#randomscribbler

[randomscribbler-guywholovedher]

Meeting your lover after ages 🥰

[damngoodlookingtokens]

To the girl with restless soul and tired heart, one day you will be loved, the way you loved.

— randomscribbler

[ardisaardi]

She was a giver.

Always poured,

too much of

love.

Never realized

watering a rock

doesn’t make it soft.

-randomscribble-

[madeofpride]

[randomscribbler-guywholovedher]

Still healing.

Still growing.

[feelgigglethink]

Watering a rock doesn’t make it soft

[makeuphall]

[themeltingstories-blog]

Breakups are never mutual right ? _ Tag someone.❤ Share your views in comment. Repost with credit ❤ __________ By Ritrisha Edited By TMS __________ Tags begin #themeltingstories #tms #writing #relatable #sayings #writer #relationshipquotes #lovequotes #promise #microfiction #tale #story #love #loved #friends #friend #igwriters #igpoets #igpoetry #writersofig #wordsofwisdom #typewriter #poetryinmotion #tweegram #quoteoftheday #randomscribbler #textpost #writingcommunity #poem #poetsociety

[randomscribbler-guywholovedher]

DELENA

her eyes met his, and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't believe how perfectly he fit the image of the man she had been dreaming of.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a chiseled jawline. His eyes were a deep shade of blue, and they sparkled as he smiled at her. She felt a warmth spreading through her body, and she knew in that moment that she had found her partner.

As he made his way over to her, she couldn't help but feel nervous. Would he feel the same way? Would they have anything in common? But as they began to talk, all her doubts faded away. They laughed and joked, and it felt like they had known each other for years.

As the night wore on, they danced together and whispered secrets in each other's ears. She felt like she was living in a fairy tale, and she never wanted the night to end. When he leaned in to kiss her, she knew that she had found the one she had been searching for.”

edits @randomscribbler 💝

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#couple #love #couplegoals #randomscribbler #wedding #forever #girlfriend #romance #TVD #vampirediaries #relationshipgoals @nina @iansomerhalder #delena #damonsalvatore #elenagilbert #TVD #vampirediaries

[ullassebastian-blog]

#prayer #digitalart #illustration #art #design #randomscribbler #graphics #conceptart #ideas #practice #peace #tradition #procreateart #by . . . @ullas_sebastian https://www.instagram.com/p/B1VWs_Ynk2O/?igshid=fuydvhfs42yd

[celestial-bonk]

Anniversary

“I got you a gift, but I didn’t know what you’ll like so...” 

One of the things Willow prided herself on is her hard-earned wealth; granted, it was wealth gained from a life of crime. She can get her boyfriend pretty much anything, may it be in this world or off-world. The problem is, she doesn’t know what he wants. He never asks her for anything and it’s confusing.

On the bright side, the wealth she had was not wealth given to her by her father. Money she knew that was rightfully hers. She frowned at the thought. 

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked, snapping her out of her fugue. He eyed her curiously, and she could sense a hint of worry dancing in his handsome face. She smiled. Adorable. The slightest frown could have him fawning over her in seconds. 

“I’m okay, just, uh, thinking about my father.” she replied. “I lost a lot of money I could’ve gotten from the company... And, you know, me being his real kid.”

“Zoe said they’re fixing it, right? Don’t worry about it.” 

“No, they can keep it and shove it up where the sun don’t shine.” Willow seethed, but at the same time, money is money. That was money she worked so hard for, that was money she sacrificed so much for—

“Are you sure?” Caleb asked. 

“...”

“Hmm?”

“...no. It’s my money...”

“But you’re not supposed to have access to your own money?” he teased her, smirking. “Knowing you, babe, I know you couldn’t give a damn about your probation but have you ever thought about just being truly free from it?”

“I love how you’re trying to explain being good to someone like me, a criminal mastermind of epic villainy. I should probably get the criminal equivalent of the Nobel Prize.”

“I know you’re a good person, and you don’t have to keep punishing yourself.”

“Are you gonna accept your anniversary gift or are we going to have this weird conversation about my existential crisis again?”

“You don’t and you never have to get me anything, Will.”

“I just want you to know that being in a relationship with me has its perks; I can get you anything you want or anything you need—mmph!” She grunted in surprise as Caleb pressed his lips against hers. The kiss seemed to go on forever, and she felt herself gasping for air when he finally tore his lips away.

“Do I have to remind you that it’s you that I want?” He growled, and she felt a tingle shoot throughout her entire body. 

“Oh, boy... Now, now, now, I’m very very much up for it but can we just—” Before she can continue protesting, he bent down to carry her over his shoulder, and lumbered up the stairs to their bedroom. She struggled for a bit but stopped when he lightly slapped her ass as a warning. He threw her over the bed and crawled up to her, trapping her beneath him.

“I’m happy with you, Will. I love you.” He looked deeply into her eyes, and she had to look away, trying to suppress the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Damn this man for making her feel this way!

She took a deep breath, and met his eyes. “I...”

“You don’t have to say it back, I understand—”

“I love you too, Caleb.” she whispered. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Considering that we have work tomorrow—”

“You’re not leaving this bed until I’m finished with you, woman.”

“Oh, no.”

[staplingscribblings]

words

her silence is the voice of piercing words

- subasree

[ourrainystudentconnoisseurposts]

[20-1] Expectations

Life seemed to be unfair in some ways. A student that have studied so much ended up scoring a barely-passing grade. A project manager who gave a hundred and one percent on an idea proposition was turned down by the boss. A lover who seldom feel in love got rejected. The tragic stories never end. It appears that there will always be someone better than anyone and there will always be that great…

[gratuitousbadger]

The Knife Wall

"it's the knife wall." 

"the… What?" 

"The knife wall." Reagan walks up to me as I observe the plane in front of me covered in small scars. Rectangular holes of various sizes and angles sprinkled on a smooth surface. At one point this wall was quite beautiful, the picture of modern plastered perfection. But it certainly didn't suit the rest of Reagan cabin style home at the end of her long driveway. 

"do you want to try?" she asks. 

Confused and uncertain, I turn away from the observation of the surface to find her standing there with three throwing knives. Placed in her hand like an outstretched offering to a God that would never deign to come down and touch them himself. I looked at them. And they seemed to look at me. 

"but what do I do?" I ask. This is a new concept to me. Society does not permit violence inside the home. 

"you throw them." no judgement in her response. Simple fact. "you throw them when you're angry. When your upset. When you need control and no other part of your life is coming together. You throw knives at the wall and you know that you can accomplish at least one thing today." 

"oh."

I am uncertain I understand her. Why would anyone do this? The knife wall? That's a thing? I bet she doesn't entertain much. No… Knowing Reagan, she probably only has a very select few people who visit ever. And they probably don't stay long. They stay for sex, or a drink, a quick movie to hang out. Maintain her general social needs and sanity. But they don't stay. Reagan is too territorial. She likes people but she prefers her dogs and her cat and her horses and living her life unhindered. And maybe, according to town and some of her friends, she likes living her life a bit unhinged. 

Again, I look at the knives in her palm. I can tell she's getting impatient. Reagan never really stops moving. She's started shifting her weight in minor movements. Right foot, left foot, right foot… 

"so are you going to try?" 

My distraction gets interrupted by her impatience. What a pair we make. Impulsive, I take one from her hand. The resulting smile is all I need to know I've made her favored decision. Gently, careful not to scratch anything, Reagan places the rest of the knives on a nearby table. She lives alone. She doesn't have to worry about judgement for having sharp objects out on easily accessible surfaces. She doesn't have to worry about control or a behavioral leash. It occurs to me that maybe this is why she has a knife wall. 

I'm still holding the little throwing knife I chose, lost in my thoughts sparked by this scarred surface nearby and this odd resulting situation. The corner of my eye gives my brain the information to realize that Reagan is walking away, and part of my brain registers the information of how easily she wears a t-shirt spread over muscles gained from hard work out here. It just sits nicely. Like in one of those ads on TV. Belatedly, I realize I'm expected to follow. She's stopped moving only a few paces away. 

"You want to stand here," she states while pointing at the floor. I can't see anything that distinguishes it from the rest of the floor and look back up at her face. Reagan provides me clarification, "it's easier to throw from this distance first." there's a muted gleam in her eyes. A childish excitement I think, but muted on purpose so as not to overwhelm or to scare. Reagan knows better than to expect acceptance for everything she does. But she's still human. She wants to bond. 

I mutter an okay and shuffle into place, my back to her front now. I wonder if learning to throw knives is generally considered an intimate teaching experience. It turns out I'm wrong. Reagan simply tells me to aim at the wall and throw before moving back and out of the way of my throwing arm. That's it? No lessons on technique? No safety briefing? No warnings not to destroy things… Oh. I guess that's what we're doing though. There's no point to Reagan to review logic that is already present but left unsaid. I'm handling a knife. As someone who grew up with a kitchen, I should already know knife safety. I look at the small blade in my hand. And clearly the wall is there. That plastered expanse of rectangular pockmarks is my goal. The dogs are locked out and so is the cat so… No Need to worry there either. 

Reagan's usual energy is muted. Focused behind me as I think, curious what I'll do but prepared to be disappointed. I take a deep breath. 

And I throw. 

[not-arose]

Sometime i find myself being tranced where i am completely absorbed in those details that never happened. I have this huge yearning of this place i have never been to . I have this thought in my mind for going away . Like i will wake up and take the train and go wherever it takes . And when the train stops it would be a town blanketed by green mountains, old book shops, parks carpeted by daisies, an irish pub at the corner of the street and a cosy coffee place . A place where there are no people waiting to pass judgements as soon as i make mistakes. I tried so hard to bloom here but every time i got disrupted in the midway.I need a nurturing by nature . To calm myself and get away from this havoc inside of me . I am tired . I am tired of peopling . This constant worrying and living life in fast forward has tore me apart . I just want to live life as it is. Let me not wait for tomorrow to smile . Let me not wait for tomorrow to sing and dance. Let me not wait for tomorrow to say hello to you . Let me take you with me . Let me not wait for the golden light to cast upon me . Let me live a quite life .let me not stutter while i speak my emotions. Let me find my words . Dear me, let me out of you and let me not wait to live .