#prose and verse

[thisisnotthenerd]

ivy is fig if she took after her mom just a little bit more and chose to break relationships rather than making them

kipperlilly takes all of adaine & riz's worst traits and reflects them. the determination to help (/make) the party do well, but by playing by her own rules rather than the system

mary ann is like gorgug if he never reached out with a tin flower on the first day--disinterested in the things she does

oisín takes the rich kid schtick and the advantage of birth like fabian

buddy is kristen pre-growth, without the wherewithal to break from tradition

ruben, famous for his music, looks down on fig where she would extend a hand

twisted reflections of themselves in people who have schemed their way into easy success and are now actively trying to take them down

starting the season with in endless night, trapping an eldritch deity level entity. literal dark night of the soul going into a metaphorical dark night of the soul

what a way to portray high school

[razz-matazz143]

"oh what inspired that work?" "what inspired that poem?" "An old relationship? someone you like?" No actually it's two doomed yaoi characters sorry :(

[thepathetickind]

I get tired from my own thoughts, don't know if I make a step forward, as if I'm walking in the desert,

by laurenmaerie, on my own

[dearestsecret]

[aslisjournal]

Asli Hersi, I want to go to another planet

[larkingame]

hello hello! this november bianca (@beeanca-writing ) and I our hosting our very own writing and productivity challenge!

this is an indie (and slightly more lax) alternative to NaNoWriMo, where the focus is routine, accountability and above all else progress!

the rules for this challenge are simple:

prior to friday, november 1st 2024 choose a writing goal. this can be a total word count, daily word count, a page count, a certain number of chapters or an amount of time spent writing. remember to choose something attainable for you in thirty days. make a post on tumblr, discord, substack, twitter...(somewhere) presenting yourself (basically who you are as a writer!) your goal and discussing your writing projects or plans using the tag #novemberwripro!

plan and establish a routine. productivity isn't so much about time management, a packed schedule or any sort of fancy tools. productivity is about consistency. by establishing a writing routine for yourself you'll put yourself into a familiar enough rhythm that not only will you be able to write when you don't necessarily want to--you're setting yourself up to produce the best work you can possible put forth.

use your routine to help you work on your writing goal daily throughout the month of november. the goal of any writing challenge is to show some sort of progress on your current projects after all.

document your progress in some way. whether this be through a month long journal, a vlog on youtube or tiktok or even just posts in the discord server or on tumblr--it's important to reflect on all the work you've done and help build a community of accountability!

all are welcome to join--whether that be novelists, non-fiction writers, interactive fiction developers, fic writers, essayists, poets, screen-writers, academics or those simply looking to do more writing!

helpful links you may need:

challenge discord | substack

[coffeexxcigarettes]

How many words have I written in blood,

To bleed through unkissed pages?

The last time I was myself,

The microphone gave feedback,

As you fell asleep-

I spill my soul only here,

Only here,

For you to see-

A declaration of who I am,

And who I'd like to be,

And everything you've woven into me-

How many words have I agonized over,

To later feel it crushed within my hand-

To never be seen again?

To write only for another is to die,

And I fear I've died for you..

..A thousand times over.

x

..

..

... @nosebleedclub - Oct. 19th; Grand Gesture

[whaliiwatching]

Hey hello. Consider. Hobie reading over and suggesting edits to drafts of Peter's writing and then going home visually with clippings and quotes from said writing as a part of him. Alternately, Peter takes inspiration from quotes visible on Hobie

heart on your sleeve…..

[oceanflowerbird]

Something inside me is missing. A small, important thing. When did I lose it? Was it ever even there? My first therapist said I was a textbook teenager, a hormonal thirteen-year-old. I was inclined to disagree and switched therapists. Then twice more. Time passed. I watched movies and read books—stories of zombie apocalypses, heartbreak, war. Those characters seemed to have it, grown into it at fifteen, seventeen, nineteen. Where was mine? Life careened down the tracks and the missing thing became an inside joke. Another bullet point therapy couldn’t help me with. An unfurnished room I learned to like for its echo. But then there are patchwork moments. These little solaces. Like the stretch between night and the sun's wake, when my lake is smooth as glass. A mirror of pinks and reds and oranges that I slice through with mindless ease. Geese fly overhead. The four haughty lady ducks refuse to move off the steps. I jump in, the world is still and I'm on fire. The swan family ignores me, and I try not to be miffed about their indifference. It's the wind and my exhaling breath. I float. My head rests on my buoy. I bask in the morning light and let the water hold me. Some missing things are too big to replace, some moments are all loose threads and scissors.

Pien Pouwels, from ’Blood Orange Periphery’

[cocobeanhoney]

"I've a Spotify playlist named after you"

That's just a modern version of ancient love.

[ringmybel]

summer smooth

swim & sing

languid & lazy

goddess girl whispers a symphony

no moonlight

her drunk diamond skin

i'd cry if i could

i love you like honey raw

[thisisnotthenerd]

picture this: you're a busy working mom whose husband died on the job under mysterious circumstances, leaving you alone to raise your young son in a town with none of your family or support network, at a job that will never pay enough, no matter how much good work you do. your son at once idolizes his father and resents him for leaving, and has channeled all of his energy into solving mysteries without regard for his health or well-being.

you watch him get bullied, watch him get into fights constantly as he searches for his missing babysitter and the other missing girls in town. he wears a nickname given to him by a bully with pride and tries so hard to impress his friends. you see him build up a group of friends, only for them to go to jail. after your apartment is attacked, you go with him to prom to take down his evil vice principal, who killed your husband on an impulse. you devour the dragon who killed your husband and it tastes like hollow victory, like revenge for the man you can't bring back.

the next year, your son goes on spring break with his friends after he gets accosted by an entity that used to work with your husband and some kind of mirror entity that leaves shards in your apartment. you don't hear much from him on the trip until you see a pit fiend choke him out and kill him, on a livestream. your son gives up his worldly possessions for the sake of defeating an entity that was raised for the sake of the status of an elven family.

your son comes back from spring break with the name of an eldritch entity tattooed on his chest and tells you his father died because the being he used to work with put a target on his back. your son met his dead father in heaven after he went to hell as a litigator for his friend. your son has been threatened with death for existing and come back.

that summer, the eldritch entity is summoned out of your son's body, and he spends the entire summer tracking down a cult and sealing the entity once more. you've left your (thankless) job to become a public defender for people like you, getting nothing for years of work, of doing your duty to bring home a little more for your son, and they won't give you your pension.

your son works himself to the bone for his friends, knowing he can't go to a good school unless he somehow ensures they all succeed. he does everything: perfect grades, every extracurricular, running the student government campaign for his friend, and he's still tracking down another missing girl. he gets dominate monster cast on him by the principal despite doing nothing wrong.

you chat with him in the car, driving to school, and he can't afford a moment of rest. people have been killed following the leads he's tracking, he warns you of the danger of following up and yet he still aims to find the clues.

and you wonder, is this all i've shown him? stretching yourself thin, never more than a moment's rest, and yet others don't appreciate it? after spending your lives in this town, and you're still goblins, still punished for the crime of existence, having to work twice as hard for half the credit.

they call him "the ball".

every day sklonda gukgak wakes up.

[jeremiahofphilo]

{closed} @rose-tinted-kalopsia

{Continued from x.}

At the light touch against his hair, his heart stopped. Time stopped. She was close. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

When he came to, red behind his ears, he managed a small "Thank you."

Desperate to revive, he pointed out the shelf across them, clearing his throat. "Ah, I'll wrap up a bit earlier, since you're here. No one usually comes the laugh half hour."

He practically flew towards the door, switching the [Open] sign off, and locking them in. After a few minutes he reemerged, freshly changed, rinsed face, hoping the cologne he chose as least helped.

"Ready for some caffeine, Ro?"

He already didn't need it. She was like caffeine enough.

[thepathetickind]

I wait for a letter that nobody send

by laurenmaerie, (i am)

[thefollow-spot]

From sparks: full-tilt

Lancelot/Merlin ● General Audiences ● WC: 500 ● No Warnings // Written for @merlinmicrofic 2024, for the prompt 'Harvest'. A mix of poetry & prose.

---

[neptunesvoice]

how dare you tear away from my heart while it is still beating while wind still blows and bells still chime it is not the end of time nor the 'forever' that you promised me on the night we fell in love. do you still love me? it's a bittersweet dream where you left only for my own sake and you're so naive, you don't know all i need is you. you still love me, right? it's not over yet you were lying when you said you don't - it's so stupid, right? please come back.

desperation — 2024 10 30

(original poetry, please do not repost without credit)