#The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe

[charlie-ver]

My notes are the most basic shit which will 100% not be enough in uni but at least I'm starting somewhere... right?

This book was a little under $5 (pretty cheap for poem collections in my country actually) , and as someone who does not re-sell or trade books, I decided to try to do some annotating/notes.

I'll keep it to a mechanical pencil so I can erase stuff if I decide to not do this, but... honestly? It's pretty fun.

This is probably way less annotating I am expected to be able to do - as a starting English and American Studies student... So i have a long way to go for sure, but a start is good. I mean, you do need a start to get to where you should be. If I'm discouraged by my inability to grasp at the very deep and hidden thoughts, I can't ever get there.

[derangedrhythms]

Was it not Fate (whose name is also Sorrow),

Edgar Allan Poe, The Penguin Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe; from 'To Helen'

[avis-writeshq]

platform ten – spencer reid

summary: two months after he embarrassingly got caught ogling at the pretty girl on the train, Spencer’s team begins to suspect something.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: friends to lovers, rated G for mutual pining and second hand embarrassment. no use of (Y/N).

warnings: fluff, boy band spencer reid (caution, hot!), reader wears lipgloss, excessive mentions of Edgar Allen Poe (one of my favourite Gothic authors), not proof read

wc: 3.4k

part one: carriage six

“So, I’ve been reading Poe’s works,” you begin, your headphones around your neck and you pull out ‘The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe’, flipping to ‘Annabel Lee’. 

Spencer watches as you flick to the page, his heart soaring at the sight of the annotations that litter the page. There are different colours and highlighters across the words and from what he could tell pink talked about language and that was the colour that stood out to him most. You bring the book closer so that he can read your annotations too and his heart stutters in his chest at the close proximity. He can smell the strawberry and honey shampoo in your hair and the heat rises up to his cheeks. It’s intoxicating. 

“I really don’t think the narrator is a crazy psychopath,” you say, glancing at him. “It just sounds like he’s really, seriously in love with her which just makes a bunch of people jealous.”

He watches the way you point to a certain line, ‘But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee.’ 

“Does that not sound like something you would say when you’re in love?” You ask, swooning a little. “It’s romantic, don’t you think? And their love is so brilliant and pure that the angels stole her away from him. I mean, it’s sad, but it’s kind of a picture of how amazing their love is.”

He nods along, his cheeks flushed because that’s what he thinks when he thinks of you. But he’ll never tell you that. How could he even dream of you feeling the same? The idea in itself is just so bizarre that he doesn’t even dare to entertain the thought. Not even when it’s late at night and he’s by himself, thinking through every single interaction you’ve had with him since he finally talked to you two months ago. 

“And I mean, think about it,” you continue, gesticulating with every word, eyes wide with excitement. “The last stanza. He’s still in love with her even after she’s passed away. How romantic is that?”

“Very romantic,” Spencer agrees, and he wonders if that’s how he looks when he rambles. “Alright, it’s definitely a love poem.”

He relishes in the way your eyes light up at his acceptance, the way you grin up at him and he wants to make you smile this way every day. His eyes wander to your lips and he swallows thickly. You’re wearing that lipgloss again, a cool berry tone that makes your lips shine and–

“Spencer? Are you okay?” 

He all but jolts out of his trance and he coughs awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. “Yes!” He squeaks, before clearing his throat and repeating the word. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”

He watches as an amused smile quirks at your lips as you ask, “are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he manages to croak, his ears red. 

He can’t even look at you. His eyes turn back to the book you’re holding, reading through the annotations you’ve made on the page for the nth time over. This is an example of one of the instances he doesn’t want to remember and prays that his stop would miraculously be next. 

“I’ve been reading The Tell-Tale Heart,” you say, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Spencer forces himself to maintain eye contact with you and he manages a small, “really?”

You laugh and nod. “Yep! It’s really good. Kinda creepy.”

“It is a little creepy,” he admits, his gaze flicking to your lips again. He’s kicking himself internally, asking, ‘who’s the creepy one now, weirdo?!’

He figures that you’re either incredibly gracious or incredibly used to it because you don’t mention the way his attention wavers. 

“You don’t seem okay.”

Or so he thought.

“What— um— what makes you say that?” He asks, clearing his throat.

You shoot him a smile. “You’re not going on about the text like you usually do.”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it again, his brain short circuiting. He can imagine Derek snickering and Emily commenting her usual, ‘IQ of 187, slashed to 60’. 

“Spencer?” You look amused, a smile on his face and a mischievous glimmer in your eye. “Are you—“

“I’m fine!” Spencer says quickly, ears burning. “I’m just— thinking? Yes, thinking.”

You laugh. “Dangerous pastime.”

“What?”

“I— never mind,” you shake your head, continuing to laugh. “But I do want to hear your thoughts on ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ at some point.”

“Totally!” He jolts, and he’s kicking himself internally for being so eager. “Yes. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

The train lurches to a stop and Spencer gets up from his seat. 

“Bye, Spencer,” you say, smiling brilliantly at him, and it takes every ounce of self control in him to not just grab your face and kiss you.

“Bye,” he says, saying your name, before getting off the train.

*** 

Spencer has been acting weird. That is the conclusion Derek has come to as he watches the youngest member of their team enter the bullpen with the widest grin on the planet for the fourth time that week. He watches as Spencer sits down at his desk, looking like a literal teenager, and gets down to work. He has his earphones plugged in, the kind you would get at a dollar store, or the complementary ones you get from airports that never fit your ears right and leave you with headaches because of the horrible audio quality. Derek supposes he’s just listening to Beethoven or Bach or another dead classical musician. But as he passes Spencer’s desk, he hears something that makes him stop in his tracks. Spencer is humming. No, not just humming. He’s muttering lyrics under his breath. Since when did classical music have lyrics?

“What the hell…?” Derek asks under his breath to no one in particular. 

“You talking about Reid?” Emily asks, an amused grin on her face. “He’s acting weird.”

“Thank God, I thought I was the only one.” JJ seemingly appears out of nowhere, standing beside them with her arms crossed and a sly smile tugging at her lips. 

Rossi enters the bullpen, nodding towards Spencer who was sitting at his desk, blissfully unaware. “We talking about the kid?”

“He’s been acting weird all week,” Derek insists, his brows furrowing. “What do you think it is?”

“Maybe he won a chess tournament,” JJ says with a soft laugh. 

Emily rolls her eyes at the idea. “Please, Reid’s probably the winner of every single chess tournament in the state.”

“Maybe his mother is doing better?” Rossi suggests.

“Doesn’t explain why he’s listening to, I don’t know, not Mozart,” Derek points out.

There’s a silence that pulls over the group as they stare at the back of Reid’s head. It isn’t long before he turns around to face his coworkers, raising an eyebrow.

“… Why are you staring at me?” Spencer asks, giving them all pointed looks. 

“You’re acting weird,” Morgan says, cutting straight to the chase. “Care to share with the class?”

Spencer offers them all confused looks. “I’m… not acting weird? If anything, you guys are the ones acting weird.”

“Ohh, no, don’t turn this around on us.” Emily grins, walking over to him. “What’s going on?”

“What— guys, what happened to ‘no profiling each other’?” Spencer spluttered, shooting accusatory looks towards his coworkers.

“We’re just worried, that’s all,” JJ says with maternal sympathy, but Spencer can tell that she’s hiding a smile. 

He groans, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I’m fine guys. I’m not acting ‘weird’ or anything.”

“Who are you listening to, Reid?” Rossi asks quickly, nodding towards the ear phones. 

“What?” Spencer’s head snaps up, redness crawling up to his ears. 

Emily smirks. “Yeah Reid. Who are you listening to?”

“No one,” he answers, avoiding their gaze. “I’m uh— I’m going back to work.”

He quickly turns his chair around, busting himself with his files. His co-workers all exchange glances, mischievous grins on their faces. 

“You know, I could just ask Garcia to dig into your phone,” Derek says with a shrug. “Or you could tell us yourself.”

Spencer shoots him a light hearted glare. “You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You wouldn’t.”

***

Spencer thinks he’s going to die of mortification. He spent that entire week downloading all of the released songs by Taylor Swift, dutifully listening to each song and reporting back to you on his opinions. He has since come to a conclusion: Taylor Swift is a lyrical genius. Granted, he doesn’t have much experience with other branches of music that involves lyrics, but he figures it’s pretty similar to poetry. Regardless, he’s one hundred percent sure that he’s in for a world of teasing and tasteful jabs towards his sudden shift in music taste.

He’s also been doing this thing called texting, and he even went as far as getting a new phone and email address just so that he could properly contact you. He’s been in contact with you for the past eight weeks, going as far as messaging and calling you during break times and hiding in the bathroom to have an ounce of privacy. He feels like a changed person, all because of a tiny handheld device that fits in his back pocket. And you. Mostly you. The worst thing about this entire situation is the fact that Morgan did in fact manage to convince Garcia to snoop into his phone. 

“Alright, Reid, quit hiding. Who’s the girl?” Derek demands, slapping a piece of paper onto Spencer’s desk. It’s a log of calls and downloads. In other words, it’s a log of all the times he’s called the same number and all the Taylor Swift songs he’s downloaded. 

“Girl? What— what girl?” Spencer asks, playing dumb and willing himself to look Derek in the eye. His mind is spinning. ‘Blink evenly. Maintain eye contact. Don’t stutter. Answer his questions evenly. Play dumb. There is no girl, there is no girl there is no—‘

“Reid? Reid? Spencer!” Derek snaps his fingers in front of his face, jolting him out of his trance.

“Huh?” Spencer jolts, snapping out of his trance. “What?”

Derek snorts at his reaction. “Look, kid. This person calls your cell every day at 12:30, which just so happens to be in two minutes. So, either you tell me and I let you have your fun, or she calls you and she’ll be hearing my voice instead of yours.”

Spencer scoffs, holding his phone firmly in the palm of his hand. “There is no girl, Morgan.”

“Right.” 

“I’m serious!” Spencer says, his voice going up and octave and he cringes internally. Smooth. “There is no girl.”

“Totally believe you.”

He groans, wiping a hand over his face to calm himself down. Before he could respond, the phone in his hand begins to ring. A smirk tugs at Derek’s lips and he immediately lunges for the phone, eliciting a yelp from Spencer who leaps from his seat. 

“Morgan— Morgan no—“

“C’mon kid, it’ll be a lot easier if you just give in!”

“No! Nope, nope, Morgan I swear to-“

In seconds, Derek snatches Spencer’s phone out of his hand, a triumphant look on his face. He keeps Spencer at arm’s length as he picks up the phone.

“Hey Spence!” A voice rings through the phone.

“Sorry, sweetheart, not Spencer,” Derek responds, his voice smug.

“… that’s concerning,” The voice responds slowly, cautiously. “Who is this?”

Spencer grabs the phone out of Derek’s hand, running out of the bullpen as quickly as his long legs could carry him, flipping his coworker the finger before he leaves. 

“Hello?” He asks into the phone. “I’m so sorry, that was Derek, my co-worker.”

“Oh, the bald one!” You say quickly, recalling his name from the photos Spencer had shown you beforehand. “I thought it was like… a bad guy or something.”

He laughs softly into the phone, his cheeks warm and wearing a smile that could split his face in two. “Don’t worry, he’s not a bad guy. A pain in the ass, maybe, but not a bad guy.”

He hears you chuckle from the other side of the line. “Yeah, he seems like a nice person. Your entire team sounds really cool.”

“Maybe you could meet them at some point,” Spencer says quietly, his heart thundering in his chest. “I mean, they kind of already know you exist.”

“That would be fun,” You muse, and he hears the soft ruffling of cling wrap in the background.

“Lunch?” 

He hears you hum in response, and he can’t help but chuckle. There’s a silence for a few seconds, and he assumes you were eating, before your voice picks up again.

“I’d love to meet your team at some point, Spence. They seem like really amazing people.” 

He can’t help but smile, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. They are. You’d love them, and I’m sure they’d love you just as much.”

Before long, lunch break is over and Spencer begrudgingly hangs up and returns to the bullpen, his team all wearing frustratingly smug faces. He rolls his eyes, not paying them any kind as he returns to his desk. He ignores the very blatant whistle Derek does in his direction and the snort Emily fails to hide.

“So…” JJ begins, dragging her words out. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”

Spencer chokes on air and bites his tongue, grimacing at the taste of blood. “I do not have a girlfriend.” It’s not a lie.

“But you want her to be,” Emily says, smirking. 

“No! Yes. I don’t know, maybe?” Spencer feels like a teenage boy being lectured by his parents. Not that he knows what that feels like.

“Alright, well, have you asked her on a date?” Derek asks as he raises an eyebrow.

Spencer coughs, reaching for his mug of stale coffee. That’s all he needs to do to answer Derek’s question, because in moments Derek is screaming in his ear. 

“Why haven’t you asked her out yet?!”

“We talk loads of times,” Spencer insists, hiding behind his disgustingly old coffee. “We just never… we’re just friends.”

Rossi bites back a chuckle. “Yes, because friends call each other every day during their lunch breaks.”

Spencer feels his face grow impossibly hotter and he chugs the last of his coffee. He cringes before turning his attention back to his files in an attempt to calm himself down. It doesn’t work.

“How did you meet her?” JJ asks, gentler this time. 

Spencer flushes and plays with his watch. “On the train.”

“That’s very you,” she laughs, ruffling his hair. “She seems really nice, Spencer.”

He preens at the compliment, his mind drifting to your pretty hair and glossy lips. He sports a grin and he nods. “She’s really, really nice.”

*** 

Spencer sits next to you on the train as usual. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is combed to be a little neater, only for his efforts to be destroyed when a strong gust of wind hits his face the moment he left his apartment. He reminds himself to put a comb into his bag after work. You’re talking about another one of Poe’s works, this time ‘The Raven’, another love poem. Your eyes are bright with excitement as you go on and on about the writing style and whatever else. 

Spencer is far from religious but your existence alone is enough to have him thanking the heaven’s that he is alive. He can’t help but smile every time you do, his gaze perpetually on your lips. He feels a little guilty about it, about how he can’t even control himself when he’s around you but you’re just so beautiful that he can’t help himself. He feels even guiltier when he realises he hasn’t processed a word you’ve said. 

“... and that’s why I think Edgar Allen Poe is really just a huge softie who wants to be loved,” you finish, snapping the book closed. “What do you think, Doctor Genius?”

“Totally,” Spencer agrees quickly, almost biting his tongue. “Absolutely.”

You laugh and Spencer thinks he’s going to faint. 

“Where are you up to in your Taylor Swift project?” You ask teasingly, nudging his arm. If it were anyone else, Spencer would have grimaced and shrugged them off but you aren’t just ‘anyone’. You’re the most amazing person in the world. 

“I’m up to 1989 track 9, Wildest Dreams,” Spencer recites, pulling out his notebook from his inner jacket pocket. It’s a small leatherbound notebook that he’s been writing all his thoughts in regards to the Taylor Swift songs, all in chronological order. He’s actually quite proud of it as he flicks to the latest page. “I really like this one. I did some research and I found out that the bass sound in the background is actually her heartbeat. That’s pretty interesting.”

You almost scream in excitement, leaning closer to him to read his notes. “I love this song! It’s my favourite Taylor Swift song ever and it’s just so pretty, you know?”

He nods in agreement, his cheeks flushed at the close proximity and he finds that he can no longer feel his tongue. He should get that checked out. 

“It reminds me of you sometimes,” you say, completely unabashed. Spencer thinks you’re trying to kill him. 

“What?” He asks meekly, recalling every lyric from the song. 

You freeze, flustered and you pull away from him. Spencer frowns at the sudden space but he watches as you stammer and stumble over your words.

“I just meant– you know, it’s a good song! That’s all.” You laugh anxiously, fiddling with the book in your hand. “Never mind, just ignore me. Tell me more about what you like about the song.”

In an almost uncharacteristic bout of confidence, Spencer reaches out to take your hand in his. At first, he thought his head was going to explode. It felt heavy and light all at the same time and he was almost about to pull his hand away when you squeezed his fingers. Just like that, all doubts are gone. You’re smiling at him and Spencer knows that he would do absolutely anything to make sure to keep it there. 

When the train lurches to a stop at Quantico, Spencer doesn’t make any effort to move. He’s grinning ear-to-ear, intertwining your fingers with his. 

“Isn’t this your stop?” You ask gently, loosening your hold on his hand. 

He shrugs, holding onto your hand tighter. “I’m always early. I can be late for once.”

Besides, he thinks to himself, inching closer to you, this is so worth it.

Pride bubbles in his heart when he hears you laugh again and his smile grows impossibly wider. 

“We’re almost at my stop,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand. “We should go out. You know, instead of just meeting on the train.”

Spencer nods immediately at the suggestion. “I’d like that. Are you free on Saturday?”

“I’m definitely free on Saturday,” you respond, squeezing his hand again. 

Spencer sits there with you until you make it to your stop. The corners of his eyes are crinkled and he feels happy, so goddamn happy, and he wonders how he’s lived without you. Before you get off the train, he calls your name. He relishes in the way you turn around, the confusion palpable in your eyes. 

“Yeah?”

He takes a step closer to you, his face in front of yours. His heartbeat is in his ears but at the same time he feels an incredibly ironic sense of calm. In seconds, he presses his lips to yours in a short kiss. He grins at you as you stumble out of the train dazed, waving goodbye. From the window he could see you press your cold hands to your cheeks before reaching for your phone. 

The smile that grows on his face when he sees your face light up his phone is embarrassing. It’s goofy and silly and he is so grateful that the carriage is empty. 

“Hello?” 

“You cannot–” your voice comes through the speaker and he grins again– “you cannot just kiss me randomly and then leave.”

“Technically the train left, not me,” Spencer says with a small laugh.

You’re quiet on the other end before replying, “We need a re-do on Saturday.”

Spencer has no complaints. 

reblogs are always appreciated!

taglist: @sunshineyottie @cerulean-turtle @tortelliniturtle7 @bucxkysdoll @awitadecoca

strikethrough means couldn't be tagged

[xoluvx]

swirled you into poems; b.eilish ❥₊ ⊹

🎧ྀི while writing : fresh out the slammer; taylor swift tulsa jesus freak; lana del rey cinnamon girl; lana del rey

⋆˙⟡

"the secret of a poem, no less than a jest's prosperity..."

"...lies in the ear of him that hears it," you finished her sentence with a smile forming on your lips as your hands wiped your face. the warm steam from your shower coated your skin, engulfing you in comfort and delight.

"edgar allan poe," she stated catching your gaze as your clumped lashes fluttered open. she clung to the curtain. her beautiful blue orbs shining as her smile grew forming the cute wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. the little wrinkles you'd grown accustomed to; memorizing every crevice even when they made your heart flutter.

"you know edgar allan poe?" you raised your brow tilting your head not bothered by the fact that she'd just intruded your shower or the fact that you were completely naked, yet she was somehow only looking into your eyes. unfazed. unbothered. totally and completely lost in your eyes.

"no. i read it in one of your books," she confessed nonchalantly; shrugging as if it were no big deal that she'd recited parts of poems you'd spent hours studying, highlighting, annotating, engraving in your memory and your bones. shrugging as if her tender smile wasn't making you completely melt; as if her adoring gaze wasn't forming tornados in your lungs making it hard to breathe in the increasingly hot shower.

she didn't protest when you reached your wet hand to her head. she simply leaned into the kiss accepting your sugar coated lips. your lips melting like ice cream on a hot summer day; electrifying like popping rock candy on your tongue. in a swift movement, she was undressed. an urgency coursed through her body as the kiss intensified. she stepped into the shower, hands on your waist. lips wet. water falling on your faces making it hard to breath, but you couldn't part. her taste was too intoxicating. her touch was too exhilarating. her breasts pressed against yours. her fingers traced the curves of your body, furling at the back of your neck pulling you deeper into the kiss as your arms hooked under her shoulders unwilling to let go.

"beauty of whatever kind..." she muttered against your lips "...in its supreme development..." she tilted your head back meeting your eyes. your parted swollen lips were tantalizing as you breathed heavily. water cascading down the side of your face imitating the warmth of tears spilling from your eyes.

"...invariable excites the sensitive soul to tears," she finished in a hushed voice as you felt your chest jolt. not in sadness or sorrow, but in overwhelming adoration and affection. how was it possible to feel this way about someone you'd only met a few weeks ago? someone you'd spent time with during fleeting nights and passing moments. how were you wrapped around her finger? how was she reciting poetry that brought tears to your eyes in the confinements of your too small shower?

"i saw no heaven, but in her eyes" you whispered feeling your throat wrench as your fingers dug into her back. as she pulled your head closer again; lips meeting in a fiery dance. noses clashing. hips bumping. water crashing down on your skin like a waterfall. when your tongues touched, you hummed into her mouth. the moment so intimate, it scared you. you were scared of what it meant to be this close to her. scared of allowing yourself to fall deeper into her spell. you saw no heaven, but in her eyes. her lovely, piercing, blue eyes that punctured your soul so deeply when you separated; twirling you in a rapid movement.

"that she loved me i should not have doubted..." your body molded so perfectly into the curves of her frame. her voice soft in your ear as she continued reciting, moving her hands up your torso "...and i might have been easily aware that..." her voice in your ear sent shivers down your spine. her hands moved up your body so slowly until she was cupping your breasts "...in a bosom such as hers, love would have regained no ordinary passion." her lips stuck to the shell of your ear as you gasped almost choking on the humid air. your eyelids fluttered, planting your hand on the cold shower wall searching for stability as your heart, body, and soul shook.

your fingernails dragged down the slick material as her lips wrapped around your neck. you leaned further into her touch. an arm wrapping around your her head pulling her closer. encouraging her lips to devour every inch of your skin. to mark you. sign you off like a poem scribbled on a napkin that she shoved in the pocket of her jacket so you'd be with her everywhere she went. you had determined you were hers now. when she spat out the words you'd spent hours memorizing, you decided you were completely and irrevocably hers. this was the product of her actions; of her words seeping through your steam coated skin.

"don't stop," you begged quietly shutting your eyes as her hands squeezed your supple breasts. water splashing off her fingers. you moaned quietly when she pinched your nipples; hard from the cool breeze that swept in through the curtain that was never properly closed. it sent shivers down your spine and coated your skin with goosebumps. her hands kneaded your breasts as your moans grew exponentially louder. more desperate. more alive. her lips suctioned around your skin making her mark. tiny little hearts throbbing on your skin.

"keep going," your voice was hoarse as you parted your legs encouraging her hand to travel down between your thighs. to touch you in the ways you liked. the ways she'd learned to do over the last few weeks. she kissed the side of your head as you shivered. quivering when her fingers brushed between your folds. middle finger spreading your wetness up to your clit. focusing on your sensitive bud. you were throbbing under her touch. arm linked with hers as it increasingly grew harder to breathe. the overwhelming feeling was rushing to your head. you wobbled in her arms as the pace of her fingers increased; two of them rubbing circles on your clit.

she wrote on your neck in cursive and permanent marker. tongue twisting and looping her words with heart dotted 'i's' and pink glittery ink. stars flashed behind your eyelids as she wrapped an arm around your chest holding you up. you were clinging on to any part of her. both needing the support, but in fear that you'd lose her. that she would just disappear. that she was a part of a cruel illusion and when you opened your eyes she'd be gone.

oddly enough, her hand traveling up to your neck, controlling the speed at which you breathed and how much you breathed, kept your feet planted on earth``. when her lips touched your cheek in a sloppy kiss, your heart soared. maybe it was the pulsing feeling between your thighs that caused the overwhelming pleasure. maybe it was the words she'd recited. maybe it was just her in her entirety.

your thoughts were interrupted when she moved your bodies. your back hit the chilly wall. you instantly shivered and gasped as she slithered down between your legs. she was careful not to make you lose your balance. she knelt on the rough floor lifting your leg over her shoulder as you gasped for air already anticipating the blinding feeling of her wondrous tongue on your pussy. she started at the base running up to your clit. again and again until she was lapping your pussy and burying her face in your cunt. she was inebriated by your scent and your arousal coating her taste buds.

"love like mine can never be gotten over," she hummed against your clit. the vibrations of her voice sent ripples through your body. the intention behind her bold words filled your heart with hope as she twirled her tongue on your clit just as she'd swirled you into all her poems.

if it ended in heartbreak, one thing was true, you'd never overcome love like hers. you had yet to experience it at its full capacity, but she was already so intertwined and deeply embedded into all your nights and days. mornings and evenings. every waking moment and sweet dream, she was there. your favorite piece of poetry.

⋆˙⟡

thank you for the request lovely "🩰 anon" .. in fact, i loved it so much i just had to write 1.4k words. ily! 💖

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Poetry Writing Tips

Rules for Writing Good Poetry

There are no officially sanctioned rules of poetry.

However, as with all creative writing, having some degree of structure can help you reign in your ideas and work productively.

Some guidelines for those looking to take their poetry writing to the next level.

Or, if you literally haven’t written a single poem since high school, you can think of this as a beginner's guide on the basics and have you writing poetry in no time:

Read a lot of poetry. If you want to write poetry, start by reading poetry. You can do this in a casual way by letting the words of your favorite poems wash over you without necessarily digging for deeper meaning. Or you can delve into analysis. Dissect an allegory in a Robert Frost verse. Ponder the underlying meaning of an Edward Hirsch poem. Retrieving the symbolism in Emily Dickinson’s work. Do a line-by-line analysis of a William Shakespeare sonnet. Simply let the individual words of a Walt Whitman elegy flow with emotion.

Listen to live poetry recitations. The experience of consuming poetry does not have to be an academic exercise in cataloging poetic devices like alliteration and metonymy. It can be musical—such as when you attend a poetry slam for the first time and hear the snappy consonants of a poem out loud. Many bookstores and coffeehouses have poetry readings, and these can be both fun and instructive for aspiring poets. By listening to the sounds of good poetry, you discover the beauty of its construction—the mix of stressed syllables and unstressed syllables, alliteration and assonance, a well placed internal rhyme, clever line breaks, and more. You’ll never think of the artform the same way once you hear good poems read aloud. (And if you ever get the chance to hear your own poem read aloud by someone else, seize the opportunity.)

Start small. A short poem like a haiku or a simple rhyming poem might be more attainable than diving into a narrative epic. A simple rhyming poem can be a non-intimidating entryway to poetry writing. Don’t mistake quantity for quality; a pristine seven-line free verse poem is more impressive than a sloppy, rambling epic of blank verse iambic pentameter, even though it probably took far less time to compose.

Don’t obsess over your first line. If you don’t feel you have exactly the right words to open your poem, don’t give up there. Keep writing and come back to the first line when you’re ready. The opening line is just one component of an overall piece of art. Don’t give it more outsized importance than it needs (which is a common mistake among first time poets).

Embrace tools. If a thesaurus or a rhyming dictionary will help you complete a poem, use it. You’d be surprised how many professional writers also make use of these tools. Just be sure you understand the true meaning of the words you insert into your poem. Some synonyms listed in a thesaurus will deviate from the meaning you wish to convey.

Enhance the poetic form with literary devices. Like any form of writing, poetry is enhanced by literary devices. Develop your poetry writing skills by inserting metaphor, allegory, synecdoche, metonymy, imagery, and other literary devices into your poems. This can be relatively easy in an unrhymed form like free verse and more challenging in poetic forms that have strict rules about meter and rhyme scheme.

Try telling a story with your poem. Many of the ideas you might express in a novel, a short story, or an essay can come out in a poem. A narrative poem like “The Waste Land” by T.S. Eliot can be as long as a novella. “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe expresses just as much dread and menace as some horror movies. As with all forms of English language writing, communication is the name of the game in poetry, so if you want to tell short stories in your poems, embrace that instinct.

Express big ideas. A lyric poem like “Banish Air from Air” by Emily Dickinson can express some of the same philosophical and political concepts you might articulate in an essay. Because good poetry is about precision of language, you can express a whole philosophy in very few words if you choose them carefully. Even seemingly light poetic forms like nursery rhymes or a silly rhyming limerick can communicate big, bold ideas. You just have to choose the right words.

Paint with words. When a poet paints with words, they use word choice to figuratively “paint” concrete images in a reader’s mind. In the field of visual art, painting pictures of course refers to the act of representing people, objects, and scenery for viewers to behold with their own eyes. In creative writing, painting pictures also refers to producing a vivid picture of people, objects, and scenes, but the artist’s medium is the written word.

Familiarize yourself with myriad forms of poetry. Each different form of poetry has its own requirements—rhyme scheme, number of lines, meter, subject matter, and more—that make them unique from other types of poems. Think of these structures as the poetic equivalent of the grammar rules that govern prose writing. Whether you’re writing a villanelle (a nineteen-line poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain, with a highly specified internal rhyme scheme) or free verse poetry (which has no rules regarding length, meter, or rhyme scheme), it’s important to thrive within the boundaries of the type of poetry you’ve chosen. Even if you eventually compose all your work as one particular type of poem, versatility is still a valuable skill.

Connect with other poets. Poets connect with one another via poetry readings and perhaps poetry writing classes. Poets in an artistic community often read each other’s work, recite their own poems aloud, and provide feedback on first drafts. Good poetry can take many forms, and through a community, you may encounter different forms that vary from the type of poem you typically write—but are just as artistically inspiring. Seek out a poetry group where you can hear different types of poetry, discuss the artform, jot down new ideas, and learn from the work of your peers. A supportive community can help you brainstorm ideas, influence your state of mind as an artist, and share poetry exercises that may have helped other members of the group produce great poetry.

Source ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ References for Poets ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[mandarinmoons]

Annabel Lee - Spencer Reid

Hello! This lil' fic was inspired by a video of Matthew reading the poem Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe found here !

Summary: When you're not able to sleep Spencer to throw out ways to help you, but turns out the solution was right in front of you

Warnings: none

I haven't written in a while so pls let me know your thoughts!

For the past week, every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you’d be kept up for hours on end. Tossing from one side to the other, trying out an array of different positions to feel comfortable enough to finally catch some rest, nothing would help.

When the issue was brought forth to Spencer he would list out an endless list of suggestions to try and find something that could eventually work

“Hmm let’s see, have you tried herbal-”

“Yes Spencer.”

“Okay, what about…”

You felt your thoughts drift off and eyes grow heavy as Spencer kept listing off different solutions for you to try out in hopes of finally getting some rest. A moment later you were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a soft shake on your shoulder and were brought back to reality, “You okay Y/N?”. You blinked a few times and gazed at the concerned boy in front of you, realizing that the answer was there right in front of you and a small smile tugged on your lips, “I’m better than ever Spence. I have an idea.”

That night, Spencer came over to your apartment. The weather forecast had predicted heavy rain and when Spencer entered your apartment, you could well see that it had come true. Spencer’s hair was matted to his forehead from the rain and you were surprised he managed to walk all the way there because the rain had completely drenched the lenses of his glasses. You ran to get him a towel and chuckled as you ruffled the fabric over his hair, causing him to smile lightly. 

After fetching him a warm blanket and making him a cup of hot chamomile tea, you both laid in your bed. Spencer brought over a poetry book to read to you and your eyes widened with curiosity. You just thought that you both would talk until you eventually ended up passing out, seeing that Spencer’s voice seemed to soothe you so much to the point of relaxation, but hearing Spencer's idea caused your heart to do a little flip. You thought that it was adorable.

So there you were, head resting in Spencer’s lap as he held a book of various poets' works in his hand. He would occasionally glance down at you and smile sweetly seeing how relaxed you seemed. The piece that finally did it for you was one by Edgar Allan Poe.

As the poem went on you felt your heartstrings being played with so hard that you thought you felt tears prick to your eyes. And the strangest thing of all was that when you looked over at Spencer, you swore you saw him look into your eyes as he kept reading it out loud.

“Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,” 

That was it, those were the words that melted your heart and caused your breath to go shaky. A few lines later Spencer finished the poem and he placed the book down and turned his attention to you. His brows furrowed upon seeing your glassy eyes. His hand brushed against your cheek in a comforting way, “Hey you okay?”. 

You nodded and shook your head lightly, “It was a really nice poem, thank you”. Spencer smiled and poked your cheek lightly which caused a small giggle to fall from your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

You smiled up at him and poked his cheek in return, “Without a doubt.”

You can find my masterlist here! x

My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

[noovorous]

I'm lucky to be experiencing prose of Edgar Allan Poe for the first time those days and it strikes me how precise his macabre tales are. How much they are like an essence of a novel, crystalised form of prose just like haiku is of poetry. A complete story, each with it's own characteristic mood, atmosphere, feel, all within more or less ten pages. I know immediately that I will be returning to individual short stories when under influence of a certain caprice, something that is much harder to achieve when looking for a specific paragraph of a novel.

[lichanicksstuff]

What books would characters from The Hobbit read?

This idea came up to me a while ago, but now I have to share it, so here me out ig:

I think Bilbo would read everything he can get his hands on. But mostly fantasy novels, history books, basically anything that would include a piece of unknown world. I just know that he would love Edgar Allan Poe, Jules Verne and I think he would enjoy Brandon Sanderson's books.

Here's a controversial one, but I think Thorin would mostly read poetry. Especially the Lake Poets. He would read poems about home, love, a warm place where people can feel safe. That's what he wanted, that's why he wanted to regain Erebor. (He would also read romance novels in his free time, but nobody knows about it. Fili and Kili would die twice if they found out. Of laughing and because Thorin would chase them with a knife).

Kili wouldn't read much. He would mostly watch films, but if he once in a while picks up a book it's usually a romance-comedy, or the worst and the most traumatising horror book, a person could ever read. He would recommend them to people by saying "It's a really good book! You will enjoy it!" and then laugh when they come back traumatised. He would like "Ring", "Haunting Adeline" and literally anything by Jane Austen.

Fili would read mostly criminal books or just contemporary fiction. He wouldn't have high expectations for books, but he would complain about every detail if he didn't like one. He would be the type of guy that says "the book was better" after he watched a movie based of a book. Even if he didn't read this particular book, he would say that, just to piss people off.

Porn.

Ori would read contemporary fiction, like Fili, and he would be the victim of Bofur's and Kili's recommendations. Poor guy. He would also read classic romance novels. I have a feeling that he would love Jane Austen's and Bronte sisters' works. I don't know why but it fits. Look at him.

History books and war literature. Do I have to explain myself? This guy would give you an hour long monologue about the emergence of the Balkan countries and you would listen to every word he says. After that he would make you a cup of tea and then asked what books you like to read. And somehow, even if you read a completely different genre, he would recommend you something that you would really enjoy.

Nori's the type of guy who says that he reads everything, even if that's a complete bullshit. He would only read criminal novels (he would have read all of Agatha Christie and killed you if you would say you don't like her work) and sometimes japanese classic literature. And by that I mean Edogawa Ranpo and his "The Human Chair" or "The Hornworm".

I just know that Dwalin would have read "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" like twenty times as a kid. When he was a little older, he tried classic literature, poetry, adventure, sience fiction, war literature, a few romance novels, horror books... He's the true "I read everything" guy. His favourite authors would be Dostoevsky, Karl Adolph Gjellerup (but he wouldn't be a fan of the femme fatale thing) and John Milton.

Cook books.

[thebookdragonshoard]

2024 Reading Wrapped

- Books read this year: 50

- Goodreads goal this year: 50

- Number of 5 star reads this year: 11

- Physical books read this year: 38

- E-books read this year: 10

- Audiobooks listened to this year: 2

- Favorite novel this year: When The Moon Hatched by Sarah A. Parker

- Favorite short story this year: What Moves The Dead by T. Kingfisher

- Favorite stand-alone this year: No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

- Favorite duology this year: Seraphina by Rachel Hartman

- Favorite trilogy this year: The Folk of the Air by Holly Black

- Favorite series this year: Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas

- Least favorite book this year: Me and Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews

- This year’s Five Star Reads ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️:

What Moves The Dead by T. Kingfisher

I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid

The Invocations by Krystal Sutherland

The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe

Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass #7) by Sarah J. Maas

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai

The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai

Seraphina (Seraphina #1) by Rachel Hartman

Shadow Scale (Seraphina #2) by Rachel Hartman

A Dowry of Blood (A Dowry of Blood #1) by S. T. Gibson

Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery by Brom

Full List of 2024 Reads

E-book📱

Audiobook🎧

Five Stars⭐️

I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid⭐️

Every Last Word by Tamara Ireland Stone

How It Feels To Float by Helena Fox

The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

To Sleep In a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Extasia by Claire Legrand

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas

Crown of Midnight by Sarah J. Maas

Heir of Fire by Sarah J. Maas

Walk on Earth a Stranger by Rae Carson

The Invocations by Krystal Sutherland⭐️

The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe⭐️

Queen of Shadows by Sarah J. Maas

Empire of Storms by Sarah J. Maas

Tower of Dawn by Sarah J. Maas

Tender Is the Flesh by Augustina Bazzterica

Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas⭐️

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

The Assassin’s Blade by Sarah J. Maas

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson

The Wicked King by Holly Black🎧

The Queen of Nothing by Holly Black🎧

The Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai⭐️

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

The Nature of Witches by Rachel Griffin

The Setting Sun by Osamu Dazai⭐️

Rashomon and Other Stories by Ryūnosuke Akutugawa

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney

Good Girl, Bad Blood by Holly Jackson

Seraphina by Rachel Hartman⭐️

Shadow Scale by Rachel Hartman⭐️

Frankenstein: The 1818 Text by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

A Dowry of Blood by S. T. Gibson📱

Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery by Brom⭐️📱

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi📱

One Dark Window by Rachel Gillig📱

Two Twisted Crowns by Rachel Gillig📱

Assistant to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer📱

When The Moon Hatched by Sarah A. Parker⭐️📱

A Tempest of Tea by Hafsah Faizal📱

Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros

The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe📱

What Moves The Dead by T. Kingfisher ⭐️📱

What Feasts At Night by T. Kingfisher

[petaltexturedskies]

At midnight, in the month of June, I stand beneath the mystic moon. An opiate vapor, dewy, dim, exhales from out her golden rim, and softly dripping, drop by drop, upon the quiet mountain top.

Edgar Allan Poe, from the sleeper in "the complete poetry of Edgar Allan Poe"

[isure-hopeso]

12.31.2024

52 books in 52 weeks?

Serendipity.

Scratches an itch in my brain.

Reviews!

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy 4.5/10 Bad vibe to start the year, my mistake. After pretty prose and exposition on the beautiful and terrible west, he decided to add plot at the very end. Coulda not.

Phantom and Rook by Aelina Isaacs 10/10 Incredibly diverse and beautiful, cozy yet emotional story with magic and found family and love and self discovery. Big big big ups.

Flipped for Murder by Maddie Day 7/10 My sister got me the 10th book in this series by accident, so I got the first few for myself for fun. And they ARE fun. Cozy diner murder mysteries, such a vibe.

The Complete Stories of Flannery O’Connor 8/10 Short stories that point out the darker truths of human hearts, with no mercy for the reader. No goofs here, super cool, super ahead of its time.

Curves for Days by Laura Moher 6.5/10 A fun little romance read about a plus sized girl. As a big booty girl, I love the representation, but the story was sorta ehhhhhhh.

Mixed Vegetables Vol 1 by Ayumi Komura 5.5/10 Sushi chef girl meets pastry chef boy, but they argue too much to realize they’re falling for each other. Cute, but moves too slow, even for a day-in-the-life story. 

Small Favors by Erin A. Craig 8.5/10 A bit freaky, a bit romantic, nearly-fantastical retelling of Rumplestilskin. Icky, but in a satisfyingly gruesome kinda way.

House of Sky and Breath by Sarah J. Maas 8/10 Far longer than it needed to be, and the main character went off page for a bit, which I don’t love. But the world is still really interesting and I love to hate on the random smutty bits.

The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin 10/10 I love a fun puzzle story, this was a reread from childhood. I wish there were more proper puzzle-based stories like this today!!

We Are Taking Only What We Need: Stories by Stephanie Powell Watts 9.5/10 I am learning that I LOVE short stories.

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas 6/10 Solid story, very book. Too long. Cool world-building, but the characters’ behaviors seemed to change a lot and some author choices really niggled at my brain.

The Hedgewitch’s Little Book of Flower Spells by Tudorbeth 7/10 Call me a Pixie Hollow Faerie, but I love a tiny book on flower spells.

Crown of Midnight by Sarah J. Maas 6.5/10 She got more into the characters in this one, letting me love and hate each of them a whole lot more. She also made more story choices I disagree with, but I’m in the Maasverse for the bit at this point.

Edgar Allen Poe: The Great Masters Library 8.5/10 I’m not the biggest fan of the stories he largely wrote for money when he was younger, but I’m a massive fan of his later works and poetry. Brother needed therapy.

Bringing Down the Duke by Evie Dunmore 6/10 Just a fun romp through Regency England to explore romance and women’s rights.

Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree 9/10 This book was like receiving a warm hug and cozying up with a hot cup of tea under a weighted blanket. Such a nice read, and I love Baldree’s writing style.

Heir of Fire by Sarah J. Maas 8/10 The story started getting really interesting, the characters were developing a ton, and the world opened up a lot. That said, I have had enough of watery bowels.

An Abundance of Katherines by John Green 8.5/10 Glad I finally read this, but I probably would have gotten more out of it if I’d read it as a teenager like I was supposed to.

Dragonsdawn by Anne McCaffrey 9.5/10 Thus begins my attempt at reading the Pern series in chronological order. I love the early books and the late books so much. Only those ones, though, it turns out.

The Chronicles of Pern: First Fall by Anne McCaffrey 8/10 This one is a handful of short stories that flesh out the quickly-changing world. Again, I’m a big fan of short stories now.

The Assassin’s Blade by Sarah J. Maas 4/10 As a prequel, this is better to read before the other books. I was soooooo bored.

The Faerie Path by Allan Frewin Jones 9/10 This book had been sitting on my TBR for so many years, and I was happily surprised at how much I enjoyed it. A fast read, not very fancy prose, but a fantastic story.

Dragonseye by Anne McCaffrey 8.5/10 Anne really brought out her anthropological knowhow to remind us that bullheaded dummies shouldn’t be in power. Oops America.

Grilled for Murder by Maddie Day 7/10 Book 2 of the series my sister accidentally got me book 10 to. I picked out whodunnit within the first chapter, but the why and how and what threw me for a new one.

Magia Magia: Invoking Mexican Magic by Alexis A. Arredondo 8/10 Got this in the massive set of witch books from 2023, and loved learning about the magic practiced here in the southwest. 

Anxiety by Jason & Daniel Freeman 6/10 A tiny Anxiety 101 book, smashed full of info. I wanted more, it just brushed the surface. My fault for not getting a whole ass textbook?

The Hobbit: or There and Back Again by J.R.R. Tolkien 10/10 Every year I read one of the Big Four, and I got to circle back around to the beginning this year for The Hobbit. One of my ultimate comfort reads.

Queen of Shadows by Sarah J. Maas 4/10 I’m sort of losing my patience and running out of steam for Maas with this book. Dudes need to talk about their feelings. I’m just holding on for the lore.

Assistant to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer 8.5/10 A silly willy book jam packed with poorly veiled yearning, jokes, and murder. Points off for the cliffhanger, boo.

The Sonoran Desert: A Literary Field Guide by Magrane & Cokinos 9/10 Poems/stories paired with pictures and info on local flora and fauna. I wish this had been ten times longer. It was a tasty little snack, and I wanted the whole meal.

Apprentice to the Villain by Hannah Nicole Maehrer 7.5/10 YES I bought the next book immediately. It rehashed a similar relationship arc from the first book, which I didn’t love, but the rest was so fun and I am chomping at the gosh darn bit for the next one. 

Beaverland by Leila Philip 9.5/10 Tell me why a literary nonfiction about the history of beavers and their effect on the planet had me so hooked. No worries, I’m already in therapy.

Dragon’s Kin by Anne & Todd McCaffrey 2/10 Todd, Anne’s son, is the worst thing that ever happened to the Pern series. This is poorly written fan-fiction that Anne lovingly slapped her name on.

Kitchen Princess Vol. 5 by Kobayashi & Ando 10/10 I went to Kitchen Princess for some post-Todd healing, and it worked. This series is just so sweet, pun not intended but embraced nonetheless.

When Autumn Leaves by Amy S. Foster 9/10 A reread, so I knew I’d love it. Ultra-fall commingling stories about weird magic and feminine power, best possible way to start October.

Crushing It by Erin Becker 7/10 A middle school queer book I picked up for a reading challenge. Wasn’t for me, but that’s because it wasn’t written for me. Big points for representation.

Dragon’s Fire by Todd & Anne McCaffrey 1/10 This book is SO BAD there is literally a page and a half copied and pasted again a handful of chapters later. Todd should have left his momma’s work alone. 

The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules by Catharina 7.5/10 My only audiobook of the year about Swiss pensioners going on crazy heists. Kind of a slow read, but hysterical – I love being reminded that old people were young like us!

Going Home by Nora Roberts 3.5/10 I bought a handful of Nora Roberts books because my mom loves them. My mom loves these. I need to buy her other books.

Supermarket by Bobby Hall 6.5/10 Logic wrote a psychological horror about a dude working in a supermarket, admittedly not very well. But, like. He’s a musician. It was still a very cool story idea.

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne 6/10 Ya gurl made the choice to read this the day before Trump got reelected. I actually hate the “lessons learned” in this book, too, way outdated. Big mad time, you shoulda seen me.

When the Grit Hits the Fan by Maddie Day 7/10 I keep rating these the same, is that bad? They’re reliable! A cozy little murder mystery and the diner owner is all nosey, gotta love it. 

Food Fights & Culture Wars by Tom Nealan 5/10 I thought this would show more forreal history of how food affected world events, but it was more like quirky far fetched ideas and fun facts loosely connecting their potential.

Medusa by Nataly Gruender 9/10 The author is from my hometown, was a classmate of mine, I admit that I’m biased. She didn’t write the story the way I would have, but that’s one of the cool things about Medusa’s story. No goofs here. Gruender did a fantastic job and is a phenomenal writer, and her Medusa story is lovely.

I Put A Spell On You: Autobiography by Nina Simone 8/10 Had to keep reminding myself that Nina was a black woman born in the 1930s, and having that perspective helped me accept her choices and priorities. But now the music that I loved already means so much more!

Circle of Magic #1 by Tamora Pierce 10/10 Tamora Pierce is the single author I would break down and cry to meet in person. I needed a comfort reread after the last two books about female hardship.

Circle of Magic #2 by Tamora Pierce 10/10 Okay, so maybe I needed TWO comfort rereads. Found family, cool worldbuilding, magic, the works.

Lightlark by Alex Aster 7/10 Hated this at first, but was enjoying it by the end. I’m suuuuure all the worldbuilding holes will be fleshed out in the following books, yeah?

Dragonharper by Todd & Anne McCaffrey 2.5/10 Get Todd out of here, please. I can tell, by certain sections that sound a ton more like Anne, that she or her editor had a bigger hand in parts of this book. While other parts made me gag. Literally why did they publish these??

Dragonsblood by Todd & Anne McCaffrey 6.5/10 Too many reused tropes from other books Todd spearheaded, the idea of this story was actually really cool and the writing reminded me a TON of Anne’s earliest Pern books.

Stardust by Neil Gaiman 5.5/10 After loving Neverwhere, I was surprised to feel so neutral about Stardust. The fun, colorful movie adaptation clearly set me up with the wrong expectations.

On the Road by Jack Kerouac 8.5/10 Kerouac could stand to be less of a racist and womanizer. That said, beat writing styles are just so tasty, like a cappuccino on a rainy day. 

A beautifully exact 7.25 average for the year! I tried to broaden my reading horizons a bit more, but also went back to a handful of rereads and chronologies I already loved. I somehow ended 2024 with even MORE books on my TBR than I had started, so let’s see what I manage to get through in 2025!

If you’re still reading this, I can’t help but wonder why. Regardless, I wish all that is good upon you. Health, well-being, justice, and good books in the year to come.

[derangedrhythms]

These were the days when my heart was volcanic

Edgar Allan Poe, The Penguin Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe; from 'Ulalume'

[cocogrrrl]

daisies

you find yourself growing close and eventually developing feelings for kenny—a guy you met at a party. you develop hanahaki because of it as well. now, what are you gonna do?

kenny x implied fem!reader but with they/them pronouns (hanahaki au) cw: n/a, just angsty wc: 5064

an: this is part of an sp au where different versions of the reader has hanahaki and is in love with the main three! read the other two parts here!

Hanahaki is a disease something that affects many daily. From a small seed in your lungs, you’ll experience petals and flowers coming out from your mouth. It could take days, weeks, months, or even years to develop. Many hypothesize that it happens because of a love not returned, a love waiting on a bench.

Fortunately, it isn’t something that everyone will experience in their lifetime, although it is common. For those who catch the illness, you only have a few choices to pick from.

First, the sickness doesn’t last because the affection is returned. Many of those who survive this still need to receive medical attention for the healing process, depending on how severe the sickness had become. Many of these people who experience this are bound to live a happy life, though.

Second, you undergo a safe medical procedure that, while cures you, makes you devoid of any sense of love anymore. These operations usually do not pose many health risks, and the survival rate is high.

Lastly, you could just bear the pain, although you will suffocate to death.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You’re in your junior year right now. It’s been a few months since you moved to South Park. You moved over the summer, and now you were a month or two into classes.

The people here were often hit or miss. Rarely some of them hit, like your close friend Wendy, but there were a lot of other people that missed, like a decent population of the town.

You would say that you were adjusting to the place just fine. It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t perfect as well. You could handle this place. It felt new and exciting, frankly.

Now, you were preparing for a house party at Tolkien’s. You didn’t know him that well, but you shared some classes with him, and he seemed like a pretty normal guy. Funnily enough, he might be the most normal guy here, even if he was better off financially than most people here.

Wendy was going to pick you up anytime right now, so you sat nearby your door waiting for her. Honestly, you thought she was going to be picked up by her girlfriend, Bebe, but she told you that Bebe had to pick up her friends Red, Lola, and Jenny.

You heard your phone ring as your doorbell did too. It must be Wendy. You opened the door and were greeted by a big hug.

“Hey, YN!” She beamed as she eyed your outfit up and down. “You look amazing! Where’d you get the shoes?”

“Oh, I thrifted it, actually.” 

“Woah, we should go do that some time! I’d love to thrift with you.” She said as you walked out the door, double-checking your keys and locking the knob. “It’s great for the environment, plus you might already know some great thrift areas here.” 

As you two got in the car, you continued chatting. Be it about music, art, poetry, and of the like, the ride was never quiet. Although you were a relatively approachable person, you didn’t talk a lot. With Wendy, it was the opposite. You found yourself going on long tangents and ranting as she listened happily.

“Really? Edgar Allan Poe?” Wendy mused. She was intrigued by your fascination with the writer during your middle school years. According to her, you didn’t seem like the type of person to enjoy his work.

“Yeah,” you sighed, chuckling at her bewilderment. “I mean, you don’t strike me as an Oscar Wilde enjoyer either.”

“What can I say? I like the simplicity and beauty of his writing.”

“Well, I like Poe’s use of imagery and dark themes.” Like dark and light were you two sometimes. Two sides of the same coin, yet somehow complete opposites.

“We’re here, by the way,” she said as she pulled up by the sidewalk of Tolkien’s house.

“Alright,” you replied, unbuckling your seatbelt as you exited the car.

Though it was just 9 PM, the place was already packed. The place somewhat reeked the smell of weed and alcohol already, and bright, colorful lights swayed and flashed nearly everywhere. Music was blaring, and peoples’ chatters filled the room and blasted your ears. It was an overwhelming atmosphere. You had been there for just 10 minutes, and you already felt like you were about to pass out. 

“Hey, Bebe’s already here, so I’m just gonna say hi to then I’ll show you around.” She smiled at you. You answered with a nod, and she headed away in a dash. To keep your head above water, you decided to stand in the middle of a hallway, where it was a lot more quiet—just to ground yourself.

You were leaning back against the wall, minding your own business and calming down from the mess that was earlier. Needless to say, you were overwhelmed.

“Well, I haven’t seen you here,” A voice spoke in front of you. Immediately, you snapped your head up to see who it was. You were confronted with a taller guy sporting a dirty blonde mullet. He didn’t look shabby. No, not at all.

“Are you new here?” He smiled, casually bringing out his hand out for a handshake.

“Well, I’ve been here for a few months already.” You hesitantly shook his hand.

“Then why haven’t I seen a pretty face like yours around here?” You wanted to cringe, but you also wanted to be polite. You were intrigued as well, though. You’ve never been approached like this.

“I, unfortunately, do not go out a lot.” You sighed.

“Hmm… But you seem really familiar.” He paused, deep in thought. “Oh! You’re YN from English class, yeah?”

“You just noticed right now?” You raised a brow, giggling at his slowness.

“Well, sorry, we’ve only had school for a month, and I skip most of my classes. Forgive me if I’m a little slow.” He lightheartedly joked. “Do you know who I am, though?”

“Some guy from my English class, I’d assume.”

“Ouch. A cute person doesn’t know I exist. Ahhh, it hurts.” He placed his hands over his chest, acting as if he was having a heart attack. “The only cure is a kiss on the lips.” He said, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re desperate.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not saving you.”

“On the cheeks?”

“Still no.”

“On the hand?”

“Nope.”

“Anything!” He placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “Woe is me, dearest YN!”

“Do you want my number?” You chuckled, pitying him a little bit. While he does seem a little weird, he was definitely an interesting and fun person to be around. You just have to keep your distance, you figured.

“Why thank you, great YN!” He said, handing you his phone. You chuckled, feeling a little bit embarrassed for him. You put in his number and handed it back to him. He sent a ‘hi’ on his phone, and you heard your phone ring with his number on it. “I’m Kenny if you don’t already know.”

“Huh, nice to meet you then.” You smiled at him—just to be polite, though. “I’m guessing you’ve already had a lot to drink.” You said, smelling the booze and weed off of him. His scent was the entire party.

“You know it, baby.” He winked at you before turning on his heel to head back to the main area of the place. “I’ll see you in English, YN. Byeeeee!” He waved.

You waved back, knowing he wouldn’t turn back to look at you anyways. You didn’t know why, but you seemed to like the guy’s presence. It felt inviting, unlike a lot of the people you’ve met here so far.

“YN!” You hear a voice call you out from the end of the hallway. It was Wendy with Bebe trailing right behind her. “There you are! I’ve been looking around the whole place for you.” She said, grabbing your shoulder.

“Ahh, sorry, Wends.” You apologized, feeling a little guilty for not telling Wendy where you were. “I was overwhelmed by the place, so I needed to find some place a little quieter…”

“That’s alright! You shouldn’t apologize for making yourself comfortable.” She patted your back. “Now let me show you around,” she said, whisking you away from one of the only quiet areas in the mansion.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

That night was a blast. You didn’t drink too much, but you had enough to get you a lot more chattier than usual. Besides Kenny, whom you did not tell Wendy about yet, you met three new people! They were of the names Tweek, Craig, and Jimmy. Tolkien was a part of their friend group, but you couldn’t say hi to him since he was plenty busy getting more ice for everyone.

You also remembered meeting Kenny’s friends last night. Stan, Kyle, and Cartman. You were only really well acquainted with Kyle. You’ve talked to him a few times outside academic matters, so you’ve come to learn that he had a boyfriend, which was the other guy mentioned earlier—Stan, who also happened to be Wendy’s boyfriend for a while.

All this history between a few people interested you, but it also kind of hit you like a truck. This town was built on years of people with deep connections. You had just moved in, and many of these people probably didn’t want you in your group, seeing how they’re comfortable and happy in their cliques. This made you upset at first, but then you realized you were happy to know that there were people who accepted you into their lives wholeheartedly.

You were recalling the events of last night, remembering that Kenny had approached you once more that night.

“So, how are you liking South Park, pretty?” He slid beside you on the couch. Wendy was currently getting drinks for the two of you, so she was currently occupied in the kitchen right now. “Is it good? Bad? I know it's sometimes pretty batshit weird here, but you just gotta trust me when I say-”

“I think I need more time to fully grapple with a single opinion on this place,” you answered, feeling a little dizzy from the alcohol. You didn’t realize it, but you laid your head on his shoulder as you spoke. “There’s a whole lot of niche people in this town. At least that means I can explore it from different angles.”

“Huh…” Kenny didn’t seem to be at all fazed by your touch. In fact, he indulged in it, even going so far as to pat your head. “That’s a very positive outlook—compared to all the other ones I’ve heard from here. I like that.” Really, yours was probably one of the most cheerful views among the town full of negative minds.

“Haha, thanks. You were kinda weird at first, I’ll be honest. Like, earlier in the hallway.” Your bluntness from being tipsy served you an appreciative comment from Kenny, but maybe not anymore. “I think I like you, though, Kenny, or at least I think I will.” You said mindlessly.

“Oh, really? What’ll make you really like me then?” He asked lightheartedly, expecting a dry reply from you.

You leaned back on the couch, removing yourself from the comfort of Kenny’s shoulder, as you looked at Tolkien’s ceiling to think. “Go to class more. If you do, maybe I can get to know you better.”

There was a quiet between you. All Kenny did was nod. While the party was booming and more live than ever, you were up in your little world enjoying the feeling of the alcohol pumping through your body.

That silence was disturbed when Wendy came back and handed your drinks. “Kenny? What are you doing here?” She asked. For a moment, you could tell she seemed slightly annoyed by his presence, but you didn’t ask her about it—not wanting to press on any possible wounds.

“I was just giving them some company.” He said, getting up from the couch. You felt the couch gently rise back to, what you could assume, was its normal state. “I’ll get out of your hair now. See you, YN.” He winked at you as he walked off.

How did you feel about the whole thing? A little weary because of how agitated Wendy seemed when she saw you two beside each other. Of course, it was more logical to trust your close friend over someone you just met. You just wondered why she didn’t like him.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It was the day after the party. You were in your first subject—English class—and most of the students were absolutely hammered—including you. That didn’t matter, though. You had a blast that night, and you were sure that all the fun you had was worth it.

While waiting for your teacher to come, heard a crash by the front of the classroom. Curious, you looked up, and, to everyone’s surprise, it was Kenny. He scanned the classroom for empty seats and took the one next to you.

“Hey, angel face.” He winked at you. You rolled your eyes and quietly waved at him. Maybe the party brought some bad things as well. It’s not that you hated Kenny, but it’s just that you didn’t want to be flirted with nonstop.

You were currently just doodling in your notebook whatever you thought. Some scribbled-out lyrics and quotes here, some drawings there. “I thought you skipped school often. What happened?”

“I wanted to see you,” he answered, leaning his head on his palm as he watched you write away. He took a glance and saw your notebook. “Hey, is that Bocchi?” He said, pointing to a little sketch you indeed made of the character earlier.

“Yeah,” you said, surprised he knew who it was. Although, you were a little weary of the type of fan he was. “You’ve seen Bocchi the Rock?” You turned your head to him as you dropped your pen, your interest in him being piqued.

Now you’ve certainly got him excited. He lifted his head from his palm and leaned in closer to you. “I recently binged the show with Stan.”

Maybe this was a chance for you to know him outside of the flirty names. You decided to start somewhere simple. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Hmm…” He sat there, thinking for a split second. “If we’re talking about the people in the band, Ryo, I think. If we’re talking about all of the characters, definitely the drunk bassist girl. She’s cool.”

“Kikuri?” He nodded. “Well, I can’t say I’m too surprised to know that she’s your favorite.” You chuckled.

“Huh? What does that mean?”

You hummed teasingly, continuing to draw in your sketchbook. He kept asking, but you kept prancing over the answer lightheartedly. This wouldn’t go on for long, though, since the class was about to start.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The whole week was honestly a blast. You and Kenny bonded over your love for animation. You spent time at his place, he spent time at yours, and you two endlessly watched and rewatched a bunch of movies and shows.

He wasn’t much of an artist, but he did have a huge appreciation for animation and art in general. He told you once that it was his little sister who actually sparked his interest in the medium. You found it endearing.

Asides from that, you realized you two were becoming closer. He wasn’t as cheesy as you initially thought, but it was still definitely there nonetheless. Under the surface of pet names and bad pick-up lines was a genuinely positive and charismatic guy underneath all that.

I don’t know, you found him fun to be with, and you were looking to be friends with more people here. Kenny seemed to fill in that role. He seemed like someone you trusted, seeing how you’d already been to each others’ houses. You two grew close, needless to say.

“YN, can I tell you something?” Wendy’s voice snapped you out of thought. You were currently in her room with her and Bebe. She invited you first, and you said no because you thought you’d be intruding on the couples’ time alone, but she insisted for some reason.

“What is it, Wends?”

“Well,” she nervously trailed off. “I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with Kenny, and while that’s great and all, I need you to know the person he actually is…”

“What do you mean by that?” You replied, a little confused.

“He’s,” she paused, seemingly hesitant to continue. “He’s kinda known to go around flirting with other people.”

“Alright, and?” Now you were confused. Sure, you enjoyed Kenny’s company, but you weren’t entitled to it. “I don’t like like him, Wendy.”

“That may be true, but I’m just looking out for you, okay? Whether you like him or not, I want you to know the type of person he is so you’re aware of the type of people you surround yourself around.”

Wendy made sense, though. Maybe he was a bad person, maybe he wasn’t. Should you start distancing yourself from him? You didn’t want to, definitely, but should you? Could you? You didn’t quite know what to do. You really enjoyed his presence. It felt easy being around him. You felt like you could be yourself around him. Wendy too—no questions asked—but you couldn’t just also rely on her forever. You had to grow at some point.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

That night, you were deep in thought about what Wendy said. Was it even important anyways? Or did you just have nothing to think about? You weren’t sure. You were slumped against the bed, thinking about your choices.

Something caught you off guard, though. You felt something stuck in your throat. You gagged on it, scared of the feeling. Once you got it out, you looked at what it was—a daisy? Why, when, and how on Earth would you have swallowed an entire flower whole?

The next few minutes were wash, rinse, and repeat as more flowers bubbled up your throat and out your mouth. You were terrified, to say the least. Did you eat a daisy seed, and it grew in your stomach? Were you about to turn into one big flower?

There was no way you were telling this to anyone, though, not until you find out what it is. You looked up your symptoms and saw the diagnosis exactly aligned with what was happening to you right now—Hanahaki Disease.

Before you got in bed, though, you continued to look into it a bit more. So, your choices were either to confess, to get surgery, or to let it consume you. Yeah, you wanted to avoid the first two as much as possible.

That all lead up to the question of who was it you had a crush on? You sat there, a little confused. You skimmed through your options until it hit you—it was probably Kenny. Was this what Wendy was warning you about? Chancefully and quite likely as well.

You would just have to wait for tomorrow and see.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Your first subject was English once more. You were currently wearing a mask, just in case you coughed and didn’t catch a petal or flower. You sat in your usual seat, scribbling away in your notebook.

“What’s with the mask, YN? Trying to be edgy or something?” Kenny said from behind you. After that, he took his place beside you.

“I’m actually sick, thank you very much.”

“Oh, well, get soon then.” He casually said, patting your head. “There’s an outdoor cinema showing tonight. I think they’re showing Fantastic Mr. Fox. You wanna go?”

“We just watched that a few days ago.”

“Who says we can’t watch it again?”

You hummed, finding yourself agreeing with him.

You were interrupted by a string of coughs, feeling the many flowers rise. Last night and earlier this morning, they weren’t too bad, yet why now did it seemingly amplify? You excused yourself to the bathroom just to get rid of the flowers, still trying to process the pattern of your flowers’ frequency.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

A little later, it was now lunch. Your mom had packed you some food, so you were by the bleachers of the field watching Wendy and Bebe practice for their upcoming cheer competition. 

In your peripherals, you saw Kenny hanging out with a girl. You didn’t pay too much mind to it. I mean, who are you to judge him for having friends? Yet Wendy’s comment from last night seemed to have popped into your head. Should you really be wary of him?

Well, you did have another clue as to what to do as you saw Kenny get closer to the girl. Probably a bit too close for it to be considered friendly. You were confused, though—he never told you about him having a girlfriend. Perhaps Wendy was right.

You felt your throat closing on you again as you started to cough violently. This was the second time today you had flowers sprouting more violently than usual. You sighed, already exhausted from this disease, as you leaned back on the seat behind you.

Seeing how Kenny may or may not have a girlfriend, you began to rethink your choices. You most probably did start to like him, but what are you gonna do about it? Would it be best to confess, or is surgery—and even death—the answer?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Are you ready for our date?” Kenny winked, pulling you out of the door by the arm. You found yourself blushing at his statement.

“Not really, but that is a very bold question to greet me with. I’ll give you that.” You hummed, letting go of his hand that was attached to your arm.

Your night with Kenny was fun. It wasn’t fancy or anything, but it was a very cozy night. You remember it in flashes. From takeout in 7/11 to the actual movie itself, it felt like there was a blurred line between romance and platonic. For you, at least.

You could recall many moments that night where you stared off at Kenny instead, telling yourself ‘You know, I think I’m okay with liking this guy.’ You fully accepted that you liked him.

You remember that, at one point, you were lost in his eyes. Your jaw was slightly agape, your eyes were off in the distance, and you were just focused on him. You hated how smitten he got you in a week or less, yet you also really liked spending time with him. The blame is probably on you.

You could just sit there and stare at him, though. You lost his appearance. The way his hair was always unkempt, the way he was so careless in his outfits yet so stylish, the way freckles littered all over his body, the way you noted the small gap in his front teeth whenever he smiled at you, the way his fingers seem so calloused. You were lost in it all.

“YN?” He called. “YN!” He shooked your body, not with too much force—just enough to snap you back into reality.

“Ah, sorry,” you apologized, shaking your head. “What were you saying?”

“The movie was fun, right?” For a moment, you could’ve sworn that there was a glint of worry in his eyes. Like your opinion actually mattered. You were probably just making things up, though.

“Of course. I mean, it’s not called Fantastic Mr. Fox for nothing, right?” You gave a comforting smile at him, in case by the off-chance what your eyes saw in his was right.

Maybe you were right cause you saw him beam after that. “You’re right. That final fight sequence where there are explosions and stuff will always get me.” He happily taped on the steering wheel of his extremely worn-out car. “You wanna go somewhere else right now, princess?”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Eventually, you knew you had to tell Wendy all about this, though.

“Wendy, I have Hanahaki, and I think it’s because I like—”

“Kenny?” You nodded. “What did I tell you?”

You sighed. It was a few days after your little outing with Kenny. You felt guilty. You should’ve listened to Wendy and gotten away before you had the chance. “Yeah, I’m sorry. You can’t fully blame me, though. I never thought I would like Kenny.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry for being harsh about him.” She pouted, rubbing your back as you buried your face in your hands. “What are you gonna do about it anyway?”

“I wanna try confessing, but I have my doubts. I mean, you’ve seen him with other girls, right?” She nodded. “If ever it doesn’t work, I’m not quite sure what to do…”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure things’ll work out for you.” She smiled hopefully at you. These were not the type of situations it’s easy to maintain hope, but definitely, you knew you could be alright for now as long as you keep your head above water.

“Thanks, Wends.”

“Of course, YN.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

A week went by. You were trying to build up the courage to tell him, but every time you did you were often greeted by someone talking to him first. It was either that or you were too ashamed to show your face to him anymore. You began to keep to yourself instead.

It couldn’t last like this forever, though, at some point, you did have to see some results appear. Kenny was starting to message you more often, and you could feel the worry from his messages. All this for someone you’ve only known for like two weeks?

It was either go all in or go with nothing. Seeing how your life was on the line, you decided it was probably best to confront him. You even asked Wendy about it, to which she was kinda annoyed with how you had even spaced yourself away from him. Thinking about it now, it was kinda stupid.

You called him up on the phone reluctantly. Luckily for you, he answered.

“Hey, Kenny?” You said, your voice much raspier over the week.

“What’s up, YN?” There was a hint of concern in his voice. You had been dodging him a lot recently—it was only right of him to worry.

“Are you busy right now?”

“No, not really. How come?”

“I can’t explain right now.” Your hands were shaking over the phone. Your chest was filling up with nervousness. “Can you meet me behind the school? Like, right now?”

“Alright.”

Minutes later, you found yourself playing with your hands on your lap. With every passing minute, flowers bloomed more and more out of your chest. Before Kenny could arrive, you tried to pull them all out of your mouth.

“What’s the problem, YN?” Kenny suddenly appeared by your side as he slid on the bench you sat on. The distress on his face was greater than you could possibly imagine. To be honest, you felt really guilty for making him feel this way.

“I like you, Kenny.” You said. Straight to the point, easy, quick. Painless, like ripping a bandaid off a wound. The question is if it’ll sting right after.

“I know,” was all he said. 

“Huh?” You were confused. How could he possibly have known? Were you just that obvious? “Kenny, I like you a lot. Like, romantically.” You sighed, shaking your head.

Quiet was all you heard. This was new, at least for you. It would always be a little noisy whenever you were with him.

When you looked up at him, you could only see him staring at you, mouth agape like you on that one night. Not in a way that he was astonished by you, no, in a way where he was shocked.

You might as well explain everything while you’re at it. “I developed Hanahaki because of it, and I saw how close you were with others a lot.” You left out the part Wendy told you to stray away intentionally, not wanting him to be offended or anything. “I figured why even try to confess if it seemed like you were going to reject me anyway?”

“What made you confess, then?”

“I knew had to stay alive, and I had to face the fact that you were my only hope.”

He wrapped your arms around you in a comforting hug. You assumed the worst with his silence. You assumed that he didn’t like you. You felt the flowers in your chest push themselves out of you. You hunched over, detaching yourself from his embrace, coughing violently as flowers slipped out of your mouth.

He patted your back, and, before you could realize it, you started to cry. Was this it for you? Your life is at its end because a guy flirted with you at a party? That’s so stupid.

He noticed your tears, though, and he pulled your hair behind your ear. “Why are you crying, princess?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You don’t like me, and now I have to decide what horrible fate I have to put myself through!” You felt guilty for putting the blame on him, but you were scared. What the fuck were you going to do now?

“Woah, there.” He suddenly stopped you, pulling you up from your slumped position. “Who said I didn’t like you?”

You paused right then and there. For that very moment, all flowers growing in your chest and all tears threatening to pour had stopped. “Huh?”

“I like you too, YN. Ever since.” He chuckled at your dumbfoundedness, pulling you into another hug.

“You didn’t say it, though!”

“Were all the pet names and, quote-unquote, ‘dates’ I took you to not obvious enough?”

“I thought you were like that to everyone else…”

“Sure, but that was before.” He sighed, shaking his head as he laughed. “I thought you were a really pretty thing at first when I met you at that party, YN. It was shallow, I know, but our conversation later that night really sparked my interest in you. I’ve liked you ever since.”

“But the girls…”

“I was asking them for advice.” He smacked his lips. “I just never went through with them because I noticed you were distancing yourself away from me. I thought you were, like, trying to subtly say you didn’t like me anymore—or even at all.” 

“Kenny,” you hummed against his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so sorry. Thank you very much.” You whispered against his chest.

“Always and forever, pretty.”

[cornelis-rage-poetry]

The diary of an Underground Writer January 16, 2025

In 1980 on my fifteenth birthday I got this amazing present from my parents "26 Griezelverhalen" (26 Horror Stories) by Edgar Allen Poe. Published by Hollandia, in a translation by Simon Vestdijk (a well known Dutch writer in his own right) and with illustrations by Arthur Rackham.

I remember it was at the top of my wish list, I don't remember how or why I, as a young man had become interested in the works of Poe, but for some reason I was drawn to it, fascinated by the dark and mysterious nature of his stories. And in later years I bought several other publications of his work either in hardcover or paperback, always with a somewhat secretive desire in the back of my mind, to one day read his work in the original English language.

And now, practically a lifetime later, again it's my birthday, today I turned 60 (can you believe that? yeah I know I'm an old boomer)(hehe), and to mark the occasion I bought this present for myself, usually I don't buy presents for myself, but because I turned 60 (!!!) I thought: oh well, might as well buy something special and make myself happy. And so I bought this Barnes & Noble edition of "The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe", in the original English language. And it feels like a circle closing from then, way back in 1980 when I was just a boy, to now as I've become an old man.

And I've also noticed as I've become older, the more I feel this desire to go back to how things once were, it's not just this feeling of a circle closing, it's also with a sense of nostalgia, you know like the glow of moonlight, glistening on the surface of a river at night, as the water tries to finds it way back home, to the sea.

Update on my writing, everything goes forward with a steady pace, the formatting of my poetry collection into an ebook for kindle and kobo is mostly a technical formality and doesn't require much time. However the rewrite of my little novel does require time and attention too. I finished the first draft half way December of 2024, and now half way January I'm almost done with the second draft. And it's not only about rewriting, it's also about bringing balance to the story and the style in which it is written, as I've noticed that earlier chapters have a slightly different writing style than the later, as it's been written over the span of about one year, and one's writing style always changes a little bit over time. One might say, as it matures within the story.

And in the rewrite I'm trying to bring the writing style of the chapters closer together, bring balance to the story as a whole and make the reading experience more homogeneous. I hope to finish this second draft later this month, or perhaps early February, I will then let it sink in for two or three weeks, and give it another read to see how it holds up, maybe do some more rewriting, if needed. The plan is to round it all up in March and April, and then hopefully bring the poetry collection as well as my little novel out on kindle and kobo before spring sets in, so they can surf the waves of warm and sunny days.

Alongside these two projects, I've also started working on a third project. It's about the story of why we are here, the story of the Universe and evolution and stuff like that. I've started making notes a few years back, and at the time I had no idea what it was all about. But in recent times, I've started to notice a thematic structure in all those little scribbles and now (like two weeks ago) I've started organizing these notes by theme and topic, to get a better understanding of what it's all about and what it all means and then once it's all organized, usually the main story will show it self. I know it's a weird way of working, but for some reason it works for me, the same thing happened with my little novel. For now let's give it the working title "Project 3", I do have some ideas of what to call it, but it's still very early to give it a real title, and besides I'm not yet sure if it's a little novel or a collection of related stories and or meditations.

Anyway, today was my birthday and it was a good day. I've slept for seven hours, it's cold outside and I'm at peace.

[anynerd]

Just got my hands on The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe. Thanks mum ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)

[hayleylovesjessica]

Instead of completing the tasks that I was supposed to do last night for the company that laid me off back in March but took me back as a contractor back in October (because fuck 'em!, that's why!), I finished reading the last of all the tales by Edgar Allan Poe that I had set as a goal for myself. Specifically, I knocked out "The Gold-Bug," which was weird but fun (I guess it had a happy ending, LOL). In all I read 18 tales, the majority of which I had never read before, and they amounted to 318 pages in the Library of America volume of Poe's Poetry and Tales. (And, yes, I did read or re-read some of the poetry, though not that much.)

So, having gone through this period of reading short stories, including works by not only Poe but also Thomas Mann, Delmore Schwartz, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, Shirley Jackson, Julian Barnes, and Paul Yoon, I want to get back to Three Women by Lisa Taddeo, which I started at one point back in August but made very little headway in. I guess I'll just start over with it.