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+---- Thread: unconventional therapy | writing storage (& dump) (/showthread.php?tid=2127)
unconventional therapy | writing storage (& dump) - wifewoof - 06-17-2018
oh wow...it's been awhile since I've done one of these. I think it's fitting considering how I've been looking for constructive criticism. everyone in my creative writing class, except for by teacher, would only praise my work lol which made me very uncomfortable.
feel free to PM me constructive criticism! <3
uhm I'll put warnings and a rating up for each story. I don't think I have anything truly R-18...if I do I can just give you the link to it since I have two universes; one is very very graphically gorey, and the other is very....questionable based on her job (but the story is wholesome lol)
anyway~I will be adding anything I write as of now as well as a few older things. this will include creative essays, quick writings, short stories, poems, etc.
____________
□ - not added yet
■ - have been added
things to add
■ Signing Off
□ Background Character #2 (once I finish that beast)
□ attack
□ maybe my tree essay
■ corruption
□ post pics of blackout poetry
□ Writing Exercises
--- ■ Narnia?
--- ■ 23 Words or Less
□ Midnight Antics
□ anything I write
□ kenneth drage clare ravn diary entries
--- ■ entry #1
--- ■ entry #2
Re: unconventional therapy | writing storage (& dump) - wifewoof - 06-17-2018
Diary Entry #1
[b][size=16pt](PG) WARNINGS: ONE SUGGESTIVE BIT AND THAT'S IT
[font=courier]dear diary,
i fall in love all over again when i look into his eyes.
there's just something pulling me toward him. there's just something in my heart that says "he's the one you will cherish."
his eyes are a hazel blue, my favorite color of blue. maybe the color is why i fall all over again. or maybe it's how everytime i look at him, i can see the love he has for me in his beautiful eyes.
the moment we're parted, i immediately miss him. i miss his scent, i miss his touch, i miss all of him. when we're reunited, we can't let go of each other in fear the other will disappear.
our favorite pastime is cuddling. some may say foreplay is our favourite thing to do, but we always make time to cuddle. we feel close. he can play with my hair, hold me close, and protect me. i can hear his heartbeat, go to sleep, and feel safe. he's always there when i need him, even if he isn't here physically.
he reminds me constantly of why i love him. he's so caring, and thoughtful. he constantly asks if i'm okay, or if what we're doing is okay, or if i'm comfortable. he's so goofy and smart. he loves to act silly and make others (and me) laugh, and he loves to tell me all about the ocean, or about censorship in literature as i go to sleep (he even reads to me sometimes to help me fall asleep when i'm having trouble).
maybe one day i'll know why i keep falling in love all over again with him.
(maybe i truly love him. maybe that's why.)
--- [[color=white]k]enneth dr[a]ge cla[r]e r[a]vn
Re: unconventional therapy | writing storage (& dump) - wifewoof - 06-17-2018
Signing Off
(PG) WARNINGS: CHARACTER(s) DEATH
Red lights were blaring overhead, illuminating the dark floor of NASA’s external communications. The only person left in the facility was the chief of the unit, who was frantically running from computer to computer, typing in code after code, trying to get the emergency transmission shown on the main screen. Finally, the communication’s chief breathed a sigh of relief as the glitched camera view of Expedition 55 finally appeared, “...copy...control…”, the radio fizzled as she messed with the audio, “Copy, Ground Control. The Expedition 55 crew is asking for a line of communication for emergency assistance.”
The girl paused, carding a hand through her dusty brown pixie cut, allowing the line to go through, “Captain Freeman, this is Kenneth Drage reporting as the only help. How can I be of assistance, sir?”
“Kenneth,” the Captain’s face lit up, it’s like he didn’t expect to see the short girl, “are you the only one here?”
“Yes, sir.” she grimaced, pushing her geeky glasses up, as she disengaged the emergency protocols with a few swift keystrokes, “Everyone else lost hope when we didn’t hear back in the specified amount of time.”
“Sorry about that, the crew and I became so enamored with the data we were receiving, that we lost track of time.” he crossed his arms, unease dancing in his eyes, ”It seems we are not the only ones in the universe, there are-”
Kenneth froze, a grin stretched across her face as she screamed in elation, stopping the Captain in his tracks, “You found life-forms!” Her ice blue eyes were aflame with passion as she fired off questions faster than he could process, ”Are they sentient? Are they intelligent, or are they primitive? Did you find them first, or did they find you? Are they hostile? Wha-”
“Chief Kenneth,” Captain Freeman quietly urged, ”let me finish. We are not the only ones in the universe, we ran into a few...life-forms...that showed themselves sentient and highly intelligent. We found a hostile race of aliens.” He took a deep breath, “They’re considered hostile because they attacked Jackson during our last spacewalk. He’s...no longer with us. Hart and I are okay, but the shuttle was damaged from the attacks the hostiles launched. We just got our communications back up.”
“What...but…” the girl ran her hand through her tangled brown locks, “if we were peaceful...why would they have attacked?” she muttered under her breath, “Should I call in the boss? He would know how to proceed.”
“NO!” was the harsh bark of the Captain, “The boss does not need to come in! It’ll take too long to get him to see our side.”
That gave Kenneth a pause, “Your side? What are you talking about, sir?”
Captain Freeman had an unreadable expression cross his face, “The damages to the shuttle are too severe to return home with everything intact. We made a choice between escape measures, which would have left behind the data we collected on the life-forms, or saving the data, which would require me and Hart to be left behind. Jackson brought back valuable information from his spacewalk,” his expression melted away to reveal unbridled adoration, “it will change how we view life, how we view the universe. So, we’ll be using the last bit of power to send the data to NASA, all you would have to do is publish it as ours: Freeman, Jackson, and Hart.”
“No disrespect, sir, but don’t you want to come home?”
“We already made up our minds. All you have to do is approve it and we will proceed with the upload.” The Captain softly smiled, “We are willing to give up our lives for what we love.”
Kenneth gave a watery frown, “But...I’ll never see you guys again...You won’t live to see what you found...You won’t be able to continue your own work…” she sputtered out excuse after excuse, trying to change their minds. She would do anything for science, but could she really condemn these men to their deaths just for some facts? Her hands were in the air, making frantic gestures that displayed her desperation as the Captain’s face did not change, no matter how good her excuse was. She knew she couldn’t dissuade him.
She took a deep breath, tears welling up in her now murky green eyes, “Okay. I approve of the last mission Expedition 55 will carry out. Sign off after you upload the data, and I’ll end the transmission.”
“Thank you, Kenneth.”
In the background, she could hear Hart softly singing, Rocket Man. She knew she wouldn’t be able to convince him to come home either. They were both willing to give their lives for their love of space.
A small static screech echoed through the cold NASA center as the two men started their last recording. The last moments of their lives before they slowly asphyxiated to death, “This is the Expedition 55’s remaining crew...Freeman...and Hart...signing off for the last time…” the radio stuttered out the Captain’s voice for the last time.
Kenneth tried to stifle a sob as she heard the radio cut off, hearing the file finish uploading. She took her glasses off, rubbing her eyes, as the monitor that had displayed Captain Freeman was now dark. The only thing left on it was the harsh green text of “COMMUNICATIONS TERMINATED.” She never thought she would have to sacrifice anyone just for some scientific data.
Slowly clambering to her feet, she dragged herself across the dark floor to the exit doors, blearily deciding to read through the file in the morning. As she pushed the double doors open, an unsettling feeling crawled across Kenneth’s skin, causing her to look back at the green text on the monitor. It was eerie as it flashed, making her uneasy. It was like she was being judged, and it was sentencing her as a criminal. She never did well with silent judgment, even if it was by inanimate objects.
Shaking her head, Kenneth locked the doors, asking herself the very question that will haunt her for the rest of her life, ‘What have I done?’
Re: unconventional therapy | writing storage (& dump) - wifewoof - 06-17-2018
corruption
(PG/PG-13?) WARNINGS: JUST SOME REALLY DARK THEMES
he first time he was seen,
he had white feathers and kind eyes,
a warm smile and a golden halo.
he was the epitome of purity.
he came to the mortal realm for the first time
with the intent to help pick up the pieces.
the black plague had ravaged the world,
leaving only chaos in its place.
an angel has descended.
he sees how people were treated.
those who needed help were
icily ignored or mercilessly murdered,
so they wouldn’t pollute others.
when he ascended back to the heavenly realm,
he learned they were utterly twisted.
the human race was twisted.
he knew sincere souls existed.
the next earthly visit,
he had white feathers and distant eyes,
an uncertain smile and a golden halo.
he was the epitome of purity?
an angel has descended.
he easily repaired europe after the first world war.
everyone wanted to forget in the midst of their suffering.
he found a smidge of joy in the suffering.
that’s what they get for causing this suffering.
his distaste grew after he returned home.
humans killed each other over trivial subjects.
a strip of land and secrets.
maybe sincere souls still existed.
for the third visit,
he had onyx feathers and blank eyes,
a stormy frown and a chipped halo.
he was the epitome of purity?
an angel has descended.
he barely managed to put europe back together,
after they killed in cold blood together,
in the most violent war altogether.
all to blame a peaceful sect.
when he returned once more to the afterlife,
he had no love for humans left.
how they could kill so many
and not even flinch, or bat an eye, he didn’t know.
the last visit to the mortal realm,
he had midnight black wings that had no feathers,
he had starving eyes that held no mercy,
he had a menacing smirk carved upon his face,
he had twisted horns jutting from behind his ears.
he was the epitome of impurity.
an angel has descended.
our angel has descended.
but he isn’t here to help.
Re: unconventional therapy | writing storage (& dump) - wifewoof - 06-17-2018
23 Words or Less
(PG) WARNINGS: BAD SITUATIONS AND WILL BE ADDED TO
BASEMENT
Scott looked up sourly, wondering how he landed himself in an exact copy of Hannibal Lecter’s basement.
JAWS
Swinging my head wildly in hysterics, I think I’ve been cast as the next victim of a massive snarl-toothed great white.
Re: unconventional therapy | writing storage (& dump) - wifewoof - 06-19-2018
Diary Entry #2
(PG-13) WARNINGS: MENTION OF DEATH AND INDIRECT MENTION OF SUFFOCATION
too tired to deal with the coding rn m'sleepy and can't sleep
my pillow no longer feels like a soft dream. it's hard and unforgiving. it's fitting considering my sleeplessness.
my neck is always in pain. whether from awful pillows, from constant stress, or from phantom pains from my nightmares.
my nightmares only fuel my insomnia.
it's been like this for almost 5 years now. it all started over having such vivid nightmares that felt so real. my brain loves to kill me several...SEVERAL...times a night, or every other night. hilariously enough, a xenomorph was the villain most of the time (occasionally I'd be killed from falling too far while trying to escape or for holding my breath too long while waiting for the creature to leave). i now know what it's like to be a video game character that has infinite lives. people i know and people i love make appearances in those nightmares. as well as some other things (i once was crawling through a ventilation shaft in one nightmare and i watched shiro from voltron get torn to pieces. he was an android for some reason, like he was a lot like samuels from alien:isolation).
i'm always the last to die. whether it's instant death, or slowly bleeding out or whatever. i feel like everything i do is worthless, everything i do is meaningless, everything i do is all for nothing.
you know, i've never survived in a single nightmare i've had in the five years i've had these.
(since i started dating my boyfriend, the past 7 months have only had a few nightmares.
the worst one made me live with my hand on my pulse for four days when i woke up.
i had to make sure i was still breathing.)
--- [k]enneth dr[a]ge cla[r]e r[a]vn
Re: unconventional therapy | writing storage (& dump) - wifewoof - 10-19-2018
Narnia?
WARNINGS: NONE
This was a 10 minute exercise I had to do in my creative writing class, I had fun with it. Not my best work, but not my worst either for only having 10 minutesI found a scraped door tucked away within the recesses of the mega closet in my house. I’ve always wondered what was behind the door, but I never had the courage to open it. Until now. My hand twitches from nerves as I twisted the doorknob open, my breath stuttering. Swinging the door open, I bolt in and slam the door shut.
I look back.
It’s still there, thank goodness.
Glancing around, confusion filled me. It was the high school I went to, but it was blue and black instead of red and white. I noticed that people, er, teenagers were crowding me, trying to get my attention.
It was disorienting.
It was overwhelming.
It was suffocating.
I needed out!
Taking off at a sprint, I turned several hallways and eventually ran face-first into the locker I share with my best friend, locker 344. Panicked breaths left me as I looked down, my vision was woozy as I took in the high school’s cheerleading uniform I was wearing. I slowly raised a hand to my hair, it was in a regal pixie cut. As my hand fell, I caught a glimpse of onyx painted nails.
I was a stereotypical popular cheerleader.
The exact opposite of who I am.
I found an alternate reality.