#mastoprompt — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #mastoprompt, aggregated by home.social.
-
The barbarian hurried after his companion. "That didn't go too well."
"It's fine." The rogue grimaced. "Her words have a #hidden meaning."
"As in, she *won't* toss you in the river? That's why're we leaving in such a rush?"
"... just being discreet. In case anyone else catches on."
-
The barbarian hurried after his companion. "That didn't go too well."
"It's fine." The rogue grimaced. "Her words have a #hidden meaning."
"As in, she *won't* toss you in the river? That's why're we leaving in such a rush?"
"... just being discreet. In case anyone else catches on."
-
The barbarian hurried after his companion. "That didn't go too well."
"It's fine." The rogue grimaced. "Her words have a #hidden meaning."
"As in, she *won't* toss you in the river? That's why're we leaving in such a rush?"
"... just being discreet. In case anyone else catches on."
-
The barbarian hurried after his companion. "That didn't go too well."
"It's fine." The rogue grimaced. "Her words have a #hidden meaning."
"As in, she *won't* toss you in the river? That's why're we leaving in such a rush?"
"... just being discreet. In case anyone else catches on."
-
The barbarian hurried after his companion. "That didn't go too well."
"It's fine." The rogue grimaced. "Her words have a #hidden meaning."
"As in, she *won't* toss you in the river? That's why're we leaving in such a rush?"
"... just being discreet. In case anyone else catches on."
-
Some harms survive by staying #hidden behind ordinary faces. We know the people. We trust the version of them that is easy to trust. That is one reason abuse can remain in plain sight for so long. A person can be socially visible while their deeds remain concealed, because reputation works like a cover.
Then the same concealment falls over the victim. Once a harmful person is treated as trustworthy, the injured person is left carrying not only the wound but the burden of being unbelievable. Pain goes underground in that kind of setting. I keep coming back to how often communities protect what feels familiar before they face what is true.
That is why things need to be brought into the light. Hidden abuse does not sit quietly. It keeps shaping lives, distorting memory, and teaching the injured person to doubt their own reading of events. Speaking does not repair everything, yet it does interrupt the lie. It gives reality somewhere to stand.
I do not think hiddenness will vanish while this world remains as it is. Greed will keep finding disguises, and harm will keep borrowing the language of goodness. So the work stays with us. We have to look harder, listen better, and refuse to confuse a polished surface with a safe soul. That, to me, is part of what hidden means. Not only can evil conceal itself, but truth often has to fight to be seen.
-
Some harms survive by staying #hidden behind ordinary faces. We know the people. We trust the version of them that is easy to trust. That is one reason abuse can remain in plain sight for so long. A person can be socially visible while their deeds remain concealed, because reputation works like a cover.
Then the same concealment falls over the victim. Once a harmful person is treated as trustworthy, the injured person is left carrying not only the wound but the burden of being unbelievable. Pain goes underground in that kind of setting. I keep coming back to how often communities protect what feels familiar before they face what is true.
That is why things need to be brought into the light. Hidden abuse does not sit quietly. It keeps shaping lives, distorting memory, and teaching the injured person to doubt their own reading of events. Speaking does not repair everything, yet it does interrupt the lie. It gives reality somewhere to stand.
I do not think hiddenness will vanish while this world remains as it is. Greed will keep finding disguises, and harm will keep borrowing the language of goodness. So the work stays with us. We have to look harder, listen better, and refuse to confuse a polished surface with a safe soul. That, to me, is part of what hidden means. Not only can evil conceal itself, but truth often has to fight to be seen.
-
Some harms survive by staying #hidden behind ordinary faces. We know the people. We trust the version of them that is easy to trust. That is one reason abuse can remain in plain sight for so long. A person can be socially visible while their deeds remain concealed, because reputation works like a cover.
Then the same concealment falls over the victim. Once a harmful person is treated as trustworthy, the injured person is left carrying not only the wound but the burden of being unbelievable. Pain goes underground in that kind of setting. I keep coming back to how often communities protect what feels familiar before they face what is true.
That is why things need to be brought into the light. Hidden abuse does not sit quietly. It keeps shaping lives, distorting memory, and teaching the injured person to doubt their own reading of events. Speaking does not repair everything, yet it does interrupt the lie. It gives reality somewhere to stand.
I do not think hiddenness will vanish while this world remains as it is. Greed will keep finding disguises, and harm will keep borrowing the language of goodness. So the work stays with us. We have to look harder, listen better, and refuse to confuse a polished surface with a safe soul. That, to me, is part of what hidden means. Not only can evil conceal itself, but truth often has to fight to be seen.
-
There is a myth that you don't feel pain in dreams.
Serpent fangs
And sneaker foot
Sudden sting -
The goblin skipped out of the way. "I can't believe they say you're the weaker #sex."
"It's true." The ogress rolled the tree trunk off the path. "Me brother lifts 'em."
"Bah, he's just showing off."
"Mebbe?" She smirked. "And his back hurts after."
-
#MastoPrompt
#sex
#writing
#creativewriting
#smallpoems
@stevencudahyShe arrived hungry
and reached
for the two old languages:
Fire and flesh.
Set her hands where mine had lived.
As if hunger
could make a home. -
#MastoPrompt
#sex
#writing
#creativewriting
#smallpoems
@stevencudahyShe arrived hungry
and reached
for the two old languages:
Fire and flesh.
Set her hands where mine had lived.
As if hunger
could make a home. -
#MastoPrompt
#sex
#writing
#creativewriting
#smallpoems
@stevencudahyShe arrived hungry
and reached
for the two old languages:
Fire and flesh.
Set her hands where mine had lived.
As if hunger
could make a home. -
#MastoPrompt
#sex
#writing
#creativewriting
#smallpoems
@stevencudahyShe arrived hungry
and reached
for the two old languages:
Fire and flesh.
Set her hands where mine had lived.
As if hunger
could make a home. -
-
-
-
How had a #blemish followed her into the next life, she now a ghost, with a spot upon her face, the same one she had the day she died. And what of heaven her father's church had promised. Maybe her mustard seed faith had been no guarantee after all for she had no perfected body. But she did enjoy a special relationship with creatures who did not run or fly away but instead spoke to her and even allowed her to touch them. It wasn't all bad she thought. It was a kind of peace. #mastoprompt
-
Nightly, she enjoyed a brief reign over her little #kingdom behind the counter, the cigarettes and snuff displayed behind her like sentries. It wasn't much but it gave her a sense of peace to order her surroundings, to make change and keep the register balanced. The disordered rising sea several miles away lapped at the shores and people on the brink of losing the little funds they possessed came to her, she who had little also, and she liked to think she gave them a kind of home. #mastoprompt
-
The contender stared in horror. "Half the #kingdom?"
"If you succeed, it's no more than you #deserve." The regent's expansive gesture took in slag heaps, rivers of sludge and gaunt figures scurrying across the landscape.
"Ah. I... I've changed my mind."
"As you wish."
After seeing the visitor safely off, the regent dispelled the illusion. They were safe again, for a while.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
By year's end, she wanted a handsome man to take her to a restaurant and feed her #braised meat along with a good red wine. Was that so wrong. She chose to think not although Janna said she flirted too hard, seemed too thirsty. Her father had texted her a photo of a rectangular wooden box made of Bolivian Coffeewood with a gold cross on top. It was to be his urn when he died. She thought about that box when she considered her time-sensitive goals. It served as a memento mori. #mastoprompt
-
The first time she took a zoom call was during the pandemic--she, a single, divorced middle aged woman with no idea of where the camera was, what buttons if any to push for the sound. In fact, she missed the meeting as she sweated and blundered because somehow, no one could hear her. The next day, she took her laptop to get it repaired. The young man who heard her woes flipped a switch on the side of the computer. That was all she had needed to do. #zoom #mastoprompt
-
The people were wearing plastic shoes, more and more of them, some of them formless and white like huge, puffy marshmallows. Was this the fashion now? She stood behind the counter, waiting to serve them, having already observed their cracked heels and bulging calves. God help her, she felt her mother's voice rise up in her: "Heavens to Betsy." #plastic #mastoprompt
-
Braised brains
The gourmet's a ghast
Zombie delight#PoetryOnTheFly #MastoPrompt #zombies #undead #wordplay #nmpoetry
-
Braised brains
The gourmet's a ghast
Zombie delight#PoetryOnTheFly #MastoPrompt #zombies #undead #wordplay #nmpoetry
