Random Word Inspiration 7

[Kitti]

Thoughts can be fickle things. Sometimes all it takes are a few words to spark an idea and those same words can have a different effect on everyone.

What do these words inspire in you?
Write whatever comes to mind, be it poem or prose. It doesn't even have to include the words if you don't feel like it!

Coincidentally

False

Slumber​

 

[Zora18]

I thought I was finally going to get a break, finally some time to indulge in freedom. I would have to settle for cheap scores instead. At the same time, he thought the same thing I did, that he would be employed swiftly. That fell in the water. We both stared at each other in the screen, expecting it to dissolve too. Maybe this shared disappointment, at the same time, confirmed that we were soulmates. More than the hot, steamy looks, more than the ease of conversation about even the most mundane things, more than the cyber tension, especially the cyber tension. Depressed, stressed, and drug-consumed, something simultaneously filled us in each other's presence. Something consumed the emptiness, and at least put it to rest.

 

[Kitti]

Every noise seemed amplified when he had a guilty conscience. The clinking of the glasses, the slurred conversation from the patrons in every direction... it swirled around him like insects and he couldn't help but swivel his head every time he heard a man's voice in the vicinity. Somehow, Adare managed to order a beer from the bartender and proceeded to retreat into a far corner of the room. All he wanted was some time alone but perhaps it was a bad idea to slip away while Malcolm slumbered. He was too anxious to relax.

Spinning the thick dark band on his finger, he glanced around the tables. He wasn't here to hook up or do anything he should feel guilty about but the weight in his chest persisted all the same. The pale light of the small lamps overhead cast every face in shadow. It felt as if any one of them could be someone that he knew, coincidentally run into him, and then... he drank from his glass, finishing it and standing. His fear at the thought of Malcolm finding out where he had been, or worse, hearing a false accusation, seemed all the answer that he needed.

"It has just been a difficult year, with the adoption falling through..." he murmured to himself shoving his hands in his pockets. He couldn't imagine life without Malcolm at his side, he couldn't even stand a night away. As though a dimmer switch had been turned as soon as he came to the realization, Adare found the noise less pressing and the voices bearable again. From his pocket, he retrieved a few notes and laid them down on the table as payment before leaving.​

 

[Zora18]

(I just had an idea. Maybe my post could be how Adare and Malcolm met, and then your's is them a year or two later. Now this is giving me the idea for a roleplay of LGBT couples/parents, trying to adopt or trying to raise a child, in a homophobic city.)

 

[Lurcolm]

I woke up, of course, with the sensation of someone trying to turn my brain to mush.

Surprisingly, it was in fact what was happening.

I fazed out of existence, making the man stomp the bed instead and crushing the thing under his boot. Good thing I put those protective wards over my bed before I went out for festivities. I had expected some frivolous bounty hunter would try to kill me, sure, but already? Seriously cut a guy some fucking slack! I was rather pleased I remembered to place it, though. You're only paranoid if your suspicions are unfounded: Words to live by. For me, it's rather easy to say any sort of precaution in place to avoid death was based on undeniable fact. Simply put, I killed someone very important to someone very powerful. Let's leave it at that, ya? I don't want to bore you with the why's and the who's.

Hmm? Oh yes, the story!

I had been partying rather heavily the previous night and for the split second it took for the three fine gentlemen who attempted to kill me to notice I had blinked towards the door to notice me, I entertained a rather amusing idea. I was a legend back home, you see. If you believed the pubs who spread the rumours, and subsequently the thousands upon thousands of rumourmongers that simply live off people like me stirring up the fear in people's hearts, I'd either be a dragon king with enough power to change my shape to that of a simple Pale Elf, even though it would've been so much fucking smarter to just turn human. I'd also be a bloodthirsty monster who claims virgins as his brides and feeds my own children to demons. That one made me laugh, believe me. The most recent story was that I was simply a force of nature, the will of our world, if you would. I met some of those things, they're considerably less chatty.

Yes yes just give me a bloody moment!

So they all wheeled around, eyes like coins with shock. From the looks of things they didn't pack any antimagic artifacts. Now that was essential for combating even novice mages. That's when I realised they just tried to kill me as a matter of coincidence. They happened to be at the same tavern as I was. They happened to realise I was sleeping in the room above. They happened to make a terrible mistake too. Can't blame them though, I don't think they had a lot going on in there to begin with. Half Orcs, you see.

Ow! Well what was that for? What do you mean they're not stupid! It's not racist if it's true you damn hag! An example? How about that Ruk boy? He hit his head in the glass door, thrice! All in the same attempt! Don't have much to say now, now do you? Now shut up and listen to my story!

So there they stood, eyes wide like coins, and one of them charges at me with a broken mug! Yes I know! Imbecile! So I did what any other prestigious Archmage does. I simply made him vanish. The others ran away, but realised I was at the doorway. So they did the smart thing. They jumped out the fuck window. Again, incredi-

OH WOULD YOU SHUT UP YOU DAMN BRATS! I'M ALMOST DONE!

So.... When I went down to look if they were dead, and kill them if they weren't, one hiding behind the wall to the stairway attacked me with a halberd. He attacked me. In a cramped hallway. With a halberd. Let that sink in for a second there. I concluded that he was, in fact, obsessed with the stuff. I turned him into one and gave him to the blacksmith as a showpiece. Then, and only then, did I remember the date. First of April. April Fools. The shoes of the man that had tried to stomp me was enchanted to be as soft as a bed of feathers. The mug? Filled with honey and feathers, they simply didn't want to waste a mug they could be using for the patrons down under

It's not that fucking funny! I thought you were against the bloody story! Here... Just give me that fucking dragon scale and I'll be off. Well what do you mean it doesn't count if they're crying! I told them the story!

Wait, you serious?...... Oh dear....... Ruk, my boy. I was simply joking. I know you were just trying to see if the glass was real. It's a perfectly intelligent thing to do, I assure you.

Well, I tried.

Not good enough? I tried my best, thank you fucking much! Look, if he won't accep-

WELL KINDLY GO FUCK YOURSELF! I GET A HEARTBURN FOR A WEEK DOING THAT!

Fine, nobody wants that. You're giving me four when I get back

Really? I should've asked for more.

Ruk, my boy, let me show you how I can turn into a dragon! Wouldn't that make you smile again?

Fucking Bitch

No Nothing! Nothing at all!

 

[noodle]

Sam's eyes fluttered open, green orbs blearily examing the ceiling of her room. It was white- but then again, so was everything else in this place. White walls, white clothes, white floors. They said it was because they were closer to perfection compared to the ordinary humans living in squalor down below...but Sam just saw it as an opportunity to hurt people's eyes. That, or just a facade of power.

Grumbling in weak protest at the insistent shrieking of her alarm waking her from her slumber, Sam forced herself into a sitting position and slammed her hand down on the top of the object. It shut off with one last pleading shrill.

She tossed away her covers with one hand, the other running fingers through sun-kissed red hair. Why did they have to get up so early? It wasn't as if the trash collectors needed supervision.

The twenty-three-year-old huffed and focused her eyes on the apple that lay across the room on the counter. Slowly, slowly, it lifted off, hovering in place for a moment before flying toward her.

She caught it in one hand and took a bite before dragging her boots toward where she sat.

Being a telekinetic had its uses.

 

[PoetLore]

Little Emma sat on her favorite uncle's knee and smiled an adorable dimpled grin up at him. "Unka Johnny...hows come ev'body says you is scary?" she asked innocently, "I doesn't not think yous scary. I loves you."

John smiled down at her, "Well...people are afraid of things that are different, I guess." His wrinkled smile shone back to her, "I love you too Emmabear. Bunches and bunches." The last was accompanied by a gentle hug to the child. His only visitor in some time. She lived with her parents two doors down and came over about every day at this time.

She laid against his chest in the rocker and was soon drifting off into slumber, that peaceful blessed sleep that only children experience. He looked down at the riot of golden curls and wondered if she would still come visit him when she was older, and her eyes were no longer so childishly innocent. He hoped so, but he knew that time would change her as it did all people.

He found it oddly coincidental that people feared him because of how he looked, which he had nothing to with but did not fear the cruel and malicious all around them pretending to be something they were not. Maybe Emma would always see her kind uncle, and not the disease that was changing him and making his face grotesque and misshapen. He rocked her gently, and hoped he would not lose his last friend.