Prompt from 11/8/20 - And like the raging ocean, my heart could not be contained.
TW: blood, violence, death
Your skin as fair as summer’s breath, those eyes like dew drops; fresh, bright. The shadow you cast in my doorway at night, as you wake me, drag me into the garden to watch the stars fall. Sundresses, secret smiles, the way you punctuate your sentences with your airy laugh.
Every aspect of you was intoxicating.
Being with you was like walking on air, like flying. You understood me. When we touched, it was electric. But being with you wasn’t enough. It was like an addiction, a craving. You always left me wanting more.
I remember that night, as we lay in the grass watching the tumbling stars streak the sky with light. Your lips, soft as anything, brushed my ear as you whispered. You told me about space, of stars and astrophysics, and all the possibilities that lay out in the void above us.
Each word was a sonnet, your voice a symphony, for me and only me. Only me.
But, then, the stars stilled. You yawned, stretched, and made your leave.
And I was left alone, laying in grass that was now cold without your heat. And once again, I was left wanting more. Needing more.
So the next day, when you visited clutching your wicker basket of muffins, I invited you inside for tea. We sat at the table, across from each other. You wore a strawberry-patterned dress, your hair was carelessly tied back. Beautiful. I couldn’t stop myself from gazing at you, seeing you as only I could.
Sunlight glazed your skin as you spoke, golden rays that shone for you.
It was in that moment I knew that I couldn’t be without you.
So I stood, excusing myself to get a drink from the fridge while you continued to talk, your voice a melody I could hear forever. I turned my back on you, reaching for the cutlery drawer. Silver blades glinted at me, as though daring me, taunting me.
The knife was cold in my hand, but your blood was warm.
In the moments when you drew your final breaths I stared down at the knife, at the scarlet slowly staining your strawberry dress.
A pang of regret, sharp and sour.
What had I done…How could I ruin something so pure, and beautiful? For fear you would leave me?
And now you’ll never leave me. Your skin as fair as summer’s breath, and your eyes of dew will haunt me. Your sundresses, and smiles, and airy laugh will forever torment me.
The silence of your absence will be deafening.
Hey guys check out my latest writing project that I’m doing for my university portfolio X
I’m writing a character and i want to write her correctly, so i have a question
Can someone be aromantic, but not asexual at the same time?
If yes, please explain, if no, please explain why
Thanks in advance! I like to be educated on a topic before writing or talking about it :)
Howdy! I'n glad you asked!
Yes, someone can be aromantic and not be asexual. There are two ways of going about this.
They can be alloaro (Allosexual Aromantic) which is usually a label associated with the SAM, or they can simply be aromantic without any other label on their sexuality. No matter how someone chooses to label themselves, never assume that an aromantic is also asexual unless they state otherwise!
If you plan on writing an alloaro character, ask us alloaro’s how we experience aromanticism because aromanticism framed by allosexuality is VASTLY different then aromanticism framed by asexuality. We have very unique issues within the community and outside if the community and we have diverse and unique view points to draw from. And as a bit of a foot note, if you plan on making an alloaro character try not to portray the fact that they experience sexual attraction and not romantic attraction as a negative thing, and please do not automatically throw them into a QPR. It defeats the purpose of aromantic representation as not all aromantics want to be in QPR’s or other forms of relationships.
Sorry I’ve been so MIA! (There’s been some crazy awesome stuff going on.)
Sorry it’s been so long! There’s been a ton of awesome and amazing things going on in my life.
On the writing front, I’m now a regular writer for Medium — which has resulted in a *major* boost to my writing income. (*If you’re a writer who is not writing on Medium, I don’t know what you’re doing.*)
On the *other* professional front, we’ve finally released our drag event app — @dragr — and are over the moon with the reception it’s receiving in the community.
Hope you’re all doing well and getting down to all the writing. The world needs your story, so don’t give up
Spending some time with my main #WIP tonight, a novel about the story of Anne Boleyn. Working on the particularly trying epic of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey. He sacrificed his prized possessions in order to save his skin from King Henry VIII. Spoiler: it didn’t work.
How far would you go to save your skin? Would you give up your most prized possessions? Do any of your characters do anything crazy to try and save their own skin?
