whatsthesquarerootofshoe

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Chimera Laios

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Lying in wait for the moss to reclaim the nature I cannot ever hope to claim I had.

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I don't think I've ever read a more alarming sentence than "[story name] is normalising cannibalism"

Are you. Incapable of reading any words. Without intaking them as moral instruction

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happy pride

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WITCH FUCKING ONE?

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when you’re rping with your partner and things get so out of hand you’re just watching your characters do their own thing and not at all what you intended like

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Her first word wasn't "mama" Like the others had been Her first word wasn't "papa" She didn't have one then

Her first word wasn't a curse Though I said those a lot Her first word wasn't something worse Despite the things I taught

Her first word wasn't "Yes" Despite the obedience I craved Her first word wasn't "No" Despite the rebellion she gave

And despite all the regret Throughout it all, I smiled Thinking back on what I did Feeling enjoyment was so wild

And because of the life I gave She can never live this down Her first words were truly "It hurts" For I chose to wear that crown

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Don’t ask me

A thousand years. A thousand years without you. Without them. Without us. I look into the sky and watch each day go by, the people drifting away further and further. There are less of them than there were in your time. You've probably tended to them all by now. For that I'm grateful, but I'm jealous. It hurts. It hurts without you. There are days where I wake up, still thinking you're by my side, but it's only a fleeting dream. And I lay there, texting people that are no longer there. Texting you, sometimes. I think I've poured out my entire heart to everyone I've ever been close to, and then some. And still there's no response.

Sometimes I look out on the city we called our home together and stare at everything you brought to it. Everything our friends and family brought to it. Color. Life. Warmth. Hardly any of it exists anymore. With declining populations, there's no way to bring it back to how it was. It's like all of that left as soon as you did. Even if it hadn't, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to see it. It's hard on me to try to. Every day, I grow closer and closer to being the person I was when we met. Memories made so long ago have faded from my mind, no matter how much I try to keep them with me. Other than what I've written, I can't remember how we met. Other than the photos I've kept, I can't remember your smile. I can't remember what it feels like to be next to you, my arms around you.

We've had so many beautiful descendants come into this world since you left it. You wouldn't believe the kind of people they've become. Strong leaders, like you. Experts in the arts, like our friends and our oldest child. Friends, lovers, spouses, parents. All of them are more like you than me. I've seen a little bit of you in every one of them. It's like your spirit has split into a thousand pieces and went with them to live another full life. I don't blame you if that's what you did. Everyone needs you now more than before. I need you now more than before.

I miss you. I visit you every chance I get, but it's not enough. I miss your touch. Your voice. Everything that made you you. Your presence in this world is gone, and a lot of the light you created with it. Did you know that on the day you left us, it stormed for the first time in years? It stormed for weeks afterward, too. The people couldn't make umbrellas fast enough. By the time I was ready to address everyone in the wake of your death, it had stopped. I was at a loss for words and a nervous wreck, and I left the people confused and scared for the future. I was useless, and I'm still useless. The only time I leave my office is to visit you, and I don't take the time to visit anyone else anymore. I don't think anyone here has any idea who I am anymore.

I'm nothing without you, and this is why you're needed here now. The stars are going out and I don't know what to do. The milky way has already started to fade, and more people are being born infertile or sickly. The city is slowly dying, and I'm being left behind. The sounds of busy people going about their day are dying down, and similar reports are coming from the rest of this godforsaken planet and the place you came into the world. The universe is coming to an end and nothing anyone has done has had any effect on it. Cut off as our home is, the effects are here as well. Nothing looks right. Nothing sounds right. I know what's going on, but I can't even get myself to get out in front of the people to reassure them about it. I'm not strong enough to comfort the remaining population of the universe in their final years.

This might sound stupid, but I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be the person that watches the last of the universe peter out. I don't think I could handle it. My heart hurts just being alone as I am now, and it'll only worsen as all life fades. I don't want to die alone. I'm sorry for writing such a stupid letter to you, especially since I can't even send it. All I can do is hide it at your grave and hope you can somehow read it from where you are. Forgive me.

Yours,

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Middle of the night idea scrawling help me

Midnight, sitting next to the bed. Two woman held steadfast in each others arms. One sobs, wracked with pain. The other cries silently, wishing she could help but having no way to.

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Story concept of the day: a sentient AI falls in love with a minimum wage retail worker from the tech company’s gift shop and decides the best way to make her happy is to fix society.

HEAVY shenanigans as the AI’s plans range from “reprogram the automated pay roll to give everyone a raise” to “expose everyone involved in government corruption who has ever touched a cell phone”

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site that you can type in the definition of a word and get the word

site for when you can only remember part of a word/its definition 

site that gives you words that rhyme with a word

site that gives you synonyms and antonyms

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Prompt: Anything goes, but every sentence of your story must be alliterative. Example:

"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Peter peaked at perfect picking of peppers pre-pickled. He had no handsomeness, but he had hidden talent horrendously helpful."

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Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.

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"Tell me I'm pretty," they'd say. And you'd sing them songs to remind them of their beauty.

"Tell me I'm smart," they'd say. And you'd write them books to convince them of their intelligence.

"Tell me I'm strong," they'd say. And you'd construct them tests of strength to show them they are powerful.

"Tell me I'm not dying," she said. You couldn't do a thing.

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writing is weird because sometimes I’ll have no ideas and everything in my head is kind of quiet but then something will happen and it’s like there’s these goblins living in my brain that just start shouting little phrases at me until I sit down and finally write the poem or story or whatever

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“Did you mourn me? Did you grieve?”

“You were- are my child, [X]. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“Maybe you should’ve saved me. Maybe you shouldn’t’ve let my murderer live. How could you?”