#random prose

[poppy-metal]

i have a vivid memory of when my mother married my stepdad (hes another story, for another time perhaps) i was 8, i think. they'd been dating for forever before then, and i was ecstatic to be the flower girl. buoyant in my little white dress, fluttering around the room, and plucking up white chocolate Hersheys kisses in the shape of hearts to eat. i gorged myself on them. i wanted her to try some. i remember grabbing a handful and standing on tip toes to look around the room until i spotted her - hard to miss, the bell of the ball quite literally. i remember yelling "mommy!" over and over again, until my voice got hoarse. i remember her glancing at me, seeing me beaming, and holding up a finger - one moment, baby. i waited. one moment, two, several. i thought it was understandable to get distracted on ones wedding day so i brought the candies to her instead. tugging insistently on her dress, over and over. not even a glance this time, just a hand reaching back to tug her dress back from my grasp. i remember this invoking a sense of panic, i couldn't pinpoint why - just that it was suddenly imperative my mother try one of these kisses, frustrated tears pricking the longer my "mommies" went ignored and my tugging hand got knocked away. finally, when my voice was choked with clogged tears, she turned. sharply. a snapped, "what." it shrunk me. i felt small when i opened my palm and she looked at the melted candies in digust and clear annoyance I'd bothered her to offer her such a thing. "go clean that off your hands you're gonna make a mess."

they weren't melted thirty minutes ago, i remember thinking, when i slunked away.

#poppy speaks #a real experience!! #sorry im into writing abt my feelings lately #random prose #me: i wonder why i feel like everyone thinks im an annoyance at best and nothing at all at worst #my relationship with my mother: hey lol

[bargainbincheese]

Her hair fell over her shoulders like spring water over mossy rocks. It wasn’t curly like most people’s hair, it was completely straight and so shiny it almost didn't look like hair. Nestled on top of her head was a silver tiara decorated with metal feathered wings and a single red gem. Heddle had seen silk before, but nothing like the brilliant pure-white that cascaded all the way down to the lady's little silver shoes. If the material was woven, it was with a finer thread than she could possibly imagine.

#random prose #character description #WWW

[luxuryandlilacs]

With elegance that rivals the stars, she graces every event with an allure that captivates all who encounter her presence. Her wardrobe is an anthology of style, an ensemble of couture that whispers tales of her taste and sophistication.

#femininity #elegance #divine feminine #random prose

[elenakostyreva]

a blackhole in the past; a parasite sucking life out; bee taking the pollen from a flower; wolf that wears a sheep's garment, feeding innate desires .

#personal writing #random prose #journal

[daeughterr]

“Breathe,” he tells me as I am bent in awkward shape over the toilet bowl and hurling who knows what into it “I’ve got you.”

My hair in greasy, sweaty strands haphazardly frames my face. He does not flinch to touch it.

Parting slick curtains from my face, his hand finds the small of my back. His touch burns a slow circle there.

Soothes me.

Reassurance finds my ears.

I’m not in love with him.

I’m half-crouched and praying to the porcelain gods for the absence of a headache tomorrow

#writing #random prose #alcohol #friendship #support

[starryhaydn]

I long for the day I get to reach my arms out to you and hold you against my body with your arms wrapped around my frame as we melt in each other's embrace and are finally togsther.

#writing #random writing #yearning #random prose #original prose #prose #romantic #longing

[chronically-chaotic-cynic]

My self-awareness has always been my downfall, but, just this once, it might be what saves me.

#random poetry #poetry #sad poetry #quoteoftheday #self awareness #depressive episode #depression #sorry for being depressing #random prose #random writing #writing

[thewaitingluna]

I wonder whose peace am I keeping, cause it is sure as hell isn’t mine.

#spilled heart #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled thoughts #spilled emotions #my words #words #spilled prose #love #you broke my heart #depressing shit #spilled tears #spilled feelings #spilled truth #spilled poetry #thoughts #sad thoughts #random thoughts #kinda depressing #spilled love #poem #reading

[notmadebyhumanhands]

Unrequited "love" is such a weird pain.

This isn’t the first time we fell for somebody, and this won’t be the last. This isn’t the first time they don’t want us back.

We’re supposed to be wiser, stronger, less vulnerable by now. But why do we keep falling into the same traps?

No amount of fantasy or wishful thinking is ever going to make it real. We are logical enough to know this, rational enough to know what couldn’t be.

Yet we still fall for it. Every. Single. Time.

This has been turned into songs and novels and movies; but we never learn.

Is it because you can’t help whom you love? It’s always such a hassle, and I’ve always said I don’t want a distraction. But it can’t be helped, can it?

How many times should we repeat "fuck these feelings" until they vanish?

If I can’t have him, can this pain be taken away from me, at least?

Or is this how we know we’re alive? Because that’s the thing about pain — it demands to be felt.

#strange jewels #spilled thoughts #spilledink #random thoughts #prose #writerscreed #unrequited love #unrequited feelings #unrequited crush #unrequited romance #unrequited affection #unrequited thoughts #unrequited pining #crush #feelings #spilled prose #spilled emotions #spilled writing #spilled ink #spilled words #spilledthoughts #i saw an angel #he was so beautiful #i was mesmerised

[chaosisaladderfic]

Agents are required to leave their weapons with security upon entrance to the ICA headquarters. It's always a special day when 47 comes back.

First he leaves his pistol. The silverballers are handled with care, because people who mishandle them go missing. The fiber wire is handled with equal consideration.

Next is poisons: ICA grade vial of lethal poison. Rat poison. Some sleeping pills he found in a hotel room. Rat poison. A rare South American poison dart frog. Rat poison.

The explosives are pretty limited, as 47 prefers to be quiet. A remote-detonated explosive. Proximity exploding rubber duck (disarmed). A vial of nitroglycerin.

The miscellaneous category, however, is what the security team is excited for most - the random assortment of objects 47 picked up along the way. Anything can be a weapon, after all, when it's in the right hands.

47 leaves a wrench, a crowbar, a hammer, and a screwdriver. Then there's a machete, a can of soup, a bronze cowboy bust. Another screwdriver, a fish (?), a hatchet, a letter opener. Another crowbar.

Then a lead pipe, a pool ball, a brick. Another bust, this one made of plaster. A kitchen knife. A pair of scissors.

47 pauses, taking another inventory of his pockets, before adding a can of soda, another can (this time it's expired spaghetti sauce)...

... and a third crowbar.

#hitman #agent 47 #chaos is a ladder #writing #short prose #inspired by the amount of random shit I always have in my pockets at the end of a level

[dandylyins]

realized i never actually posted the completed version of this painting from ages ago. direct study of a still from an original series episode. the back of spock’s head is so dear to me still

[ID: A digital painting of the back of Spock’s head. It’s dimly lit, and the background is a smoky purple vignette. End ID]

#spock #s'chn t'gai spock #tos #the original series #star trek tos #my fanart #2021 #<- i checked it really was from way back in 2021. that's crazy idk why i never posted this #my art #i still really like the random pops of blue i put into his head. and i think i filled out the background well #i actually still really like this overall #thanks again @princess-of-purple-prose for the ID!!

[shehasfallennn]

i knew i loved him more than i love myself

when i didn't mind breaking apart on the days he was nowhere to be found if it meant getting to spend wonderful moments with him for short periods of time.

things i never thought i'd write about – shehasfallennn

#love #lovers #heartbreak #love quotes #shehasfallennn #tragic #tragedy #foryou #random #prose #prose and poetry #poetry #books & libraries #books #poem

[luxuryandlilacs]

She awakens each morning to the caress of soft, sun-kissed sheets, her room adorned with delicate blooms that breathe life into the space. The morning light dances upon her face, highlighting the serene smile that adorns her lips.

#femininity #luxury #divine feminine #dream girl #random prose

[jamespotterbbg]

have you ever sat down to write poetry and then the only thing you write is a bunch of sappy lovesick poems?

…

no?

just me then.

#poems and poetry #original poem #poems on tumblr #poem #love poem #poetry #words words words #poetic #poets on tumblr #writers and poets #prose #relatable #somewhat #random thoughts

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Jinn-Bot of Shantiport

set in a cyberpunk Calcutta-inspired city, loosely inspired by Aladdin

chaotic monkey bot who wants to fight in underground mecha/bot tournaments and leave to become a space hero

his human sister, the daughter of failed revolutionaries who has been working her whole life to free their city from oppression and inequality, especially with the recent rumors that their planet is scheduled for destruction

and an old unearthed bot whose function is to observe & record the story of a client who meets the siblings and quickly becomes involved in their lives

and a treasure hunt to find an old and powerful piece of alien tech that has the power to radically change their city

#The Jinn-Bot of Shantiport #aroaessidhe 2024 reads #I really loved this #a little robot with a big personality? TWO of them? im in. #The pacing is a bit weird - the first half could honestly be a contained novella. the second half is a bit all over the place #But I’m ultimately glad to have that extra more complex part of the story #it’s like very action packed with a few dense moments especially like the infodumps about what Lina / her mother’s deal is. #which kinda makes sense on a technical level (Moku learning this all at once) but also I definitely felt a bit confused at why/how some of #the stuff that was going on was happening #I did also find every now and then weirdly worded prose took me out of it? but I can look past that #I felt the side romance was random and weird. I felt like it did a disservice to her otherwise complex character to have her just forget #her goals and values because Hot Man? #idk. it’s lampshaded a bit by being viewed through the POV who also thinks it is weird and makes no sense #but they still get together again in the end…. I would have preferred if they didn’t. #that's mostly complaints LOL but the world is so rich and interesting and i love robots that are little shits (affectionate) #queer books

[nsewell]

tw: brief discussion of religion

North America, 1935. They’ve done a twenty-four kilometer dead sprint circumference of the farmland that borders a desolate inkspot on Nat’s map of the Texas Panhandle, and it’s all rows of cultivated fields and nothing, nothing, nothing. At a copse of cedar elms there’d been a cage lodged into a flaky patch of mud, but that was all that remained of the Trapper caravan that had passed through this area. They’d since moved on, taking their captives with them, and from the tarnishing metal, it seems they’d done so a while ago. Somewhere vaguely westward is all they can gauge.

Ava kicks the cage in frustration, hard enough to crack a bone that mends before the pain can topple her, and then says with mustered control, “We need to be quicker. We need to get back on the trail.”

“We need to rest,” Nat returns patiently and it only takes that for Ava to concede, exhausted with sun and hunger and loathe to deny her. 

They slouch in the weeds and the sun burnished grass together and sip from their canteens of blood, replenishing energy expelled in the chase. Nat’s half ration reserve beads down her chin as she drinks with always just a tinge of desperation, and tells Ava about a drought to the north. She talks like this sometimes, just to talk. Relays to Ava current affairs that she’s read in a paper, and does not expect her to answer. 

The sky is a yawning chasm above, the heat a brutalizing line on their necks. They’ve kicked up enough muck and dust to coat their bodies entirely, and warrant a thorough washing before reconvening at the inn with the other half of their team for the next leg of their journey. They end up tracing their steps back to a lake that they’d passed, and when they get there Nat says, “Oh,” with a wary eye on the wide waterline and her arms tucked against her sides and Ava understands. As if in a desire to be clean and cool she had forgotten the manner to achieve it. 

“I miss the Turkish bathhouses,” Nat sighs. “We’ve traded mint leaves for river reeds.” Ava thinks it a rather meager attempt to cover her trepidation when she can see the way the curve of her wrists are shaking against the fabric of her blouse. Instead, reaches over to grip her shoulder in a reassuring squeeze and lending of strength. 

“You philistine. Come to the shore, and I’ll help you.” 

Ava wades calf deep to fill her empty canteen with water and returns to Nat who is watching her from the pebbled bank, all willowy grace like a river nymph, or else a specter at the water’s edge. Who will go no further. She directs Nat to kneel low enough so she can douse her face clean, and the younger vampire emits a soft chuckle when Ava presses her thumb into the divot of tender skin behind her ear and hold her gaze to the sky.

 “What’s so funny?” Ava asks.

“Just a thought I had. This feels baptismal.” Nat crosses her arms across her chest in an affected, reverent gesture.

Ava lifts a brow. “Were you baptized?” It means nothing to her and she isn't sure why she has a notion to ask. In the swathe of wide topics that have carried them debating through the centuries, religion has never come up.

“Yes, of course. I was born into a self respecting Anglican family of the gentry. Or half of one at least,” Nat recalls, and her accent slips a touch to the cadence of palatial drawing rooms and garden soirees. The one she'd had when they'd first met. “My mother and step-father didn’t want to illegitimize me further, for all the good it did my soul.” 

Ava takes a half-step back and carefully watches Nat's face. “You don’t believe that.” They’ve dealt with hauntings, yes. Banshees, ghouls and the like. Things that have slipped through the perilously thin cracks of the Echo World. Never something that was an inclination of the human soul, evidence of a life beyond this one. “After all you’ve learned and seen.” 

“In the soul? I’m not sure. I’ve thought a lot about it. Sometimes. Aren’t we as vampires spirits by definition? Left behind imprints of a human that once walked the Earth. If we die do we leave a trace, or has the trace already been left?”  

“If you’re going to philosophize you can do this yourself,” Ava tells her wholly fond.

A thread of warm laughter always underscores any teasing that Nat does and this one melts into the dry breath of wind sweeping the north Texas plains. Genial and tender. “There's a very old adage I'm sure you're familiar with, even with all your reclusion, my friend-you started it.”

#my writing #UM idk what this is or where it came from such a random premise. just a dumping ground of prose bc i've been in screenplay format all week #i might take it and turn it into something larger and cleaner at some point we shall see....this feels very abridged