Possibly good news for the few who know me for my Fic Writing
A Tired Elf has resumed production! I've been busy with school, grad school, then got disabled, surgery, accepted my disability, got depressed, and now im actually mentally able to continue to write for fun and I really missed it
Its wild to me that my old as hell fics that I personally think are bad still get kudos to this day. It really means a lot that you guys like my writing. I do need to post my oneshots online honestly...
For the those who know me from that fic, thank you for sticking around :] ♡♡♡
🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP! From here!
A mini exert from a section of my fic that I will get to in...maybe 15 chapters JKDFSDGF
Thanks for the ask btw! :D
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CW: Blood, Gore, Mentions of a toxic relationship, Bones, teeth were busted
“I fucking hate you.”
“Do you?”
Rahgot’s broken grin curled to an obscene amount as Elyden hooked his claws around the man’s collarbones. His once pearly whites were crooked and knocked out of his bleeding mouth.
“Yes.” Elyden sneered as he gripped harder into the bone that was beginning to bulge past the pale skin. “Your mother should’ve swallowed you from the afterthought of your father’s short stains.”
The dragon priest burst out laughing. His howls indiscernible from pain and mocking as Elyden mercilessly dug deeper into his bones. Nails acting as hooks, Elyden dug underneath the atmoran’s bones to get a better grip for them.
“If you want to hurt me, you have to try a lot harder than that, Dragonborn.” Rahgot’s eyes were red from tears and eyelids wide open. As if Elyden had stretched out and sewn that lids to forever stay wide open. It was a tempting thought.
Elyden had rarely ever seen Rahgot display anything but his smug scorn for others. Even behind that mask, his teeth were always elongated out into a smile. His fangs sharpened like his tongue as he happily tore people down with his words. Thin eyes perked up in a cat-like precision as he watched everyone’s movements and criticized each breath.
He hated that man. Despised his very presence. Spat at the sound of his name. Gagged at the smell of pine mulch. Detested his harsh tone. Abhorred his scratchy voice. Loathed his cold hands and warm hands. Revolted at the idea of letting Rahgot back into his bed once more. Idolized the feeling of being yearned for, even if it was just so that Rahgot could brag that ‘he got to shag the Last Dragonborn’.
Even as lonely Elyden has been for the past few decades — Rahgot whimpered as Elyden tugged at the collarbone, beautifully mixed with the snapping of flesh — nothing has been worth this.
A crack of old bone that was carved eras ago with old magic.
Something akin to a cry finally spilled out of Rahgot’s vile throat.
Curling around his steady hands that were stained of lukewarm blood, Elyden pulled.
