i contest this

u have given me very warm and cozy feelings in even fewer words right here ^w^

normally i capture exactly one feeling in far too many words so this is a drastic improvement

do ittttt

we build the perpetual motion machine of writing together

thank you so much, aaaaaaaaaaaaa

i'm deeply honored that any of y'all would even look at my work, let alone say such nice things about it ;w;

adfgdfjhg

we stan people who help us coalesce into a Community

your role in bringing us together like that is more meaningful than i can say 💜

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

this one was heavily based off of personal experience, so i'm particularly glad you found something in it

the prompts were
> You wanna know where I got this?...
into
>...you should join me next time.

the story ended up pushing both of them towards the middle

~Fin~

Want more scrollable stories? Drop a follow!

And if there's anything you liked, or thought could've be better, *please* let me know. I'm not very good at this format yet, so anything that helps me write better stories for you is worth its weight in gold 💜

www.furaffinity.net/view/60553014

I fight to stay. I fight the light, fight the dark, fight the burning and the churning and both lumps in my windpipe, and through it all, I cling to him all the tighter.

I want to be here for this.

🧵13/13

Darkness slowly envelops the world. My head pounds; my windpipe burns. My shedded spots sting, turning my stomach, rough and painful and utterly repulsive and yet here he is, holding my hand.

A cool sensation flows through the tube in my arm, promising peaceful oblivion, but I fight it.

🧵12/13

“Let’s see.” His claw traces little loops in my palm. “It looks like snow. Snow in April. And… It smells like cherry pie tastes. And everywhere you go, everyone just looks so happy. So awestruck. Like everyone’s come together, just for a moment, in that warm, simple, happy feeling…”

🧵11/13

With every breath, the world's assault grows stronger. Bright, painful. Slowly, I let my head sink back into the pillow, let myself retreat, let his warmth and scent and the gentle vibration of his humming become my sanctuary.

I manage four more words, just barely. “Tell me about it.”

🧵10/13

“Beautiful. Peaceful.” His voice is the world’s softest pillow. Warm, comfortable. “You should come with me next year.”

The unspoken assumption hangs heavy in the air between us.

I swallow again. He interlocks our fingers, swaying my hand.

After a while, he starts to hum.

🧵9/13

A thousand thoughts jumble in my head. Shadows in fog. I want words, but none come. Want to hug him, but I can’t find the strength. Can't find thoughts. Can't find focus. But I can find him. Find his hand, dangling next to mine, and squeeze it tight.

My voice is raspy. “How was it?”

🧵8/13

The chair beside my bed creaks. My hyena's mottled blur sinks into it, and as his dull musk floods my lungs, something else follows, rising slowly in my chest.

I’ve always wanted to see the blossoms.

🧵7/13

I blink. Fight to look up. “You went?”

The blur that is Lester nods. His hand wraps mine, gently closing my palm around the petals.

“But–” I swallow. “I thought you had work.”

“I had more important things.”

🧵6/13

Gently, he raises my hand to my eye level. My eyelids flutter, and the blur in my palm resolves into a small pile of pink blurs.

They’re… light. Impossibly light. And soft, and fragile. For a moment, I just stare. Then the blurs resolve into petals, and there’s a new lump in my windpipe.

🧵5/13

“Shhhhhh.” Amusement. “It was hard enough convincing them to let me back here. Don’t need you ripping anything out.”

I let out a deep breath. His scent drifts through my lungs, dull and musky, and a wave of warmth pushes back the pain.

“Here.” He cups my palm. “I brought something for you.”

🧵4/13

A claw traces a deeply familiar circle on my palm, and my eyes fly open.

“Lester?!” Harsh light floods the room. “What–” My neck strains. “How did you–”

🧵3/13

...The pounding in my head. The tempest in my stomach. The blankets chafing against my shedding spots, sandpaper against raw skin. A hostile world, assaulting me for trying to experience it.

I want to go back. Let my head fall back into the softness, the nothing, the comfortable oblivion of–

🧵2/13