waking up in an unfamiliar place, you quickly learn you’re the next victim in the twisted game of truth or dare. (3k)
darkest truths / brightest lies
(thank you so much for all the love on the first part of this two part series! tags for mini series: @haylaansmi)
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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)
DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING
The first thing you’re aware of is the restriction to your hands, the lack of blood flow to them and your feet. You’re no longer bound to the seat in the car, instead, you’re tied to a chair.
Opening your eyes, you wince at the bright light shining directly onto your face and the pulsing of your left temple. Slowly, your last memories piece themselves together. “Luke,” You call out, hearing his name echo in the space around you as your eyes avert to the droplets of crimson on your top, soaking through your trousers.
“You’re awake.” Someone states from behind you, watching you tense up as you lock your eyes with a doorway, covered in ivy made from metal, coated in gold. “I was worried you weren’t ever going to open your eyes again, Agent.” The voice becomes clearer as the unsub bends down, and you can feel their breath on your neck.
“Am I alone here?” You ask, taking in all the details of the space you’re in.
The unsub shuffles behind you, and you shudder as they glide their gun along your neck before facing you. “Just me and you, Agent.” Bending down in front of you, the unsub positions his gun to your chest, a smile forming on his lips. “So, I’ve got a question for you, Agent Y/l/n, truth or dare?”
The last time I wailed "help, please, help me, heeelp" loud enough to have the whole house come running, it was because I was having a nightmare that I was in my laundry room, and out of the corner of my eye I witnessed a Snoopy stuffed animal slowly rise up on two legs, as if being manipulated by a ghost or perhaps made animate by a possessing spirit, and slowly start to dance the Macarena.
One of the best tips for writing descriptions of pain is actually a snippet I remember from a story where a character is given a host of colored pencils and asked to draw an egg.
The character says that there’s no white pencil. But you don’t need a white pencil to draw a white egg. We already know the egg is white. What we need to draw is the luminance of the yellow lamp and the reflection of the blue cloth and the shadows and the shading.
We know a broken bone hurts. We know a knife wound hurts. We know grief hurts. Show us what else it does.
You don’t need to describe the character in pain. You need to describe how the pain affects the character - how they’re unable to move, how they’re sweating, how they’re cold, how their muscles ache and their fingers tremble and their eyes prickle.
Draw around the egg. Write around the pain. And we will all be able to see the finished product.
Having ur main emotional response be crying is so embarrassing like ill be trying to explain why im mad or ill try having a serious convo abt smthn that upsets me and ill start crying like a baby and i have to like turn around and go “i am not crying 4 pity or to emotionally manipulate u im crying cuz im a little bitch, give me a sec”
I have to take the local transit service and I am so close to slapping one of the drivers because she keeps going on about how people are preferring to get all this free money and not working because of it. Do you know the rage I have brewing listening to her Fox News inspired tripe opinion that I can’t do anything about because I have no choice to but to use transit services because I can’t afford to buy a car?
I live in the middle of a very rural area with no delivery services. And I mean zero. Post-mates? Uber Eats? Grocery delivery services? We don’t have those here. So me and my sister are forced to choose between starving or holding our tongues.
God knows what our driver would say if she found out we were forced to resort to food stamps because we don’t make enough to buy groceries and pay for our housing and other bills.
There's a mama cat living in my garage named Felicia. When she first showed up she was almost completely feral. She knew humans dispensed food, and that was about as far as her trust and interest extended for many months.
But y'all, she fucked up. She had kittens in my garage last May. She was at my mercy.
I fed her meat and water while she recovered and nursed. I gently held her babies. She didn't like it, but as I said, she fucked up, because she was too weak from the birth to protest. The weeks passed. Her kittens were fully socialized and grew to be healthy and fluffy little things. Felicia was now comfortable with my presence, probably because I had not yet eaten her babies or anything like that, but touches were a big NO! That was okay by me though. I figured I would just have her spayed and we could remain civil neighbors.
But then she let me pet her.
A few weeks later she started purring and demanding rubs.
not to talk about doctor who but remember being a lonely depressed teenager and hearing him say '900 years of time and space and i've never met anyone who wasn't important'
A/N- I really enjoyed writing this one. I find that I enjoy stuff more if I include things I like, so apologies for the book reference. I hope you all like it.
Word Count- 3724 words
Warnings- Fluff, mentions of kissing.
‘So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.’- Paulo Coelho.
Spencer Reid was not a man that believed in soulmates or love at first sight. He believed in science; not fate. But when he first laid eyes on Y/N, he questioned his beliefs.
She was radiant. A powerful force that pushed its way into Spencer’s mind and heart unlike anything ever had before. Usually, Spencer would never have the confidence to approach a woman, let alone one who could easily render him breathless from simply looking at them. But with the life that he lived; he knew that feeling this way was something to hold onto tightly.
When they first began dating, Spencer divulged to Y/N what his job entailed and the consequences that came with it: the constant travelling, abrupt cancellations of plans, late nights and early mornings, the dangers that were present and the risks that he often had to take. Spencer was infatuated by Y/N at the get go and had to be sure that she accepted his job before he even considered asking her to be his girlfriend.
He realised he needn’t worry about her thoughts on his job as whenever Spencer messaged her that he was on his way home, he would arrive back to find her waiting outside his apartment; her arms open wide as she awaited the embrace that she missed so much. It became such an occurrence that Spencer quickly gave her a key to his apartment so she could at least wait inside in the comfort and the warmth of his home.
They had both come to an agreement to take some holiday time from their individual jobs, as of lately, they both had found themselves knees deep in work. For a whole week, they had blissfully spent their time wrapped in each other’s arms all morning and all night. Their afternoons shifting from movie and Doctor Who marathons to dates out into the city. They had enjoyed their time together and couldn’t wait for another week of their time off to do the same.
The morning was never Y/N’s favourite time of day. She relished more in the comforts of the night. Listening to the people walking below her apartment window, watching the cars as the rushed to wherever they were heading at such an ungodly hour, and waiting up for her boyfriend to arrive back from a case. Y/N preferred the nights because it meant Spencer was arriving and not leaving like he did in the day. So many of their dates had revolved around the alter hours.
As the sun shone directly into Y/N’s eyeline, she blinked her eyes slowly open as she began to awake from another bliss filled sleep. She loved the nights but mornings where she awoke with Spencer holding her the way that he was, made her forget about the mornings he wasn’t there. The past week that they had spent together had been the best night’s sleep either of them had had in a long time. Whist Spencer was usually awake at all hours working, Y/N would be struggling to sleep, stressing about her own work and, of course, her boyfriend who was off catching murders and criminals.
Turning her head to look at her boyfriend, Y/N watched as Spencer slept peacefully beside her. His mouth parted slightly as quiet snores could be heard if she were to listen closely. His arm was wrapped securely around her stomach, his hand underneath her shirt as he unconsciously rubbed his thumb against the skin in his sleep. It’s as though he needed to have the skin on skin contact to know she was actually there.
They had agreed that today would be a movie marathon day. Y/N loved movies; any genre was good for her. One of her and Spencer’s first dates had been to a German film festival. Spencer had been pleasantly surprised to find out how much Y/N enjoyed films in general. They broadened each other’s taste. Spencer got her to watch older, foreign pictures whilst Y/N forced him to watch nostalgic classics as well as rom coms; which she knew her boyfriend secretly enjoyed.
Y/N slowly began to manoeuvre herself out of bed, trying not to wake her boyfriend, as she aimed to head to the living room.
“Where are you going?”
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