I hate writing advice.

That’s my little tongue-in-cheek joke for this post, because the irony of what I’m doing literally as I type that statement is not lost on me. It’s true, though— I honestly think that advice is one of the most damaging things to a writer’s mindset. It makes them second-guess their methods, their ideas, and even whether they truly have what it takes to be a *~*writer*~* in the eyes of the rest of the world.

It’s a truly unfortunate thing, because it’s so important for writers to be able to share their experiences and successes. The problem is that these experiences get passed around in a game of It’s-Been-Ten-Years-Since-This-Essay-Was-Written Telephone, and the original intent of the advice (and sometimes its actual meaning!) gets lost along the way. They become these overarching blanket statements that offer broad limitations without reason or potential alternatives.

One of the greatest offenders of this is the idea that you ought to avoid clichés in writing. I’ve been part of online writing communities for a while now, and by far the most common concern I see is some variant of, “I’m thinking about doing [x], but I’m worried it’s too cliché”. It’s an epidemic amongst writers, and it absolutely infuriates me that so many writers have come to doubt their own work just because some vague internet grapevine has told them that clichés are to be avoided at all costs.

Because I’m so infuriated by this (and because I’m super extra and actually have a relevant platform on which to discuss this), I’m going to take some time to explain the actual meaning of this particular piece of “advice” and why it’s far less of a concern than you’ve been lead to believe.

To begin, it’s very important to address the fact that there’s a fundamental misunderstanding surrounding this idea. This starts with the fact that the terms cliché andtrope are mistakenly thought to be synonymous, or otherwise become confused with one another. Before I move forward, I want to offer the proper definition for both.

Acliché is a particular phrase that’s been used often enough to become commonplace. In writing, they’re generally used to create a specific image or tone that we can take for granted that the reader will recognize.

She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. It was raining cats and dogs, but she still stood with her arms to the sky, laughing like she didn’t even notice. She turned to me and winked, and I felt my face go as red as a beet.In that moment, I knew that I’d give my right arm to be with her.

Atropeis a convention used in writing to give meaning to aspects of your story. They’re used as storytelling shorthand to attach identifiable qualities to your plot and characters— recurring themes that exist throughout history to guide stories.

Examples of tropes include the hero’s journey, the character’s fatal flaw, the comic relief character, thehero with a dark past, and the Mom Friend.

I’ll be the first to admit that there are similarities between the two— both are used to help readers understand parts of your story, and tropes can be specific phrases as shown in the cliché example above. The key is to separate the two in your mind and think about them only by the definitions above.

It’s important to do this, because part of the central misunderstanding is that “cliché” is often used in daily life to describe ideas as a whole that have been overused (think of the “I’m holding up the tower!” pic that literally everyone takes at the Leaning Tower of Pisa). I get the confusion and concern here, I really do. The most important thing to remember is that clichés have a specific meaning when it comes to writing. No matter how often you may see a particular theme or character arc, it is and always will be a trope.

With that out of the way, I’d like to discuss why this should be good advice. The truth of the matter is that clichés should be avoided where possible because they give the impression of lazy writing. Writers and readers alike take the imagery for granted and rely on these tried-and-true phrases to add physicality to their prose instead of finding unique descriptors; while it certainly gets the point across, it comes across as more of a 2D picture from a magazine than a scene from the movie adaptation we all know our books are destined to have.

To illustrate this, let’s take a look at the example above with all of the clichés removed:

The world had never experienced a beauty like hers— neither had I. I just watched as she stood there, arms to the sky as the rain pelted her relentlessly, soaking into her clothes and hair. She smiled as it ran down her face, laughing at each raindrop, finally turning to me and winking. She could have just been blinking the water out of her eye, I don’t know, but my face was hot and I suddenly found it hard to look at her. I stared at my shoes, willing them to take a step for once so I could go and join her.

Clichés fall flat because they aren’t specific to you as a writer— they aren’t at all indicative of your unique style. Your story loses so much when it’s not told in your own voice, so you shouldn’t rely on old phrases just because you know people will automatically understand them.

While the argument could be made that tropes fall into this same category, I would point out that tropes serve a deeper purpose than clichés. Where a cliché would act as filler, a trope would act as a foundation. Tropes are tools (most frequently, structural tools) that guide the story through plot/character development and tonal themes to give your reader a general idea of what they’re signing up for when they read your story.

Example Time!

Say that you wanted to write someone a love poem. You do your research, sifting through decades of poems to pick out the best phrases and metaphors, and you end up with the following:

Your eyes are as deep as an oceans
Your eyes shine like stars
They’re like windows to your soul
I get lost in them every time I look

The poem is essentially a cut-and-paste of phrases from every cheesy romance novel out there, and will most likely leave the object of your affections wondering why you’re so obsessed with their eyeballs.

Alternatively, you hand them this:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue…

and things get a little more interesting. Sure, the opening to the poem is a cliché in and of itself, but it sets the stage for whatever you want to fill it with. You could go with something traditional and make it cutesy, you could subvert the trope by dropping the rhyme scheme for dramatic or comedic effect, you could even revive the old 2015 “gun” meme. The world is your oyster!

The point is, the poem hasn’t been written for you. Sure, it follows a similar structure to poems that have been written before, but where you take it is entirely up to you— the opening lines are simply the prompt to make way for your own creative license.

Let’s be real, here. 

I get that everyone wants to make something new and exciting that comes entirely from their own imagination. It’s the dream! The idea that anything we write could potentially be sourced back to an existing piece is super aggravating, and you don’t have to tell me how discouraging it is to have something that you’re genuinely proud of suddenly fall flat because someone says, “Hasn’t the teen dystopia thing been done to death?” or “Didn’t Star Trek do an episode like this?” or “Penney, this is just a Star Trek fanfiction with the names changed to Dirk and Spork, please stop.”

To be totally honest, there is not (nor will there ever be) a single piece of writing on this earth that’s 100% original. Everything is based off of a story that came before it, or had plots and characters that were cherry-picked from the millions of plots and characters that existed previously.

Even more honestly, people like it that way. Tropes help us to identify our favorite genres and characters, guide us to stories that we may like based on those preferences, and open our eyes to new stories and authors that follow those tropes in a slightly different way. 

In short, embrace your tropes. Learn to recognize them and how they can be used and reimagined, and build your story out of the wonderful things that come of that knowledge. Be like me and waste a billion hours in the rabbit hole that is TV Tropes!

Most importantly, write the way you want to write and don’t let anyone else tell you how to do it. They’ll have their time when you’re ready for peer review. Right now is your time to do as you please, ignore all writing advice you see online, make a few mistakes, and do it all over again because that’s what writers do! Get out there and make some beautiful, cliché-ridden, trope-y masterpieces.

Love,
Penney

what-grace-has-forgiveness:

amotleycrew:

you know what’s a trope that never gets tired is when theyre bouncing around in the plot and suddenly an important name crops up- it’sblorbo bleebus.and some dude is like who the hell is blorbo bleebus. and we immediately cut to our new friend blorbo bleebus pulling the most absolutely buckwild shit you’ve ever seen

enhanced edition of this trope is when they cut to blorbo bleebus doing something entirely contradictory to how they were just introduced, like “i know a professional, someone discreet who can handle things quietly” cut to blorbo bleebus in the wildest fucking bar brawl you’ve ever seen, screaming their own name and stopping to down shots while still holding some dude in a headlock

⁺ ˚₊ ⁎ CAN I TELL YOU I LOVE YOU YET? ⁺ ༚ ⁎⁺

hello! i just wanted to share some information about me and properly introduce myself and my blog!

>INTRODUCTION ;

rory, they/them, minor, bisexual, fem!nb, dark/chaotic academia, intp 5w4, july cancer ; aspiring fashion designer/stylist , writer/journalist , tv producer , or architect.

interests: reading, writing, fashion design, traditional art, (sometimes) painting, procrastination.

<3YOU series, fashion, forest colours, “old” music, film production, fully annotated books and messy notebooks, neutral milk hotel, autumn, abandoned buildings, poetry, cinematography, and art.

kin list: april ludgate, margo roth speigalman, violet baudelaire, love quinn, wednesday addams, abed nadir, maeve wiley, alaska young, maeby fünke, rory gilmore,hermione granger, allie pressman.

favorite artists: taylor swift, radical face, the cure, sugarthief, her’s, tea, neutral milk hotel, rolemodel, tv girl, the vamps, hozier, mouse rat,the smiths, the beatles, renforshort, the backseat lovers, pixies, maya hawke, and more!

socials:tiktok.instagram.twitter.

> THE BLOG ;

fandoms - the ones i will most likely be posting about!

( i might not post about all of these fandoms. nevertheless, here’s as many as i can think of at the moment. )

YOU (serie), parks and recreation, a series of unfortunate events, how i met your mother, dead poets society, aubrey plaza, taylor swift, marauders era (hp), gilmore girls, new girl, jane austen’s novels (pride and prejudice, mansfield park, etc.), and tons more!

content in this blog : many, many fandom posts - mostly asoue, you, and marauders, book posts and possible spoilers (which i’ll mark), the dark academia and forest aesthetic, my own photos, art and literature, lyrics, my edits, info about my novel!

tags : i mostly tag everything by their category but on the possibility that i don’t tag something, feel free to use the search, please tell me if you want something tagged (ie. specific tws) and i’ll try my best to remember them!

> NOTES ;

DNI :basic criteria (homophobes, transphobes, acephobes, misogynists, racists, ableists, and very nsfw blogs, creepy 21+ adults - i dont mind older people following me but i’ll block if you’re creepy.), strong anti of any of my faves, spam.

this blog is welcome to all! /gen

if you need someone to talk to, you can always im me, and my dms are always open for mutuals! <3

₊ ⁎ and that’s it! thank you for reading! ⁺ ༚

evilkaeya:

ENOUGH of ‘there was only one bed’ trope what if there were plenty of beds huh? what if it was a room full of beds and yet they decided to sleep in one together HUH?

It must be wonderful. And beautiful, truly breathtaking. To live in a cottage somewhere, on a beach or maybe the hills, anywhere with an open, clean sky. A cat curled up in my lap, or perhaps a dog that rests it’s chin on my foot. I have walls and walls of mounted books and a rickety ladder to reach them. And someone to hold that rickety ladder steady, so I don’t fall and break my neck. To have a person of my own, a lover, who brings me warm milk when I’m too immersed in a book. Someone I can pour all my love onto, rain it upon him, engulf him, because that’s what i believe i am made to do. I am made to love. To be loved. i have so much of it, in excess really, it’s too much, pouring out and out of my being for someone i haven’t even met yet. i exist to spread love, and experience love, dive in it, submerge in it, drown in it, and when i come up for air i breathe love and exhale love and inhale love. That’s what my existence revolves around, that’s what humanity revolves around, and i want quiet hugs and someone i can loop my arm with and someone who will kiss the top of my head and make me fall asleep when i write into the crack of morning. At dusk when we get off work, we take a detour in the little car that we own and for reasons unknown end up somehwere on a rooftop and it’s perfect because he has a guitar or a ukelele or a goddamn french horn because i really wouldn’t care because all music is music and all music is feelings and all music for us would just be love. And maybe I’d start humming in the awful way i do, and it’s not perfect, not his notes and certainly not mine, but it is what it is, and what it is: is love. i want steamy coffees that are too bitter to drink and chocolate cakes that have spoonfuls missing from the sides, a messy kitchen countertop covered in flour which i joke to be cocaine and someone laughs and flicks me on the forehead and we go sleep under the same covers, a cat purring at my feet or perhaps a dog at the foot of the bed waiting for attention. It’s all love, and that’s what I’m born to do and feel and give and take.

It’s all love and it’s all that is worth in this world, in this life, in this heart. It is all that the universe has to offer, take it.

Trope of the day is… the make-out distraction. Kissing makes you basically invisible. We’re undercover? Kiss me or our cover is blown. We’re following someone? Kiss me and they won’t see us. We have to act innocent? Let’s make out till they go away.

Can lead to coming together, unfortunately doesn’t have to.

creativepromptsforwriting:

Writing Games

Prompt Game (aka #Weekend Game)

• Give yourself 15 minutes, get a random number between1 and 820 and search for that prompt (search in my tags: prompt #{number}) and then start writing.
• And if you already used that prompt choose another one or write it in a completely different way.

Combination Game

• Choose three prompts (you can use random.org) from my blog between 1 and 820 and search for it on my blog by using #prompt [no.].
• Now try to think of a way to combine all of them in one story. No matter how outlandish they seem together at first, in the end this game helps you to see them in a completely different light and to get a new multi-dimensional idea for a story.
• + if you use even more prompts;

1. who can fit the most prompts into a drabble or a 500 word short story?

• ++ if you choose prompts that at first glance don’t seem to fit together at all

Genres Game

• Choose one prompt from my blog (you can use random.org) between 1 and 820 and search for it by using #prompt [no.] on my blog.
• Whatever your first inspiration is, the goal of the game is to write this one prompt in as many genres as you can think of for it. Write about 5 to 10 sentencesfor each genre and see the different directions you can take the same prompt in.

Tropes and AUs Game

• Let your followers send you a number or use a randomizer (likerandom.org) for this list of tropes and some of my favourite AO3 tags and/or for this AU list.
• + if you combine tropes/AUs
• ++ if you combine them with a prompt (between 1 and 820, search on my blog)

Drabble Game

• Choose a prompt from the drabble lists and then write a short piece with precisely 100 words.

Title Games

1. Game:

• Choose a title or let your followers send you some in. Write a short drabble or a full story with that title. What is the first idea that comes to your mind?
• + if you take the same title and write completely different stories/different genres with it

2. Game:

• Let your followers send you the titles and then create a short summary for what a potential story would be about.

3. Game: The Alphabet Game

• Choose one title for every letter in the alphabet from these lists and fill them or let your followers pick characters for you to write a story for each title with. (Inspired by evilwriter37)

Here you can find all the titles.

You can find all the prompts here.

Have fun!

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffeeorbecome a member! And check out my Instagram!

Trope of the day is… platonic love confessions. If you love your homies, go tell them. Pull it off like a romantic one and then hit them with the classic “as a friend” and watch them be happy about it, because they too love you as their friend.

‘Help me’ - the moment of vulnerability trope

'Help me’

A normally stoic and stubborn character (A) painfully pushes the words out past their dry lips. The words themselves are wounded, barely unable to reach the other’s (B’s) ear. But they’re heard and the admission of weakness tightens B’s chest more than the sight of A writhing in a pool of their own blood. Their history doesn’t matter, really, when one is the picture of health and the other is closer to hell.

Help me - the phrase is so simple but it carries so much weight. Help you? For what in return? At what cost of my own? What if I can’t.. B’s eyes are widened as thoughts fill their mind. Yet they cannot waste time.

'Fuck it’

It’s a decisive thought, one to end all thoughts.

B bends down to staunch the wound and ties it up haphazardly. And when A starts to fade, they call their name. It’s almost casual at first but it grows in panic. And while they carry A to safety, they’re exhausted and panting but still, they call their name.

Why? Because they care. And seeing A hurt to the point they asked for help, wrenches them.

[The vulnerability trope is not just about a strong character succumbing to injury but also about the character who puts aside their coldness and finally admits that they’d seriously grieve if they lost the other]

Random rant on writing from your friendly neighbourhood aromantic~

I just read a mystery story that I really liked. You know, one of those stories where romance actually doesn’t have a big role?

Yeah no the last chapter they just… made EVERYTHING about romance. The reason a criminal did what they did? Unrequited love. The reason the main character pushed on? Not the friendship of her best friend encouraging her, oh no, it was the kiss from a dude she had a crush on and knew for a week or so. Those side characters that were just vibing on their own? Yeah let’s throw in a random love interest that never appeared in the sort before at the very last moment because why not. Not to mention subtle alloarophobia at the very end…

The ending was so bad I wanna cry lmao, what are allos on?

making more enemies to increase my chances at an eventual enemies to friends to lovers

I hate the trope about people being a victim making them stronger. No, they are not stronger because of it. They put up walls and are less trusting.

I wanted to show this in my own writing. (not sure if I pulled it off) but I want this trope to either be done better (showing the long-lasting damage) or not done at all.

When it’s done wrong it makes the persecuter look like a hero in a twisted way and I don’t like that.

Writing the next AILITM. chapter and guys

I

I used the thing.

‘Oh.
Oh.’

BUTTERFLIES, BITCH. SELF INDUCED BUTTERLIES.

blackrosesandwhump:

This or That, Gothic Edition, Part 2

The first one was super popular, so I made another :)

buried alive or bleeding out // vampire hunter or witch hunter // tragic past or tragic ending // doppelganger or misunderstood monster // vampire or werewolf // boarding school or orphanage // ghost ship or haunted train // blood bath or descent into madness // decaying ruins or abandoned mansion // mysterious widow or strange orphan // lost in the woods or pursued by an assassin // hypothermia or starvation // inherited curse or deal with the devil // return from the dead or supernatural sleep // mad scientist or creepy housekeeper // full moon or moonless night // thick fog or heavy rain // physical torture or unexplained illness // hypnosis or sleepwalking // ghostly laughter or mysterious crying // crows or bats

@whumpy-writings@badluck990@kiratheperson

buried alive or bleeding out (both, I can’t choose) // vampire hunteror witch hunter // tragic past or tragic ending // doppelganger or misunderstood monster //vampire or werewolf (both, again) // boarding school or orphanage // ghost ship or haunted train//blood bath or descent into madness // decaying ruins or abandoned mansion // mysterious widow or strange orphan//lost in the woods or pursued by an assassin // hypothermia or starvation // inherited curse or deal with the devil // return from the dead or supernatural sleep // mad scientist or creepy housekeeper // full moon or moonless night // thick fog or heavy rain // physical torture or unexplained illness // hypnosis or sleepwalking// ghostly laughter or mysterious crying //crowsor bats

In my opinion, found family is so much funnier when it’s more like “these losers hold me hostage and won’t leave me alone”

December-Themed Short Prompt List #1

Ideas

• snow angels
• coffee/hot cocoa with marshmallow topping
• purple beanie
• pink-nose and pale cheeks
• soft blanket on a couch
• wilting flowers
• snow-ladden gardens
• frostbitten fingers
• woolly scarves
• knitted sweaters
• milk and cookies
• grey skies
• dull sunrise
• biting, chilly air
• snowflakes on the windowpane
• bare woodlands
• white-furred wolves
• crisp air like a blade against skin
• cool mornings
• chilly water in the taps
• falling, feather-light snowflakes
• fingers too cold to move
• gloves and mittens
• Gryffindor scarf (+a load of fangirling)
• chattering teeth
• icy breath
• frozen windowpanes
• doors sealed with frost

Scenes & Situations

• running in a cold thunderstorm, in a soaked raincoat
• watching a horror movie huddled in a blanket
• discovering something buried in the snow
• cars stuck because of the heavy snowfall
• finding familiar footsteps on the sleet
• staying in bed, sick
• refusing to awaken in the morning

Settings

• winter eve
• in the woods with snow-covered trees
• warm cottage in the midst of a woodland
• by a lit furnace, on a hearth rug/rocking chair
• snow-covered streets, oil lamps blazing in the small houses

Tag me if you use any or some of these in a tumblr fic (just for the credit!)

More to come soon! You can also submit a prompt.

Heres a fun trope i thought of:

A is an ancient hero, a legend, perhaps. They’ve journeyed across the seas, through forests, their name is told across lands far and wide, but you gotta leave it to the kids at some point.

A goes and looks for an apprentice, they do, and they start them. B (the apprentice) is more than happy to be trained by one of legend’s most fearsome heroes, but by god, A does not want to retire and jumps the moment they hear swords clashing.

fablewritten:

The inherent eroticism of two vastly different characters who yearn to have what the other does and then strike a deal to teach each other their disparate ways. The tension of toeing at that almost imperceptible fine line of ‘I want everything about you’ and 'I want everything about you’. Of tenderly adorning all the parts of your life on another human being, of seeing the way they fit in and around what is familiar and home. Of being irreversibley changed by the tender hands of someone else’s guidance. Of a new and quiet understanding blooming between two previously entirely separate beings.

The Queen is Dead!

There is this tiresome old trope in any science fiction that deals with ants, (or aliens that are stand-ins for ants or termites or bees or any other eusocial insect,) where the queen dies and then, suddenly none of the workers can function anymore.

The workers in this theory of what a “hive mind” is are all just automata that extend the body of the queen. This is, of course, totally backwards.

It’s the death of human queens that leaves their subjects disoriented.

We misperceive the order and smooth functioning of eusocial colonies for authoritarianism. No society could function so well without a tyrant, a single central mind, we assume. A great man or woman who drives their history must exist.

This is all human mythology applied to the alien world of ants.

What happens when the queen dies? Well let me tell you, because I’ve seen it happen… sadly.

Queens are the longest lived members of ant colonies. So, naturally if you keep ants, you grow attached to the queen. And it’s true that without her the colony has no future in the long run for most species of ants (there are exceptions, who can gain new queens, or who have multiple queens… but most ant colony have but one) So, when the queen dies it’s sad.

But, when she dies the workers … keep going. You see the advantage of a “hive mind” isn’t that there is one central node doing all the thinking, no, the colony is a distributed organism. And when the queen dies it’s like menopause for a human body. There will be no new children. (though all eggs and larvae alive when the queen dies will be raised fully.) The ants without a queen continue to care for each other, continue to grow their fungus gardens, or heard aphids, they keep storing seeds and feeding the young.

With time, the last of the eggs and brood are raised to be adults. The nest is cleaned and tidy, everyone is fed, with all these tasks done the ants huddle together to conserve energy. They will keep tending the nest and eating when they need to… possibly for years. Menopause isn’t the end of an individual life, it’s just the closing of a particular door.

I do think ant colonies like this, like my own queen-less colony can seem a little sad. Eggs and larvae and pupae are such joys for ants. They lavish food and attention on their little sisters. No more little sisters means a less active colony, it’s like winter has set in permanently. But ants live through winters. Sometimes many winters.

If you give a colony in this state brood from another queen they will raise them with great excitement. But there is no peaceful way to move the workers to a colony with a living queen.

This situation happens rarely in the wild. There are so many other things that can kill a colony long before a queen lives so long that she dies of old age.

In the wild there are also parasitic species of ants that look for colonies without a queen, or with a queen that is weak and easy to kill. These sneaky queen ants will “steal” a colony. Though, from the perspective of ants without a queen, this is almost a mercy.

But, there is none of this… everyone falling over and dying or everyone going crazy you see in stories about hives. The queen is just one part of the colony… a critical part… but still only a part.

And each individual ant still has her own life to live.

Trope: when A is taken in by B, after being found hurt and unconscious

I open my eyes to the feel of something cold pressed against my chest. All I see is a blur of color, and all I can feel is pain. Pain in my side, my legs, the muscles of my arms, the sharp throb in my head.

Consciousness, it seems, is cruel—and I want to go back to sleep. But I can’t. Something feels wrong.

Then slowly, as I blink a few times, I see the metallic object take form into the metal shape of a stethoscope. They don’t press too hard against my chest.

Confused, I watch as the hand moves from one side of my chest to the other. They try to go lower, and I move my hand to stop them.

“You’re awake.” The voice comes from somewhere above me. Faintly, I recognize it. My pulse picks up.

I try and roll off the surface underneath me when their hand catches my shoulder, firmly rolling me back. At the touch, a soft whimper slipped through my lips— I bite down hard to silence the sound, but I know it’s already too late.

“Don’t move,” they say. Their words sound clipped—almost irritated. But the tone is gentle.

How… how could they find me? I shouldn’t be here. I had no memory of how I arrived.

good guy, or the bad guy?

Multiverses yes,

But is it

Or is it

Multiverses yes,

But is it

Or is it

“real sweet but i wish you were sober” gives such fwb, angst, pining, unrequited love, hurt/no comfort vibe.

Yes smut, they could be fucking and everything, but the moment they hold hands, it’s over for everyone. Like sex is cool and all BUT HOLDING HANDS WHILE HAVING SEX?!

wlw story where the shy girl complimented the popular girl’s perfume and the popular girl gifted her with perfumes every week. The perfumes in question;

The popular girl is definitely courting the shy girl but the shy girl remains oblivious. Fluffs and getting together shenanigans. I need more wlw stories in my life.

Crying because of fluff….. Because my babies are finally getting what they deserve, love and hugs and kisses. Maybe i’m just on my period and overly sensitive but god i’m actually sobbing rn. Maybe I’m crying because I’m lonely and pathetic. Idek

Forbidden love trope. Character A wants the relationship to be secret and would like Character B to be more cautious because they’re so scared of what’s going to happen if they’re found out. Character A knows that the consequences of being found out would not only affect them but also their family and they can’t have that because they have so much to protect. Character B doesn’t care what everyone thinks of them anymore, they just want to love A in public, they want to shower A with all the love that they deserve. Both are right in their own way but how do they compromise?

May 23rd- “Please”

[sobbing | falling | rock]

@themerrywhumpofmay

Cw: collapse, injury, exhaustion, crying, bleeding, past abuse, implied torture

Whumpee’s face contorted in pain, beads of sweat dripping down their forehead as the deep exhaustion rooted in their bones only grew. Welted bug bites along their limbs stung and itched, but the discomfort had faded to the back of their mind a long while ago.

Their legs were as stiff as lead beneath them, feeling just as heavy, each step draining away at their already scarce energy levels. Their footsteps were heavy and clumsy, eyes barely cracked open as they stumbled forwards. Their extremities had long since gone numb, a faint trail of blood left behind from the cracked soles of their feet.

They had long since stopped trying to avoid the rocks.

The world swayed around them, the stretches of forests blurring together until trees were nothing but imperceptible streaks of browns and greens.

It was no surprise they didn’t see the tree root, snaking it’s way across their path, hidden under a layer of dead leaves and moss.

A small sob slipped from Whumpee’s lips as they crashed to the ground, their body slipping out of their control, succumbing to the exhaustion.

They were too exhausted to even cry.