two braids for school, and listened as she called me a pretty girl, but I couldn't stand much past that. I picked at my eggs, sticking my tongue out at the runny yolk spilling over my plate. Dex sat on the floor beside me, pawing at my chair until Mama stopped looking and I lowered my dish below the table to let him gobble them up. 

Papa glared at me from over his paper, his old wrinkly forehead getting all scrunched up as I tried to read the Sunday funnies and ignored him. He didn’t tell on me, he never did, only huffed before looking back down and turning the page. 

Mama took my plate and was starting to do the dishes by the time Pau came slinking down the stairs, a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. He scratched at his scruffy beard, and Papa gave him a mean look as he poured himself a mug of coffee. I always wondered what Papa would look like with a beard, but he laughed at me when I asked him to grow one. Mama dusted off her still-clean apron while muttering to herself about the smell of smoke spreading through the house. I grinned wide at my uncle, sitting on my knees in my chair with my hands pressed to the table to lean towards him. 

“Pau, you goin' to work today? Can I come? I can help.” 

Mama pushed on my shoulder to get me to sit back in my chair, and Dex yelped as my foot landed on his tail. I winced as he ran to Pau’s side who gave him a pat on his head, the mutt sneezing at me. Pau let out a long hum, taking a drag from his cigarette before checking the clock on the wall. Papa shook his head still looking at his paper.  

“Harley, shouldn’t you be studying?” He flipped another page, stabbing at his eggs with his fork. I wrinkled my nose at the thought of wasting the day staring at one of Papa’s history books. They were always about war and never had any of the good shootouts or bank robberies like the Westerns on television did. Papa never liked them, so Pau always watched them with me, and sometimes, when he’d blow his smoke out into the living room, he looked just like Clint Eastwood. 

Pau shrugged at me, already pulling on his boots, “We ain’t gonna take all day. It’s summer, Charlie. She’ll still have months to read all of them books.” He pointed up the stairs while reaching for his hat, “Kit, you got five minutes to get dressed, then I’m gone. Hop to it.” 

I jumped up from my chair and ran to my room as fast as I could, ducking out of the way of the hobby horse peeking through my closet. Its little brown head swiveled back and forth as I rushed to pull on my jeans and boots and grabbed my hat as I left. Mama called after me to stop running but I was already hopping into the passenger seat of Pau’s truck before I even realized she’d been speaking. 

The drive to Main Street always felt slow. I counted red cars to keep myself busy until Pau told me to think of the numbers instead of saying them.  

“Dumb kid. If you keep counting like that, you’ll start to forget your letters.” He shook his head, fussing with the radio as he waited for his light to turn green. 

I gave him a wide grin and laughed, air whistling through the gap in my front teeth. “That ain’t how it works, Pau.” 

Pau squinted at the road like he was thinking hard before he sucked on his cigarette again, letting smoke spill out his open window. “Whatever you say, Kit, you’re the brains, not me.” 

I stared at him a little longer before my mouth twitched, and I started to twiddle my thumbs. “Yeah, it doesn’t feel much like it though.” 

Pau raised one bushy brow, glancing at me before turning into the next street over. “Whatcha mean?”  

I let out a short sigh, picking at the edge of my seat, “It’s nothin’, just sometimes I don’t like bein’ smart.” The vinyl gave way under my nails, and I sat on my hands to stop them from fidgeting, “It makes people think I can handle a lot more than I can.” 

Pau took another drag before parking the car in front of Grant’s Supplies. He turned down the volume of the bluegrass song that was playing before laying his hand on my shoulder and looking at me. 

“Kit, I’ll give you a tip. People are tough on you because life is tougher. Folks just want to make sure you do good out in the real world. That's why even when things seem too hard, the best thing for you to do is to work harder and stay in school.”  

I didn’t meet his eye, instead focusing on the faded kneepads of his blue jeans. “You never went to school.” 

He gave a long sigh after that, opening the door and dropping his cigarette to stamp it out with his foot. “Point proven. Come on, we don’t have all day.” 

The door to Grant’s Supplies had a bell over it that dinged when you walked inside. Everything was made of wood, and every Sunday an elderly man who only spoke in low angry grunts and had his eyes covered by the constant furrow of his brow would come in the store to clean. I ducked past where he was sweeping behind the canned food and peeped at him through a gap in one of the aisles, holding up my fake finger pistol, and aimed for the bridge of his nose. I could practically smell the sheriff's reward of five hundred dollars for bringing this outlaw in, dead or alive. 

“Time to meet your maker,” I whispered, closing one eye and squinting, just about to fire. He must have heard me though. In the next moment, his head snapped to look at me and his eyes grew as wide as an owl’s. With a shout, I ran retreating to the counter at the front of the store where Pau stood with his hat to his chest, leaning into the blushing face of a lady with long sandy blonde hair. I rammed into his leg, sending him sideways a bit with an ‘oomph!’ but he stood to recover just as quickly as he had stumbled. The counter lady helped him up, laughing, and I stared perplexed by her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Oh goodness, are you alright?” She said, leaning across the counter and then looking at me, “Well hello there little lady.”  

I tilted my head away from her hands to squint up at her, still clinging to Pau’s leg. “I’m a cowboy.” 

Pau gained his footing again, looking a bit lost for words, and stuttered his way through an apology before turning to fuss at me. Before he could get anything out though she waved him off. 

“Oh, don’t apologize, I know how it is. My niece is just the same.” She talked with her hands and Pau began to smile before she carried on, “It’s just so nice to see a father hanging out with his kid.” The smile slowly dropped from Pau’s face, a distant look on his face as he turned to look down at me staring back up at him with big round eyes. 

“She ain’t my-” he was cut off by Mrs. Grant coming around the corner, her heels clicking on the floor as she huffed. 

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in. Paul, I know you’re not flirting with another one of my cashiers.” 

I peeped up from behind Pau’s leg and Mrs. Grant’s narrowed brown eyes softened at the sight of me. “Hey, Harley honey, you helpin’ Paul today?” She slid a caramel candy over the counter, and I was quick to shove it into my mouth. 

“Yes ma’am,” I said. Pau heaved a sigh, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. 

She nodded to herself before turning to the counter lady. “That’s Charlie’s girl. Do you know Charlie?”  

The counter lady’s eyes went wide as she blushed an even deeper red, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought she was yours.”  

Mrs. Grant tapped the counter and shook her head, looking at Pau with a heaving sigh and narrowed eyes. “Yeah, you’d think that huh? You two always seem attached at the hip.” 

I lit up at the sound of that. People always thought I was Pau’s little girl. He said it was because I followed him like a lost kitten, so he called me Kit. I never saw it as a bad thing though. Pau was a good person to follow. He knew plenty about the right way to walk and how to talk himself out of trouble. I learned plenty trailing after him, even if Papa didn’t like it too much. After Pau came to live with us, Papa always mumbled about how he hadn’t been able to keep himself out of trouble since they were tots. 

“Yeah, well she’s just good help, that's all. Speaking of, I’m looking for paint. Ms. Carter needs a new coat on her fence.” Pau shrugged, and I watched as one of his hands dropped to his back pants pocket, grabbing at his cigarettes before letting it fall again. 

Mrs. Grant stopped her tapping and stared him down for a moment. It was a mean look that Pau turned away from, and I tilted my head in wonder of why. It didn’t last long as in the next moment she was turning to grab the paint buckets behind her. “White or blue?” 

Pau paid for two buckets of white paint, and then we were back in his truck. I counted blue cars this time, including his since there were fewer of them, and Pau said nothing. When I turned to look at him, he was biting his lip and had both his hands kept firm on the steering wheel. 

“I think that lady liked you, Pau,” I said, and Pau scrunched his face up tight giving a small smile. 

“Yeah, maybe so.”  

I kicked my feet, looking at my boots and the little pink lines painted into the brown leather. “Maybe you could marry her since you don’t have a wife yet.” I heard Pau scoff, “and maybe then I could come live with you two when you buy a house together.”  

Pau lit another cigarette, “Marriage ain’t that simple Kit, and I can’t buy a house.” 

I felt that he was just being difficult, but didn’t go on, instead I watched the cop car that came crawling up beside us at a stoplight. It sat lower than Pau’s truck, and the officer driving it turned to glare at us through the window. His nose looked crooked. I turned to Pau, my grin sharp but hesitated to say anything as Pau kept his gaze straight. He pressed himself against his seat, and the muscles on his hairy arms tensed where he was squeezing the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped it. I tilted my head a bit, trying to make sense of the funny way Pau’s eye twitched. 

“Does he know you Pau?” I said, trying my best not to whip around and glare right back at the cop. Pau’s cheeks turned a little red, and he moved his head just enough that I couldn’t see his eyes. 

“Don’t stare Kit. A cowboy has to mind the sheriff.” 

I said nothing, leaning back into my seat just like him until the light turned green and the cop passed by us. As we drove, Ms. Carter’s house and her faded fence appeared around the bend. She was sitting on her porch with a pitcher of lemonade when we hopped out of Pau’s truck. Pau waltzed up to her front steps and I followed behind him, trying to fit into the boot prints he left in the dirt path.  

Ms. Carter filled two glasses and nearly let mine overflow as she giggled over every word that tumbled out of Pau’s mouth, slapping at his arm. I rolled my eyes as she made some comment on liking men rugged, carrying the paint buckets and brushes toward the fence at the end of her front yard. Pau joined me after I’d already painted four posts and I looked at him with a bit of judgment, “She likes you too.” 

He shook his head, “She likes anyone who will talk to her.” He dipped his paintbrush into the bucket twice before swiping it over the fence. Before I could say anything, he was covering my mouth with his free hand, “I ain’t gonna marry her, so don’t bring it up.”  

I almost spit on his hand when he pulled it away, “I wasn’t going to say you should.” I swiped at another post, giving it a funny face before covering it up, “I just think maybe if you had a wife, she could tell Mrs. Grant to stop looking at you so mean.”  

He breathed out smoke and leaned back to look up at the sky like Mama did when she was praying, “There ain’t a woman in the whole damn world who would make Mrs. Grant stop looking at me like that.” 

I painted a stripe across three posts, my lips pursed into a thin line. “Why not Pau?” 

“Because it ain’t about the women. It's just me she doesn’t like,” he said. 

I threw down my brush, kicking at the fence post, “Well that ain’t fair.” He shook his head at me, and I almost kicked him too before I thought better of it. 

“No, Kit, it is.” He paid me no mind, dipping his brush again, “We can’t control how people think of us. We just gotta learn to accept it.” 

“Well, I think that's dumb.” I stuck out my tongue and picked at the grass below me, throwing it up into the air. Pau never did anything to wrong people. He would go out of his way to mow their yards or paint their fences. Mrs. Grant just didn’t know him that well, if she did, she’d see why he deserved her caramel candies too. “You’re good Pau, a real cowboy.” 

He laughed a little, though it sounded strained, and tipped his hat down to cover his eyes. “You’re a dumb kid,” he said, putting down his brush and wiping some sweat off the back of his neck, “But thanks.” 

We finished the fence by the time the sun was beginning to set, and Ms. Carter giggled and swatted playfully at Pau’s arms for an eternity before she paid him. When we made it back to the truck, Pau rubbed at his shoulder where she had managed to smack him with one of her bangle bracelets. 

“You should check for bruises” 

He gave me a look but still rolled up his sleeve, “Hush up.” 

When we made it back home, the earth had turned golden, and I ran through the grass of the front yard before Dex tackled me to the ground, sniffing all along my arms and shirt as I erupted into a fit of laughter. Pau came to lay beside us, his hat placed on his chest. I stared up at the clouds, taking in their sweeping hills that laid out like mountains across our flat horizon like in the movies. 

I let out a whistle, something I had been practicing for weeks now, and Pau gave me a hum of agreement, though he didn’t smile like usual.  

“One day I’m going to head out there, and I’m going to have a ranch, and you can come live on it with me,” I said, and Pau sighed, sitting up and leaning back on his hands. 

“I have to tell you something, Kit.” He said. 

I sat up beside him, combing away at some of the grass that had managed to get stuck in my hair.  

“What's wrong Pau?” 

He had this strange look on his face again, like he was far from me, and unable to draw himself back in. I watched him squint at the sun before he looked at me, the crow's feet by his eyes still showing like he was looking at something bright. 

“I have to,” he paused, his mouth still hanging open for a moment as he took in the tilt of my head, “I’m heading west. I’m gonna go find one of those big cattle ranches you’re always talkin’ about.”  

My eyes got big, and I jumped up to my knees to shake him by the shoulders, “Pau! You have to take me with you.” I said, begging with my fingers laced together. 

He shook his head softly, putting one of his rough hands on top of mine, “No Kit. You can’t come.” 

I felt a deep pain in my chest, stinging enough that I ripped my hands away to wrap around my middle. 

“Why not?” I said, soft and cracking as he gazed down at me. He rubbed at the back of his neck; his eyebrows knitted together. 

“It’s complicated. You have to stay here, with your ma and pa.” He tried to meet my eyes again, but I was too busy picking grass out of the ground, ruthless in my attack. 

“Kit, you won’t have a life if you come with me. You stay here, you’ll get to go to school, get a nice comfy job, and grow up to be someone you should be.” He sounded like Papa, and I never hated Pau more. I tried to plug my ears so he would go away, but he grabbed at my arms. 

“No, you can’t go. It isn’t fair!” I shook my head back and forth, kicking my feet as he just rubbed up and down my arms to calm me down. I wouldn’t. I refused to stop my fit even though I knew it wasn’t helping. The second he let go of me, I knew in my bones he would disappear, so I just kept yelling until his patience ran thin. “I can help. I can be a cowboy. You can teach me.” 

“Kit stop. No one needs me here; your daddy asked me to leave so I’m going.” He grabbed me tight and shook me. I went still in his arms, “I’m going kid, it’s already been decided.”  

“I need you,” I said, my voice soft and my throat tight. The sun felt like it was burning into me, and I wanted to let it, so I could have an excuse as to why I wanted to shrivel up into Pau’s lap and have him hold me. He softened his grip, sighing, and looking down to where Dex lay next to us whining.  

“No, you don’t.” He shook his head. 

“But if you leave I can’t-” 

“I ain’t your daddy, Kit.” He said with finality, and my heart felt cold and alone, “You have one. He's a good man. Don't you ever say he ain’t because I was raised with him, and I’ll know you’re lying. He’s already gotten me out of enough messes to make up a lifetime.”  

I shook my head again, looking down, “He isn’t you Pau.” 

Pau let go of me, grabbing his cigarettes from his back pocket and shoving them in my face.  

“You see these?” He shoved them closer, and I bit at the inside of my cheek to stop myself from snapping back at him 

“You think these are good? Do you think any of the things I do are things I wanna see you do?”  

It was a pretty box, the red always peeking out the top of Pau’s jeans. He took out one of the cigarettes, almost crushing it in his hand. 

“This, this is shit.” He threw it down and stood up to crush it under his boot. He looked giant, and unforgiving, like Papa when he had found out I had broken one of his old globes playing sheriff.  

My nose started to feel runny, and the tight funny feeling in my throat bubbled up until I could feel myself choking on it. The sight of him made my stomach feel hollow, and I ran away before he could say anything else.  

He called after me, but I didn’t listen, crashing through the screen door right into Papa’s arms. He stood shocked as I cried into his crisp white shirt, hitting his sides. The fabric scratched at my face, and my tears left it stained and ugly, but he didn’t push me away, so I stayed. 

“Harley, what has gotten into you?” He said it lightly, one of his hands placed softly on my back. It felt awkward, and he didn’t hold me closer than he had to. He looked around the room, and I knew it was for Mama. I butted my head against his stomach, and he furrowed his brow as he looked down at me. I glared right back, and he sighed, a tired look pulling at his face that made me want to scream. 

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up, your mother is making chicken tonight, maybe you could help her?” I detached myself from him before I could start yelling, running up the stairs to hide in my room.  

I sat huddled up in bed, the quilt Mama had made me drawn around my shoulders until the sun had fully set, and I could see the moon peeking up behind the trees through my window. I opened it to hear the crickets sing and leaned out to feel the warm summer air pass over me. Mama had called me to dinner almost an hour before, but I couldn’t bring myself to travel back downstairs. Pau would be there, picking his teeth clean of chicken and grunting his way through Papa’s questions. They would fight, and I knew this because they always fought, and I would be stuck in the middle of it, trying to defend Pau from any of the nasty names Papa called him. For the first time, I didn’t want to defend him. 

As I began to count the stars starting to dot the sky, I heard the muffled shouts echoing from downstairs. There was a clattering of plates, and as I sunk to the floor to press my ear up against my rug, I could hear Papa from below. 

“-No work for you here! I’ve tried Paul, I’ve always tried to help you, but you haven’t made it easy. Now you’re filling Harley’s head with these delusions-”  

I listened to Pau grumble something, the first part hard to make out until he started to get louder. 

“-Not a damn charity case Charlie, I don’t need it, and don’t you bring the kid into this. This ain’t her mess.”  

Their voices both came and went, in and out, growing louder and softer until there was a large clattering of plates, loud enough I could hear a glass break and mama let out a shout. It was quiet for a moment after, the entire house falling still. I listened as a chair shoved back and his footsteps stomped as Pau grumbled out a response. The screen door slammed open and shut, and as the smell of smoke began to travel up through the window, I shut it as quickly as I could. It felt too late though, my eyes were already watering, and as much as I tried to blink them away, stubborn little tears managed to escape me. I called them shit.  

I must have stood there for ages, staring out my window and crying, because by the time I came back to myself the moon had risen above the trees. There was a knock at my door, and instead of spitting and cussing every nasty word I knew, I moved to slide down against it and knock back, too tired to do much else. 

“Hey, Kit.”  

“Hi, Pau.” I wanted to call him shit. I crossed my arms across my chest and felt as he slumped against the door on the other side to sit beside me. 

“Did Papa tell you that you have to leave tonight?” I looked down at the streaks of light from the hallway that wrapped around his shadow and stretched across my floor. 

“He warned me about a month ago. He just tried to give me money,” he said. 

“Oh. Did you take it?” 

“No.” 

“Oh.” I wanted to curse him, tell him he was dumb, and have him get angry with me so I could have an excuse to do so. I couldn’t bring myself to. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving sooner,” he paused for a moment, I heard his head rest against the door with a small thud, “I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

My chest felt tight, and I pulled down my hat to cover my eyes. I didn’t say anything, not trusting my voice. The door’s white paint was chipped at the bottom, and I picked at it until Pau knocked again. 

“You still there kid?” 

I brought my knees to my chest, hugged them tightly, and closed my eyes shut. 

“I could be a good cowboy Pau,” I sounded so shaky and small, like Dex when Mama yelled at him for doing something bad, “I am one.” 

Pau didn’t say anything back for a while, but I could hear him bump his head again, and I wondered if he felt as small as I did. “I know you are, Kit. You’re better than me,” he said, speaking softly but the crackly sound in his throat still broke up his words so he sounded like one of Papa’s scratched records. I never wanted to sound like that. “You have to give these things time, though. One day when you’re older, you’ll still be walking around in your boots, and you’ll be better than all of us at whatever you decide to do with your life.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, and fighting against every angry bone in my body, I opened the door. 

He had to tilt his head up a little to look me in the eyes from where he was still sat on the ground. It was like he was just seeing something for the first time. His eyes were a little watery, and they squinted up at me like I was a stranger, but there must have been something he recognized because he grinned wide, and I was pulled down into his arms. 

I let him tug me down and rested my head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. It thundered like the sound of horses.  

“You’re a good man, Pau. Mama and Papa are lying.” I said.  

He nodded his head and rocked me in his lap. It wasn’t easy as I was getting taller and my legs stuck out a bit too much to be comfortable, but his arms still cradled around me like I was precious. 

“You are too, Kit.” 

After he gathered all his things from his room and shoved them into little boxes and bags, I walked him outside. I carried his duffle bag across the yard, and he pretended not to notice as I struggled a bit to get down the front steps. By the time I made it to his car, he had already thrown everything else inside. He took the last bag and threw it in his front seat, dusting off his hands after. I copied him, pretending not to hear him snort.  

“Guess this is it, huh kid?” 

I looked up to where he stood, hands on his hips and his head facing towards the open road. 

“Yeah, for now. I’ll see you again though.” I said, shrugging and wiping my still runny nose. 

“That so?” 

“Yeah, when I get a car, I’ll drive out west until I find you.” 

He looked down at me, his eyes going all soft, “Not gonna give up on me?” 

I shook my head, grinning up at him, “Nah, you need someone looking out for you.” 

He gave a big whooping laugh, his head shooting back. I laughed with him, so hard that I had to brace my hands on my thighs to keep myself from falling forwards. Pau pulled himself together after a while, sliding into his front seat with a hopeful spark in his eye. 

“I’ll send you a postcard once I find somewhere to settle down, then maybe, when you get that car, you won’t have to just wander around for too long.” He said, fiddling with the radio until bluegrass began to belt out of his truck. 

“Okay Pau, don’t forget.” 

He tipped his hat to me as the truck started up. 

“I won’t.” 

He drove away after that, and I held my hand up to reach for his car until he disappeared down the street, the light from his headlights fading into the night sky above. 

Does anyone want to read a short story about a trans kid at the age where you don't have a word for what you are yet, or really a full idea of what you are, but you know what you want to be so you cling to it and the people around you that represent it?

Because I wrote something like that! It's called Cowboys (or Good Men, but we won't get into that whole story), and it's about a kid named Kit who wants nothing more than to be a cowboy like 'her' uncle Pau! It's a small slice of life/coming of age story that showcases the unconditional love of a family's two misfits, alongside subtly highlighting a less talked about stage of growing up transgender in the south.

If anyone is interested in reading it, please let me know, and I'll reblog it through this post 👍

Does anyone want to read a short story about a trans kid at the age where you don't have a word for what you are yet, or really a full idea of what you are, but you know what you want to be so you cling to it and the people around you that represent it?

Because I wrote something like that! It's called Cowboys (or Good Men, but we won't get into that whole story), and it's about a kid named Kit who wants nothing more than to be a cowboy like 'her' uncle Pau! It's a small slice of life/coming of age story that showcases the unconditional love of a family's two misfits, alongside subtly highlighting a less talked about stage of growing up transgender in the south.

If anyone is interested in reading it, please let me know, and I'll reblog it through this post 👍

Today I felt nostalgia.

I get home from work and chat with my brother for a bit before going upstairs to shower. I lay in my bed, dozing as my sleep is interrupted by a call. My cousin, she tells me to come with her and my brother to eat at my grandparents house. I didn’t even realize my brother had left. I tie my hair up without drying it properly and walk over, annoyed and amused over the fact my brother had stolen my car, forcing me to walk in the chilly evening. When I get there, my cousin’s already left, home to nap before she goes to cheer. My brother leaves soon too, something or other he has to do that I can’t remember.

I stay with my grandma, sitting infront of the fireplace older than me. Without it the house would have frozen long ago. I listen to the sound of her cooking, lulled by her soft words. She’s cooking enough to feed my family and my cousin’s.

My grandpa comes in, tired from moving wood to their outdoor shack. I watch him eat and I’m reminded of his age, his bruised hands from slow tired blood. He goes to bring wood inside and I rush to help. He’s older now, somehow, I’m not sure when, I can carry more wood than him. After I watch them sit tired and I sweep the floor for them, cleaning the trails of dirt and wood chips.

I notice the tiles as I sweep. they’re duller then i remember. The cement in between each tile seemed more cracked than before.

I sit with my back to the hearth again, enjoying it warming my clothes and my chilled skin. My grandma sits next to me on a woven stool. I let my hair down to dry it with the heat and she ruffles it playfully. She smiles and laughs at my colored, damp hair, scolding me lightly for the dyed streaks in my dark hair.

Soon enough she drags me close to her, I sit on the ground in front of her as she rubs and scratches my back and damp head. I know that I should be doing this for her, but she always insists. Even though she’s in her chair and I’m on the ground, I’m still as tall as her, I’ve been taller than her for a while but this points it all out even stronger. She tugs my head until I’m rested in her lap. My neck cramps from the odd angle, my spine sore from the bend. My body is tense, worried about the weight I rest on her but I can’t bring myself to sit up.

It’s been so long since I’ve been held, no- doted on like this. I remember doing this as a child, the strain on my back nonexistent. I could lean on her legs with ease. Her hair was darker then, her skin less wrinkled, her hands stronger.

I still feel like a child, though. In her hands, I still feel as vulnerable and fragile as the small girl I was.

When I sit up, no longer able to stand the strain on my back, it isn’t only my bones that ache.

My hair is dry by now, and I’m not sure what I mourn as I tie it back up in its tight knot.

Today I felt nostalgia.

Somewhere out there within the dark woods of somewhere or another, in days some time past, there was a town. And that town worshipped one god, and that god was a hole.

Yes, a massive hole, at the center of their town. Deep and dark, perhaps leading all the way down to oblivion. Some people said the god lived at the bottom of the hole, others said that the god was the hole itself, or even the shadows that lay within. They had no temples, no alters, only the hole. And the hole of the hole demanded things of them. It was hungry, strangely hungry. It did not have sacfices, it demanded tribute. Taxes in a way. People would scrounge up what little money they had for the hole, and the hole promised back that it would give them good things in return.

There were those who warned them of the hole. The cryptids of the dark forest, and the occultists and demon hunters, and even the deep ones that lay in the dark ocean and the scaled men of the forgotten ruins. But the townsfolk didn't listen, the hole made them feel good. It felt good to give it money. And even though they never exactly saw how the hole must have been helping them. How could it not be helping them if they had given it so much. And soon the hole banished all supernatural things but itself, and the people said the hole was making them safe.

And soon the hole was bigger. What was once the size of a well had grown to being big enough to consume a house. And soon the town changed, the hole began to be its center, the entire town shifted so that all public life was around the hole. And soon those who didn't like the hole, or who questioned it, where seen as evil or strange people, greedy for not wanting to give the hole their money, they were seen as selfish and entitled, entitled to all the hole's benefits without paying their share. It was a tragedy when someone grew up to move out of the town and not follow the hole.

And soon the hole had more and more demands. And everyone listened as it grew larger and larger. Soon it didn't want money, it wanted things too, televisions, automobiles, books, family relics, grandma's ashes, works of art, perhaps even beloved pets. And it became taboo not just to question it, but to feel sad when you lost something to the hole. You couldn't say you missed it, or replace it too soon, the hole wanted you to not have it, you were so obviously wrong to miss it. You didn't just have to give to the hole, you had to understand that it was improving your life.

There was a movement of young people, who wanted to get rid of the hole. But it was too late by then, they had no other gods, no other spirits or creatures, and the hole was as large as a city block. And either way, the town police belonged to the hole now, and they would kill for it, and they would die for it. Some young rebels moved away. But most found themselves not being able to give up their family, their freinds, and their safety to fight the hole. So for a time they pretended to like it, and when you do something, and say something for long enough it can become your truth, and soon enough those who pretended to live the hole truly did love it.

And soon there was no music or movies that the hole didn't approve of. Everyone followed the hole's rules. And everyone loved the hole so dearly and so brightly. They couldn't imagine a town without a hole. When they thought of other towns they imagined that they must have had holes too, and every idea of a place without it was sad and depressing. And as the hole was then a quarter of the size of the town, it was hungry, and demanded not just things but flesh. And people happily gave, it would be weird to not want to give. They gave eyes, ears, teeth, testicles, tounges, fingers and toes and hands and feet and arms and legs. And they didn't miss their body parts at all. And when one day the hole demanded people jump in, and give their lives to it, they didn't mind or question at all, it didn't feel like death, and nobody missed that they weren't there.

And now, in the dark woods, there is a hole where a town used to be. It has eaten the entire the thing, every last inch and citizen of it. It is not satisfied. But it has grown all that it could. And one must wonder if the hole is lonely now, or if it knows that it has done all it ever hoped to.

Just send in my short FBI/hacker story to my professor for the writing competition.

I had a weird short dream so I thought you guys should hear it,

———————————————————

Okay so there was like hundreds of dudes in a big ahhhh room and there was one guy tied up in a chair, and then there was this other guy with dark hair teasing him and whispering things in his ear….when all of a sudden Slendermans son came in and called out “WHERES MY POOKIE!!!” then the dream ended….

In you I trust

Pairing: Tine/Sarawat (2gether)

Summary: Tine didn’t know what to do, how to feel. What he hadn’t realised was that the damage was already done. Years of dating people who didn't want him, getting rejected over and over again just because he seemed disposable had taken its toll. While he seemed bright and confident most of the time when it came to putting himself out there, his self esteem was in shambles. He did love himself and had a pretty good self-image but his ideals on how others should treat him were now a bit shaky. Did he deserve Sarawat? And what must he do to make himself worth it? What must he do to ensure he doesn’t disappoint, to make sure Sarawat doesn't leave him after the first week? (Basically includes all the communication we never got in the series. The one conversation that could have made it better.)

Fic starts here:

Tine looked into his eyes and stared as if he was searching for something. Much like a police officer peering into the eyes of a suspect desperately searching for answers. "Why?"

 "Huh?", Sarawat said bemused.

"Why do you want to be with me? What am I offering you that's so special? I certainly don't think I have done anything of note that could have attracted your attention. So other than being a good friend to you, what exactly have I done?", he asked his tone rising. 

Taken by surprise Sarawat curses himself for not realising sooner that something had been upsetting his boyfriend. "Please tell me where this is coming from", he pleaded, "I want to know just where the heck  all this self doubt is coming from".

His voice strained with trying to keep the tears in, Tine lets it all out. He needs Sarawat to, if not empathize, just listen and answer.

"I got a lot of people just wanting to be with me cause I looked good with them. Like I was an accessory. And the few who I thought liked me, well, turns out I was quite dispensable to them. So far I have never been a keeper. So why are you different? How can I possibly expect everything to be fine when I’m scared that you will up and run any moment?"

 Sarawat who had been staring at the floor contemplatively edged closer towards Tine on the bed. “Okay", he said, taking it all in. "Now it's your turn to hear me out. I like you for a lot of reasons, yes being appealing to the eye was one of them, but of course it wasn't the main reason. You think me, a guy who hasn't ever been in a relationship before, not even a hookup, would want to enter a long term relationship with someone based on trivial bullshit? From the moment I met you I had a feeling that we would click not just as boyfriends but as friends. I knew you would get me despite how weird I am. You have this aura that just makes me feel safe. I don’t know, maybe being an introvert helped me observe the way people behave. Because when I met you it was like I knew you, no, I felt you, the way you are as a person and it made me think 'This is someone I want to be with'. Not because you did something outstanding that attracted me, not because you're a catch and definitely not because you complete me. It’s just… you are free to be yourself around me and I can finally be comfortable in my own skin around you. Don't you think that's reason enough for me not to leave you?

Tine crumpled into Sarawat at that point. Sarawat felt dampness through the front of his T-shirt. “I’m sorry I didn't realise you were feeling insecure sooner" he said to the head sobbing on his chest. "I should have known. I promise to always be here, okay? Anytime you need reminding of why you are special to me I’ll be here.” 

Sarawat  didn't know when his own cheeks got wet and then they were just two boys in a room holding each other as they wept. "Oi!", Sarawat said lifting Tine off him. "Come on let's stop with this melancholic atmosphere."

 Wiping away his tears and then Sarawat's, Tine let out a contented sigh. "Thank you Wat. I needed this. I'll be here for you too, whenever you need reminding that you mean so much to me even if I don't make it evident at times. I'm still learning", he said while holding Sarawat's face, brushing away stray tears. He inched closer, just till he could feel Sarawat's  lips brushing his, and then planted a soft kiss. 

Sarawat broke away, grinning, "You're definitely learning well". "Salaleo! ", Tine exclaimed a similar grin creeping onto his face. 

Sometimes I get possessed and write really dark short stories?!

Anyways here's that

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45221314

One.

Eyes are like the windows to the mind.

Everything is dark under here.

My eyes hurt so much. So much that I can't even feel them.

My eyelids feel weird. I'm not sure how to describe it.

Something feels hollow.

My lungs hurt as I hack up, the dust already in my lungs. My back laying on something soft, but overwhelming.

It smells like earth in here, but just dry and forgotten about.

I need to get out.

I try getting up, but my spine lets out a pained protest, my head already hitting something hard. I lay back down, still coughing.

The coughing feels like someone's cutting up my throat.

My hand blindly reaches out in front of me, hitting what feels like wood. My fingers dig into the palm of my hand and hit above, dust spraying down on me once again.

I have to ignore it. I have to get out.

Something's trickling down my face, warm and unwelcoming. It thickly smells like iron.

No time. Air's too tight.

I get my hands above and try pushing up, more dust falling on me.

My hands are now slamming against it, over and over.

I need to get out.

Splinters are already digging into my skin, stabbing in.

I can't stop.

It's so hard to breathe.

Blood is beginning to trickle down my wrists and bruises are swelling up on my knuckles.

I need to see. I need to see. I need to see.

Where are my eyes?

Relato de uma Suicida #original

Sinopse: Esse é meu relato. Um relato de uma alma perdida e torturada, já esquecida pelo tempo. Quando você a achar, já não estarei aqui. Só peço que você leia, me entenda e não conte para ninguém. Porque no fundo ninguém gosta da verdade.

Carta a Alguém

Dói muito. Não me deixe ir, por favor. Onde você está? Não deixe com que eu me afogue, eu não aguento mais. Quanta dor alguém pode suportar? Quantas frustrações e desespero são necessários para que o alívio venha? Talvez eu nunca saiba, embora o conhecimento desse fato me liberte de alguma forma

Sim, foi o que você leu. Morte. A doce e serena paz.

Mas eu quero que você entenda, chegou um momento em que foi insuportável continuar, então eu fiz o que nunca tinha pensado, o que meus pais e amigos nunca perdoariam; tomei um vidro inteiro de calmantes e me deitei sob o manto majestoso da água, esperei que até que ela fizesse seu trajeto e que em sua dolorosa lerdeza, entrasse por meus pulmões e trouxesse a liberdade que eu precisava. E por um mísero momento foi puro êxtase, sentia que minha hora finalmente chegava; meu corpo tremia de excitação e meu coração disparava, eu estava tão perto, enfim teria meu descanso.

Mas, então, havia você.

Você não deixou, me resgatou da minha felicidade eminente, da minha paz, do único sossego que eu poderia ter.

Mas, você… você não tinha o direito. Abriu a porta do banheiro e apenas tomou minha vontade de viver em suas mãos, tratando como se fosse a sua própria, me puxou para cima em direção a superfície e para fora da água, liberando meu pulmão para que o oxigênio pudesse circular.

Você não tinha o direito.

Ainda me lembro de suas palavras ríspidas e mãos desesperadas percorrendo meu corpo em busca de um pulso, de qualquer sinal de vida; um doce momento de agonia, um maldito momento de sorte; com o primeiro folego de ar circulando meu corpo veio a dor, minha garganta queimou e minha vergonha apareceu, eu não pude olhar nos seus olhos, não pude te encarar, mas lá estava você, sua voz rouca de tanto gritar me pedindo para voltar, me pedindo para acordar. Entretanto, eu não queria, e por um longo tempo tive minha paz. Mas como eu poderia continuar dormindo se você continuou ali, do meu lado, segurando minha mão? Implorando dia após dia ‘você tem que acordar, querida. Volte para mim.’ E foi o que fiz, abri os olhos e a luz branca do quarto de hospital me cegou por um momento, porém sua mão na minha me trouxe de volta como ela sempre trazia. Eu olhei para você e sorri, era bom sorrir novamente. Você me disse ‘oi’ e aquela simples palavra o suficiente para trazer lágrimas aos meus olhos, iguais aos seus. Eu suspirei e continuei olhando para você porque era a única coisa que eu poderia fazer, porque eu estava viva e que porque alguém se importava. Foi o dia que eu entendi, eu precisava de ajuda. Você não precisava me dizer outra vez, eu sabia que precisava. Eu estou aqui, não estou? Em meio a seus gritos e suplicas de amor. Estou aqui enfim pedindo abrigo, de peito aberto e cabeça baixa, da forma mais clara e concisa que eu poderia usar.

Não era essa a sinceridade que você tanto pediu? Essa é minha tentativa de te dizer. Quero que você saiba de tudo, o que passei e o que ainda vou passar. EU preciso de você, preciso do seu corpo quente para me esquentar nas noites escuras e do seu ombro para chorar quando o mundo for um lugar grande demais para mim. Espero que não seja tarde demais e que você saiba que não importa o que o aconteça comigo, mesmo que eu faça tudo errado e acabe por mudar de uma forma irreversível e irreconhecível, que me perca em mim mesma e no meu mundinho estreito e miúdo, repleto de fantasias e monstros, onde tudo há um começo, um meio e um fim. Quero que você sabia de tudo isso e que possa me perdoar. Você vai ficar comigo e fazer tudo dar certo?

Eu sei que você vai, porque não é sempre o que acontece? Nessa nossa fantasia de mundo real, essa experiência momentânea que chamamos de vida? Para melhor ou para pior, é tudo o que temos. Eu queria poder dizer o que acontece a seguir. No enredo perfeito eu saberia exatamente como termina a nossa história, você seguraria minha mão e juntos continuaríamos nossa jornada, sem dor ou obstáculos, porque enfim chegaríamos ao nosso almejado final feliz.

Será que depois de tudo isso você pode entender? Será que pode me perdoar? Eu nunca saberei ao certo, pois você não me diz nada. Mesmo você estando ao meu lado nesse exato momento estamos há galáxias de distância. Você pode me escutar? Pode escutar meu coração batendo rápido cada vez que você me olha? A cada vez que segura minha mão? Como ela treme e eu finjo que nada acontece?

Você sabe o que faz comigo?

Não, eu não peço muito. Será que você pode fazer isso por mim? Só preciso de uma migalha, de uma promessa, só uma, apenas uma garantia de que tudo vai ficar bem e você vai continuar aqui, num gesto que pode salvar vidas, que pode salvar a minha vida. Me prometa que quando as coisas ficarem difíceis você não vai pensar em nada além de me estender a mão, sem pretensão ou obrigação alguma, só porque você quer. Você vai me segurar em seus braços e dizer que tudo vai ficar bem? Eu preciso saber.

Então, pense bem, apenas por um momento. Você vai me salvar?

Me prometa. É só o que eu peço.

E não se esqueça, não importa o quão longe eu pareça estar e o quão isolada eu deseje ficar, apenas se deite aqui, bem do meu lado, onde nenhum monstro possa nos alcançar. Palavras não são necessárias, muito menos atos grandiosos. Apenas se deite ao meu lado, me abrace bem forte e beije meu pescoço. Só isso. Eu vou respirar fundo e fingir que não há nada a temer, que os monstros atrás da porta, me torturando lentamente, são só isso, ficção da minha mente, ilusões ocas sem sentido. Mas, veja bem, seu eu jogar isso tudo fora o que me restará? Migalhas de sentimentos? Meios-termos nunca completos?

Eu acho que não. Eu seria apenas mais um copo meio cheio, meio cheio de nada, cheio de vazio. É por isso que pego esse meu relato e guardo para mim, bem escondido no fundo do guarda-roupa para que ninguém perceba, ninguém além de você, quando o peso do mundo me obriga a mostrar o que há dentro de mim. Afinal, quem iria quer uma coisa tão quebrada, tão sem uso como eu? Pois, agora, enquanto me deito entre seus braços no fim do dia, não me resta nada além de me contentar com o que eu sou. Espero que no fim, você ainda me queira pelo menos uma fração do que eu te quero.

Esse é o meu relato.

Ei, como é que vai? Foi meio pesado, ne? Eu sei. E não se preocupe, estou bem. Esse foi um conto que escrevi nos anos de 2010 a 2015. Sabe aquela musica “How to save a life, do The Fray“? Foi inspirada nela. As vezes, é interessante escrever algo diferente, algo que você pode experimentar sem ter que se tornar real. Espero que essa história possa te proporcionar isso.

Até a próxima!

O começo do fim

#desafiodascempalavras

Prompt: Apocalipse

Tema: Eles estavam procurando por sobreviventes, mas eu escolhi ficar quieto. Eu gostava daqui.

Prompt tirado de https://promptuarium.wordpress.com/2020/01/06/survivors-2/

O começo do fim

Eles estavam procurando por sobreviventes, mas Nico escolheu ficar quieto. Ele gostava dali, era tranquilo, não havia problemas e nem monstros a serem destruídos.

Ele nunca pensou que fosse gostar tanto de um mundo onde noventa e cinco por cento da população tinha perecido por culpa de uma nova vacina contra o câncer e, ao invés de prevenir tumores, a vacina acabou por mudar o DNA das pessoas, as transformando em um tipo de zumbi que não representava qualquer tipo de perigo; eles andavam por aí durante dias e dias e quando a energia deles acabavam ou eles se definhavam devido a desnutrição, as pessoas infectadas apenas caiam no chão e não se levantavam novamente.

Mas é claro que Nico tinha que ouvir a voz “dele”.

Nico se abaixou atrás de um arbusto, fechando sua bolsa cheia de frutas e ouviu novamente a voz chamando.

— Tem alguém aí?

Nico se virou, se preparando para rastejar para longe dali quando uma voz falou novamente, bem as suas costas:

— Eu sabia que era você. Eu pensei que era minha imaginação, porque faz tempo que eu não sinto a energia de um semideus, então quando eu--

— Cala a boca! Eles vão te escutar!

Nico pegou Percy pelo braço e o puxou para longe, subindo por um caminho íngreme e entrando em uma caverna escondida pela árvores. Era a única opção se ele quisesse continuar escondido.

Ligação

#desafiodascempalavras

Prompt: Fio vermelho, ligados pelo destino, alma gêmeas

Tema: primeiro encontro

Nico se sentou na arquibancada do campo de futebol e olhou ao redor, procurando por alguém, alguém que ele não sabia quem era, mas sabia que o reconheceria se o visse. Sabe, ele geralmente prefere ficar sozinho, com seus livros e músicas e videogames, mas hoje, hoje algo dentro dele o disse para ir até ali, falou para ele se sentar naquelas mesmas arquibancadas e esperar. Só esperar. 

Não demorou muito, mais a frente havia um grupo de amigos, jogadores e líderes de torcida, todos conversando animadamente como se só existissem eles. Nico não se importava, pois seguindo seus instintos que diziam para ele se mover, Nico fez. Ele se levantou, andou em um linha reta, descendo os degraus da arquibancada e parou em frente a um homem alto e de cabelos castanhos claros de sol.

 — Oi. — Ele disse para o homem.

O homem olhou para ele por um momento, parecendo confuso, mas no outro, sorriu para ele e… o abraçou bem apertado no mesmo momento em que alguém perto deles perguntou:

— Percy, quem é esse cara?

— Eu não sei, mas eu vou descobrir. 

— Nico di Ângelo. — Nico diz, ainda nos braços de Percy.

— É um prazer, Nico. Percy Jackson. 

— Annabeth Chase, namorada do Percy.

Mas Nico não se importava, ele só conseguia olhar para Percy e Percy também não desgrudava os olhos dele. Nada mais importava.

Eu conheço você

Prompt: Fio vermelho, ligados pelo destino, alma gêmeas

Tema: primeiro encontro

Nico se sentou na arquibancada do campo de futebol e olhou ao redor, procurando por alguém, alguém que ele não sabia quem era, mas sabia que o reconheceria se o visse. Sabe, ele geralmente prefere ficar sozinho, com seus livros e músicas e videogames, mas hoje, hoje algo dentro dele o disse para ir até ali, falou para ele se sentar naquelas mesmas arquibancadas e esperar. Só esperar. 

Depois disso, não demorou muito. O time de futebol entrou na quadra e… desde quando aquela faculdade tinha um time profissional de futebol. Não, isso não podia ser verdade. Ele se negava a socializar com um.. um atleta! Nico se levantou, tentando sair discretamente do campo quando um cara alto parou em frente a ele, o fazendo dar de cara com um peito largo e mãos que o seguraram pela cintura.

— Você está bem?

Não! Ele já tinha escutado aquela voz em seus sonhos, ele já tinha sentindo aquelas mãos fortes em sua pele e já… tinha encarado aqueles olhos verdes e tempestuosos que o encavam sorridentes. Mas ele se negava, por isso, Nico juntou sua mochila que tinha caído no chão e se virou, sem respondê-lo.

— Niccolas? Esse é o seu nome, certo?

Nico teve que se virar para o homem de seus sonhos. Ninguém o chamava por esse nome, porque ninguém além de sua família já morta sabia dele. Ele era Nico, e não Niccolas. 

— Como você sabe meu nome?

Percy deu de ombros. — Eu apenas sei. Como você sabe o meu.

— Perseu. Percy? — Nico arfou, sentindo a cabeça rodar. Não, o Percy de seus sonhos era gentil, inteligente e engraçado, não um… 

— Eu sei o que você está pensando--

— Como você poderia saber?

— Bem, eu imagino.

— O quê? Não. É melhor se a gente fingir que isso nunca aconteceu.

Sim, Nico disse a si mesmo. Seria bem melhor, ele se preparou para virar as costas para Percy quando sentiu mãos grandes o segurarem pela nuca, um corpo grande envolvendo o seu em um abraço que tirou seu fôlego. Rosto contra rosto, e lábios contra seu ouvido, beijando a pele sensível e o fazendo derreter.

— Me dê uma chance. Só uma. Você não vai se arrepender.

— O quê? — Nico murmurou, se sentindo bêbado. Isso não parecia normal, como Percy poderia saber de seu ponto fraco?

Nico fechou os olhos e se surpreendeu quando ele mesmo levou as mãos às costas de Percy e deixou que seus dedos levantasse a camisa de Percy e navegassem pela pele macia e músculos bem definidos.

— Percy, quem é esse homem? — Nico escutou alguém dizer a eles. 

Ele abriu os olhos e deu de cara com uma garota loira, alta e com agressivos olhos cinza-azulados.

Nico sabia que era bom demais para ser verdade.

Ele se afastou de Percy, empurrando o peito largo para longe dele e olhou uma última vez para Percy. Ah, como ele havia sonhado com aqueles olhos. Era uma pena mesmo. Ele colocou a mochila nas costas e… de novo, Percy o pegava pelo braço, não o deixando partir.

— Onde você indo?

— Para o dormitório.

— Por quê?

— Você tem uma namorada.

— Não por muito tempo.

— Percy! — Ele escutou a garota reclamar, a ignorando.

— Não. Não é certo. — Ele disse negando com a cabeça.

— Não é você quem decide isso.

— Então, é você?

— Sim, sou eu.

Percy se inclinou sobre ele e o segurou novamente pela nunca, sussurrando:

— Até agora eu respeitei sua vontade. Mas você veio até mim. Agora que você está aqui, eu não vou te deixar escapar.

Nico arfou e empurrou Percy mais uma vez.

— Você não está falando sério. 

— Eu estou. — Percy acenou, firme e decidido. — Eu sempre te vejo pelos corredores. Sempre distraído e sozinho. Por quê você veio aqui, hoje? Por quê?

— Eu…

— Olha, eu não estou pedindo que você se case comigo, eu--

— Quer me conhecer melhor?

Percy acenou novamente e continuou segurando em sua mão. 

A verdade é que se Nico quisesse ele já teria ido embora, mas havia algo tão magnético em Percy que o fazia querer ficar e saber o que poderia acontecer. Talvez… talvez fosse o destino lhe dando um empurrãozinho.