#concrete writing

[marcogiovenale]

beautiful damned / angela genusa. 2007

_

[pedestrianlens]

Juice I miss you babe. Plz call home.

[itscontinental]

Q #1952

[mrparable]

*cracks open google docs and it releases a cloud of dust*

[belfry-ghost]

gonna post some doodle dumps bc most of my bigger projects are unfinished or for an event lol

t4t DannyTim (at pride)

Red Hood and Little Baby Man

Danny wearing Superboy merch

halfa!tim sketch

bart + a big teddy bear

dick + tim eating burgers after patrol

[secretagentsloveblogs]

wait i dont think im ready to hear david and ashers vows yet hold on

[aerknight]

snek sun design for my au!

he would give the best hugs <3

[aka-indulgence]

📓?

Um………….

A reverse harem with a Skider, a Snake, and a Skelepede Sans(es)…………

It’s reverse harem jealousy and possessiveness x11 and everyone is territorial and instinct-driven and living with their natural enemies, while their perfect mate is in the middle of all of them trying to court you. So not only are they enemies, they’re also competitors, so the likelihood of violence happening is also increased fjehgkrhf

Skider lives in the attic and webs it up, likes to stalk and manipulate the most. He likes to creep up on you and Yoink you up to the attic. Also puts up silk strings to know where you are. Whispery and generally creepy (in the way a spider is creepy, not creepy like “please don’t touch me” djhfd)

Snake loves flustering you. He’s trying to curb his instincts the most- he absolutely wants to throw hands for you and squeeze you, but you need someone Somewhat calm in the midst of monsters. Tries to coax you to relax more and is more subtly sinister in making you rest in his coils and fall asleep, then silently boasts to the other monsters that you’re sleeping in him.

Skelepede is the most volatile and unpredictable of the three and hangs out in the basement. He isn’t quiet like Skider- he likes to make his presence known, prides himself in being able to steal you from either of them. When he ‘lunges’ he’s in and out like flash, one sec you’re on the couch, the next a train of centipede rushes towards you and then you’re gone. Temperamental.

Issue is idk why they’re in a house lol

[tigirl-and-co]

How Finite is Love?

This is a short little piece set in @shirecorn‘s super cool mlp AU! This is just a first pass at it, I’ll definitely refine it if I post it to a fic site. I just HAD to get this out though, the au hits all my sweet spots!

Shining Armor considers the ponies he loves, and how a mortal pony can love goddesses.

Shining Armor held no resentment towards his two favourite mares. It wasn't their fault. They had no choice. Shining wasn't certain he believed in destiny, but whatever happened to his wife and baby sister sure was close.

First it was his wife, and that he could handle. She was an adult. They had fallen in love in highschool, they had grown together, Shining knew how strong Cadance was. If anypony deserved ascension, it was her.

If anypony could weather this, it was them.

He loved his wife with every bone in his body, every fiber of his being, every ounce of magic he could channel. And he knew she felt the same. If she didn't... this never would have happened.

Can love be a curse? Can loving somepony too much damn your soul? Can it save it?

About a month after Cadance gained her horn, Shining Armor decided dwelling on these questions wasn't helpful, and the answers didn't matter. He loved Cadance, and Cadance loved him. He couldn't change the past, wasn't sure if he even would -- but he was dead set on building a happy future.

At least as happy as he could give her. He couldn't guarantee that the love his mortal body held would last into her infinity, but he was determined to try.

He hoped it wouldn't destroy her to leave him behind, when the time came.

He loved her too much for that.

===

He had celebrated when The Sun took notice of Twilight.

The young stallion was oblivious to the looks of quiet worry on his parents' faces, the body language that said they were resigned to a cautious optimism. How could the attention of the source of Equestrian life bring anything but fortune?

He wasn't yet old enough to have heard the whispers. The old fables weren't circulated in school for fear of divine retribution, and Shining Armor was not as studious as his sibling.

Now?

Had he the power, he would have torn The Sun from the sky.

His baby sister, the sweetest and most sensitive mare he had ever known, damned to an eternity of watching her friends die.

She was a child (she was older than Cadance had been) she needed protection (she had brought down false gods) she wasn't ready (The Sun had learned from its mistakes, this new goddess was more than prepared).

She needed him.

Didn't she?

(She did, once.)

He was proud of her, of course. And if he had been watching for the signs, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Twilight Sparkle had always had an innate love for those around her. Before she had locked herself away in that tower amongst the tomes, she had been a kind filly. And even then, she had never quite managed to harden her heart.

She was still openly affectionate with him, with Cadance, with Twilight Velvet and Night Light. She shared her knowledge with them because it was how she said 'I love you.'

Leave it to a goddess to exploit that trait.

When Shining managed to find time to talk with his Twily after she had earned her wings, she had said her job as goddess was 'to spread the knowledge of friendship' and to teach others what friendship truly meant. She sounded excited, happy. She had found a purpose for her research.

Shining Armor wasn't sure if his baby sister hadn't yet considered the consequences of eternal life, or if it simply didn't bother her. He didn't ask.

He realized that while she was still his Twily, and would be until the day he died, she was more. She was Ponyville's friend. She was Celestia's Twilight Sparkle.

She was Equestria's new goddess.

He renewed his vow to remain her BBBFF forever, to keep her safe from turmoil and danger.

He swallowed down his anger and despair that night, in favour of his inevitable role as protector. He had his cutie mark, and he knew what it meant.

===

Shining Armor loved the mares in his life, and he would go to the ends of Equestria to keep them safe and happy, whether they needed him or not.

He was glad, at least, that they would have each other.

[marcogiovenale]

works by mar arza

[garadinervi]

From: Johanna Drucker, Stochastic Poetics, Druckwerk and Granary Books, New York, NY, 2012 [© Johanna Drucker]

(UbuWeb, Visual Writing, ubu editions, 2013, pdf here)

[itscontinental]

Q #830 (top) Q #947 (bottom)

[spacenintendogs]

i was just an only child of the universe,

and then i found you

and then i found you......

[wanderingblindly]

what are some other aus you want to write for landoscar? would you do like toxic relationships? post-apocalyptic? college frat bro lando? greys anatomy? crime? hehe so curious and love your writing!!!!

Oh god, my fatal flaw is that I’m CONSTANTLY thinking of AUs hahahahha. Some that I’ve talked about recently, but haven’t gotten around to starting, are:

- youth soccer rivals turned D1 teammates (yes, it’ll be set in America because I said so and also because I only know how this all works in the U.S.). I want rivals to begrudgingly well-suited teammates to lovers!!!!!

- university AU centered around sculpture courses (trust me I have a vision)

- ceramics-studio owner Lando x office worker Oscar

- tattoo artist Lando x Just Some Guy Oscar

- Alpha Oscar that accidentally ended up in our non-A/B/O universe. Omega Lando and Alpha Oscar aren’t dating yet, but our Lando and Oscar are. Chaos? (Inspired by @mossistyping )

- Lando and Oscar as teammates, where Lando — in an attempt to be a Good Senior Teammate — accidentally kind of. Becomes Oscar’s sugar daddy.

- some sort of AU where Oscar is famous and Lando isn’t? I want to try a dynamic I don’t often touch.

- hmmmmm some sort of soulmate AU

- I kind of want to try my hand at an AU based on a show/movie/book universe, but I’m not sure what I’d do?????????

- also want to write something. Miserable. I was listening to Miserable music again the other day in the shower and I made me want to inflict pain.

- toxic relationships sound interesting!!!! But it’s one of those things where like…. I’m not sure how I’d find a plot I’m compelled by, you know? I’m so fussy

[bi-writes]

https://www.tumblr.com/bi-writes/757589400358141952?source=share

These two ruined my life.

"will you love me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously. "do you think maybe...do you think maybe that's possible?"

he licks over his teeth, humming. he leans down, knocking your chin up, and your breath hitches when he licks up the side of your jaw, taking in a whiff of your perfume and the sweetness of his bride.

"what a stupid word," he mutters, biting at the curve of your bottom lip. "meaningless. love. bloody hell."

"w-what...what?"

"a meaningless fuckin' word for the things i would do for ya," he continues. "the things i would kill. the heads i would step on. the sorry fucks i would get rid of...just to see y'smile."

your eyes flutter. yes, yes, yes--the unconditional devotion. the terrifyingly beautiful reality of through sickness and in health, until death do us part.

👆👆👆👆

I am yet to recover from this. I am yet to catch my breath. I am yet to get my BPM down to something normal.

arrangement

yessssssss. i want someone to just look at me and be like “YOU’RE MY WIFE. THAT MEANS I’D DO ANYTHING FOR YOU. even commit violent war crimes.”

i miss them. omg. i miss them.

[echo-rambles]

use my body against me

summary: when a drunk text to your ex gets answered in a way you never expected, it leads to falling right back into old habits. tags: past established relationship, ex-boyfriend chan, suggestive content but nothing explicit, mention of recreational alcohol use, swearing. notes: title from the way you miss me by all time low. mostly a rewrite of my very first reader insert fic, because I loved the concept but I wasn't a fan of my own writing, and I think I've vastly improved since. I might write a continuation, but no promises.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The situation you currently find yourself in is truly one of your own making. There’s really no one else to blame, no matter how much you would love to point the finger at literally anyone besides yourself. 

There’s a text message from Bang Christopher Chan sitting there, on your phone. Staring up at you almost accusatory and chilling you to the bone. 

-Good morning, I hope you’re drinking water to combat all of that vodka you consumed last night! hahaha 

At first, the text means nothing to you. It leaves you in a state of mild confusion only exacerbated by your incredible hangover. How would he know you drank your weight in liquor? The only answer you can even try to think up isn’t a good one. Feeling brave and a little nauseous, you decide to scroll up, farther into this conversation between you and your ex.

The confusion melts away into horror as you locate the beginning of this conversation. One glance at the selfie you sent has the memory coming back to you, causing your headache to flare. Oh no.

It was late last night, and you had already drank one too many shots of whatever fruity flavored vodka was available. Shut away in Felix’s bathroom, the light overhead far too harsh and fluorescent, pulling your shirt down enough to show off your cleavage. Snapping a picture in the mirror above the sink, leaning into the counter and trying your best to look some approximation of sexy. 

Fumbling fingers sent it to Chan. The first text between the two of you in months. 

Looking at the selfie now has your stomach twisting into knots. Oh no. The texts that followed aren’t any better. Actually, they somehow make the entire situation worse. 

-the fact that i wore this shirt hoping you’d be at this party only to learn you went home EARLY?

-i wasted such an amazing outfit and for nothing

-i bet you looked good too. bastard

-sometimes i can’t tell if i miss you or just the weight of you on top of me 

-i miss how good you were -i know fora fact i miss your mouth -i miss your mouth on MY MOUTH -omg i miss my mouth on your

You swipe away from those messages. Knowing for a fact you’ll have to read them eventually, to get a proper understanding of the things you said to him. But not right now. Right now you continue to scroll, your texts devolving into a mix of incomprehensible emojis and bitching at Chan about things he very obviously can’t control. You were a mess, holy shit. Who even let you text? Why wasn’t your phone confiscated the moment vodka hit your lips?

The only things that Chan has replied with since your terrible wall of drunk texts is an initial Oh wow lol, and his aforementioned good morning text.

It could be worse, right? He could’ve blocked you or typed out an excruciatingly long lecture about drinking responsibly. It honestly could’ve been so much worse. 

Crawling your way out of bed, still vaguely nauseous and trying to fight the urge to lay face down on the floor and never get up again, you shuffle your way into the bathroom. First thing’s first before you tackle whatever the fuck is on your phone, you decide to wash up to feel human again.

The world can fall apart around you for all you care. All you want is a shower and some toothpaste. 

Wrapped in a towel and your toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, you finally decide to reply. You probably shouldn’t, especially now that you’re sober and know better, but you have to apologize. That feels like the polite thing to do. 

Well, the only way to begin is by beginning. 

-lol hey good afternoon 

-I ended up demolishing an entire water bottle when I got home last night but sadly it wasn’t enough to save me

How do you even apologize for last night? Sorry I was so angry and horny and I made it your problem? Sorry that the first time I've texted you since we broke up was a drunk thirst trap? So sorry, and hey by the way how have you been since we had the messiest breakup because you’re bad at prioritizing and I’m bad at communication? 

Yeah, definitely none of that. 

You’re still standing there in your bathroom, staring into the mirror and brushing your teeth on autopilot as your mind spins into itself, when your phone lights up. One notification followed swiftly by a second, making your phone buzz on the counter. 

Chan’s contact stares back at you, both messages fading off into ellipses. 

-Ah, RIP. You should’ve drank three…

-Hey, I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if we could…

Oh, you don’t think this is the sort of message you can read by yourself while still combating the aching nausea of a hangover. Absolutely not, whatever he has to say can be answered once you have a sufficient amount of caffeine and the right company. 

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“I need a second opinion.” It’s the first thing you say, after sitting down across from Felix and shoving your phone at him. Showing off the string of text messages you experienced after waking up. You still haven’t read the newest text. 

Felix barely even moves his head from where it’s resting against the table. He’s clearly just as hungover as you are, but you feel like you’re in the middle of making a very bad decision and you need a second opinion. You shimmy your phone under the seam where his forehead meets the wood. 

With a little pout and deep groan, he’s shifting around and unlocking your phone. The silence stretches on as he swipes through the text thread and stares, blinks, and blinks some more. With a start, he’s sitting up straight, pulling the phone closer. 

“Wait, he wants to meet up with you?”

“He wants to what?” You snatch the phone from his hands, finally reading the text yourself. 

-Hey, I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if we could maybe grab lunch? Or, if you’re still too hungover for lunch, maybe something later?

Just the idea of seeing him again has something hot and electric buzzing through your veins. Your immediate instinct is to say yes. You want to say yes so badly, yes a thousand times over. Instead you very deliberately place your phone onto the table. 

Felix has slumped back into his seat, eyeing you warily. “I thought you weren’t talking to him?”

“I mean- I wasn’t. But now I am, kind of? It’s not that big of a deal-” 

“It felt like you two went through a divorce, I don’t know if I’d say it’s ‘not a big deal’-”

“I’m over it!” You proclaim, a little loudly. A little desperately. “And he is too if he’s talking to me.” 

All you get in response is Felix’s eyebrows pitching inwards and his mouth molding into a little frown. The type of frown that is trying very hard to not be a frown. He’s giving you the most pitying look you’ve probably ever seen on his angelic face. 

You should say no. Scoop up your phone and tell him that you can’t make it. Conjure up some far flung excuse so that you won’t reopen old wounds. But you want to see him again, desperately. 

You tap your fingers along the edge of the table. “Is this a bad idea?” 

“Do you want my truthful answer?” Felix replies from the depths of his hoodie. Your phone sits between you, dark screen facing the ceiling. 

You think for a moment. “Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, fuck you.” 

The thing is, you know he has a point. It doesn’t feel very good but it’s true. Sure, you and Chan can be amicable over text, but that’s over text. Who knows what will happen if you’re face to face. Would it be awkward and stilted? Or maybe everything you say to each other will be filled with vitriolic anger. Things didn’t exactly end on the best terms, and that might just leak into an otherwise pleasant meeting. 

But you are nothing if not a professional at both denial and deflections, so you push all of those thoughts very far away. 

Maybe this could be a new start. Maybe you and Chan could be the incredibly rare type of people who are friends with their ex. You’d like that, actually, to have Chan back in your life beyond some tertiary character you hear about from other people. Texting him reminded you how much you actually miss your best friend. 

Snatching your phone up, you just barely restrain yourself from checking to see if you somehow managed to miss any new messages. 

“It’s a friend thing! Friend’s hang out all the time. We're going to go get coffee or something equally platonic and we're going to ignore all of the drunk texts I sent him!” Your voice raises in pitch towards the end, and it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself more than anything else.

Felix gives you a very unimpressed look. “You told him that you miss the feel of his-”

“I know what I said!"

"In your mouth-"

"Thank you!”

Those texts are burned into your brain, you're well aware of the things you sent Chan. How they got more detailed the more you sent. Just remembering some of them has you flushing.

“I mean," Felix hums, oblivious to the direction your thoughts are taking. "I guess it could be a thing friends do.” There's too much sarcasm in his words for your liking.

“As if you haven’t said something similar to any of your friends.”

One of his eyebrows arch, and the gesture is so very pointed. “Any friend that I’ve gotten on my knees for was never at any point an extremely complicated ex.”

"Shut the fuck up." He's right and you hate it.

But still. You want to see Chan so badly. Finally you give in to the all consuming urge to reply. Opening up Chan’s contact, your fingers work quickly. 

-I mean, if you’re paying…

-Of course I’ll pay haha 

-then count me in!

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cave so quickly.” Felix sighs, but there’s something all tangled into his words. Some emotion you can’t really identify right now. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it sounds hopeful. 

“Seriously, shut up.” 

“You came here asking for my opinion!” 

“Well!” You huff, trying not to glance at the little typing bubble that appears under your fingers. Signaling that Chan is in the middle of replying to you. He wants to continue your stupid little conversation. Your heart does a funny little wiggle at the sight. “I’ll take what you said into consideration, I guess.”

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Felix was probably right, and that was such a complicated thought to have while Chan’s hand was currently palming you through your shirt. 

See, it really had started out with grabbing coffee together. Something extremely casual with no pressure, the conversation just a little awkward at the start. Both of you trying to remember how to be civil towards each other, how to smile and laugh at jokes. It came a lot easier to Chan, as always. But you missed this. You missed being in the same space as him and hearing his voice and fucking hell, Felix was right; you’re so incredibly weak. 

You tried so hard to keep things on track, really you did. The possibility of being friends was right there, laid out in front of you. But then Chan smiled- that small little smile where he ducks his head and bites at his lip and looks up at you from under those fucking eyelashes of his, and oh. You were gone.

He makes it almost disgustingly easy to be around him. It makes your head buzz. 

Somehow the touch of your fingers against the inside of his wrist lead you to his apartment. Where he pins you to the wall and kisses you so deeply you can feel it in your toes. You almost forgot what it felt like when Chan put his full strength into holding you in place. It’s heady. 

He still tastes the same. Somehow, in the midst of his hands gripping and tugging you closer, pressing your hips flush together, that’s the thought that floats its way to the forefront. Chan tastes the same, even after all this time where you never got to taste him. He feels the same too, a little wider, mostly in his shoulders, but still familiar. He makes the same little noise in the back of his throat when you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

It’s all so familiar and you could choke on it. 

You should probably talk about this. The making out, yes, absolutely, but also the last few months and the texts and him asking to see you out of the blue. It should be talked about, right? Except what would you even say? You’ll just rehash the same things you’ve been saying. You felt ignored and he felt suffocated and you could never find a way to meet in the middle because you’re both stubborn. 

You should say something though, right? Right? 

The press of his hand against the dip of your waist, pulling you closer, has you losing any semblance of what language even is. Words? Who needs them? He’s hooking his other hand behind your knee and hiking it up, guiding you to wrap your leg around him, and really all you can think about is how you aren’t close enough.

You sneak your fingers up under the hem of his shirt, feeling the expanse of his skin, and the sound of the breathiest gasp leaving his lips settles along the curve of your spine. 

This doesn’t feel like a particularly good idea, but then he’s grinding against you, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh, and it doesn’t really matter all that much. 

“Is this a terrible idea?” He asks, practically breathing the words directly into your mouth, and you find it a little funny. Not only are you both having the same sort of thought, but it feels incredibly belated. 

“Honestly Chris? I don’t really give a fuck.” 

That gets him to laugh. Just the quietest little giggle into the skin of your jaw. His hand moves, until he’s grabbing at your ass and angling your hips higher, and it’s really such an inspired thing. The feeling of him, hard through his denim, pressing into you has a moan tripping out of you. 

You definitely need to talk about this. 

Chan keeps touching you, kissing you, undressing you. Little by little, constantly asking 'is this ok? Yeah? We can stop whenever you want-' because he's still a gentleman. You haven't been this close to him in months, but he's still so fucking considerate. It'd be more maddening if it wasn't so familiar. If anything it’s reassuring, filling you with a stupid amount of confidence. You know how to deal with this. 

You repeat yes over and over, hands at his shoulders and licking the word into his mouth, no matter how much he asks. 

He peels your shirt away, careful with the fabric, mouth already trailing down your neck, your chest, landing on the swell of your cleavage. Hands so wide, palms easily fitting to your bare waist.

"Just tell me to stop, and I will-"

Finally you snap. Like a live wire pulled too taut, reaching out to grab at his face. Pressing your fingers into the hollows of his cheeks, his chin resting in the curve of your palm. "Christopher, I'm so horny I feel like I might cry. So while I really appreciate what you're trying to do- if you don't rail me stupid in the next five minutes, I can't be held accountable for my actions."

"Oh, sorry." He blinks at you, a little slowly as he leans more of his weight into your hand. Your fingers dig into the meat of his face and you can feel something tense in his jaw.

"Don't apologize baby, just get on with it." This feels familiar too. Like slipping into a pair of beloved jeans. The fit so perfect.

His eyes light up in the next instant, sparkling and bright, and holy shit you're in for it now. "Say less, boss."

You don't know if you still love him, but you do know that you'll always love the feeling of his mouth on you. His hands. Leaving wet trails as he kisses your skin messily, sloppy. Clever fingers following in the wake of his tongue.