A/N: So, yay I am breaking my temporary hiatus to post this! Next week is my last week for the competition and we made it to the top five so wish us luck? And writing will be back on schedule! Anyways, this is out of my normal style of writing, so I’m sorry in advanced for the weirdness of it all.
This is a kind of soft NSFW, I guess. (Probably my first, so go easy on me?)
P.S. This was inspired by Michael Faudet and his poem ‘Ruin Me’.
Her body trembles with it. Soft, pliant lips left with the impressions of teeth sunken in. Nervous fingers tap against the elastic of her panties, drumming out a beat that matches the rhythm of her heart. Hands hold on to the sheets beneath her, tightening with every movement, with every shiver, that runs through her already wound body. Light radiates from her every pore: a mixture of the white light of pureness and the red light of desire filtering through her skin. Maybe there’s no physical light at all, maybe those are just the colors she sees in spectacles behind her eyelids when hesitant fingertips brush against skin above her ribs.
This is a thing you should read. Stop scrolling. Read it.
RUNNING WATER & SUITCASE HEARTS- Part Two
Hartbig. 2.8k. SFW. SFF. (other writing here)
a/n *sings* Don’t you wish your beta was hot like mine? Many thanks to isilagdur for the beta’ing and for being the absolute greatest member of our Baffled Forest Creatures club. Lots of (parens) to haveyouseenmyplot for all the [sunshine]. A big high five to ficfacfoe for being impatient enough to want to read the end early and reminding me that just kissing is never enough.
You should really read PART ONE found here or else this won’t make much sense!
Part Two: Suitcase Hearts
Smaller defects, tiny perforations in the heart’s chamber walls, are most common and the least cause for alarm; but even someone with a larger hole can walk around almost symptom free. Short-term issues are usually brought on by exercise, whenever you really need to get your heart pumping. Shortness of breath, fatigue, and increased sweating you can manage, but you’ll learn that larger holes have more long-term complications. They don’t cause the most trouble in your day-to-day life, but they will often impair your growth over time. Slow your development. Affect your ability to mature.
The third hole in Hannah’s heart is a direct, piercing blow.
After almost two weeks of silence, Grace and Hannah are finally forced into some version of a truce because of a YouTube party their managers insist they attend as a trio with Mamrie. There are a few flurried email chains about not always needing to be together but with some harsh words about brand image and public perception, both women are subdued into a quiet acceptance that their little game of “I’m not texting you first” would have had to end before their next round of #NoFilter anyway.
Three hours and countless tequila shots later and Hannah is dancing like the music is the only thing holding her up. Mamrie has tried to smuggle her into a cab at least three times, including one final plea when the redhead left herself, but Hannah would have none of it and is currently grinding on a dark-haired woman whose dress is short enough that Grace is pretty sure she’s seen a peek of red panties and a flash of butt cheek twice so far… not that she’s been staring this whole time.
Hannah is watching Grace perch delicately on her boyfriend’s knee and notices the blonde is avoiding direct eye contact even though her head is swiveled in an awkward manner, clearly watching Hannah on the dance floor. Hannah shakes the image free of her mind, trying to keep conversation with the girl in front of her whose thigh is now wedged between her own. She’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that Grace looks like some mixture of a supermodel and a teenage girl’s Lisa Frank notebook exploded onto a romper, but the combination is somehow deadly and Hannah’s normal lack of focus is at an all time high.
Her mind keeps turning over in the same frustrating way one tries to flip a pancake that keeps getting stuck to the spatula. There is hurt simmering in her chest that’s easier to turn into rage than sorrow, so she lets the anger build. Loving Grace is a white arched-tunnel painted onto the wall in a Saturday morning cartoon. Just when you think it’s safe to run inside, you are splattered, squashed against cold concrete and wondering how it could have fooled you in the first place. Hannah is still feeling very kersplat when she escapes the incessant chatter of Nancy, Natasha, or maybe Nadia to get more drinks from the bar.
If you haven’t read this two parter… you aren’t living right. Jenna’s words are so beautiful, you’ll wonder what life is.
RUNNING WATER & SUITCASE HEARTS - Part One
Hartbig. 2.4k. SFW. This is a two-part fic, of which the conclusion will definitely be very SFF, so enjoy the ride! (other writing here)
a/n Amazing and many many thanks to the most splendid beta in all the land isilagdur for keeping me in check and frensheep and for always being so supportive and to haveyouseenmyplot for the fish faces and [sparkles].
Part One: Running Water
One out of every 344 babies is born with a pinprick imperfection between the chamber walls of its heart. A tiny hole. Invisible really, but somehow your body knows its there. Knows it needs to work harder than other hearts. Equilibrium becomes a marathon.
Hannah’s heart has three holes in it. There is no explanation for how a person can survive with such injuries but she is not the only one who walks around like this.
The first hole opens on its own. There was no puncture wound, no ice pick to the chest. There was just Grace. Grace and a dress flush with the print of something you’d find on a bedspread tucked into the back of your grandmother’s closet. Geezer chic she called it, and it was. Only a leggy blonde disaster of tequila, sweetness, and a genuine lack of coordination could give one lingering look in Hannah’s direction over cheap margaritas and laugh with enough fervor to sling salsa on the neighboring table and send Hannah’s heart reeling.
It takes Grace 1.3 seconds to blush pink with a sheepish smile and turn Hannah’s world into the gasp before the horror film carnage when she suddenly pictures a future in the distance with this epitome of #thatawkwardmomentwhen. A far off island of maybes that Grace can never swim out to.
Hannah will drown before she learns that breathing water is not a skill people develop by falling in love with their best friends.
Symptoms and complications can include breathlessness and an increased heart rate. Blood begins a catacomb journey to the vital organs and the injured heart now has to work twice as hard to keep enough oxygen for normal functioning. You will struggle to keep breathing.
This is soo goood!
Thinking of writing today… I’ll let ya’ll know how it goes
fartoharto asked: Don't break your fingers b. You're gonna need those.
Wouldn’t let me reblog sorry just pasting it it was so good
The Holy Trinity
So I figured it out.
Grace is the Father/God - because you know; “his divine grace”
Mamrie is the Holy Spirits - because she serves up drinks with spirits in them
And Hannah is the Son/Jesus - because Hannah means Gods gift to the world
Father, Son, Holy Ghost. Afuckingmen.
It got better.
So much better.
I just died.