#short story Tumblr posts

  • This is a WIP of a short comic about Starlight and Scythe but I lost motivation to work on it more so here it is.(Sorry if it’s cringgy :p)

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  • Prompt

    “It’s not that I dislike him, I just question his decision making. And by that I mean he makes questionable decisions.”

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  • It happened once in a dream

    It happened once in a dream: it was cold, but his arms were wrapped around me and his mere presence was enough to warm me. He said he loved me, and I believed him because there was nothing else I could do.

    The more I think about it the more I forget, but sometimes, completely out of nowhere, small details of the dream come back to me. And I remember that all around us it was snowing, everything was so white that my eyes hurt if I looked at it for too long, so I closed them and I let his embrace be the only thing I was aware of. I might have dreamt this more than once, because sometimes there’s an ice rink near us and the kids’ laughters when one of them fall down fill the air, some other times there’s complete silence and nothing can be heard besides the beating of our own hearts. So loud and yet so quiet.

    The memories are so vivid now. I’m starting to wonder if it was really a dream: I can still feel the pressure of his hands on the small of my back, his chest expanding against me on every single one of his breaths, the warmth of his smile when he looked down on me. How can I remember all of this if it never happened?

    Every now and then, the butterflies in my stomach are confused, they can’t understand if they’re supposed to fly or not whenever a piece of these dreams comes to my mind: should they bother me for a simple thought or should they wait? Maybe one day he will actually hold me, he might smile at me and tell me he loves me, shouldn’t I wait until then to melt just like the snow surrounding us?

    I don’t know. I never know anything when he’s the main topic, I don’t even know if these feelings are real, if I really feel something or if it was just a dream with no real meaning. What if I see him in real life and I feel nothing? What if he holds me and his hands don’t feel like they did in my dream?

    Maybe I should stop overthinking: it’s just making things worse, setting impossible standards for my feelings, making me paranoid over the smallest things and keeping me away from the things that are actually happening in my life.

    But then again, how do I stop? Everytime that I force myself to focus on the people around me, his face pops out in my mind, his smile, his smell, his voice. I can’t do anything but accept that he’s living in my head and I can’t put him on a corner for longer than a couple minutes. I just can’t.

    I’m doing it again, aren’t I? How am I supposed to stop thinking about him if I overthink overthinking? Sometimes I wish I never had that dream in the first place, but the smile that appears on my face whenever I think about it it’s too big for his thought to be a bad thing.

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  • Publication Announcement: MOSKVA, A Short Story

    Publication Announcement: MOSKVA, A Short Story

    One of the strangest parts of writing stories and poems and essays (and even and especially novels) is that they enter the world long after you finish them.

    MOSKVA, published by Hobart Pulp today, had a shorter finished-to-published timeline than most (two months!). Then again, it only took me seventeen years to figure out how to write it…

    Joshua Hebburn, the guest editor who selected this…

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  • “Won’t you dance with me one last time?” Esmeralda watched the eyes behind the mask. She watched them for weakness, or deceit. There’s an untold confidence you gain in a masquerade ball, and Esmeralda planned to extract every bit of her lot.

    “I don’t believe we’ve danced before this.” Jean’s voice was deep, and it contrasted with his gaunt, boyish face.

    The organ player pressed down on his keys, and the pipes blared in declaration. A dance had begun: I only had to own it.

    “It will be my last time all the same.” Esmeralda placed a hand on Jean’s shoulder, and he smiled in return. He held her with a firm grip. She wasn’t used to that from the other men or women.

    As that dance began, Esmeralda never let go of Jean’s gaze. She had to find out if he was lying about not knowing her, or if he had genuinely forgotten.

    “Tell you a secret?” Jean whispered, his voice barely audible over the chamber music. He didn’t wait for Esmeralda to nod. “The organ player there has been playing this for five years now. Without a moment’s break.”

    It struck a smile on Esmeralda’s face, and it reflected onto Jean’s. “It’s true,” he said. “I’m a good friend of Simone’s. Every time I come here, that man is playing something.”

    “He must like what he does.”

    Jean swung Esmeralda so that she had a clear view of the orchestra. Or at least, as clear as can be managed through a crowd of masked dancers.

    “I think it’s well past that. I think it’s a part of him, now, to play. If he stopped playing, I imagine his heart will stop.”

    Esmeralda glanced at the man by the organ. He looked at the keys with intent focus, without moving an extraneous muscle, without a single nod of the head.

    “It sounds maddening, but also impressive,” Esmeralda said. Another swing, and now she had her back to the organ player.

    Jean smiled again, wider than he had before, and his grip was tighter now. “As long as he’s playing, there will never be a last dance.”

    Esmeralda wished she could rip their masks off and have Jean acknowledge her, face to face, instead of playing whatever game he was playing. She frowned, and she hoped Jean couldn’t see that frown from beyond the mask.

    “I was hoping this would go differently.” She stared into his eyes, hoping he understands every word she has to offer him. “It’s my final night here. I won’t be coming to the balls after this. I won’t see you again.”

    “Oh?” he said.

    It was a cruel thing to say, and barely a syllable at that. Esmeralda nearly broke free of him, but then, the music stopped. The orchestra lost track and came to a disharmonious halt.

    All eyes turned to the organ player, whose fingers had stopped moving, even if he remained intently focused on the keys. Then, he clapped the keylid shut and got up from where he was seated.

    Amidst gasps and surprised stares, amidst questions whispered and rumours exchanged, the organ player began walking into the ball.

    Esmeralda stared at him and broke away from Jean to give him way. He walked between them, without looking at either of them, without looking at any of the dancers, and he walked straight out of the ballroom.

    Once the organ player was out of the door, Esmeralda turned to Jean, but he wasn’t there.

    After the last dance, he was gone. And so was Esmeralda. And so was the organ player.

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  • Amiga mía aún saboreo tus fluidos en mis sueños

    Ig: @ero.tikka

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  • Tulon

    Ig : @ero.tikka

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  • “This is really one of the worst things that could have happened.”

    “Worse than death?”

    “Possibly, yes.”

    Her brother sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Look, being stuck in the past is not worse…”

    “Yes, it is!” She gestured at the village angrily, “If we were dead, we wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences, but we’re alive and now we have to live our lives without messing up the future.”

    “But it’s already happened for them.”

    She pressed her hands together and brought them up to her nose, “I am not about to start this debate with you.”

    “Why not?” he laughed and waved a hand around them, encompassing the entirety of the past they were stuck in, “We’ve got plenty of time.”

    She opened her mouth as if to speak but shut it again before she could actually say anything.

    “What?”

    Shaking her head in disbelief, she gathered up the skirts she would now have to deal with for the rest of her (probably incredibly short without healthcare) life and stormed off in the direction of the village. Behind her, her brother laughed incredulously,

    “Was it something I said?”

    He went ignored as she crossed the boundary and vanished in between houses.

    “It’s not that bad, is it?” He asked the empty field he now stood alone in, “I mean, she really hated that office job.”

    The only response was birds that he couldn’t identify squawking in the distance. It was crazy to think that in several hundred years, this field and that village would be gone, replaced by flats and offices and a city that no one even liked.

    “Maybe changing the past isn’t such a bad idea.”

    A woman appeared at the village entrance and waved to catch his attention, when he waved back, she beckoned him over and made an eating motion with her hands. Of course, the village ate communally, they would be waiting for him.

    He found his seat, beside his sister who was resolutely ignoring him by engaging in conversation with the girl on her other side.

    “Do you like it here?” The girl asked, her eyes wide and bright with the innocence only found in childhood, “Will you stay?”

    “For a while,” she replied, “it is nicer here than where we were.”

    “Much nicer.” He added, and she snorted a laugh.

    “The mud is the greatest improvement.”

    Based on the prompt in bold by @givethispromptatry

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  • Red, brown, grey and whit,

    Those were what all her friends wore.

    Yet, she wore a rainbow shell.

    How was it she was so special?

    What was so special about her that let her have a rainbow shell?

    Nothing.

    She was the same.

    She just looked different.

    Yet, no one cared.

    That’s how it should be.

    #2min writing challenge #random picture writing challenge. #shells#short story #poem? #is that a poem? #i dont even know anymore #equality #everyone is different #differences should be normalised #differences aren't ugly #differences are pretty #uniqueness is normal
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  • Once upon a time there was a gay boy and his straight best friend who was also a guy.

    The gay boy (Dallas) finally decided that he was going to dress the way he had always wanted to - in a skirt and a cropped top. His parents didn’t mind, they were very supportive actually. He went to school like that too. His best friend (Noah) didn’t even blink an eye at his attire, He greeted him with the usual ‘hey Dallas’ before they were on their way. He was nervous to enter so his best friend told him it would be alright. They went inside together and met Noah’s girlfriend, Ally. she didn’t say anything either, she just smiled encouragingly. But the other people were staring and whispering. Dallas didn’t like that very much, he hated it really but his friends were there for him, like they always are. Everyone already knew he was gay but today they had found other things to say to him - “gays are girls with dicks”. He couldn’t stay with his friends the whole day though and whenever they weren’t around, people would come and call him names, like f*****. One person even tried to punch him, he hit the homophobic bastard instead. There were other people too who were indifferent and then the people who told him they admired his courage. That was nice.

    The next day though he decided to look more 'normal’ and that meant no 'girl’ clothes. His dad was dropping him off to school today because Noah apparently had some work before school. That was unusual. He walked to the school gates to find Noah standing there … in a dress and heels and he was wearing make up. Ally came up behind them.. in a suit. Dallas couldn’t help asking, “what’s with the cross dressing?” “Clothes don’t have a gender,” Ally said. “Yes guys can wear dresses and girls can wear suits, anyone can wear whatever they want,” Noah said. “But no one should wear heels, these things are pure torture devices,” Noah added laughing. 

    Dallas laughed with him. The three walked into the school together. Many people were still being idiots and they could continue being that way because for once Dallas didn’t care what people had to say about him. He couldn’t have had better friends. 

    The End.

    #short story#wholesome #hope it made you smile #true friendship#gay #clothes don't have genders #bring back manly men #text post
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  • Galloping

    Enjoy! (ಥ ͜ʖಥ)(‘༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ ’)♡( T ʖ̯ T) Keep reading here

    Aeson

       The young stallion thundered on through the trees. His hooves pounded the soft cool earth and his dark mane flew behind him. Hazel eyes darted around, picking up the trees and bushes. His ears twitching as rodents scampered on at the sound of him coming through the greenery. His muscles clenched and long graceful legs met the earth, hooves digging into the soil and raising the dirt in his wake. Puffs of breath escaped his nostrils and his black coat glistened as the moonlight danced on his skin, guiding his way to the herd again.

    He burst out of the trees and rumbled past a few of his fellow herd members, the mares and stallions grunted and nickered at him. He rushed out an apology for disturbing them, then focusing himself once again, he ran. The mountain terrain in the distance peeked over clouds and luscious grass grew for hills and valleys on end. Streams of water sparkled and trickled. Night airbrushed the soft grass, trees swaying at their interference. Aeson disregarded the beautiful sight as he had been summoned by his Mother.

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  • Drowning in Blue

    We jumped in the car and headed to New Jersey. My good friend had been suffering with major depression for three months and seemed to be drowning—floating away from all her support. As a practicing psychoanalyst, I wasn’t there to treat her as a patient, but I felt desperate to find things we could do together to “cheer her up.” With our close group of friends, we stayed with my in-laws at their midcentury house with a saltwater pool. Maybe this was a break my friend needed. I hoped we’d have fun and swim in the pool—and we did, day and night. One night, we swam in the pool until dawn. This photo of her was lightness—a pure, phenomenal, weightless gift. It captures a moment that upended the heaviness. It upended a darkness broken into a thousand pieces of effervescent light. Water breaks stone. There is a sadness, a loneliness that feels endless. But no feeling is final. This moment of joy I can hold, from the trace of light brought before a lens.


    Read more at Museemagazine.com

    📷 @julie.dodge.photography

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  • In this story I’m making Asmodeus about 2 years old, so be ready for sass and humor. I have a feeling that he was a sassy little monster 😂!

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    #asmo obey me #asmo#asmodeus #asmodeus avatar of lust #shall we date asmodeus #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me asmodeus #obey me fanfiction #fanfiction requests #obey me short story #short story request #short story#cute
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  • Won’t be the End


    My corpse is rotting,

    On my darkness so icky.

    My soul is dying,

    On my hell so nasty.

    The Demon approaches

    To rape my essence.

    I’m going to succumb,

    On his arms so tough.

    This won’t be the end,

    Of my pain so edged.

    -Dark Rapunzel.

    Instagram🖤

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