#excerpt from a book i'm writing

[memoirsofbilal]

“There will be days when you feel completely shattered, like you’re just pieces of who you used to be, scattered everywhere. You’ll feel hopeless, like nothing will ever get better, like every step forward only leads to more pain. You might sit there, lost in the ruins of what once was, convinced that nothing can be fixed. But then, without even realizing it, things start to shift. Not in some big, dramatic way, but in small, quiet moments. A morning where you feel a little lighter. A deep breath that doesn’t hurt as much. A tiny voice inside you reminding you that maybe, just maybe, you’re not broken—just changing. And one day, you wake up and realize that life is finally coming together. Not because the world magically fixed itself, but because you kept going. Because even when you didn’t see it, you were slowly finding your way back to yourself.” — (IG: memoirsofbilal)

[longnightsandsambuca]

In another timeline, we would have been good for each other, and it would have been magical. But in this timeline, you’re just the man who broke my heart.

[starry-night-prompts]

Writing prompt #69

"Did you like our marriage?"

I felt like a piece of my heart was ripped out. I slowly nodded, looking at my hands, couldn't bring myself to speak a word.

"Good," after a short pause he looks away "I think you can start packing."

[sadswaggynerdyfrog]

My heart swells so easily and it fills up my entire chest and I hyperventilate and feel everything so closely and sensitively. The world is so beautiful and I am so full of love and nostalgia and I am so unloved

[blueanthem]

Today I posted 6 excerpts from the novel I'm writing and the only one that is getting reblogged is the depressive suicidal one??? Come on people!

[storyofmanythoughts]

Saw a quote that I had to share: “i showed my body more times than i have been given flowers and the strange thing is i hate my body but i love flowers"

[absolutionless]

—Prologue—

The Darkness, the Girl and the Light

Nightfall arrived on the doorstep of a newly wintry evening with unannounced ferocity. A breed of night so affluent with its nothingness, that it denied freckled-starlight to puncture through. Moonshine was devoured, and the sky had shed; maturing into a peculiar hue of saturated, resonant navy. Faded pigment made blackest shade. Upon Ettinor this felled darkness came, and it was the waxen steward; domesticated sunspots, lured into ignition against it. This ensemble of chittering flame was given chorus, their voices risen like pale moondust. North of Ettinor was a dominion of past-loved land known as Whirerm. Its landscape rose at frayed edges, forming a natural impasse, wherein a valley, where most of Whirerm’s settlements were seated quite prettily between the cloud-breasted Phylin Mountains. Pressed upon the teat of the north-most mountain was a small city of it’s time, where dwelt eleven-thousand bodies, and ten thousand souls.

Forgotten to most but, remembered as Xethrok. Winds came sharp, flesh-piercing with their frost, particularly during the winter months as these, and aside from the manor-house of the Nekir family, witness up-high to all these suffering from the protection one of the two walls that wrapped it’s arms around Xethrok, from edge-to-path, all Xethrokian homes retained this marking of dusk, cold, darkened shells. Underneath the manor, overflowing in golden light seeping out of almost every pore as the solitary star in the night sky, an ember struggled sustained living in the stables, unnoticed by the Xethrokians laid in bid to rest. A single candle grew head of flame in this Xethrokian stable, under the embrace of a young woman.

A girl in the twilight-autumn of life, of surely exquisitely embezzled beauty, wrought from behind her eyes, that caused the heart to burn with mechanical invigoration and turn wildfire-like onto the world; the night had imprinted itself upon her, her skin prided the same endlessness as the night’s sky, and yet when fragmented candlelight fell on her, she was luminous.

Alongside her, a boy – and no older than the noun 'boy' could afford, helped with what muscle his body could justify. Frail, yet not so much that his tongue lacked steadiness. He never quite knew when it was time for him to speak less, it seemed as though he were incapable of enacting this thought, had it ever occurred. This was becoming of such an age, of vocal interest and abstinent silence.

To her, the topic was done, stagnant in its inevitability. Prevailing and withstanding her bleak responses, the boy was too incessant for chat, and she gave herself reconsideration of their tenuous relationship.

- an excerpt from the book I'm writing.

©absolutionless

[lysjb03]

... I can still feel her in my hands ...

#muscle memory

[autumnberries]

My Werewolf, My Everything

He may be a wolf, Leonidas nuzzles brushing his fangs against Zefera’s neck. he may have fangs, Zefera moans snickering at Leo, lifting his right arm to his face. he may have claws, Leonidas leans to his touch giggling softly. he is my everything. They both lock eyes at one another, lost in love. My Werewolf, My Everything. Rising their heads they howl in unison marking their love forever.

[chaossagaproductions]

Cut Scene pt 1

A little snippet of a scene that'll probably never be used, and if so will be re-worked

“Why is he still alive, Vesta?!” Hestia shouts as she holds her lit hand up to Saturn’s face. “Why didn’t you kill him after what he’s done to us!? To everyone? What is to hard for you to bend the great moral compass of yours!?” She shouts as I take a deep breath. “No! It wouldn’t be to hard. In fact, it’s too easy. Don’t you think I’ve thought about it?” I ask as I walk closer to her. “How easy it would be to kill him and end the mess we’re in right now? The problem is it is so easy to cross that line, but we have to show the world that we won’t,” I say as she looks at me. “Don’t quote Batman of all superheroes at me.” She says, as she lets the flame go and we smirk at each other. “Hey you started quoting RedHood, how could I not quote Batman back?”  I ask, smirking as she nods. “Right, silly me.” 

[soymilkwriter]

“But I’ve been gripping onto the past, and I know that once I let it go there will be claw marks. The truth is, I’m afraid that once I let go of the past, I will never have those people and those memories ever again. What if I never get my best friend back? What if I never become as happy as I was Fall 2023? What if all the things I’ve ever loved, has gone away? I’m hopeful and hopeless at the same time.”

-Excerpt from my Journal

[memoirsofbilal]

“I sat there, breaking in silence, while they called it peace.”

– memoirsofbilal (via Instagram)

[longnightsandsambuca]

I had a dream about you last night. You were there, and I was happy. Then I woke up and realised it has been three years since you left. Three years, and you still haunt me. When will the feeling of betrayal leave? The feeling of regret? Of what could have been? Of losing the love of my life?

- C. H.

[starry-night-prompts]

Writing prompt #68

You have a crush on one of the brothers, you had something going on with him, and then started falling for the other brother.

[sadswaggynerdyfrog]

Today, I pray to God.

I pray to have my heart picked from the bottom of my stomach.

My sister is going back to school. She has a brown box full of coloured highlighters, thin notebooks with turtle images on them, and a school uniform packed in a plastic bag.

My brother is seven and is begging my mom for a phone. He wonders how he can get in touch with her when he is buying her rice and ice cream from the grocery store under our house.

My other sister is older than me. She asks me where she can find a balloons store. She asks me for a website to upload free books. She asks me for my friend’s number.

I wish I had siblings. They are somewhere but I have swallowed them whole. I wish I could be preoccupied again with cold soups and the white things on oranges and the shoes that do not fit. I wish I could cry to my mom. Today, I pray to God and it is her birthday. I pray to God that if my mom is cursed with Hell because of my stains then let me pray harder to run out of ink.

Today, I pray and yesterday I prayed and at 5am, 19 years ago, I prayed. Does God forgive? Does God wring out the wrong red blood out of skins and corpses ? Does God compensate, for the stillness and spleen and majestic void?

[blueanthem]

There were many names for what he was. Shadow crossers. Death walkers. One of the returned. Other names were meaner, reducing his kind of business to an insult. Death witcher. Abomination. Unnatural. But the word his kind prefered was necromancer.