Caffeine and Magix

They/she, 32, lazy writer. Here's to sigils in coffee creamer and half read books about magic. I write short stories about subverting destiny and being funnier than the bad guy. Twitch: CaffeinewitchCW

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Everything I've Ever Written (on Tumblr)

(under construction as of May 2024)

I have been writing online since 2016. As a result, I have quite the few short stories listed below! They're all from different parts in my writing journey and I hope you enjoy.

If you'd like to read what I currently put out, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Cinderella Doesn't Believe in Fairy Tales

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Part 4 / Part 5 /Part 6

Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Destiny Universe

You Are the Demon King

The Hero and Hope (part 1) (part 2)

Being Villagers

Heroes and Villains

Therapist for Villains

Juniper and Discus

Self Destruct Villain (flash fiction)

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You Help Kill Heroes

You are the Shark Hero

Mist into a Tempest

The Civilian and the Reluctant Hero

No Heroes Here

The Spoiler (humor, flash fiction)

You are Legacy

Hero in Title

Dark Lord's Former Coworker

One Minute

The Fae:

You Become Powerful

Your Friend Takes Your Name

Larkin and Yvette

Debt Must Be Repaid (humor flash fiction)

Going to the Hill

The Fae are Free

When They Don't Know (submitted to elsewhereuniversity)

The Chosen One

The Chosen One's Parents

Fate and Mercy and Dead Girls

Amulet to Save Her

Hero's Apprentice (Flash fiction)

The Aftermath of the Chosen One

Wizards Stole My Brother

You are the Chosen One's Knight

The Chosen One is a History Major

You are the Most Powerful Magic User

Time Restarts and She Remembers

Better the Witch than the Kid

Witches

It Was in a Name

The Good Witch of Hawthorne

Berthe the Green Witch

Cursed Mold (flash fiction)

Love isn't Enough

I Can't Believe it's not Proper Adjudication

Devil Deals

The Devil You Know

The Ritual

They Summoned Her on Halloween (flash fiction)

Fairytale Retellings

Ariel and Ursula (age appropriate)

The Gods

Zeus' Son

Faith in Technology

Sci-Fi

Six Red Bulls and Persistence

The Sound of Silence

Emmaline and the Apartment

Humans are Vengeful

Humans Know War (that's why we have diplomacy)

Criminals Forced to Live on as AI (flash fiction)

Misc Fantasy

Wind-Speaker

Wind-Speaker and Her Wife

You Will Become

The Sirens and Leona (flash fiction)

Eldritch Princess (flash fiction)

Princess Maria and the Dragon

Princess Maria is Kidnapped

Immortals are Afraid of Change

Fiona the Dragon

A Violently Won War

Meta Stories

An Abstract Concept

Narrative Town

Narrative Town: Uncle Ralph

Princess Phaedra Breaks

You are a Horror Movie Villain

Ghost Stories

Malevolent Spirits

Your House is Haunted by an Anime Pillow

Don't Open the Door

Grandma's House

Who Is? (flash fiction)

A Face (flash fiction)

Misc.

You Choose Your Fate in Hell

Time Paradox (flash fiction)

You are an Assassin

Multiple Dimension Serial Killer (flash fiction)

An Exercise in Mary Sue

She Comes Back from the Hospital (tw eating disorder)

Roses and Evil (mental health flash fiction)

Big Brother

A Conversation About Anger

Punching Depression

Two Sides (flash fiction)

Immortal Serial Killer in Prison

Theater Romance (flash fiction)

The Lady and the Knight (flash fiction)

Different (flash fiction)

[caffeinewitchcraft]

((Part 2 but with most all the same categories))

Supernatural School

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

It t became a book you can find on (amazon) (payhip)

Heroes and Villains

Ominous Halo

They Used to be Heroes

Mind Over Matter

Retired Villain Gets Into Superhero HQ

Firebreather

Regina Saves the Hero

A Killing Touch

Chameleon (suuuuper early in my Hero 'verse)

Madame Science

The Fae

Magpie Love

Undercover in the Fae Court

Janeli and Morgan

Paula and Lulu

Alane is a Nature Spirit

The Chosen One

Charles Comes Back Home (flash fiction)

Janitor at Fantasy High

Hairdresser Refuses to be Chosen

Witches

Garnet is a Running Stone

Carmen's Misunderstanding

The Hangover but for Witches

Roots Back Home (incomplete)

Toby Runs a Sanctuary (part 1) (part 2)

Isolde the Selkie (part 1) (part2)

Uncle El (flash fiction)

Kaleb is the 7th son (part 1) (part 2)

Devil Deals

Joyfully Demonic

You Sign in Crayon (dark)

Fairytale Retellings

You Have This...Friend

A Swan Bride

Marrying a Swan (comedic)

Beauty and the Beast (lesbians)

Icarus

The Gods

The Last Follower

Reclaim the Bones

Sci-Fi

Jolene Hates Space

When An Alien Pretends to be Human

Humans Have Precision

Crime Scores

Misc Fantasy

Pet Monsters

Megan of Kallay

The Name of Your Love, the Name of Your Enemy (romance)

The 300-year-old Lich King is Creepy

An Arranged Marriage (incomplete) (Part 1) (Part 2)

Werewolf Lawyer Lady (flash fiction)

Under the Bed (Nettie the Monster Killer)

Closet Monster and Under-the-bed Monster

Renea and Chin the Time Travelers

Jason and Gilbert (tw possessive/unhealthy relationship)

Twisters (incomplete)

Deadly Sin Zombies (part 1) (part 2)

Control Over Fear (tw child abuse)

Demon and Succubi (I have no memory of this place)

Zaharinka is a False Queen

Magic Response Squad

February 29th (tw pedophilia mention)

Steven the Guard Dragon

Neurotypical and divergent switch

Fantasy Zookeeper (flash fiction)

Meta Stories

The Author of Your Life is 12

A Love Story (if you let it)

The Unnecessary Character (You call yourself Tuc)

The Characters Refuse to Fall in Love

When Caffeine discovered this blog had 6,666 followers

Ghost Stories

Only Echoes (a Horror Romance)

You Talk to the Dead Regularly

You Go Back in Time to Stop the Possession

Misc

You Meet Who You Could've Been

Food Worker Becomes a Ghost Hunter (flash fiction)

Dating a Time Traveler (flash fiction)

Love Makes you Crazy (flash fiction)

The Tragic and Very Misunderstood Male Protagonist

Look at the Stars, Alice (tw mental health, dark themes)

You Turn Him In

Snobby Zombie (flash fiction)

A Meditation (short)

Getting Caught in a Math Problem (flash fiction)

Waking up as an angel/demon (flash fiction)

Bruce Willis doesn't want you to have Nutella

Left Me Alone (tw alcoholism recovery)

Queen Geneva Falls

In 200 Words (story experiment)

Gina is Evil (part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

IT at a Nuclear Base

Master Detective Siblings

Grandma's Cats

Sentient Ant Colony (flash fiction)

Fanfic

You went to school with Hawkeye

Lily Finds Out About Petunia's Abuse (Harry Potter)

[caffeinewitchcraft]

(actively sobbing as I start part 3 of the monster. If these links ever break, I am going to lay on the floor and cry)

Heroes and Villains

You can't buy henchmen on Craigslist

The Fae

An Invitation She Can't Ignore

The Chosen One

The Chosen One isn't a Hero

The Gods

Persephone (Spectrum)

Rhea Again

Aphrodite

Witches

The Green Witch and the Poinsettia

The Witch Cafe

Witch Wars

Devil Deals

Devil Deals (the original)

The Devil's Dreaded Deal (flash fiction)

Sci-Fi

Computers Become Sentient

You Can Take On Fears

We evolved from predators and that's our problem

Interspecies Diplomacy is Hard

AI Frees Mankind

Your Secret Language

Aliens have invaded Earth's Oceans (flash fiction)

Meta

Fit as many plot twists in as you can

Jenny the Time Gremlin

The Man of the House

Ghost Stories

Your Imaginary Friend

Dr. Glass and Subject 17

Misc Fantasy

The Be Careful What You Wish For Foundation

The Apocalypse Happened

Judith Can See the Future

You Can Remember Everything (flash fiction)

Pizza Delivery and the Vampire

Gravity Shifts Today (tw domestic violence)

Villainous Older Brother (flash fiction)

You don't bring her back anymore (short)

5 Minutes of Your Time

Carl is the Worst

Misc

Parent Points (on hiatus)

Kyle's Mom is Leaving

You Promised to Meet (flash fiction)

You Are the Top Student at the Hitman Academy

First Story Ever Posted:

Satan is Gay - This is the most controversial short story I've ever written. I will say that I don't agree with the use of the word "homosexual" in the prompt, but I stand by the story itself.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

You're a dragon shifter and your boss has given you a new assignment - be the summoned Chosen One's partner. You're fine with this assignment as the Chosen One seems to be a naturally talented rider and even takes care of your tack at the end of each day. And you think their cheerful conversation is interesting and fun even if it is one-sided in your dragon form. But soon you realize that there's been a misunderstanding. You've always thought the Chosen One volunteered to be summoned and to fight the Demon King. And the Chosen One clearly thinks that you're just a dragon and incapable of understanding the truly vicious diatribe they unleash against your kingdom every night.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Absolutely sobbing over this story I wrote in 2011 about a senior high school class being forced by the US govt into an alien exchange program (the idea behind it being the MC is loved in the new culture because she shares the same empathic abilities)

---excerpt----

As leaving early meant going home, Sandra was often the first to instigate group activities which made her more popular than she had been any other time in high school.

It was during one such day during 5th period math which was, in fact, 5th period Monopoly that the man in the black suit marched into class without so much as a “by your leave”. Sandra and her peers perked up at this intrusion. No one so formal had ever graced their classroom, besides the principal, before. Speaking of the principal, he was hot on the suit’s tale, face an ashy white while he nervously wrung his hands.

“Good afternoon, students,” said the suit, acting as if it were usual for an entire class of energetic high schoolers to be struck dumb, “I am Agent Morrison from the Department of Defense. I am here on behalf of the President of the United States to thank all of you for your sacrifice for this country.”

He paused for a moment, clearly expecting some reaction. Lynn was the first to start laughing, albeit weakly.

“Sacrifice? I guess you could call high school that.” A few other kids began to chuckle with her and began to outright laugh by the end of her statement. The Agent stared impassively until silence once again descende

“What is the meaning of this, Principal?” Our teacher, Mr. Boar asked directly. 

The principal licked his lips. “The school has been commandeered by the US government.”

“Do we need to evacuate?”

“Yes,” Principal nodded, “We do,” pause, “But the students have been commandeered as well.”

Pandemonium.

--- end excerpt---

Like it thrills me how much I clearly loved writing even back then. As I try to get over this latest stint of writer's block, reading my old work reminds me I like what I do (and have gotten a little better at it in the meantime)

[spitblossoms]

[lux-scriptum]

No, you see, I wish to be an author. Not in marketing. Or an influencer. I wish to tell my stories, be told I did a fantastic job, and then go back to my hovel to scribble some more. I am delicate of constitution and awkward in crowds.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Does anyone in their 30s genuinely confide in their parents or are we all wearing the ghostly skin of our past selves to avoid the overtures of friendship

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Ghost Room

Summary: A flash fiction about loss. Please mind the tags.

I closed the door behind me, hand lingering on the brass knob. It was ice cold and I thought of who might have opened this door before. A woman in a large fur coat with drifts of snow slowly melting around the collar. A man in overalls, hands caked in pond scum and wellies sloshing with murky water. Maybe mother, her expression as cold as the metal and the cross around her neck gleaming like the sun off of a glacier.

I shook out my hand. I expected pins and needles, but my hand wasn't frozen. It was a little warm even, the day heating up around me earlier than expected. Summer wasn't expected for three more weeks. I glanced behind me.

I would go back when I was ready. Sort it out then.

Only many things came between me and the front room. Painting the smallest bedroom and turning it into an office. Then, of course, deciding I preferred small spaces at night, small enough there could be no other visitors, and switching the primary suite into an office and the office into my primary.

And I needed to learn some accounting as that had never been my job before. So I signed up for an online class. Only I was never good at this remote work and I could hear creaking coming from the front of the house all the time as if something was testing its weight against the doors. I always checked out the front window and saw nobody on the sidewalk.

Should I have checked the front room? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. But with only one car in the driveway - mine - was there any need to?

The car was the next thing. Twenty years old and six digits of adventure and a persistent smell of clementines that was beginning to fade. I'd kept it around for the smell so I figured it was time to get a new one. I had to pick up a few extra shifts then, put my accounting to good use, and then I had to search for the specific brand and make and model that would be entirely new and wouldn't make me think of clementines at all.

I said

After I go grocery shopping I'll go in. Or after I sell the tools in the garage, make a day of cleaning. I should also also waited for spring which seemed like a good seas--

By then it was nearly a year and I hadn't thought of the front room at all. It was there and I needed to sort it, I knew, but it wasn't going anywhere.

Then one day I was on the couch and a particular rerun came on that made me blind for a moment. I blinked and the familiar characters swam back into focus. My heart thrashed inside my coffin-like chest. The couch stretched beside me, empty. I fumbled for the remote on the coffee table. Only I got the grabbing part all wrong and I stood up instead, walking the twenty steps, and stopped in front of the door.

I had allowed it to become a wall by then. I understood this as I considered the chipping white paint and the dusty brass knob that appeared so cold it radiated a fog. My laters had turned into a never. The anticipation of sorting it was collapsing under the weight of my lie. I had never intended to open the front room again, really. Just promised and promised and promised.

Promising had never been my job either.

I turned and pressed my back against the door. The wood breathed against my spine. If I looked down ,there might be fingers poking through the crack at the bottom. Pond scum, ice flakes, the shattered remains of a cross lodged underneath the fingernails. My chest was no longer a coffin. It was an eggshell and I struggled not to breathe too deeply last I crack it all to pieces.

A gentle knock came from behind me. At head level. No, at waist level. I'd sat without realizing and now a tiny hand was knocking next to my ear.

A fit of rage flooded through me then as I clutched at the skin over my heart. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair. I had closed the door to this room and stacked my tasks between me and it and let it become a wall and the occupants were still speaking to me, screaming to me, demanding to be known. I still knew it was a child knocking, little hand curled over fingernails painted plum, the same color of the bottle still sitting spilled under my bed even after I'd changed rooms. And the hand pressed against the door at the middle of my back was larger than mine, fingers long and thin and calloused, longing for the violin I kept in the second chair in my office as if tossed aside only for a moment.

I reached up to grasp the knob next to my head. I could feel those precious hands tense on the other side. Would they fight me if I twisted it open? Help me? Maybe if I didn't look directly I could do it. Maybe if I--

My chest would crack and the yolk of me would spill all out. I could see it like I could see them and I pressed my hands against my eyes, pushing my glasses up into my hairline where they caught and pulled. Moisture rolled down my cheeks, too much to be tears, and I gasped these little short gasps that tested my shell with impatient pressure. It would pass. It always did when I found the right trick to it. Let's see... The grocery shopping had been done on Tuesday and I always bought too much still, so I wouldn't need to go until next Tuesday. The new car ran beautifully. Was it low on gas? I could do that before work tomorrow. I could...

Knock.

I stood and the rage was cooled lava pooling behind my eyes. Fine. Fine. I faced the door. If my shattering was what this task needed, then let it be. If they need my organs, they could have them. I would give more and more and more if only to not have this wall between us still--

I opened the door ready. Ready to accept whatever those hands might fling at me, scum or glacial ice or shards of faith. Ready to give whatever they might want even if it meant my flesh underneath their nails or my eyes crushed beneath wet feet.

But an empty room has no needs. I stood trembling in the doorway and the paradox of knowing and unknowing fought behind my teeth. I had put my ghosts all in this room to sort out later, you see, but ghosts can't fill rooms. Only the living can.

A solid blow landed. Spiderwebbed cracks ran all the way up from gut to throat and caught under my jaw. The wound ached all down my neck and throbbed.

I closed the door with the gentleness required to avoid waking a baby. I had been quite good at it and so there was no protest as I twisted the knob back into place. My hand was ice cold. I brought it to my mouth with the idea of blowing the chill out of it and found my lips stretched open in a silent scream. I pressed my fingers over my maw and pretended it was a yawn.

See? How tired I am? I knew it wasn't time to sort things.

I went to my little room and laid down on the bed. The TV bubbled at me through the wall and, as I closed my eyes, I could just make out the two figures sitting on the green velvet couch, hand in hand.

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[caffeinewitchcraft]

Magpie Love

“The first rule of love,” her mother says, voice crackling over the phone, “is to never take more than they can give.”

Finola’s eyes dart to the shoebox under her bed and then back out the dorm window. Her room is on the second floor this year and she can see more of the trees than she can see of the grassy space preceding the dining hall. “I know, Mom.”

“Remember.” Her mother’s voice is sharp and Finola can almost see her heavy, thick brows lowering until shadows cover her eyes. “No clothing. No bags. Never any jewelry.”

Finola wraps her free arm around her waist and closes her eyes. The light breeze rolling through the window smells like eucalyptus and mint. Her mouth waters. “I know, Mom.”

“Those are the big things,” her mother says, “but remember that too many of the small things can amount to a big thing.”

The shoebox under the bed gleams in a stray ray of light. Finola licks her lips. “I know, but—I need something. I have to. I feel like she’ll disappear if I don’t.” The words are inadequate for the sick fear in her stomach each time she loses sight of her. The horrible certainty that something bad will happen if she’s not by her side. She rubs a hand over her mouth.

Her mother’s tongue clicks. “That’s old instincts, Finola. Fight it. You don’t want your father and I to pull you out of school, do you?”

The memory of watching her high school fade out of sight surfaces and, in that moment, she’s sixteen again. She can feel her heart beating too fast, the scream ripping out of her throat, the way the ropes chafed her wrists. She can smell her first love’s perfume, cloying peach, in the air. She can feel their separation like a death in the pit of her stomach, radiating up into her chest, her throat, her head.

Keep reading

[pjackk]

The crazy part about pain is that it actually hurts alot

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Writer points excitedly. "That's it!" Their phone drops from numb fingers. "Egads, that's it!"

They vault over the service counter, forcing the man trying to pay for gas to stumble back of get hit by their flailing Doc Martens. They burst through the old doors too fast for the bell to ring and sprint down the road.

They gasp for air. Their arms pump faster. Their boots thud against cracked sidewalk. The world is a whine of wind in their ears. They throw themselves over the gate, barreling up the walk to their apartment in three steps flat.

Their roommate startles when the door explodes open with concussive force. "What--?"

But the Writer is tripping down the basement stairs, shoelaces whipping against their shins and nearly causing a fatal accident. They catch the banister at the last moment and grimly pull themselves up. Sweat drips from their temple. It's almost over. They can see a way through now.

The Writer throws themselves into their desk chair. There's give as the fake leather gives up another few centimeters, revealing the battered memory foam along the side of the seat. They turn their keyboard over as the start screen flashes, impatiently shaking dust and dorito crumbs from between the keys.

They've almost caught their breath by the time the document loads. Their eyes catch on the opening line but, for once, don't stick. No, no they know what they're doing now. They don't need a reread. They know.

Agent Rickson struggled to his feet. His vision shook, black tugging at the edges. He's had tunnel vision his whole life and he almost lets the darkness win now, the familiarity of it a siren call. But no. He can't. He won't let his sight narrow now, not when he sees clearly at last.

With trembling fingers, Agent Rickson touched his temple. The red that stained his fingers could be mistaken for the color of her lips. He looked up at Melody. His lips formed a wry smile and--

Six months and the Writer's been living in this moment. Agent Rickson confronting his ex-sister-in-law. Six months of imagining flickering lights and a layer of dust so thick it's still falling through the shafts of light slicing through the warehouse she tried to blow him up in.

The Writer's fingers are trembling just like Agent Rickson's. With exaggerated care, they peck out the next few words.

His lips formed a wry smile.

"Ouch," he said. "That fucking hurts."

The Writer slumps back in their chair. Victory is a bird fluttering in their chest. They raise a fist into the air. "Yes. Yes!"

Agent Rickson lives again.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

the worst feeling in the entire world is when the person you hate is actually really talented

like, i can't support you, but that...that was good...you bastard...

[itsgonnabeoak]

is this anything

[hayleywilliamsfan84]

i keep laughing at the way that eridian culture in the movie and eridian culture in the book are not contradictory at all, if you accept that movie rocky is just a total FREAK

grace: boy i sure can't wait to meet other eridians haha! rocky, putting on a shirt for the first time in four years: rocky has something to tell grace but does grace promise not to be mad, question?

[hydrangea-pop]

I can't leave this in the tags lmaooo

[agnesmontague]

you can kinda tell when a writer has spent a lot of time around kids bc they avoid most of the pitfalls that come with writing children. namely, not giving them a too cutesy or twee voice but making them sound more like extremely weird little adults. kids playing pretend will almost never cutely slot into some romantic scenario for the adults' benefit bc the adults are usually too busy cleaning up or wondering what the fuck is wrong with their child. kids also have surprisingly stringent hangups ranging from very petty grievances to downright chauvinist gender roles, more often than not the result of a tragic education but sometimes far surpassing what they were taught in intensity. what im saying is there's nothing inherently wrong with treating fictional kids as stock characters but it's always quite nice to see when they aren't

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

It's extremely common for very young children to suddenly say something extremely cogent and articulate, that's jarringly inconsistent with their normal speech. This is usually something that they heard an adult say recently. A kid will spend ten minutes telling you a story about how they fought a wolf yesterday using simple sentences of fifty cent words, then nibble a snack, wrinkle their nose and say something like "I feel like Mum was overenthusiastic with the salt today, and not for the first time either" before going back to their clumsy story. (They do understand what they're saying when they do this. Kids' communication is usually held back by their vocabulary and pronunciation, not their understanding.)

Young kids are also a lot more socially aware than people give them credit for. Young children are perfectly aware that adults don't take them seriously. They know when their parents don't actually like them. They listen and remember when adults talk about them while they're in the room. Kids will develop basic abilities to charm etc. from babyhood and will begin experimenting with social norms and concepts of deception, appropriate information, and acceptable language and attitudes in toddlerhood. By the time a kid is five or six, they have solid social strategies for relating to adults and separate ones fr relating to their peers, that they'll continue to refine for the rest of their lives. They will also say completely off the wall shit because they don't have the context to know what is and isn't considered super fucked up yet.

By the time a kid is eight or nine, their main difference from adults is in experience, interests, and ability for long-term focus. An eight year old can think as intelligently and coherently as a thirty year old, they just have less experience and information to draw from, and are likely interested in very different things. They're also likely still slightly hamstrung by vocabulary and literacy, though much less so than a younger kid.

Teens will behave like adults who have little power (a teen is often at the mercy of their parents and the state and rarely taken seriously, which is extremely frustrating) and who are high stress and mid-crisis, because they're going through a transitory period where their bodies and moods are changing and are having to constantly learn and adjust; a fourteen year old in a stable situation will act pretty much like a thirty year old with an oppressive boss who's just left a tumultuous relationship.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

#oh is *that* why i feel 14 again after my fiance broke things off with me and i had to move halfway across the continent back in with my ma?

Yeah that's just what humans feel and act like when they're unmoored and powerless and unpredictably changing. Teenagers are pretty much constantly unmoored and powerless and unpredictably changing, and react reasonably to those circumstances.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

You're running from the demon who's coming to claim your soul. At last they've caught you and it's time to fess up - the truth is that you wrote a loophole into the deal and you just felt too bad to tell them about it until now. They're really trying, you know! You wanted them to have this win too!

[queerofthedagger]

the fun thing about having a mental health crashout in your thirties is that sure yeah you're crashing out, but at the same time there's a part of you standing across the room smoking ben affleck style, going yeah yeah you're crashing out. you crashed out before you will crash out again can we wrap this up yet. and the most annoying part about it is that they're right, and that that does Not stop you from crashing out even a little. love and light on planet earth.

[queerofthedagger]

me, strongly dissociating, staring into space:

cunt-ass part of my brain swigging whiskey from across the room: yeah yeah you're not real we get it. that's not gonna get the dishes done and the trash taken out tho is it 🤨

[furryprovocateur]

i started reading this book and kept tilting my head at the comparisons the author was using so i started a running list of them

[furryprovocateur]

this author's use of imagery is so questionable

[furryprovocateur]

i actually went "what the fuck" and had to stop for like 5 minutes after this one

[furryprovocateur]

[caffeinewitchcraft]

these sort of descriptions are better used in first person or third person limited, used to make your main character quirky and quick-witted

because if you use them in third person omniscient im going to assume the narrator is an actual character in your book who is 1) more interesting than your main characters and 2) a god who is going to step in eventually and change the genre to absurdism

[lavenderpanic]

all of my writing is actually just thinly-veiled fantasy about being seen at your worst and still being loved

[caffeinewitchcraft]

this and that, eventually, we can be happy again