LGBTQIA chillspot
- LECTURAS 62
- Votos 2
- Partes 2
*memes
*help/advice
*sharing stories/jokes
*meeting other lgbt people
*help with anxiety/dysphoria
just a general chat area on wattpad to chill out!
allies welcome (of course)
I put this book under the genre adventure
cuz we dragons
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Darkest hours (G!P)
This world is set in the past. In a time where nothing was impossible, Where dragons fly above our heads. We learned to ride them, and become friends with them. We created artifacts that make our dragos small and then big again when we need them. That's what sets our world into two sides. A side where dragon riders lived and flew on them. And a side where they hated dragons, and the one that rode them. Even though we managed to work in peace, there was no war between us. Only fights that were under control and rules. In the Arena in the city called Aeloria. A city where there were both sides. They mostly ignored each other. But it was hard to get in this city. Mostly it was the people that lived there. And a few outsiders, but that was either the sellers, chosen group of warriors or dragon riders, and lastly the best fighters of the academies that went into the arena. To prove who is stronger and the winner will receive high quality weapons or any other things of their choice. One day the darkness came and war started. Not between us, but with a kingdom that was across the sea. And this battle or war changed everything we knew. I'm Ardyn, I'm on the side where we ride on dragons. And this story can be easy but also hard to understand. But I will still share it. But first we have to start from the beginning. What will this story bring? Will we be able to see the outcome? Let's wait and see. --------------------------------------------- "Get on!" Leora screams at Ardyn. Extending her hand for her to take. "No, I'm not getting there I hate ships." I shook my head and took a step back. Leora sighed and shook her head in mocked amusement. "Are you telling me you are able to fly on a dragon. But you are scared of standing on a ship. Don't make me laugh." "Yes. So what, I'm not getting on." I said angry and she grabbed my hand and pulled me up. (⚠️ Intersex, violation, sex scenes ⚠️) Grammar mistakes, probably bad intimate scenes (I'm bad at writing them.)
Dim.
Tired of trying to be everything. Trying to be perfect. Wrong paths and wrong people and missed opportunities. Am I letting my mental illness take over my life? A look into the mind of a BPD, Anxiety ridden woman. With no identity but her Panic. With my ways it's hard to keep down anything healthy, relationships that don't last but stay with me like my own personal demons. And evil around the corner you'd never see coming. The pain changes you. Trauma changes you. It strips you away from yourself. BPD strips away your identity sometimes I guess this is my way of finding myself again, through writing and reflecting and realizing it is okay to be hurting. This book will include poetry and scenes and think pieces. It will be vulnerable. It will be raw. It will remind you of your own loss. - "She." Xx🥀xXConcluida
My Poetry Escape
I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.Concluida
Irhaboggle Pride (2018) 30 Days, 30 Stories
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