#but then someone wants books on poetry bc they want to discover the genre

[take-me-to-valhalla]

regarding the tags on the librarian post: do you know how harrowing you feel when someone asks for something ultra specific and interesting and you don’t have much to offer to them?

[krshush]

Tell me abt marietta!!!

The Mesmerizing and murderous seaside queen!!!

Full Name: Marietta Tide (the surname changes, but she is always Marietta)Gender and Sexuality: Nonbinary pansexual Pronouns: She/her or They/themEthnicity/Species: Immortal. She’s from a Fantasy world, not Earth, but the closest to real world example I can think of is sort of… French/Spanish. Throw in some Faelike traits and sharp teeth, and that’s my girl.Birthplace and Birthdate: From the sea near a nearby old old fishing village, a long time ago. Guilty Pleasures: I don’t know if guilt is in Marie’s vocabulary, but she does have an honest affection for (some) humans she doesn’t like admitting to. Phobias: I don’t know if fear is in her vocab– Of finally not living forever, of being outmatched, of very tall heights, and being too far from the ocean. What They Would Be Famous For: She is actively famous for piracy, slaughtering an entire armada of raiders, and for ruling a small strange town she built herself. Oh, also getting arrested and getting beheaded by the local government and living. What They Would Get Arrested For: See above. Also possibility include mass murder and being leader/object of worship of an almost-cult.OC You Ship Them With: An old friend of mine had made an OC named Kai, who was a sailor that fell in love w/Marie, and she became viciously protective of him particularly (bc she loved him too, but wouldn’t admit it really) While I haven’t talked to that friend in some time, I still like that story even if I won’t use their OC specifically OC Most Likely To Murder Them: it doesn’t matter, they won’t succeed… There’s also a long, long line of people who would want her dead, but won’t step to it. The most likely to succeed however is the fellow immortal, the Storyteller, but he’s not fond of murder. Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Mystery/horror in terms of fiction, classic poetry and theorems about the universe and most anything abt architecture.Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: She claims it’s romance, but it’s not. It’s badly written smut where the flat-personality damsel swoons into her hero’s arms.Talents and/or Powers: Immortality, fencing, control over water, sculpting, architectural designing. Why Someone Might Love Them: Breathtakingly beautiful, protective over the few things and people she really loves. Why Someone Might Hate Them: An absolute murderess who’s more likely to be a major antagonist or at least antihero in a story, even if she sees herself as more of an anti-villain if anything.How They Change: Marietta’s timeline goes something like she discovers she’s immortal > Becomes greedy and a pirate and vicious > Settles into making her own port, her own land of sorts and chilling out (as much as a dramatic immortal pirate with expensive tastes could) and learning to love her mortals, her foolish little visitors and villagers.Why You Love Them: I’m very gay and I love immortals and oceanic themes a lot. There’s more I could put here, but that’s the most succinct way to put it all.

[cherry-o-piggy]

And old slew

posted 3/7/2021

I think my number one requirement is that you keep up, which only the mentally ill do.

What does it say about me that all my friends are ADHD?

The black boys, they pass and bob and chat to rap like it’s beat poetry in the 1960s. Here with them I am in a modern historical moment of art discovering my aesthetic and true calling. I see this after a bias worry on repeat, looking back it was not a real fear, just a humorous societal conception, and who have I ever been to subscribe to society. Me and my white girl friend out smoked them in their own home and my friend, I hugged him in front of his friends, and he walked us out of his house like a true gentleman. It was truly the part of my soul that I wanted to share in a social setting.

“You’re not in charge of me, T[redacted] is.”

It’s 10 degrees in the dark and it’s just me and my skin wrapped in tight black fabric flying up the powdered hill like I was never meant to touch the ground in the first place. It is still 10 degrees and I’m replaying everything that has ever happened like maybe I’ll get a second chance that I don’t need, but want still. The 10 degrees rummage around in my bones and all the pain this new year brought, the pain of becoming women, intertwines itself with my heart so there is no difference. The 10 degrees keep me warm, from the pit of my stomach to my chest and red cheeks. It’s enough right now.

The concept of solidarity flowed from Budimir’s lips along with sweeties and engagement, and I truly think it is the first concept I ever truly understood. I do not know respect or love or good. But I know solidarity, I know solidarity deep down in my bones and my blood and my soul. And it just goes to show, it was never me, I just never met a good teacher.

My lust still rides with you, for safe keeping.

I don’t remember what your voice sounds like anymore, I used to be able to hear it in my head.

Every man both looks like you and the man who wanted me dead.

Sometimes I am hollowed out enough that the only feeling I have is my hands and they don’t seem to bare my heart’s intentions. But it is a much deeper part of my being they represent, one I wish someone worse would fulfill for me. Pity I am the only beautiful thing.

Part of my soul is an iris in the wind.

A wealthy woman in the glass, a thesis sustaining the validity of age regression in design and mini-practice, and collections combatting change in order to hold on to something.

There was a few moments of my life where I was obsessed with the devil in the woods by the ocean and the magic I would be allowed if I could just exist somewhere beautiful to be a little odd in peace with equally passionate companionship. While the other burn outs dream of fantasy I dream of psudeo-realistic peace because I could never get there by myself, let alone with the chaos of another sentiment being.

You wouldn’t like me anymore. I’m an existentialist bc I am completely and totally unsure of myself as a concept. And it makes it immensely easier to flow along with the process of getting what I want.

In the dark the voice pokes at suicide in the highest of highest and I drown out the noise with the hope that in that grainy moment 5 guys ago you flicked away my perfect tears with your tongue and I was too intimate and vulnerable to fully feel it.

With a face this expressively cute and a brain this overwhelmingly neat I deserve a man to compliment my abundance completely.

I bet no one thinks about me at all. But that would be naive and hopeful.

If he is only supplying money as his position in your life, as soon as the money stops he no longer needs to be taken into consideration when making decisions because he is no longer a part of your life. If the only value you have is the provision of the bare necessities and no emotional connection you have no purpose after you no longer supply the means of survival because you made the decision and only did a quarter of the work needed to take responsibility for that decision.

Time isn’t who she used to be. Time used to drag and suffocate and strangle. Now Time is broad watercolor strokes to blurry, cotton eyes. I live the same day over and over with the same amount of nothing but I still do not feel the suffocation of monotonous repetition, not like I used to when I was young. I feel unfulfilled still, empty still. But it is not overwhelming. And this nothing that happens, the absolute repetition of activity happens so quickly now. Not like it used to. I feel like I’m always playing catch up. There’s never enough time, or maybe I am newly blind to her movement? Whatever the case, Time and I are strangers now, which is such a shame because I used to know her intricately, anxiously so.

Sometimes I dissolve into words, I think that’s why everything moves so fast.

I’m going to force my oddity on man and disregard everyone that has anything at all to say. I always said I was crazy, which drew extensive attention, but I no longer think that is fitting for me and who I aspire to become. I think I desire much more to be odd than to be mad. Eccentric.

A man bought me six and a half hours (after tax) worth of stuffed animals. And I haven’t even had sex with him. Fuck, that kind of feels like debt. Can I like hang out w him and like “drop” $50 somewhere he’ll eventually notice. I’ve never had to do that before, but I am willing to go that far. Actually, I did that to my GM last break (and I shouldn’t have, I deserve better compensation for my labor, but I refuse to be rude ever).

Why would I want a man that smells like wood?

Hanging out w me is like just me saying “no babies” over and over in different voices.

The feeling drips like sunflower blue syrup down my back. It feels too sharp to be harmless, but too quick to enjoy. And it leaves my chest hollow after it’s appearance. My limbs are heavy and my head is worried about the fluttering around that happened inside my chest last night, I wasn’t sure if it was death or symptoms of suffocation. My lungs just filled and I grasped my body from within my soul and when it was sufficient and neat, I dove back into the harmful thoughts of lust and the gripping behavior caused by being lonesome. This feeling doesn’t flow, it’s too stuck, it remains mine. So instead it drips.

I want to scream that I am good at what I do because a piece of me always felt that you doubted me. I am good enough that I read a love poem out loud to my high school class with the girl in the class and I didn’t get bullied for it, it didn’t scare her away, and my teacher complimented me about it. I was known by the whole high school as a writer and it wasn’t in a bad way. I used to write and edit peoples papers and I was an English tutor for middle school. My English 101 professor told me I should Publish my paper based on the three paragraphs that I wrote in twenty minutes right in front of him. I have not read a full book since sophomore year of high school and I am able to break down structures and themes of books by picking through about 30 pages, and from that I can developed a thesis, a five paragraph outline, research questions, and eventually a 6 page paper from 30 pages of a novel. I hung out with someone, read then my poetry and they were surprised that it was not cringe. Every English teacher I’ve ever had has loved me. I was already so familiar with the English language and the concept of grammar rules and their functions that I could speak in limited vocabulary sentences in Spanish when I was taking Spanish 2 (did I cry every single day, yes, but did I get an A, also yes). When I tell you I am a writer, I mean that it is my soul. It is the only reason I am alive. When I tell you I am good at what I do I mean I’m already published. Twice. I am good at what I do. So yeah, I know what a fucking genre is, bitch.

Even my abusers will tell you I’m good at what I do.

I need someone to press their soul into mine so that I am sure I have one.

Good morning honey bun 💛 I hope you have a wonderful day today and I’ll be sending good thoughts your way all day :) love you ❤️❤️

8 year old me would think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. I remember how critical I was of other women, I remember the way I used to pick them apart in my head about all their imperfects. It’s bc I only heard those things about myself. And I’m not proud, but I was a child and I am completely different now. I remember my favorite parts about women too. I remember how I used to melt for long hair and belly button piercings and being unashamed. I am tall and wealthy and have a million expressions. 8 year old me would stare at me in the store and hope to be her, 8 year old me would love to be 17 year old me. It’s all she ever wanted. I am everything I ever wanted. I am gorgeous.

Sometimes it’s claymation filter and my body is yellow and I am ugly and when I laugh my teeth are bucked. I get so clear that I am ugly. I get so outside of my own perspective that I have never uttered my own name.

I am so self aware and violently gone and ridiculous. And I’ve been wanting this. That I thank god for planning and hard work.

I’m a slut. :) beep

[findteenpenpals]

Hi everyone, My name is Mathilde (pronounced Matild) (most of my friends call me Matty or Poq bc that’s what my last name starts with so call me anything really), I’m a 16 year old girl from Paris. I speak fluently French (obvs) and English, because I went to live in Florida for two years when I was little! About me: I’m in my last year of high school in ES which stands for Economics and Sociology : those are two of my favourite subjects but I also love history and languages. Apart from French and English, I’ve been studying German for eight years so I’m decent in it, Italian for three years, Spanish for two years (I keep mixing these two languages when i talk in either of them, it’s a mess) and Korean for a month. I’m struggling with Korean so if you speak it, help would be really appreciated! Im also really into politics, I’d like to study political sciences next year because it’s not a subject taught in high school here so for now I just read articles online and have debates with my friends. I love reading! Some of my favorite books (apart from HP, LOTR, PJO and all your classic fandoms) include The Help, The Book Thied, Mémmires d’une jeune fille rangée (I don’t know the translation but if you have time, get yourself a translated version and read it, I very very highly recommend it), The Moonstone, Germinal, Oliver Twist, Le Rouge et le Noir and, of course, 1984 (this book is one of the best fight me on this) I like to study and learn new things, but I also tend to procrastinate, do everything in a panic at the last minute, hate myself for it, get a good grade back, be relieved, promise to never do that again, and do it again. When I’m in a study mood however I like to listen to some movie soundtracks while I work, it helps me stay motivated so ignore you need any recommendations, hmu! Which leads us to music : I listen to lots of different genres and I’m open to discovering new artists, I have Spotify so we could exchange playlists! I listen to some classical music, movie soundtracks as ce already mentioned, a capella music is something I really love, I used to listen to FOB and TØP a lot but not so much anymore (I still know their songs by heart though). I’ve been getting into kpop lately : it’s only been a month so I don’t know much about it but I’ve been enjoying it so far. A friend made me listen to BTS, I got really into it, then she got mad at me because I was only listening to them when there are «so many different groups who deserve as much fame as BTS » so now I listen to other kpop groups too 😅 I don’t watch that much YouTube but I enjoy watching Dan and Phil though dodie is BY FAR my favourite creator in the platform. Other random things I like : Green tea, bullet journaling, writing, singing, playing the organ (I used to play the piano but switched to the organ three years ago), long conversations, walking in Paris on a sunny day, taking pictures, sending and receiving long emails or texts, the colour yellow, filming short vlogs that I send to my international friends (we could become vlogging friends if you want), taking really hot showers, complaining about Paris (don’t get me wrong, I do love it), feminism, naps, that feeling of pride when a cat decides to curl up on your lap and you feel like the chosen one, sitting people into Hogwarts houses, interrupting myself mid-sentence whenever I’m talking because I can’t remember a word and stay frozen in shock as I start having an existential crisis, large sweaters, socks with funny designs, theories on Gravity Falls (Alex Hirsch what have you done to me), reading poetry, the smell of candles, fairy lights, the word « grelot », writing way too much, okay I’ll stop now. I’m looking for someone between 14 and 18 who is down for receiving really long messages, is a good listener because I can open up pretty quickest, someone whom I can trust and who’ll trust me too. If we start messaging and you feel like we can’t get along, just tell me « I’m sorry but I don’t think this is going to work out », I’ll totally understand and it’s better than just ghosting each other ! You can contact me via : Tumblr : anotherdayinthe_life Email : mamapoq2001@gmail.com (I know how ridiculous it sounds, I made it when I was 12) If we get along, I’ll give you my snapchat, messenger, Skype, whatever you prefer! OKAY BYE NOW SORRY FOR THE REALLY LONG POST