#anyways it’s time to go to sleep I’m losing it

[emitowrites]

Ok this is so true, but then my brain does the thing, and something completely different comes out. It’s not even a horse that I’m creating, it’s an entire herd…

I started writing a story called Everywhere, Everything exactly one month ago today, and I decided the other day to read it fully for the first time. And let me tell you… when I was writing it, I had no idea where it was going, but holy shit…

I’d had these two ideas, so imagine like two parts of the horse image above are detailed and glorious, and there isn’t even an idea of a horse in between them, just a blank space. I had these story bookends, but I didn’t even map out a vague idea of how to connect them, just started writing it. I barely even edited it before I posted the chapters. I let it flow out of me in, what, like, 4 days, and then moved on to the next thing.

I hadn’t read it back in the weeks since I posted it, and then I read it fully over the past few days and… the bits that I had thought were the beautiful, detailed parts of the story, those two initial ideas? They now read like they were actually only a first draft, like a kid had drawn a stick figure horse. It’s the rest of it that works. Somehow, I’d foreshadowed things I hadn’t even thought of yet. I’d hinted at things without realising it, but maybe I can only see that with hindsight and distance?

I loved writing it so much. I didn’t even eat or move (of my own volition) the entire time, just let it course out of me. My partner had to bring me food and remind me to go to the bathroom and sleep even! And I know that it’s not the best I could have done. It was rushed and spontaneous and uncontrollable and… I want to rewrite it all now, make those initial ideas fit better for the rest of the story, you know? They feel clunky and awkward, hurried and inelegant. Who knows, maybe I will rewrite it at some point… if my brain ever stops coming up with new ideas for me to explore.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say (but am instead dancing around and losing my way a bit, get it together Em!) is that sometimes you think you’re creating one thing, and then the ‘art’ actually happens and you’ve emerged with something else entirely. Sometimes your projection from the place you start is completely different from where you end up.

For me, the point of art is not the product or the idea itself, but the journey you go on to create it.

me as a writer

[r1elle]

“no use crying over spilled milk.” —except, there probably is.

a. miya x reader

atsumu knows he’s messed up.

he thinks he may need to leave all that he’s accomplished in his lifetime — all because of a simple, but dire mistake.

“this can’t be happenin..” the blonde murmurs, looking at the monstrosity infront of him.

spilled vegetable smoothie. on three dozens of cooling cookies. that you’ve excitedly made. for your friends and family. as gifts.

atsumu was definitely crying over this ‘spilled milk’.

brushing off the fear of getting divorced on Christmas Eve, atsumu decides to think of how he can remove any remaining evidence.

he thinks that perhaps he can just bake the cookies again, —but argh, he silently curses osamu for taking the culinary skills.

the blonde scrambles around, scurrying to every part of the kitchen to at least try and scrape some of the green-kelpy smoothie bits on your cookies.

the opening of the front door was the only thing that could make him drop whatever he was doing.

“atsumu!~ do you think you can help me with the groceries? i ended up going a little overboard, so i bought some hot coco and chocolate fondue as something to go with the cookies! and—“ you ramble on, however atsumu could only feel the lump forming in his throat, the sweat on his forehead, and the drying of his lips.

he’d rather experience losing a volleyball match right now.

but unfortunately, the sweating of his palms wasn’t going to help him cover his crime scene— with you finally walking up to him with a questionable tone and all.

on some lame attempt to delay your discovery by even a fraction of a second, atsumu lays a cloth on top of your pastries.

“hey, something the matt—……er…?”

you pause in between your words, familiar with atsumu’s current expression. your husband is wearing the exact face he made the last time he realized he’d accidentally mistaken your diy project as trash and threw it out. (valentines almost ended off with him sleeping on the couch.)

his face could only mean one thing, then.

however, distracting you from the overly guilty look on his face was the unusual placement of the rag that you had bought not long ago.

you look at the cookies.

he looks at you.

you look at him.

he looks at the cookies.

you lift the rag.

green, protein-y, vegetable smoothie mix laid on top of your thick, chocolate chipped cookies.

“miya.”

despite the fact that you both now share the same last name— atsumu knows you talk of his last name.

he fears that you may end up going back to your own after this night passes.

“baby please, i— i didn’t…” he rambles, but knows that no excuse can save him from his actions. he pinches the bridge of his nose. “…im…i’m sorry, hon. i’ve got no excuse. i was bein’ careless, and yer’ cookies are all damped because of my stupidity. i’m sorry. what can i do? hm?”

his build envelopes yours, and suddenly you find a man nearing his 30s senselessly murmuring sweet nothings to your ear, hoping that perhaps a single saying can be of the slightest comfort to your disappointment.

the room quiets down, the sound of the ventilation being the only source bearing noise.

the silence only makes atsumu antsy, who begins to lose hope of your anger easing down any time soon.

and so, he decides to call it a night.

“i’ll take the couch tonight, hm? how’s that? i know that it’s nothin’ much…”

a grin.

“…but if it’ll help you in even the slightest way, i’m more than willing to do it—”

a stifle of laughter.

atsumu paused, thinking that the (familiar) sound he’d just heard was some sort of hallucination that his mind had made up on the spot.

“a-anyway, i’ll see what i can do soon, and—“

finally releasing any ounce of self control you had, bursts of laughter start leaving your mouth.

“oh— oh, oh my gosh, i…” your unexplained cackling begins to alter the solemn look on your husbands face into one of confusion.

“you just looked so pathetic— it was cute! i’m sorry, i’m sorry..” you manage to hide in a snort, your husbands eyes following every movement you made.

why were you laughing? was he getting divorced?! is this some sick way to break it to him? no…no??! you’ve both been through so much together, you couldn’t possibly—… but then again… he’s probably put you through so much! argh! is this what osamu meant when he said—

atsumu’s disorganized internal thoughts then get interrupted by your pecks, something that’s been able to melt him since your last year of highschool.

“i’m not mad, no.. no,” you smile, a little giggle sneaking out. “i just couldn’t help but see how you’d react if i looked mad! i’m sorry baby, forgive me?” you coo, your head lifting up to meet his eyes as you sway his tall figure.

“but… i.. yer not mad? i completely trashed the cookies, babe. look!—

“i may or may not have accidentally mixed the salt up for sugar.” you say, a playful smile greeting your lips. “haven’t told you about the cookies i just bought from the store.”

as if all his worries had come to an end, atsumu’s shoulders slump down, a sigh coming out of him.

“ya couldn’t just tell me all that in the beginnin’?”

“and miss seeing you all so guilty and pouty? what am i, insane?”

“be happy i love ya’.”

“need i remind you of last valentines, then?”

“why don’t we get set up? also, yer’ lookin’ beautiful in that dress. anyone told you that yet?”

“okay, you can stop that now, miya.”

“yer’ a miya too, ya know.” he grins.

you roll your eyes, however a smile creeps it’s way in, betraying your ‘dismay’ towards the man.

“you’re right. i suppose i am.”

this was from the request of an oomf !

can we just pretend this was posted before Christmas thank u very muchiez

i fear that the pathetic husband atsumu will never become a trope i’ll get tired of

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone !

ps. if you start seeing that i lowkey started to get confused as to how to write that lil accent he has, no u didn’t.

[taeminsupremacist]

when will a kpop artist sample me cortaron mal el pelo by legend chascoberto??????

[goldenhypen]

guys i was so fortunate and lucky to get to see enhypen irl tonight :’) sooo grateful omg it was so good and i’m going coocoo bonkers crazier than ever rn

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

should i sleep for a hundred million years or purposefully stop sleeping just to see what happens

[loderlied]

i will go to sleep NOW 🫵 (pointing at myself)

[deus-ex-mona]

“i’m all alone, but i’m as happy as can be!”

[barklikeagod]

bought some boxers today :)

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[seventh-district]

.

[binders-and-beanies]

.

[fellhellion]

guess who had to backtrack the entire nightsong confrontation because she assumed the tiefling rescue mission was part of assaulting moonrise towers

[foxgloveinspace]

I am back in 24/7 sleep token lock down. No other music. No other thoughts.

It’s been two days and my creativity is back.

I swear if I thought sleep was real he’d be a god of creativity and not chaos….. creativity through chaos?? Perhaps.

[exopelagic]

I wiped out so hard tonight my KNEES

[milo-is-rambling]

Someone tell me how to make me not hate myself and make my family not think I’m a bitch and make me want to see my family or drive back down the coast or stay in strange places or do anything other than kill myself I mean whaaatttt haha what a weird thing to say *stares directly into the camera knowingly*

[mzcain27]

How do we set a curfew for my brothers but it’s not really a curfew because they’re 18 but something so they’re back at the house at a semi reasonable hour so my mother can actually get some sleep