#exerpt from a story i'll never write

[heartoflesh]

You weren't my first love. But you were my first real love. It hurts that much because I thought this was it for me. I thought you were my end and my beginning. I thought that I could finally lean into it. You were the first person I imagined life with. We made promises that I intended to keep. Yes, it hurts that much because it was you and me and it was real.

Excerpts from a book I'll never write, William

#I think I'm getting better but I also miss him very much and I still love him... I do.. I don't think I'll ever stop #i just want to distance myself as far away form this situation as possible #true love #love #romantic words #william #exerpts from a book i'll never write #exerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpts #excerpts from a book i'll never write #excerpts from a story i'll never write #creative writing #text #words #fiction #prose #writer #author #writing #writing community #writers on tumblr #writers #writerscommunity #writers and poets #writeblr #writblur #writbelr #writblr #writbr #writrblr

[dreamingdreamin]

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.

#poems on tumblr #spilled poetry #poetry #writerscreed #poetry prose #poetrycommunity #words words words #twcpoetry #poetryriot #bitsofstarglow #poetryblr #spilled words #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #unrequited #crush #one sided crush #love #scribbles #exerpt from a story i'll never write #typical feelings

[itsokaytodreamincolor]

Being right isn’t worth dying for.

- things I wish I knew earlier.

- [i.r.] // [05.05.24.]

#spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #poets on tumblr #poetry #poem #spilled poetry #spilled writing #spilled feelings #spilled poem #six word poem #six word story #six word sentence #original poem #prose poetry #spilled prose #prose #prose poem #poetic #writers and poets #3 am writing #3 am thoughts #writers #exerpt from a story i'll never write

[rendezvousheart]

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

[youhaveforgottenmealready]

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

[magalhaexs]

March memories

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

[remnant-thoughts]

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

[cinnamonchaos]

"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

[ivymaniae]

#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

[goldfishkid]

Quote 31

It was incredibly lonely getting to know the world when you left.

But, darling, as the days went on I found that the moment you left was the moment my life started.

#writingprompts #writeyourheartout #books #drama #spilled writing #spilled poetry #spilled words #exerpt from a story i'll never write #exerpts from a book i'll never write #sadquotes #breakup #toxic love #toxic people

[heartoflesh]

I feel the years fleeting and I envy youth. They go camping and skiing. They go swimming in lakes and out for ice cream on Tuesday afternoons, living tightly knit together until someday they realize their romantic feelings for each other, reminiscing on all the memories they've created in each other's lives,

and I... I have nothing but these binoculars, looking on from the shadows of all these trees. I am far from them. I am so far from you— excluded from a world I wanted so desperately to be a part of.

Excerpts from a book I'll never write, William

#blurb #i wanted so bad to be a part of your world #poetry #poem #excerpts #excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from my current wip #excerpt from my journal #excerpt from my diary #excerpts from my life #excerpts from my mind #excerpts from my writing #excerpts from my journal #excerpts from a book i'll never write #exerpts from a book i'll never write #exerpt from a story i'll never write #wip excerpt #wip #excerpt #exerpts #exerpt #writing #writing community #writers #writer #words #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers and poets

[dreamingdreamin]

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.

#spilled poetry #bitsofstarglow #poetry #poetry prose #poetrycommunity #poetryriot #spilled words #twcpoetry #words words words #poems on tumblr #writerscreed #poeticstories #writing community #tea #coffee #exerpt from a story i'll never write #they call it love #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled writing #my writing #prose poetry #poetwhispers #poetry portal #smittenbypoetry #medblr #studyblr #light academia

[bittarxblack]

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

[rendezvousheart]

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

[youhaveforgottenmealready]

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

[magalhaexs]

Creative Minds Drown Faster (2020/2021)

#artists on tumblr #artwork #creative min #painting #exe #exerpt from a story i'll never write #demons