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When Ymir arrives in the show's biggest sapphic competition but her opponent is Annie

repression, and the guilt it causes when you're not with me - an annie x reader drabble

Feelings are easily ignored one would think, especially if the aggravator is locked away in a stone made of clear crystal. When you can see her but not touch her, talk to her but get no reply, overthinking sets in and guilt surrounding your relationship with Annie is embedded to to bone.

The stone floors all look the same. From room to room, the bumps and lines are all in the exact same place. Dents and crevasses paint a marble of patterns on the walls, almost identical to the room next to it, and the one opposite. Even if we move into a different room, they all look the same. The beaten, worn stone turns more battered the more you’re in the room. Like your mere presence is enough to make stone regret and cave into itself. Like your mere presence causes confident stone to pull away and retreat into dirt.

The guard that frequents this room pays attention to more than just her stone. She hears, she listens. Every word spoken is captured by the guard’s ear. She knows everything, she sees it too. Their watchful eyes burn into your back when you visit her. You can’t say more than simple ‘hellos’ and ‘I’ve been good’. Their sorrow glares and the glances full of regret and shame. Every movement shows what you really are. Every shift, every stance - it gives you away. Shows your true self to them and they can’t help but look away, filled with disgust. They ought to have you removed from her care.

All of the lingering feelings. All of the thoughts about her that never leave no matter how much you focus on other things. It all leads back to her. Your stupid Annie. So, you vowed to leave them in this room. You vowed to not think about her unless you were with her. You vowed to not smell her hair, to hear her laugh, to say her name. Unless you were with her.

Her lifeless expression seen under the stone never wavered. Her face never moved, not an inch. Her shoulders tense and her legs stiff. For even she knows what you are. You never hid it with her. Despite her mundane choice of words and her nonchalant attitude, the shame and guilt vanished in the moments you were with her. Those perpetual, repulsive thoughts seemingly disappeared when you were with her. She let you get it all out, “Repressing feelings is never a good thing”, she would say, to try and coax more feelings out of you. It’s ironic now. All that talk about being free and letting go, and she went and suppressed herself inside a stone. One that can’t be broken. At least she’s free from all of your guilt.

But the guilt and shame hunts you down. The knowledge of your moments together, all your hushed sighs and the rustled bed sheets, always found you. Like a poltergeist with a nasty attachment to you. It pushed doors open, the creaks reminding you of the bed bouncing. It opens windows and the wind blowing in howls like a subtle moan. You’ll never escape it.

And everyone knows. They see it clear as day. They whisper about you in the dining hall. They gossip and glare as you walk past, heading for the cold, dark room. Where else would you be? No other room holds your heart inside it. You follow the everlasting hallways to her room. The abstract patterns in the stone ways start to bend and form words. Even the walls know. They’ve seen everything. Every touch, every fuck, and every stare, even those not reciprocated. The words etched into the walls bore back at you. They scream, they holler, they shout. They’ve seen the guilt and heard every repressed thought of her. No act of reconciliation goes unnoticed. Every attempt to get her out of that god forsaken stone.

You come to the door, but it’s broken open, hinges barely holding onto the wall. The room sits empty, no guard to listen in on all your intimate and private moments with her. But where is she? Her stone lays shattered across the floor. The pieces scattered everywhere and the stone concrete floors are drenched in wet slime. The feeling disgusts you, it’s all too familiar for you to handle. Yet, she’s gone. But you mustn't think of where she could be. She isn’t with you anymore, so you cannot think of her. You vowed not to.

Down the hall, in yet another dull, gray room, shouts emerge and thuds vibrate the floor. You don’t bother to deal with that issue. You’re too preoccupied with the dilemma you face currently. For you are forever guilty without her. The room that encompassed your safety has vanished. Those repulsive thoughts flood back to you, clouding every corner of your mind. The shame can finally hunt you down and finish the job off. Footsteps come chasing towards you. They grow louder and louder as they inch closer. Finally, you’ll meet your end and be set free. A life without her is not one worth living. The walls spill out all of your secrets. The people gossip and whisper. The guilt grows louder.

Every inch of the building shakes. The walls, the floor, the door - everything. It rattles and rumbles. The walls finally start to crumble and break. The dirt seeps from the corners and the beams start to fall from the ceiling and crash onto the floor. You back out of the room. All your secrets being left in that room, setting you free. Freedom finds you, not guilt. The room has fallen and all your tainted vows fall with it. It’s all destroyed. You’re free to think. About her. About it all. Free to think about every touch, every fuck, and every reciprocated stare. And the smell of her hair, her laugh, and her name, Annie.

You hope, you dream that you get to be with her. To finally be free of the shackles you put yourself in. that room is no more and neither are your perpetual, repulsive thoughts. Simple eye contact is all you need. All the remnants of shame, guilt, and fear have since left you. You touch, you hold, you feel. She grabs you and you feel weightless. Her arms wrap around your neck and you two collapse to the floor. Her existence is enough to make you feel free.

english lang writing practice

‘Write an account of a time when you enjoyed or hated taking part in an outdoor activity’

“Thump, thump, thump”. Is that my feet as I drag them from out of the slogging, mud road? Or is it the rain hammering against my jacket? The mud has long soaked through my green hiking boots, turning them a dark, muddy brown and I debate turning around back to the safety of the campsite. But I can’t. The rain has made it impossible to see three feet in front of me. It is the only thing I see, rain droplets and clouds. I'd like it if I were inside my house or a cabin somewhere in the woods. Preferably, inside a cabin so I can still enjoy all that nature has to offer, but not have to be soaked and tormented by torrential rain. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of going outside where I'm tormented by torrential rain, which strongly indicates an angry Zeus, it’s a shame he hasn’t brought the lightning - yet. My jacket, my hair, my everything is soaked through right to the bone. I don’t think I'll ever be dry again. The trees cloud together to make nothing but a blur of green movement. The road is no longer walkable, it’s now a slugging mess, if you try to walk in the brown liquid you’ll be stuck in it for days. I think that’s my fate. My feet are lodged well within the quicksand like mud and as much as I tug and pull they won’t dislodge. This is my worst nightmare. I feel my heartrate quicken and my hands leak with sweat - great more water! I can’t get out. I’m heaving and I’m pulling but it just won’t give. This is wearing me out, my chest beats up and down, almost in time with the rain, my hand slips down the hiking stick as I fall deeper and deeper into the mud.

i wish i liked a man

I wish I liked a man, I ask myself when could I start?, When can you begin to like a man, But I don't, that's the unfortunate part.

I wish i was straight, My brain tells me to like a man, Yet an attraction i cannot create, I wish I liked a man.

Why can’t i enjoy loving a woman, I wish i had my family's support, Really, why can’t i be human, Why was I cut short?

Why do you find a woman loving a woman so vile, Why are you so hostile? Why did I treat myself that way? It’s not disgusting to be gay.