#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

[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"

[villainhore]

— repentance, seduction and monstrous needs

from my wip. strangely one of my favourites

[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

[betweenthetimeandsound]

--prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial

Limping, Hilda almost collided into Adele, who tried to maintain the queen's balance through her slender hands. The scent of fresh grass tickled Adele's nostrils, while at the same time brought upon a sudden bite of nostalgia, one which hit her with a force she tried to repress.

"Have you ventured far from the south?" Hilda gruffed, stabbing her cane onto the dirt.

"Not until I married Benoit, no," she replied, staring at her own fragile hands. "I always dreamed of being a wanderer of sorts, to traverse across the mountains and see what the world has to offer."

Hilda snickered. The woman has been by her side for several months, talking and sharing her secrets. At the same time, that wayward look in her honeyed eyes never ventured; instead, they glimmered when they contacted anything new, like a moth towards a flame. And yet, she still hesitated when talking about Evelene--a place with as much harshness in their teeth as the sweetness in their words.

"Anyways, we're here," she muttered, before knocking on the door.

"What will you show me?" Adele asked, expecting the queen to show her darkest secrets or a corpse of the previous dynasty. She wrapped herself in the dress, shrinking from the wide door, decorated with tiny flowers against dark blue metal.

A few seconds later, it opened, though Adele heard a hinny before she spotted the horse. Despite its majesty, it shook its head as Hilda approached it, nuzzling its jaw on her withered hand.

"Is it yours?" Widening her eyes, Adele approached forward to spot the horse's eyes, only for Hilda to raise her other hand. Nevertheless, the woman's toes jostled with a nervous energy, a potential wish fulfilled at this very moment.

"This is Hjordis, my beloved mare," Hilda replied, shuffling through the barn before handing her a handful of grain. Hesitating, the horse nibbled on a little bit before biting off the food, shaking itself off after every bit. Adele giggled after every bite, then tiled her head to one side in a curious slight.

"She looks very beautiful. Do you ride her often?"

"I wish, but my illness and the war doesn't allow me to." A tingling hit Hilda's hand; before she could reflect on her loss, she crumbled against the hay pile. Panicking, Adele threw herself down and laid the woman down, staring down at her panicked countenance and her widening eyes.

"What did Hjordis make you think about? What?" Adele screamed, before clenching onto Hilda's hands. If she can stop the queen from hurting anybody, then she could bring this demon onto bay.

"Ah...Ah..." Unable to speak, Hilda only shrieked in an abnormally low tone. Panicked, Adele pondered on she could cure her.

She started singing, and faced Hjordis' elegant gaze, facing the world in front of her.

And then, Adele thought of Enes.

[randomscribbler-guywholovedher]

Oh, how it aches as I pour forth my feelings like a cascading waterfall, while he remains an enigmatic observer, standing at a distance, seemingly detached from the depths of my love. Each word spoken, each gesture offered, and each stolen glance exchanged become embers of hope, igniting a fire of longing that burns relentlessly within the depths of my soul.

In the quiet moments of the night, I find myself lost in a labyrinth of questions that gnaw at my sanity. What if I had revealed my feelings differently? What if I had been more alluring, more captivating, or more mysteriously enticing? Yet, deep down, I know that love cannot be forced—it flourishes only when nurtured by mutual affection.

Yet, I continue on this path, like a fragile moth drawn irresistibly to a distant flame, unable to resist the pull of a love that remains just out of reach. I hold on to cherished memories of stolen glances and fleeting touches, grasping at these fragments of affection like a lifeline, despite the bittersweet ache that lingers within, knowing that such moments were perhaps mere accidental stars in a vast, dark sky of indifference.

As I journey through this whirlwind of emotions, I can't help but wonder what keeps me bound to this one-sided connection. Is it the fear of letting go, afraid that I might lose even the illusion of our connection? Or is it the lingering hope that, someday, the tides will turn, and he will see the love that resides in my heart?

Yet, with the passage of time, I come to face the painful truth that love, no matter how intense or fervent, cannot flourish without the gentle touch of reciprocity. And so, with a heavy heart, I emerge from the labyrinth of unrequited devotion, carrying the scars of heartache, but also bearing the resilience that comes from loving unconditionally.

In this poignant dance of unreciprocated affection, I learn the most profound lesson—to cherish my own heart and to seek love where it blooms effortlessly, where the sweet symphony of affection plays harmoniously, and where the embrace of devotion is warmly reciprocated.

Follow @randomscribbler for more.

#UnrequitedLove #Heartache #lovequotes #poetsofinstagram #books

[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.” 

[memoirsofbilal]

“Some people are drawn to chaos, not because they wish to mend what is broken, but because the storm makes them feel significant. They mistake conflict for passion, turmoil for depth, and suffering for strength. They do not long for resolution; they crave a reaction. Beware of such souls—they will turn harmony into war just to feel like warriors, turn pain into a home and insist you live there with them. But here’s what you must remember: You are not obliged to stay. Misery clings to company, but you are free to leave. Choosing peace is not surrender. Walking away is not weakness. Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is refuse to be a character in a story that was never yours to tell.” – 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]

“I met you and now I am kind to myself in my sleep”

“Teach me a better way to say my name”

“To be loved is to be changed”

“I lay my sunburnt hand on your table; this is the time we have now”

[storyofmanythoughts]

You broke my heart.