#poetic fiction

[worldbuildingwanderlust]

A Paladin's Remorse

I watch blood drip from shining steel As widows and orphans scream Over righteous proselytizing zeal

Where is God in this hell we have wrought? Where is Deuhiim's divine loving grace? Where is His Holy embrace?

Is it in the ditch we set the pyre? Is it laced in the corpse scented plumes? Is it in their temples we set fire?

"Blessed, are thou, who share My love!" "O'believer! Through faith you are set free!" "Rest, ye weary, under My palm's canopy."

Words I read with starry eyes of youth Were hallow lies of hate and ire Peddled as divine words of truth

If this work of mine be the work of God If it truly be His sacrement Let me burn in the fires of Infernal torment.

    -Unsigned poem from a Paladin, serving in Deutoria's Divine Legion. Discovered under his hanged corpse, somewhere in the Vuhn'dahar Mountains.

#my writing #worldbuilding #poems from my fiction #this work is copyrighted ©️ #poems from Alsahra #wordlbuilding #creative writing #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #quick write #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writeblr #poetry #poem #fiction writing #poetic fiction #fantasy #sci fi and fantasy #Tales from Alsahra

[truestoriesaboutme]

Growing up my two biggest influencers both as a writer and reader of genre fiction were Terry Pratchett and Kurt Vonnegut and just like no one's really serving that demographic

#like it's not about comedic fiction #it's about lyrical fiction #poetic fiction #the meeting of theme and form

[visgrapplinghooks]

Left Behind

There was a muttering creek at the edge of the yard, Father said he never wanted to put a fence up, Our yard was the animals' long before it was ours.

My sister Shelly and I would play there every day, We'd play where the creek met the woods behind, And dip our toes in the water, feeling the bed of clay.

It was on such a day as this that Shelly saw her, A girl of long black hair, in the woods past the creek, Her voice was faint, but it sounded like laughter.

Her gaze met ours and I could feel her eyes smile, Yet neither of us came any closer to the other, We would continue to see her every once in a while.

It was months later when Shelly broke the spell, She crossed the creek for the very first time, as did I, From deep within the forest we heard a knell.

The girl with black hair and the smiling eyes, For once, I could get a closer look at her, Her skin looked rough and coarse, her face likewise.

She was a small and scrawny thing, Unlike me, who seemed to almost tower over her, And her hair was like thin little strings.

Wordlessly, she led us deeper into the woods, Further away from the creek and from home, Never speaking a word, we somehow understood.

We came across an old well in the woods, Made of stone brick, seemingly centuries old, Surrounded by clusters of monkshood.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong, The girl seemed anxious and tittered about, Shelly did not want her unease to prolong.

She offered her help and offered her aid, The girl indicated the cost was far too much, Little did we know, the price was paid.

The girl stared deep into the well's darkness, As if seeing something only she could see, Then turned to face us, face in deep distress.

We were led back to where the woods met the creek, Seemingly, our adventure had come to a close, Of that girl, we never saw another peek.

We would come to the edge for every day after, Hoping to catch another glimpse of the girl, But we would never again hear her laughter.

Shelly tried to cross the creek to the woods, But every time she tried, the currents raised, As if the creek was warning us in what way it could.

We would eventually stop playing by the creek, Our wonder gave way to melancholy, All that was left of her was a memory.

Many years later and Shelly and I drifted apart, It is as some siblings do, though sad, I look at the woods and feel a well in my heart.

As of late, I've taken to watching the sky, On purple nights like this, I still think of her, I still think of the girl that we left behind.

#creative writing #writing #poetry #poem #poems #writers of tumblr #writerblr #verse story #short story #verse short story #narrative poem #mystery poetry #wistful #long poem #writing community #fiction #poetic fiction #fictional poetry #fiction poem

[midi8]

It was like David Lynch movie. They were two lesbians with pre-adolescent beautiful daughter, one was looking like him when he was 23 but everything better - the smile, the mohawk, better skin, bigger tattoos, tanned, small, techno-music live producer working for soundcard brand, playing all around the world, hugging Richie Hawtin. Soldering modules. Recording podcasts on new modules. Organizing parties.

Other one was like maybe his dream partner. Strong. Spacewoman, literally training astronaut, scuba diver, fantastic smile, mum of two, psychedelic experienced, big boobs, shorty with bubblebutt, playing her modular rack with guitar and hiding mushrooms from her wife. Veterinary.

And their younger daughter is almost identical visual copy of mum but 16 years old.

They live in this California dream house with studio and adopted animals. Blind little dog, three legged doge, nervous dogg, coupla other doggers and two tortoises in the lower garden. Lower, because property is on the hill and has several levels including main garden with palms, house and vertical veggie garden, dinner balcony with a view, bamboo level with gazebo, tree house level with tree house and chairs and shed for lunatic guests, little level with bushes and stones and lowest part with raised beds, two sheds for tools and dozen square meters of wilderness for two big tortoises. Oh, and artichokes. And grandmother in her room, but it’s not a grandmother, it’s just a friend, a roommmate, another elderly single woman to take care of, support and love.

It’s a parallel reality (like David Lynch or Mount Everest or Hasidism or Yoga or poetry or sailing sport or experimental electronic music or physics or philosophy)

First of all you don’t practice conscious dreaming in the sleep. You do it when you’re awake. Secondly it’s a greatest luck, not a misfortune, when you’re invisible or like far away. Your ideas inspire others and you bring life in this world. It’s alright if they forget about you, it’s easier for you when no one’s watching and thinking of you. You can remind of yourself anytime if you need to.

#metamodernism #text #prose #poetic fiction

[intimacydarling]

The Triple Goddess Speaks (1)

My maiden aspect remains unsullied for the horrors of my life were those of a spinster, or a sister, never those of a scarlet stain. The blood of my womb holds no fear for me, this body no shame anymore. I have opened the cellar door and found no monsters hiding there, save the shadows of misunderstanding between long warring partners who sinning sought to enslave one another for the benefit of their lust and greed and pride, with prejudice besides.

#poetic fiction

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, from shame is a girl’s second skin.

[text id: what are memories of childhood if not quicksand? swallowing you whole.]

#fatima aamer bilal #childhood #poetry #literature #poeticstories #book quotations #book quotes #literary #poem #prose #dark poetry #poetic #writings #words words words #typography #fantasy #fiction #life crisis #web weaving #taylor swift #art #bts #franz kafka #sylvia plath #lana del rey #mahmoud darwish #jane austen #pheobe bridgers #dark academia #aesthetic

[jagodabluey]

crying every night because i can’t have him

#fictional men #poetic #actors #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #hayden christensen #anakin fanfiction #star wars anakin #anakin and padme #anakin smut #obi wan and anakin #muscular men #i love men #ugh men #jedi younglings #star wars #skywalker family

[myfandomrealitea]

The problem with trying to irrevocably tie what we create to who we are is that it then completely voids the freedom of being able to create things.

Fiction is not meant to be our reality. Its meant for all the things we can't do. For the things we shouldn't. For the things we want to do but will never get the chance to. Fiction is for being more than our reality.

What is the point in fiction if you want it to be intrinsically bound to who we are? To what we believe in? To what we dictate we must obey?

How much of our own history would we lose if your demand that we must only create what is sound and 'right' comes to fruit? What lessons will we fail to learn in the future because the fiction that taught them to us in the past no longer exists?

Those who huddle in a barren shelter will starve but those who venture forth might find a bounty.

#myfandomrealitea #sephiroth speaks #reality #fandom #fiction #fanfiction #profic #proship #proshipping #pro fiction #creation #creating #watch some no braincells anti reply to this with 'ur talking about cp' #this came out oddly poetic maybe it was the red bull

[lilybug-02]

To lose one’s faith… is to lose one’s ability to see in the dark….

#been thinking about that discarded vessel recently #I hope it’s not lonely. it’s been stuck in the game files for almost 5 years. like this thing needs therapy #I hope it comes back with an epic backstory ​and revenge plot ngl #I’ve been reading a lot of fan fiction if you can tell #the fics with t​he vessel are kinda intriguing 👀 #quote by me. aren’t I poetic ❤️ #art #my art #deltarune #goner vessel

[h4venpha]

i need a man who is so scared of romantic intimacy and vulnerability. a man who cries while being kissed, a man who shivers at the slightest touch, a man who feels raw and exposed, yet comfortable and content with me. i need a man who’s heart burns with pain when he’s showed any ounce of love, but he can’t help but ache for more and more of it.

i need a man who has been so irreversibly damaged that he trembles at the thought of wanting. wanting to be with someone and wanting to feel loved. questioning whether or whether not its selfish to want something so precious after so long of feeling like he will never be enough.

there is no ‘i can fix him’. instead, i will hold him to my chest and prove to him it’s okay and you’re safe now. there’s no need to worry, i love you.

and he will cry against my skin and i will love him.

#anyway this is about vash the fucking stampede #and i didnf mean for this to be that poetic it just came out like that #originally it was gonna be a shit post but then i decided to not do that #h4venpha #vash the stampede #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #vash angst #writers and poets #fiction #angst

[heich0e]

v-league introduces kiss cam during game breaks, and you and osamu end up on the big screen in the 3-minute break between sets at an MSBY match. the crowd cheers rowdily, recognizing the twin of the blonde setter sitting on the bench down below. everyone's eyes are glued to the screen hanging at the centre of the arena where you as osamu are both flustered and shaking your heads, intimating your refusal as best you can, but the camera refuses to move–still fixed on the two of you and steadily zooming in, and the cheers from the crowd only get louder. atsumu races furiously up from the MSBY bench, stomps right up to your seat, and lays the most overdramatic smooch on you that anyone in osaka has ever seen before glaring directly at the camera on the other side of the arena. kiss cam gets cancelled a week later.

#kiss cam would not fly in anti-PDA japan #i know this #it's called fiction #it's called poetic license #it's called i don't wanna hear it #hq hcs #writing

[motherofblurbs]

a love so pure

#my writing #writers #writing #dear diary #poetic #vent post #poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #poetry by me #personal writing #writeblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #author #writer #fiction #creative writing #authors of tumblr #novel writing

[words-and-coffee]

Moving on, as a concept, is for stupid people, because any sensible person knows grief is a long-term project. I refuse to rush. The pain that is thrust upon us let no man slow or speed or fix.

Max Porter, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers

#Max Porter #Grief Is the Thing with Feathers #lit #literature #quote #quotes #grief #poetic #literary fiction

[harbingersecho]

Marrassurma, God of Death (and Dreams) from The Abyssal

bonus Sol bc the hand kiss scene is cute

#the abyssal #the abyssal if #interactive fiction #mine #*23 #art #marrassurma #i really want to do the pestilence thing but like. why would marrassurma do that he likes humanity + the human world :/ #btw if u think marrassurma is edgy i originally thought abt marrasverisurma lol. but i was like thats way too long dude im sorry #it doesnt mean november death btw it means killing of an omen (of death) or being killed by one. google's stupid #finnish lesson ahead ig. surma can be a violent death/a killing/voluntary manslaughter/a tragic accidental death/the destroyer of something #or a poetic way to say kill. surma can ALSO be a very hard obstacle or opponent or a personification of death when w/ certain chs #and marras is just any omen of death/person who brings death/person who's about to die/any dead thing/a ghost. yeah uhh dw about it #so marrassurma can technically mean a combination of any of these but i'm using it as like. the one i explained before lol #why am i even explaining this. maybe bc im cursed with the ability to talk endlessly abt stupid shit i think is interesting

[lupinedreaming]

So, according to the screenshots I’ve seen from the Escape the Ministry game, it seems that the theory that Terzo was removed for not following the Ministry’s Plan was correct. I’ve seen some fans say that this was due to him focusing more on the individual and the people than on Satan.

If that is so, I find that very interesting because IRL Satanism, at least the non-theistic variety, is very much focused on the individual.

For instance, let’s look at the first two pillars of The Global Order of Satanism (a non-theistic Satanist collective):

“

Self-fulfilment and personal understanding allow us to support ourselves and therefore others.

Respect the inviolable body, autonomous will, and sovereign right of every individual to guide their own life and being; remembering that enjoyment of these rights is predicated on respect for the same in others.”

Very much focused on the personal and individual, albeit in a compassionate and non-selfish way.

Additionally, Satan is typically used in non-theistic Satanism as a symbol for knowledge and rebelling against systems that want you to just obey and fall in line.

From this perspective, by focusing more on the individual and going against the plan of his institution, Terzo was practicing Satanism arguably more “correctly” (or at least more healthily) than the Ministry was, and he was killed for it.

#; 🌹 eclipse talks #ghost band #papa terzo #terzo #papa iii #papa emeritus iii #ghost the band #the band ghost #I guess we’re waxing poetic about a fictional satanic pope today #Also apologies if my perspective is off. I am not a Satanist non-theistic or otherwise #But I do find it interesting so I’ve researched the non-theistic variety a bit

[intimacydarling]

Andreas

by Mother Earth

My angel, you knew the price to be paid for my inherent vice/virtue of loving too deep and too quick and too well.

The long hungry beast/priest would not release the pure and charming taste of passionate innocence without an equivalent exchange. So you arranged it.

You set about finding and filling the roles in the cosmic dance, offering a chance for each to be remembered/forgotten in the longest running rescue mission of all.

You, Machiavellian, swift as the heels of Hermes, viper-witted, beautiful outcast, mistaken for the villain because you preyed upon the greatest villains of them all: the villains who had already won.

You astound me in the molten churning of my skull, in the iron chamber of my soul.

#poetic fiction