Me- sees a prompt, wants to write a small concise breathtaking short story
Also me- makes alternate universe, fuckton of characters, a sequel and a spin-off.
“Get out of my sight.”
Hero beamed. “Is what I would have said if I didn’t love you.”
“Have I ever mentioned how much I wanted to kill you?”
“Plenty of times, darling, but would you look at that? I’m still here.”
“he’s that guy.” the villainess thought.
she quickly made a turn, wanting to avoid meeting the guy she met on the streets. “if he was here, invited at the banquet, then that must mean that he’s a noble.”
unfortunately, fate must have wanted for them to cross each other’s paths that she couldn’t avoid him entirely. or was it him who seemed drawn to her?
“excuse me, my lady. may i dance with you?”
the villainess’ mouth dropped open at the hero’s sudden request. surely, she won’t be able to reject his request, unless she was that heartless.
“damn,” she thought, biting her lower lip as she stared up to him.
the hero does seem like he enjoyed this that he even smiled sweetly at her. just how could she escape this troublesome guy?
۵ ─ lily.
When a fanfic on AO3 is labeled as *character*/reader but then the main character is an OC 😭
People can see it.
People talk and people whisper.
People ask and people give you looks.
Those looks that warm your cheeks.
Looks that make you worry they might discover the truth.
People can see. I know because I see, too.
People recognize a lie, even when you believe it.
Because even when my lips say no, you’re mistaken.
My eyes scream yes.
Before my brain gets the thought that the heart doesn’t want to send, my eyes already know it.
And so, people know it, too.
Before me, people know.
They know we’re in love, even before we realized we walked in.
And closed the door behind us.
She. Like a bullet does it break through my skin. Her. Like an arrow does it pierce my heart. But loving she, but kissing her, oh as a ballad rings deep in my sorrow chest. Like a hole does my rib cage serve to love, to ache and pound for one called she. To call and beckon, to sing like my voice is crystal and my blood is burning, alight of fire. Kindled to burn forever, of a fire ignited with no heart set in mind.
Beat like a butterfly’s wings, hollow as a forest fire oak. I am alive and I am fire. I am heavy, soaked through to the bone and destined to drown. Sobs that crack my throat in two, screams in the night that ricochet from the cave walls of a car, piece by piece do I long to shatter. Sweeter than a cries of love, wanton and breathy, wails of misery. Of endless end, of suffering up in grey, thick smoke. Seductive and breathless is death in the eyes of a man in his stolen skin.
Nails blunt tear at my stomach, ripping and gouging and wanting. Selfish and insatiable is the hunger of wrongful birth. Incurable by short hair or him and he and his. Unwantable by she and her and hers. Ghostly and pale and monstrous is this loveable disdain, is this want for Lucifer to claw my somber and melancholy eyes from their sleepless sockets.
Te culpo a tí, intruso
De llegar y ganarte mi confiaza
De hacerme adicta a tus labios a tus brazos incluso aún cuando no me querías para tí
Te culpo de mi dolor
De las largas noches entre llantos desconsolados por el filo de tus labios
Del nudo en mi garganta y del constante sentimiento de opresión en mi pecho
Te culpo por que me diste todo el espació para la ilusión de una hermosa historía juntos que con tus acciones me hiciste abrir los ojos
Te culpo de que me cueste dejarte incluso cuando no te esfuerzas por hacerme feliz
There’s a paradox presented to anyone who falls in love with their oppressor
It is so sweet
The sweet relief of being the be all end all of their relief
To hear a man scream under me
The sweet sound of reparation
I do not feel complete hatred for men
How could I?
When they’re sweetness is like a crisp bitter grapefruit on my sore bitten lips
I suck you up
In this culture that should have called you by now with it’s ruthless ways
It hasn’t perhaps because you are not yet too far gone
Some might condemn me for my mercy
But frankly people have told me what I can and can’t be for so long
That regardless of whether it is in favor of my best interest I will defy
Complexity and the enigmatic nature of humanity is not a reality we share
I embrace it
you, the big, you deflect it
And in that sense I side with my oppressor
And I wont feel shame
I wont feel worthless
I will only know that I will have achieved true pleasure for myself and sex
And isn’t that partially what this is all about
To fuck who I want How I want
Even If I’ve never been fucked the way people would accept
That’s just the way it is
And only I have the right to interpret it
It is my history
You have no say in my life
I wanna be choked and fucked
Just because I want too
Don’t assign your baggage to my cart
And we’ll be fine.
When I love someone
I think I will love them forever
And then the feelings I have are suddenly taken back
By my own self
My emotions rock back and forth like the waves
And they hit the rocks hard and furious
But are quieted and calm a second later
I am scared to love because I am not in control of them
I cannot put someone through that
Maybe because I was.
Every haircut went shorter. Inches and inches, fallen to the ground like petals off blooming trees, littering the floor in a sea of brown. I’d sit there, wrapped in a cloak of black, eyes blurry with bad vision. Isn’t this cute? My hairstylist would prompt. Isn’t this fun?
I stare at myself during haircuts. Blurry and unfocused, I’m a splash of different colors. Like abstract art, the circle of my round face surrounded by brown swirls, big black obscuring my torso, two long legs crossed with black boots at the end. It’s thrilling to be unsure for so long, an hour of guessing what my appearance would be at the end of the adventure. Exhilarating was it to fly through each emotion like a bird through wispy, white clouds. Freeing.
Slices, chunks, strands. The scissors cut insistently, the blow drier losing my hearing in a sea of whooshes and buzzing. You go shorter every time, my hairstylist would comment. Just don’t ask for a buzzcut.
salut. made the decision to start being more active on here, posting anything and everything, and meeting tons of interesting people…mainly cause I’m tired of keeping it all in my head, you know ?
so, enchanté :)
Bagian dari kisah 2…
Apa kata sekitar tentang hidup yang kau jalani?
Sudah berapa banyak yang mengomentari tentang hidupmu?
Tentang pilihan-pilihan yang kamu ambil…
Hemmm… Tak mudah memang menutup mata dan telinga rapat-rapat tentang mereka. Sungguh tak mudah, tapi bukan berarti sulit dan tak mungkin.
Karena terkadang kita perlu berjalan santai dengan pilihan pilihan yg kita pilih tanpa terganggu dengan kata mereka.
Bukan tentang tidak mendengar nasehat mereka… Tapi apakah nasehat itu berujung hujatan?
Aaahhh… Bukankah adab menasehati itu tanpa sepengetahuan orang lain dan bahkan sangat dianjurkan ketika tak seorang pun yang tahu.
Magetan, 28 Februari 2021
2.28.21 | 12:57 AM
if only i could get in my toyota before the moon dims // and drive towards the end of this winter island // where small towns push against each other // like crooked teeth // and hold their breaths // two hours later i would be at the lighthouse // surrounded by the murky ocean and apple pie // the trees are the lungs // thats what my mom told me the first time we drove out there // the radio on and the hampton bay sun overhead // id climb the spiral staircase // where black ships meet the shore // and maybe become the wind and rain // maybe then i wouldnt have to be up for work tomorrow
I hated your confidence. It filled me with an ugly emotion, one black and thick that dripped down my ribs from my throat. It was of the same material that made one roll their eyes, or scoff at another, gruesome and twisted and undeserving. I hated your confidence, and I was a bad actor.
I’d grind my teeth when you were excited. And look away when you smiled. I would get this overwhelming sense inside me, horrific and unstoppable, telling me to say something mean. To spit out a nasty comment, to get under your skin and make you insecure again. It was some unhinged fire inside me that begged me desperately to tear you down, like the pressure on a toothache would it sooth my bitter insides.
I pushed it down for you. I pushed it down like a ferocious beast in need of being tamed, I pulled at it and prodded it, I stared longingly at it as if it would reveal to me why it was there. I sighed, discontent with all my insightful pondering. I wasn’t insecure myself, selfish and maybe arrogant could I be, but nothing close to feeling the need to compensate. So why?
Maybe it was the fact I never liked you to begin with. We rarely shared interests, and when we did, the monster inside me would laugh at you. You liked things I found deplorable, your music taste made me roll my eyes, your attitude made me squeeze my knuckles white. I hated your voice, and sometimes I’d stare at your butterscotch face with unexplainable disgust. Evil, black smoke of a bad personality infected my brain. Multiplying every time you became happier. I hated the way you’d sigh, the way you held your glass of drink, the way your eyelashes fell on your cheeks when you closed your eyes. I hated you, maybe I hated you. Maybe I hated you. I just did.
is it still considered procrastination if i’m avoiding my WIP by doing unnecessarily extensive worldbuilding for it?
11 words short story ❤❤
“In this cold & dark night,
I want your warm light.”
Happpy Sunday everyone 🙏💙
Have a beautiful day 🌸🌺🌸🌺
Am I always going to be like this? Like a gohst looking in on the world from a different plane. Close enough to gather renements of people and emotions. But not brave enough to make a clear picture out of the pieces?