Im probably gonna get rid of these when i publish this but im so fucking funny
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Im probably gonna get rid of these when i publish this but im so fucking funny

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i love writing their reactions to june its so funny
Im so gog damned funny
I'm so fucking funny
i love them so much

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Whoops rewrote the pacing and now i have three months to write a chapter that i have no ideas for son of a fuck!
I have found time in-between moving house to work on May June come in July! I might even end up releasing chapter three on my bday! (Though I also might fight for my life revising it)
You lay in the field, letting you mind meld in with the breeze, floating somewhere between present and safely far away. You don’t know the last time you let yourself drift like this, taking in raw sense around you. The grass, slightly wet, poking through your rough clothes, the wind, carrying leaves and dust, smelling like an unfamiliar place. Its comfortingly lonely, just you and the breeze, as the sun trickles down between light wispy clouds.
Its safe! You should feel amazing, away from all of the things you decided to run from. Instead you just feel like a coward. You could’ve fought for something better for that place! That would’ve been the right way to do things, but here you are, miles and miles away from that accursed land. It was your home, should still be so, you were born and raised and changed there, But all you could manage after years of fighting was to run. Your tired of it, of fighting in the name of conflict, there’s no respect for it in that! Without genuine reason it’s just wasting blood.
You don’t think about those executions in all but name. You don’t feel the weight of lives on your blade because you don’t think about it.
You’re a coward, and you’ll spend your life making up for it. It wont be enough, but you might as well do something worthwhile with yourself. You hold your brooch, and sit up. You… don’t know what you want to do with yourself.
Get up ‘Belle, you’ve got a life to make.