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The Ugly Duckling Never Sat Right With Me

( link to original post , posted on 11/15/2024) I was going through my folders looking for something and I ended up finding this poem? It’s from 2021 and I labeled it ‘this is a very stupid poem’ for some reason but when I read I was like… hold on… I don’t write a huge amount of poetry, and I’m thinking maybe I should do it more often. Anyway, this is about fatphobia, bad self image, and mentions some bloody/gory imagery, as well as inferences towards self harm (past tense), so mind your step (also if you enjoy this and wanna help me out, throw me a tip , if you’ve got something to spare) The Ugly Duckling Never Sat Right With Me when I was 12 I wanted to pop a pimple that ran so deep and large that all the fat in my body erupted out of it like a disgusting volcano I wanted to unzip my skin and step out of it bloody naked as a newborn and finally beautiful I was always told that if I would just lose weight I would be healthier I would be happier I would be real I could be oh so
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Royal Beaftly Caretaker

Originally posted here on April 16, 2024:  writing-prompt-s : You were the caretaker for the mythical beasts of the royal family. Yesterday they decided to replace you with some incompetent noble, before kicking you out of the castle. You then spent the night in a nearby forest. However today you were awakened by the beasts who chose to follow you. I’m not good with people. I never have been. I’ve tried, but I’ve never been good with people. I’m always saying the wrong thing, and usually I don’t know what the wrong thing was until a lot later, until I’m thinking about what I said. In the town I grew up in, I was known for being simple. I don’t think I am, but I understand why they think that- I’m not good at making the words in my head match the words I say. But I am good with animals. Always have been. Lots of people are, I’m not special, or anything. Mam taught me. Animals speak their own language, and it’s a lot simpler to figure out. They’re not people, they don’t under
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Getting Silly With It

Originally posted here July 27, 2023: writing-prompt-s : After watching the world end thousands of times across multiple timelines, you realise the only way to prevent Armageddon is to stop yourself being born. You vow to let world end in the most ridiculous way possible, because screw that. Listen. I know how it sounds. I’m not a bad person. Okay. Let me put this another way. You go and stop yourself from being born. Go and prevent me from being born. I’ll wait. Are you getting the picture here? The only way to prevent nearly everybody from dying is to do the impossible. And even if I theoretically could, there’s no guarantee that wouldn’t be the thing that triggered the fucking end. If I somehow go back and prevent myself from being born, then I’ll have never existed to prevent myself from being born. I don’t know how I can see these other realities. I know they exist, I know they’re real. I’ve been keeping journals since I was 15, when I started this plan, there’s so
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She's Good

Originally posted here February 13 2023: writing-prompt-s : You’ve just joined an adventuring party. The rogue wordlessly gives you a handkerchief and slinks away. “Ah, it’s his way of handling his kleptomania. Instead of stealing things at random, he’ll be going specifically for that.” You were confused about it, at first, because you’re particularly sharp-eyed. You’re the party ranger, you’re often the lookout, you have to be. You watch her in towns, eyeing the fancy lordlings that pass you on the street. The hunger in her eyes. (Is it anger?) But she was really cool about that one fuckup with the bear that first time out, even though she got a bit… mauled. (You still feel bad about that.) And she does stay out of trouble when you’re in town, even when someone is practically dangling their coinpurse in front of you, even when you’re tempted. And she’s, like, really pretty. So you try to help. At first, you leave it in a pocket, but just a little bit out. Like you stuffed
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Time Travel and You

Originally posted here on July 12 2022:  Congratulations! You have decided to work with Tempus, INC, and you have passed your background checks and intelligent tests! In a few days, you will be contacted by support staff to begin training you on specific aspects of your missions.  In the meanwhile, this material will get you a little more familiar with the subject matter. Now that we have your NDA on file, we can tell you a little more about this whole process!  Likely you saw something about us in the news. We have produced photographs as well as accurate 3d models from such sites as Pompeii before the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, Paris during the erection of the Eiffel Tower, the Battle of the Bulge, as well as the Great Cleansing, and have settled at least 40 serious academic debates about mysteries of history (thus far).  So, here’s some things to know. You will be sent to some period of time in our past, a particular millisecond. The device you will receive will slow
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I Seize Hope With Both Hands

Originally posted here June 30, 2022: writing-prompt-s : After a bad crash you’ve found yourself drifting through space, but your suit says you ran out of oxygen an hour ago. The first thing is this: do not panic. Do not panic. Panic won’t help. There’s two options here. There’s only two. Either the suit readout is incorrect, or I’m dead. Those are the only options, there’s no other possibility. It would be foolish to assume I am dead. If I am, there’s not much I can do to change it, but if I’m not , I still have a chance. So, until proven otherwise, I am not dead. I am not panicking. (I am panicking very slightly, but functioning.) I am having the suit run a diagnostic. I am trying to get my bearings and trying to remember what happened. I can do neither of these- I believe I may have taken a head injury in the process of whatever has occurred. Which is a significant medical emergency in it’s own right, really, but I don’t have time to deal with that right now, because I hav
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Bob's Friend

Originally posted here October 20 2021: writing-prompt-s : You’re a mimic. You were disguised as a chair in a dungeon when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You’ve actually enjoyed your life ever since as furniture in a jolly tavern. So when some ruffians try to rob the now-elderly adventurer’s business, you finally reveal yourself. Okay, so- hey, hey! Stop with the screaming, you’re gonna wake people up! Shut up! If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Listen for a minute, already. I was just minding my own- I am so serious right now. If you wake Bob up, you won’t like what I do. He’s not young, these days, he needs his rest. Okay? Okay. Anyway. I was minding my own business. I was a fairly young mimic, I’d just really sort of settled into my first good morph. When you’re really young, freshly spawned, you sort of rotate through things, and you don’t quite get it right, most of the time. It’s like learning how to walk for people, I think. You’re small, you don’t quite
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