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dreamingdreamin · 2 months

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Now i'm busy avoiding your eyes while we both pretend the coffee machine is the most interesting thing in the room to avoid the tense silence.

It's just that even a glance from you gets my mind clouded, as foggy as the scene outside the window today.

That's why I fumbled when you appeared out of nowhere and greeted me with a wave. I laughed and replied, "I'm doing good. Thank goodness the weather's pleasant today."

You smiled at me and agreed politely but I could see the confusion in your eyes because the rain has both of us looking like wet rats and shivering in front of the coffee machine.

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rendezvousheart · 6 months

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It is dark outside and my thoughts are slowly disintegrating like the particles in the air with no destination. As I lay down in bed , the thought of waking up the next day for work doesn’t seem to excite me anymore. Instead my heart desires to be invisible and to walk amongst nature with a book in hand . With more people fighting over power and status in this world the only thing I wish to fight for is peace and harmony.

#female writers #writerscorner #writing on tumblr #random words #thoughts #thoughts on my mind #writers on tumblr #night thoughts #writersociety #writing #exerpt from a story i'll never write #original writing #writblr #writerscommunity #original quote #quoteoftheday #tumblrwriting #women writers #writerslife

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youhaveforgottenmealready · 9 months

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Story from 2021

This has been rotting on my Google Drive since 2021.

**********

Clark Kent met Bruce Wayne on a chilly day in Metropolis. To fight the freezing winds, Clark wore a wool coat and miles of scarf wound around his neck like a boa constrictor.

With five years under his belt, Clark was now an established writer for what he knew was the greatest newspaper on earth, the Daily Planet. His status as an old hand on deck was what had landed him the task of accompanying Bruce Wayne on a tour through the entire building — which WayneCorp had bought lock, stock, and barrel — along with the newspaper housed on many of its floors.

Bruce Wayne was calm and loose despite the crowd of nosy reporters following his every step, bustling closer and closer to blurt questions at him. The building housing the Daily Planet was historical and had been remodeled and reinforced several times. Each scratch and stain on the sidewalk told a story according to the friendly and polished tour guide. Her name was Kelly and she was so fresh and young that Clark felt like he should offer to hold her hand when they crossed the street and tell her not to talk to strangers.

Kelly seemed to be enjoying her job, however. She cheerfully led Bruce through the grand lobby, down to the mailroom, up to editorial and everywhere in between. The tour was exhaustive — and even Clark found it dull and he was the paper's biggest fan — but if Bruce Wayne was bored or tired, he never complained.

"What a nice cafeteria," he commented with no apparent sarcasm. Clark studied him, looking for any hint of condescension, but he earnestly seemed to think the cafeteria was top notch.

"Just you intrepid reporters eat here?" Bruce Wayne asked Clark, staring into the kitchens and ignoring all the gawking lunch ladies and early diners. They were showing all the signs of dismay at being caught with sandwiches halfway to their mouths while a full camera crew followed around a world-famous, billionaire playboy, one scarf-wearing, hand-picked journo, and an overly-excited, youthful tour guide.

"Uh, no," Clark said. "The Planet is only on twenty floors."

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, perhaps another question, when there was a sudden, violent sound of an explosion. Everyone froze. Everyone flinched. Clark Kent was that surprised to see Bruce Wayne take three steps towards the noise before seeming to recall where he was and who he was with.

He glanced over his shoulder at all the people staring in wide-eyed terror towards the noise. When the second explosion rocked the space — this one closer and louder — Bruce looked to Kelly and said, "What's the fastest way out of this building?"

**********

Doubt I'll ever finish it. But explosions! Yay!

#batman #fanfiction #exerpt from a story i'll never write #superbat #superman

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magalhaexs · 11 days

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March memories

#poetry #artwork #poets on tumblr #original poem #mixed media #collage #trashbook #artists on tumblr #exerpt from a story i'll never write

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remnant-thoughts · 1 year

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Perhaps we were meant to be nothing more than passing strangers. Visitors intersecting time, but walking parallel paths. And yet, here we are at a table for two. A match made from the modern-day pursuit of connection. Sharing data and memories hoping to find mutuality worth a second meeting. Perhaps we were meant to be nothing more than passing strangers. Profiles of people in the same place, but existing in two different worlds. And that is quite alright, as we bond over our differences and appreciate the company nonetheless.

“21st Century Love” remnant-thoughts

#writing #words #alt lit #prose #feelings #spilled ink #thoughts #thoughts out loud #poetry #poems #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #exerpt from a story i'll never write

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cinnamonchaos · 1 year

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"I am destroying myself so other people can't," she said, " and it's the worst kind of control but it's the only form I know."

All my grief says the same thing: this isn't how it's supposed to be. this isn't how it's supposed to be. and the world laughs. holds my hope by the throat. says: but this is how it is.

I am out with lanterns looking for myself

"You still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago."

"It's easy to think that your brain might finally like you if you throw the right thing at it..."

"There was a hum in my body of disinterest, ennui, and anxiety as low and simultaneously disruptive as a washing machine on a spin cycle that won't turn off"'

-

#exerpt from a story i'll never write #dolly alderton #everything i know about love #ana krutch #emily dickinson #alida nugent #web weaving #poetry #feelings #melancholy #god i hope i'm invisible #fortesa latifi #i dont know #i hope it gets better

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ivymaniae · 7 months

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#aesthetic #poetry #poetandwriters #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #original poem #original writing #spilled ink #exerpt from a story i'll never write #spilled words #visual poetry #brokensoulsupload #brokensoulsreborn #tumblrpic

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bittarxblack · 1 year

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And suddenly.

Everything hurt again.

- Riv

#sad poetry #sadnees #i'm sad #sadcore #poetry excerpt #excerpts from my heart #exerpt from a story i'll never write #poetry #poemsporn #original poem #poets on tumblr #sad aesthetic #sad hours #hurt/comfort #hurtquotes #hurtcore

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heartoflesh · 15 days

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and oh, oh, oh... if you could see me, everyday, crying for you as if i have not healed, as if that were impossible; as if I will never be able to let go...

excerpts from a book i will never write, William

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dreamingdreamin · 2 months

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Have we met before? You smell oddly familiar, like a cup of warm tea and the sunlight on your face makes me want to lean in for a hug.

Have we met before? You smell like freshly washed laundry dried under the sun and the warmth from where our arms touch makes me feel like it's safe to fall asleep next to you; head on your shoulders without even a hint of an anxious thought keeping me from closing my eyes.

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approvedtrash · 3 months

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always finding you

"Please..." His voice cracked as his fingers ghosted across my wrist.

"Please what? It doesn't change anything. You're not changing your mind," I said. Tears streamed down my cheeks while I looked anywhere but at him.

"It's not because I don't want to. I would do ANYTHING to kiss you right now, but I can't. I'm not - you don't deserve to have your heart broken again," he said between gritted teeth.

Shaking my head, "Why do you get to decide that? How do you know this isn't what I want?"

He moved closer to me now. His chest was against my back as his hands found mine and wrapped our arms around my torso. His lips were next to my ear as I leaned into his warmth.

"Because you know, this isn't going to fix anything. You're still going to go back to him because it's the right thing to do, and I'm not going to be here forever," he whispered.

My body shuddered at his words, "It's not fair. Why can't I have you?"

He huffed out a breath almost like a snicker, "I would turn your world upside down."

"Maybe in the best ways though," I replied. I tried turning around to face him again but he wouldn't budge.

"if I look at you again, I won't be able to control myself. I'll steal you away from him without a second thought," he said almost like a promise.

I gulped, "What if that is exactly why -"

I couldn't get the words out fast enough. I heard my name being called. My duty to go back and be with someone I didn't love. My body started to shake as I knew my reality was getting closer.

"You be brave, my darling Starshine. I can't wait to hear about all of your adventures," he said. His voice shaking as he knew his time was coming to an end here.

"Please don't -" but my words shattered on my tongue as the white light shone brighter and his warmth was gone. He had gone back to his own time. He had left me to tend to my own world just as my fiance rounded the corner with relief in his eyes.

__________________________________________________________

Walking through the busy streets in a new city always had my head spinning. How did everyone know where to go? Even with my maps telling me where to turn, my navigation was off. I had decided to duck into a coffee shop. Earning myself a delicious latte as I got my bearings again.

"Is anyone sitting here?" I heard someone ask.

Still looking at my phone I shook my head, "No and I won't be here long so you won't be bothered with-"

My words got stuck in my throat. I had finally looked up into familiar eyes. Losing my thoughts in the process.

"I'm sorry, have we met before?" He asked.

Licking his bottom lip as he studied me. Not in a creepy way but in a way that had my brain short-circuiting. I took him in as well, that voice.

Struggling to get words out I finally replied, "No I'm new in town."

He hummed at my response and pulled out a book. One of those fantasy novels I kept hearing about. Maybe I'd get to read some once I settled in.

"Are those books good?" I asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

He nodded, "They're my favorite. They've got a wonderfully beautiful heroin that I can't get out of my head."

"That sounds right up my alley," I said taking a sip of my coffee.

"I think you'd really like her, she has the same - Nevermind," he said, shaking his head.

I eyed him curiously, "The same? What were you going to say?"

"You'll have to read them and find out," he said and whispered my name.

I hadn't told him my name and it wasn't on my coffee cup. Just like that, the darkness surrounding my day filled with a wonderful and joyous light. A light that felt familiar and safe.

#writing #writer stuff #female reader #time travel #exerpt #exerpt from a story i'll never write #fantasy men #your fantasy man #light angst #coffee shops #love #found love #soulmates #true love

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rendezvousheart · 9 months

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You and I were never meant to be . Somehow along the dark and eerie roads of this world we found our way to each other and since then it has been you and me ; me and you . You call us the glitch and I call us imperfectly perfect . You drank my vices like a mazer of poison while I kept your dark side safe with me . Like Gomez and Morticia we may be a little different but we are for each other.

#female writers #writerscorner #writing on tumblr #random words #thoughts #thoughts on my mind #night thoughts #writers on tumblr #exerpt from a story i'll never write #writing #writblr #women writers #writerscommunity #writersociety #the addams family #morticia and gomez

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youhaveforgottenmealready · 9 months

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The Man Who Killed Batman

I admit to being a little dismayed by the view I was seeing. I'm not precious by any stretch of the imagination, and my Pa would have lectured me until my ear fell off if he had seen me pull a face at somebody else's housekeeping, but this place needed some real T.L.C.

There were some attractive planters to the right and the remains of what must have been pretty flowers in pots arranged haphazardly, but the overall view of the grounds was a dismal one. I skirted around an overturned and rusting wheelbarrow, stepped over an abandoned rake, and made my way to the front door. The sign on the door almost made me turn and leave.

"No soliciting. No reporters or press. No autographs," I read aloud. The, "Huh," I added was because I'd never seen anything so unfriendly in my life.

Since I was a reporter — and even had a mint-condition copy of Detective Comics #50 in my bag I secretly hoped to have signed — I should probably have just turned tail and headed for the hills. But my Ma never raised a quitter.

I knocked twice, nice and loud. Then I noticed the actual state-of-the-art speaker system to the right of the door and felt a little foolish. I pushed the shiny white button and waited patiently. After an awkward minute, a voice came through the speaker.

"What do you want?" said a man's voice. I had a strange image of a curmudgeon shaking his fist at me and telling me to get off his lawn. The voice didn't sound old, exactly, but it certainly wasn't warm and welcoming.

"I'm Clark. Kent," I said. "I was hoping to speak to Bruce Wayne."

"Regarding?" The tone was ice-cold, and I felt like squirming like the time I'd had to interview a known drug lord.

"An interview. About Detective Comics. About the death of Batman."

There was a long pause before the voice returned with a snarled, "Sign says 'No reporters.' Can't you read?"

I ducked my head at the insult. But nobody had ever accused me of being a coward, or particularly on the ball when it comes to knowing when to back down. "I can, but can you?" I asked.

"Excuse me?" the voice snapped.

I was pushing my luck here, I knew. But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Well, it's just, if you could, you'd know how upset readers are. People have been writing letters to complain this whole week. Nobody understands the reason behind his sudden death. He's a beloved character, and this unexpected end to a popular story has upset fans. People want answers."

I may have overdone it because there was another long pause after my little speech that was just long enough I started to wonder if I'd been hung up on and left to stand on the stoop like a vacuum salesman.

At last, "Been practicing that?" was the sardonic reply.

I was half relieved and half embarrassed. It was funny to get called out like that, but still feel some sense of victory because I hadn't failed yet.

"Just a bit. Please. I work for the Daily Planet. We're a good, fair, paper. And, well, more importantly, I'm a fan."

It was a risk — for all I knew he hated his fans since he put 'No autographs' on the sign same as 'No reporters' — but I would feel dishonest if I left without sharing this.

I reached into my satchel and extracted my copy of Detective Comics #50. Holding it still felt like magic after all those years of finally finding it. Each time I get to relive what it felt like to hunt it down, follow the trail, and finally unearth it at a garage sale — some dumb girl desperate to raise enough money for a trip to New York that she'd sold all her dad's comics after he died.

I held it up before the camera. "This is my copy. It's my prized possession."

There was another long delay where I fought an anxious feeling that made me want to squirm.

Finally, the voice said, "I haven't seen a copy in years." There was something soft about the tone, almost nostalgic. Then the door buzzed and I heard the bolt slide back.

"Come in. Shoes off. Don't touch anything."

I exhaled and fought down the smile I felt curling up at the sides of my mouth. And then I stepped through the door.

*****

Started this a few years ago. This is what I put at the top of the doc:

For this story idea, Bruce is the creator of the Bat-Man comic book series. Then one day, without any explanation, he kills off the character. The death is quite final.

Clark Kent is sent to get the story from Bruce — why did he kill off a very popular character?

#batman #fanfiction #superman #exerpt from a story i'll never write #superbat #AU

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magalhaexs · 28 days

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STARS (2024)

''I hate when the astros are right'' & ''And the stars are someway brighter than light''

Mixed media

#poetry #artwork #poets on tumblr #original poem #mixed media #photografy #art #exerpt from a story i'll never write

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im-not-batman · 1 year

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Here's a little exerpt from a WIP i will probably never finish but I think it's fun and sweet so you should get to see it despite my ineptitude when it comes to completing projects <3

Spideypool - angst, fluff, silliness - rated G/T

"How come you won't bite the big one and tell me who you are?" Deadpool asked, filling the silent stretch left in the wake of Peter's internal monologue, "I can tell you want to."

"I can't," Peter barely even hesitated, it had become a reflex to keep his identity a secret. He'd been careless with it before. The truth was, he did want to tell him, had wanted to for a while. Something still held back his hands from pulling off the mask though, something that he'd never had the strength to say outloud to Wade before. Maybe because it'd make his feelings too real.

"Why?" Wade virtually sang the single solitary syllable.

He'd avoided this conversation for months and now, Peter was tired. He didn't want to run away from Wade anymore, even though he knew he had to. Maybe explaining it to him would make it less exhausting?

"People die around me, Wade." People I care about, people I love. That part went unsaid.

Wade's mask had turned solemn, emoting in that oddly cartoonish way it usually did. Peter could tell it was sincere even so.

"I've lost my friends, my girlfriend, my uncle–" he fought down the knot that had sprung into his throat at the memories, "I can't let myself get close to anyone, Wade. I don't know how much more grief I can take."

There was a heavy silence that blanketed them. It was stifling; Peter felt trapped in his admission, like it had caged him in with the one person he didn't want to open up to. He hadn't meant to say all that. It had sort of burst out of him without permission from his brain.

But then something switched. Suddenly the air wasn't suffocating, it was refreshing, freeing even. Peter was rusbed with relief at finally having said it. Aloud! He could feel the stress melt from his bones and he took a deep breath.

"Are you new here?" Was the first thing Wade responded with, a false vocal fry added to his already mottled voice. It made Peter look at him again, exasperated.

"What?" He lifted a quizzical brow that probably went unrecognised beneath his mask.

Wade said brightly, "I can't die, babycakes–"

"Don't call me that."

"Sweetie pie? Baby boy? Mon petit croissant?"

Peter rolled his eyes, a little humour finding it's way back into his chest.

Wade waved his arms dismissively, "I'm fucking invincible!" He said triumphantly as if that fact wasn't usually the reason for his existential crises.

Peter suddenly felt too raw, too exposed, too close to doing something stupid. He tensed and looked away from the guy who has sort of weaseled his way into being his bestfriend. He took a few deep breaths to gather himself again, "You can still get hurt, and you and I both know that there are things worse than death."

"She'll hate you for saying that," Wade replied, immediately melting away Peter's stress, and they laughed airily.

"I meant death with a small 'd'," Peter clarified, and when he saw Wade's eyes glint with glee at the opportunity for innuedo, he pushed him backwards off the wall and onto the roof. He hit the shingles with a satisfying thud.

"Uncalled for," he announced, tone laced with laughter, Peter couldn't help but smile.

He guessed that Wade had a point, though, and it lingered on his mind for hours. Days if he was more honest.

Peter had to admit, it was pretty refreshing to be in love with an immortal.

Even if he'd only admit that in the privacy of his own mind.

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christiancurrywritten · 1 year

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Said

One big breath in, she said

Now close your eyes

Picture me there with you

-The cold water was quickly taking them-

I'm holding your head up the best I can

You know i'm not like the others

I will do everything in my power

I won't let you drown, she said

-Even as tired as she felt already-

Now pray, she said

Pray baby, don't cry, just pray with me

Everything will be okay

-He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and prayed-

But mommy i'm afraid, he said

It's Good Friday mommy

The day that Jesus died for us

Are we going to die for him today?, he asked

-She wanted to break in every single way-

No baby, he's here with us, she said

Today? He asked

Yes my love, today

We will not drown here, she said

How do you know mommy?

How do you know he won't let us die? He asked

Because baby, I've met him before

He's absolutely in love with us

Completely obsessed

Especially with you

-She saw a branch hanging from a tree just a few feet away-

Are your eyes still closed? She asked, but could clearly see

His eyes were tightly shut

Fear embraced his entire little body

-The water was freezing-

She knew it was time to push him away

On this very horrible Good Friday

-And so she finally did-

Baby? She asked

Yea?

See the branch right there coming up to us?

Yes...

I need you to grab hold and never let go, she said

That branch is going to keep your head above water

Then you will be found, saved, and forever love-captured

What do you mean? He asked

Don't miss this opportunity little one

He's reaching out to you...calling you

No worries baby...he'll save me too, she said

-He panicked and needed a distraction-

I need you to know on this Good Friday

I'm just your mommy...

I'm nothing compared to who Jesus is and his love for you

So take a deep breath baby, she said

It's time to let go of me and hold on to your heavenly Daddy

-Deep breaths in-

He grabbed on to the branch ever-so-tightly

-Why?-

Because he trusted Jesus

And he trusted his mommy

-Driftwood was underneath the water-

Good Friday was the day Jesus died for us

He gave up everything

He suffered on a wooden cross, they say

Nails in his hands and feet

Kind of like the giant splinters that went into the boy's mommy's

Life won't always be easy, I say

Stop trying to force it

Pray about it

Neither of them ended up dead...

"I'll never leave you nor forsake you" Jesus said

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