#wilderwrites

[wildergrrrl]

ılı.ıl NOW PLAYING: sizzy rocket - tattoos ıllıı.ıllı

01:33 ━━━━●─────━━ 03:47

↺       <<          ll          >>     ⋮≡

𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ✫ lynn

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊- she/her -

┊ ┊ ⊹ ┊ lesbian <3 ✯ ⋆

┊ . ˚┊ 23 ˚✩ ☆ enfp ⋆⭒˚.⋆

⁺˚⋆｡°✩asks open ★ dms open✩°｡⋆˚⁺

masc 4 all // switch // NZT time zone

nsfw tag #wildergrrrl

misc #wildermisc

asks #wilderasks

pics #wilderpics

sideblog @wilderdiaries

‼️ read these rules before dming ‼️

hot:

bondage, choking, hair pulling, impact, marking, possession, free use, edging, overstim, begging, handholding in missionary, brat taming, praise, degradation, humiliation, sadism, masochism, cnc, pet play, power exchange, being respectful and friendly

not:

md/lg, piss, scat, feet, illegal kinks, asking me for lewds/nudes

moon divider @strangergraphics

[stinkbeck]

i stayed up late last night listening to the tv by my mom’s glittering forest tapestry while i scrubbed the house’s dishes. it’s what i do at 2am––i’m here for christmas, and i hate to feel i’ve done nothing for the woman who lets me sleep on her couch. that guy who narrates crimes talks about how they found a case of ribs deep in an alabama swamp, wearing the remains of a bra. in all that springtime mud and greens, they couldn’t find the head.

for the @nosebleedclub​ prompt “long after”

[stinkbeck]

i am in the night sky, calling home. “pick me up,” i say to jupiter. “the kids here are drinking.” jupiter tells me to figure it out on my own. i start walking in the dark and nobody notices me leaving. i see a rabbit on the side of the road––i can't remember which roads to take to get home. the rabbit looks quickly around. it dashes behind me. it dashes into a bush. my phone camera no longer picks it out from the night-blackened leaves. a coyote comes next, eyeing me from the other side of the road. it falls in behind me and looks away when i look back at it. i think he and i could be friends. it breaks off, into the shadow of the bushes beside us. i keep walking. the coyote comes back from the bushes with a rabbit dripping from its jaw. i love it still, but i feel the rabbit’s heart torn open as my own, its dead eye reflecting the moonless night. the coyote eats the rabbit in pieces as we walk together, stopping sometimes to admire the stars from our little quiet road. i love the coyote. it crunches the last of the rabbit––the hind leg of it––and swallows. it looks up at the stars, blood staining its chin. “here, girl,” i say, and bend down. i pull my sleeve over my fingers and rub the coyote’s chin. it looks at me strange. it says, “don’t you think it looks fierce?” i don’t wanna go home to mama jupiter with a murderer, but i don’t tell my coyote that. “doesn’t it feel better without the blood?” she nuzzles me and walks on, pausing a few paces ahead, head turned back slightly. she loves me.

for @nosebleedclub’s oct. 13 prompt, “predatory”

[stinkbeck]

my brother and i walk past an old church that used to be the valley’s library. out front, there are cotton balls of flowers on long, tall stems, looking for god. we are looking for the library, so we walk on. the church bought the space in 1963, and it was because three men felt that the library was in the best part of town for wayward visitors. most people don’t go to the church. the main street has been remade two streets down and runs like a vein through the tall, serious trees in this forest town. nobody knows where the church is. the church was converted into a thrift shop when the church bought the library, and the library is now a tiny shed-like building through a small forest path over the dregs of a watershed, which is dry these days because of the drought. but it’s open. my brother and i walk inside.

for the sep. 14 prompt ‘holy wine’ by @nosebleedclub

[stinkbeck]

kindergarten: i tell my mom and her sister i’m in love from the blurry backseat of the car and they burst out laughing before turning the radio up. when we go to mormor’s that night and everyone plays cards under the yellow dining room light, i sit on the green carpet in the dark tv room, glaring at the black screen, pulling at my teeth ‘til one finally goes loose.

for the prompt “milk teeth” by @nosebleedclub

[stinkbeck]

i went to your temple twice and could not sing the words.

the grasshoppers do not change the sky, but when i hear their purrs, i see the evening stars. the fridge in this house sometimes makes a sound like that that carries through the walls at 2pm. i wake up thinking stars are shooting through the room.

when i look at the stars—the real stars—i am looking at the distance between me and them. those little pinpricks are the only evidence of how big this place is. when i hear your name, i think of a ravine, or else a welded window, a glass vein that keeps the mezuzah on your childhood door separate from the door of mine.

for the prompt, “madeleine,” from @nosebleedclub

[stinkbeck]

he’s playing jazz

deep deep in the ocean, there are dark things that know the world by touch. they are nerves in a hungry body, and they are hungry too. and cold, no doubt. where the fish at the surface can see where they end and the water begins—like we can see where our knees touch the air—in the dark, it is all the same pulsing mass, and if you were there, you would know not to move it. you would know to lie in wait and sense the pulses of something much smaller than you, your mouth—but what is a mouth?—around the little thing, and then the sensation you have never felt before—all this new pain as you become the next life with a mouth the size of your body.

for the july 25th prompt, “pianist,” from @nosebleedclub

[stinkbeck]

I am Hungry, Somewhere, it is closing time and the outside city is green and deep blue with the neon and night. Somewhere, there is a couple in the rust-colored supply closet, the orange tiles under that lime lighting, and they are panting, but not from the work, and they are sweating, but not from the summer. And me––I am a stray cat who clawed the forgotten door until it opened, and I go here each night because there are rats you wouldn’t have heard about on the Yelp reviews. I know what the people do at night. One day, I’ll do it too, but for now, the rats.

...

There’s a line of light that covers everything in the afternoon––actually, it’s two lines, and they come from the side of this pot I always forget to put away. They look like a giant bow across the cupboards and that canvas I’ll never finish. On the underside, it reflects off the floor. This is not my house. The floor completes it into an eye.

excerpts from today for @nosebleedclub’s writing session!