#i am excited for this! my grammar is shit and i know poetry is a fuzzy way to practice that buuuut

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Russian Poetry!; Or, Birthday Gifts, Plus Some.

I studied Russian in college and, despite my Duolingo efforts, miss it, so I figured the most approachable way to Get Back Into That was to read dual-language poetry. Rationales: It's nice to have someone (read: the translator) hold your hand when you're out of practice; Poems Smaller than Novels or Short Stories and therefore bite-sized/less intimidating; I can do a couple poems a session without risking Losing The Plot like I might for fiction (and isn't that how you're supposed to enjoy poetry anyway??); I can take notes and jot down new vocab words in this handy little journal! (Do I read much poetry in English? No. Are we ignoring that? Very much yes, thanks.)

The three books on the top are Actually Dual Language, with Russian on one page and English facing. THIS IS US LOSING COUNT is contemporary, but Akhmatova and Tsvetaeva are decidedly not, so I'll be starting with LOSING COUNT.

The two on the bottom are English only, but the whopping 948-page complete Akhmatova as All Her Poems, plus context, which will definitely be helpful (the Selected Akhmatova above is a companion volume!), and the Parnok is a combination of context + translated poems and she was a lesbian, Harold.

I'm planning on making a year(s)-long (however long it takes!) study of this, and chipping at it regularly. Expect to see volumes pop up in my "Books of [Year]" posts intermittently!

[by-kilian]

Hey kw!!

💞, 🎈💌

Hey love!!

Thanks for sending in a question, I'll answer them under the cut :) <3

💞 What's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language?

Ooooh, I love this. I think I've mentioned it before but it's the CHARACTERS. Mainly because I operate on the idea that plot comes from characters. When characters feel like people with their own motives, goals, and journeys, I def. feel as if stories are richer and better for them. I also care a lot about technical stuff like grammar but I don't think that's the most important thing. You can write a shit story and have perfect grammar. You can also write a really captivating story and have shit grammar. 😂

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

I genuinely don't know LMAO. Maybe because it is ever-changing. I get inspired a lot by poetry and music, so I think my style feels a little immersive. Sometimes I'm repetitive on purpose to make a point. I make a lot of parallels. I don't really know if I have a style~. I do know it changes though, but I still think that everything I write feels uniquely me even when I'm trying to go for something different. Which is good.

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Oh gosh, I have no up-and-coming work in progresses except for "Straight to Heaven"! 😭 I think maybe the most exciting thing is that it's all coming to an end. There's a lot left to happen, mainly Mathias being caught. I am so excited for you all to see how that goes down. Tehehe. I can't share any more than that though 😂.

Thanks for sending in an ask my darling, I hope you've been good :333

[highgaarden]

131 for Catherine and Peter?

peter/catherine + can we just stay in bed? // this accidentally turned into a whole oneshot, whoops?? wrote this entirely in the answer box so excuse mistakes, if there are any.

black out days;

Upon Chekhov’s orders, Catherine is confined to bed. Peter sets about cheering her. (2156 words) (read on ao3)

--

day one

Catherine is carried into the palace, screaming treason.

Lady Svenska is nowhere to be found.

That is all she remembers before Chekhov puts her under.

--

day two

It’s a mundane sort of day in Russia where hunting is cancelled because of the pounding rain and nothing exciting happens except for Velementov accidentally tripping face-first over Marial’s dog, right into the ridiculously cream-frothed cake Peter wanted to have for breakfast.

In bed.

Despite the fact that Velementov had been pestering him all week to look over some maritime reforms, and Orlo had been pestering him about - he can’t remember. It’s Orlo. Who the fuck listens to Orlo?

“I, for one, think you should lend a more attentive ear,” Catherine mutters as she turns a page in her book.

“That’s because lending you books is the closest he will ever come to grazing a woman’s hand,” Peter points out, mouth full of cream. “How’s your ankle?”

“I can twitch it to the right with only excruciating pain.”

Peter eyes her bandaged foot. “And the left?”

“It is as if I am paralysed.”

“Interesting.”

“Indeed.”

“Is it just me,” Peter asks as he feeds her some cake, “or do you sound terribly bored?”

Catherine swats the spoon away. “No, Peter, I am just tired. I cannot imagine anything more delightful than having to spend four bed-ridden days--”

“Five,” Chekhov, who they had managed to successfully ignore for the past hour, says from one corner.

“Five bed-ridden days in the embrace of your apartments. With you.” Catherine smiles sweetly. “In it.”

“It is very strange how there was a sudden, awful smell coming from your room.” Peter says, observing a crumb studiously.

“Hmm.”

“Your hmm sounds rather displeased.”

“Merely contemplative.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? I sense as if--”

“You sense nothing. Perhaps it’s the reading material.” Catherine lowers her book. “It’s getting quite confusing.”

“Do you have a headache?” His question sounds a bit garbled because he’s pulling a spoon out of his mouth. “Chekhov!”

Chekhov waltzes over to her, back of his hand ready to gauge her temperature, which Catherine deflects as quickly as she had Peter’s spoon. “I am fine. Please stop hovering.”

“I will not,” Chekhov says, and strolls back to his seat.

Peter stops licking cream off his thumb and focuses his entire attention on her. “What is wrong, Empress? Is it the book? I have told you that Orlo is as dull as wet rocks - I will lend you some of my erotica.”

“No, I…” Catherine bites her lip, deliberating, before rolling her eyes. “It’s this word. Here. It doesn’t make sense syntactically, and I know my Russian comprehension is advanced.”

Peter looks to where she’s pointing and says, “Oh, that’s because you’re probably reading it wrong. The /за/ changes it into the instrumental case.”

Catherine stares at him. “You know grammar.”

“Mother used to bite chunks out of me if I stuttered during my revisions. Do not ask for Aunt Lisbeth’s recount of it; she will only lie and say I am exaggerating but it was the unadulterated truth and I still have proof of it.” He shakes back his sleeve. “Look.”

Catherine ignores the rather vicious-looking scar to ask, a bit suspiciously, “You are not jesting. So this man here is not actually running?”

“No, he is chasing moonshine.”

“What does that even mean?”

“That, my pure little wife, means drinking vodka.” Peter lifts his glass and grins. “Bit like that poetry you like, isn’t it?”

“Not really…” Catherine says, looking at him from the corner of her eye before returning to her book. “But it comes close.”

--

day three

Catherine wakes to sunshine filtering in through the curtains a maid has already pulled open. She stares longingly at the sprawling green, the effervescent sky, the loll of bodies dotting the estate like wildflowers.

“It’s a perfect day for a picnic!” Peter announces as he’s getting dressed. He looks at her for agreement as a serf does his buttons.

“It is,” Catherine says. Miserably.

“Chin up, Catherine. Want me to eat your pussy?”

“I--” Catherine swallows. “Chekhov says I’m not to be moved.”

“That is true.”

“Fuck off,” Peter snaps at the omnipresent doctor. “That is a pity. What will cheer you then?”

“Growing wings and flying far, far away,” Catherine says wistfully, eyes glazing over. She snaps back to reality. “Only - only because I am starting to feel claustrophobic.”

“Hm.” Peter mulls this over. “Very well. If you cannot go outdoors for a picnic, I shall bring the picnic to you.”

--

Catherine barely has time to utter a bewildered What? before Peter is already marching out the door with one boot unlaced, serf stumbling after him, hollering orders.

“He’s acting strange,” Marial mutters as she spreads the blanket usually reserved for lounging on grass onto the bed, carefully tucking it under Catherine’s foot. “Strange-er. Did I jostle--sorry. But look at him.”

“He’s certainly… chipper.” Catherine winces when the bed dips as Marial starts artfully placing fruit, bread, and various cheeses and dried meat around her. She takes a deep breath through her nostrils, leveling herself through the pain, before saying, “He’s been like this since he’s been sick.”

“Figures a near death experience would shake him out of his arseholery.” Marial straightens the blanket. “Fucker.”

Catherine shushes her; Peter strides into the room. 

“Is it ready? Brilliant.” Peter clambers onto the bed with surprising care, not disturbing Catherine’s ankle one bit. Marial gives a stiff curtsey and makes for a quick exit, but she never quite makes it to the door, because Peter asks her to stay.

“What?” Catherine blinks.

“What?” Marial asks.

“Yes, stay. Catherine’s been cooped up too long with Orlo’s books which is a frightfully more effective sleeping draught than anything Chekhov can come up with. Come trade stories of the court with us.”

He motions at the bed.

“Us?” Catherine mouths.

“I, uh - sir,” Marial fidgets. “What makes you think - I am just--”

“Please,” Peter scoffs. “You had the sharpest ears and most vicious tongue when you were one of us.”

Marial’s cheeks flame red. Catherine disguises a laugh as a cough.

“Cheese tart?” Peter holds up in offer, before getting distracted by a particularly delectable piece of fig.

After a short bout of nonverbal exchange with Catherine, Marial finally, finally, gingerly sits a corner of herself onto the very foot of Peter’s bed. She wordlessly accepts the wine he passes her, and when he’s not looking shoots a confounded look at Catherine.

Catherine can only shrug, helplessly.

“How’s your father?” Peter asks, mouth full of bread and meat.

“Still shoveling shit,” Marial answers politely, holding her cheese tart.

“Brilliant. Glad he’s getting the hang of things. You are comfortable where we’ve placed you?”

Marial smiles thinly, still holding her cheese tart. “I can think of a few less comfortable places.”

“Nothing a new bed can’t change,” Peter dismisses. “Get Alexei to look into it for you. You know him? Warty fellow.”

“Are you going to eat your cheese tart?” Catherine asks, after getting over her own heart attack.

Marial puts it into her mouth but doesn’t chew it.

“Oh,” Peter says, before he forgets. “Chekhov, come have some of this cheese, you dusty cunt.”

--

Marial sneaks back into Peter’s bedroom when he’s taking his evening bath and hisses, “However it is you’re fucking him, keep doing it.”

“Well what the fuck is going on?”

Catherine drops her pamphlet in shock. “Marial, I am immobilised. A conveniently clumsy Lady Svenska smashed a ball right into my ankle. Do you really think I would be spreading my legs so easily?”

Catherine waves her hands inarticulately. “You tell me.”

“DOOR!”

Marial shoots Catherine one last look before scurrying out of there.

--

day four

The days go by in a flurry of activities.

One night Peter throws a party in his quarters, something of a pre-celebration to Catherine’s ankle healing soon. Catherine doesn’t see the point of it, but then again she doesn’t see the point of many things Peter does, and resolves to just smile through it.

It is surprisingly entertaining - Aunt Lisbeth brings aboard some acrobats at such short notice, and she is swathed in jewellery; draped in glittering, lush shawls, recent gifts from the Ottomans; perfumed and powdered; comfortable against gargantuan jewel-coloured cushions. She feels as if she sits upon a throne. Marial is there, predictably left out of the festivities, but Catherine notices Peter turning a blind eye when she accepts some pepper vodka from Archie.

Peter plays her a tune on his violin and with enough vodka (carefully monitored by Chekhov, who has been put in a ridiculous hat) she finds herself one of the most exuberant in applauding.

Leo regales the room with tales of rapture and romance and renegade Knights, his eyes careful not to linger on hers for too long. She feels every look like a blade. 

She doesn’t even mind when Peter sits by her as she is being bathed by two maids in a portable copper tub, jibbering excitedly about the highlights of the night.

“You enjoyed it?” he asks, a bit too earnestly.

“Yes,” she answers, surprising herself. “It was fun.”

Peter looks down at his shoes, grinning. “Huzzah.” 

He watches carefully as she is lowered into bed, and only then instructs for the candles to be put out.

“I do not know why you are complaining,” Peter says as he climbs in next to her. “I wouldn’t mind being in bed all day. It sounds fucking relaxing.”

“Some days aren’t so bad,” Catherine concedes, fluffing her pillow. “Good night, husband.”

“Good night, wife.”

--

day five

It is almost time.

Her imprisonment is almost at its end.

She slaps her just-finished book down onto the sizable stack next to her with a finality that seemed to echo through the room. 

Five days in Peter’s bed was not five days of discomfort; of course his bed would be more plush, more decadent than hers, but she missed the simple luxuries that reminded herself of who she was amidst this chaos of Russian court life. Her mother’s pearl-handled comb. Her favourite paintings. The detailed espionage hidden behind the large tapestry that she, Orlo and Marial had spent the better part of three days organising. 

She missed lounging around in the sunshine, watching birds flap across the sky. The feeling of wind in her hair.

Which is why she was up particularly early that morning, having read through the sunrise. Chekhov wasn’t even there yet. She was surprised - she almost thought he’d slept there, by the way his droll face greeted her everytime she awakened.

Peter is a wool-covered lump beside her. He’d gravitated closer towards her in the night, and she finds she doesn’t mind the warmth.

He stirs, blinking in the first rays of the morning light. “Catherine?”

“It looks to be a beautiful day,” she trills, turning her ankle in slow circles. A bit of residual pain, but she could limp at the very least. Bask in the garden, read poetry in the sunshine, and figure out a way to get Lady Svenska back during smash bottles. Maybe she’d lose her footing? No, that was a bit too obvio--

“S’it morning already?” Peter asks thickly. “That went by very fast.”

“Not fast enough for me,” Catherine says, turning wide eyes to the windows that she’d asked not to be shuttered that night. It had been colder than usual, and she was glad for Peter’s furnace-like feet, but she’d wanted to see evidence of her impending freedom with her own eyes.

Plus, some time away from Peter would be nice. He must be bored enough already--she certainly is quite ready to be done with the picnics and the teas and the parties and the reading sessions--

Wait.

Reading sessions.

Peter had scheduled reading sessions with Orlo, and had even ordered a new set of books she wanted when Orlo said he couldn’t find it in his library. They’d arrived that very afternoon, and she’d spent hours analysing footnotes with Orlo whilst Peter very badly hid how much he was snoozing.

Her eyes narrow. 

“Shame,” Peter says, and breaks out into a massive yawn. “But at least there’s your party to celebrate your healing. I’ve called for a bear.”

“Bears are still a sore spot for me,” she reminds him.

“Right.” Peter rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Two bears then?”

Catherine snorts quietly. Her husband was an idiot, but at least he was a somewhat… nice idiot. Sort of.

She shifts in bed, delighting at how much easier it is now. She will never again be complacent around Lady Svenska.

“Today’s the day. I know it. I dreamt of it last night,” she tells him. “I am finally ready for some strenuous activity!” She almost seems to vibrate in the bed sheets.

“Marvelous,” Peter cheers sleepily. “Shall I eat your pussy?”

“I--” Catherine stares at him for a beat, before saying: “Alright.”

fin

leave me prompts from here  + i’ll write something for you!

[hmajorgirl]

so here I am for old times sake. it’s been 5 years and a lot has changed. but i’m kinda still the same. maybe my inner monologue doesn’t sound as self-assured as it did when I was 15. maybe i don’t romanticise the shit out of every 2 second eye contact i make with cute strangers. maybe i don’t grammar well anymore because i think it’s a cute look. Oh wow. so much of the world has changed. facial recognition, instagram shops, the pandemic... so many new songs i play on repeat until i’m sick of them. i’m a lot less motivated than i was before, and i’m ashamed to admit that. i have smile lines. i feel more and more defeated everyday (actually, we’re trying to work on this). but yh the sad emo vibes never quite dissipated like i dreamed they would, i felt so betrayed by the order of things and the way of the world that i lost a lot of hope. gave up on myself (a bit... a lot sometimes). but other times, it’s gucci. i feel like i’m definitely more cringe than cheesy now. not sure if that’s a good thing, pretty sure it’s not. 

hmm. what hasn’t changed? still unfortunately in love with love, but i can mostly see the difference between real life and the cute shit that happens in my head. i’m learning to have faith, to trust. to start living life and exist in the same dimension as other people because even though it sucks, it’s better than existing alone in your head. i realised that studying will only get you a quarter of the way to things and unfortunately stopped that shit. it wasn’t a good idea because i didn’t pick anything else up. i’m still writing songs. still singing them badly. BUT my singing has improved marginally:) i still love my parents, family is all good (touch wood). still a bit too impressionable but we’re working on building a stronger willpower and independence. still love taylor swift. still want to run away to the creative industry. still want to runaway sometimes (in general). I still write! sometimes. wow, i guess some things really just don’t change. 

The good? Hmm my eyes have been opened to the multi-dimensions of wealth and inequality and cultural differences that exist in the world. I am thankful for that and didn’t know that money could buy so much. but simultaneously feel disheartened that the discrepancy is so large between people at birth. inequity is real and idk how i feel about that because i really believed in the natural justice system. and then I was so caught up in these feelings of betrayal and injustice that i forgot that i am lucky enough to have the opportunity to change things. I forgot about it for 5 years and now it feels like it’s too late. i know it’s not. 

that was a digression. 

the good. okay. hmm discovered korean dramas and the mastery that is cinema and how it evokes emotions through stories and idk that’s just a piece of my soul coming together. i work out occasionally. sadly i stopped dance but i’m vowing to sign up for classes once i have the money. i got a spotify membership and spend my days making playlists for myself and it’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I really hate how my inner core is so soft and romantic, it’s not fit for the capitalist society that we’re living under. i have friends, i like them, they like me. there is a guy, maybe. there were a few guys actually. i’m not sure how long this one is going to be around for GAHHH omg imagine if i re-read this in five years time and i’m laughing at myself because he screwed me over so bad idk. i have bad self-esteem issues. i am kinda joking, kinda not. okay, i like him but let’s move onto another topic. i’m trying my best to adult and be honest with my feelings and approach things with feigned maturity to mask my pre-teen thoughts. let’s leave it at that:)

i remember that taylor said that the lucky one was the hardest song to write for the red album. because it was solely about her and her life. no guys (apart from the second verse but okay that’s not central to the song). it’s the same for me. i don’t want to talk about the direction of my professional life because it scares me more than messing my life up romantically. for now, i’m beginning to see the role of passion and interest in work and it’s importance. I’m trying my best to walk towards that direction because i know that ultimately i want a career that I would love to work overtime for. but i’m still trying to balance the scales between what i want and the confinements of reality. i need to make money. sometimes it feels like an either or kind of situation and i don’t know what to do. but maybe this is just standard 20 year old thoughts. okay but we have 2 months left of uni so i’m going back to studying. i hope that when i look back on this i would have a 2:1 bachelors (but let’s be honest we want a first) 

some final thoughts for 25 year old me because why not make your tumblr a time-capsule? dodie-style. 

what are you listening to right now? I’m listening to 21 by gracie. Are you seeing anyone? Honestly, I don’t see you in a steady relationship because i feel like your self-esteem will get in the way of things - either that or you get your shit together and focus on your career too much. I hope it’s the latter. I hope family is all well and healthy. call them. right now, if you’re not living with them. DEAR GOD PLS don’t still be living with them. OH GOD DO YOU HAVE YOUR OWN FLAT/HOUSE?? where are you by the way? london? what are you doing right now career-wise? how’s it going? is it what you want to do? does it fit in with your life plan? please tell me you have a life plan by now. i hope i’m proud of you. i hope you’re working hard. how are you? really? are you rich enough to afford therapy and weekly spin/pilates sessions? what’s up with your social circle? are you still writing? ARE THERE DRONES EVERYwhere? How’s chloe? Elizabeth? Jason? Update me, what happened with the guy - i want to hear a story. do you cook now? did you manage to turn your personality type from a 2/9 enneagram to a 3? bitch we gonna work on this. do you still write songs? can you sing? you don’t have kids right lmao pls no god help us. what’s your yearly salary post-tax? did you start dancing again? did you start to learn piano again? what happened with the pandemic? how long were you quarantined for? do you still make spotify playlists haha? what tv series are you currently binging? do you hate me? please tell me your still blogging ur life on ur private instagram. how many followers do you have now? who are you having conversations right now with on facebook? what are your colleagues like? are you less people orientated now that you’ve realised that they cannot provide you with the love that you are depriving yourself of from yourself? DO YOU READ? are you the perfect health-freak, ig-girl, smart business woman, go-getter in her white suit at the glass media company that you dreamed about being at those dark spin sessions? GOD IMAGINE. I hope you are but i don’t have faith right now. pls tell me you don’t teach (or you teach and ur salary is insane in a good way). are you a journalist? you didn’t go into consulting right? did you study again after uni? are you the screenwriter that you’ve dreamed about? did your poetry account blow up and now you’re a full time poet? I still kinda hope you work at a nice glass office (brand consulting, advertising, media, journalism) and wear cute coords suits to work. and i hope you’re writing on the side because it’s who you are. I hope you’re reading lots and I hope you’re super smart and switched on. I hope you’re memory has improved a lot. I hope you’re in love, I hope he loves you back and I hope you know that too. I hope you have a great and healthy relationship with your parents and see your extended family and grandparents often. I hope everyone is healthy and I hope you took your parents to duck and waffle like you wanted (don’t do it when you’re poor though). I hope you’re taking care of your health and eating well. I hope you’re still dreaming in a realistic way. I hope you have great mentors and a supportive friend group. I hope you’re living your best life. re-read the defining decade. but i hope you don’t reminisce to much anymore and don’t write too many songs because you’re 25, time to break out the novel shit. I hope you’ve travelled alot. I hope you spend a few more summers in china falling in love with life and yourself again. how is your chinese? are you still a romantic? tell me, have you changed, if at all? do you read the news? are you less cynical about yourself and more realistic or less optimistc about the world? I hope you are. contingencies are important.

are you excited for the future? I hope you are. if not, please change, you have time, all you need is faith and diligence. hope you’re holding up well. Me? at 20? I’m excited about what my 25 year old self is going to be like, like i was excited to see what my gcse results were going to be like. I hope the results are the same. work hard. i love you. hope you love yourself more. BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. have faith. :) i can’t do much for you, but i hope i did a lot to get to where you are right now. hoping is useless, i’m going to work now. 

take care x

[lizzodorito]

quick vent

because i legit have no where else to put this sort of feeling and just.. writing it in a book or a doc just... isnt as cathartic. Hope this just fades into the void, please dont bother reading it.

Hey. screw proper grammar and spelling I just need to get thihis out.

my name is liz and hoenstly fuck this website because last time i actively used it for something other than mandolorian memes or sims mods/cc my ex boyfriend was fucking stalking me on it and catfishing me and comfort me by sending me those ask lists and i... i dunno if im over that. Fuck you Sven.

not the point, just wha t I have to think about every single damned time I find myself here no matter what.

I am so lonely. I dont have many friends at all and the ones I do are out to use me or not Get Into It with me, thouhg fair because im a shit load of a lot to deal with i guess. other friends i have are pretty backstabbing and they refuse to properly grow up and LIVE and THINK FOR OTHERS AND ALSO THINK FOR THEMSELVES WITHOUT IT HAVING TO BE DEFINED BY HOW PROUDLY TERRIBLE THEIR MENTAL HEALTH IS FUCK

And then i get shit for it

love being used guys hell yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah  no i dont i hate it so much literally when was the last time anyone loved me right outside of my family and even so its not like my parents treat me well. mother you may have improved drastically,  but similar to my self esteem, its still very much BELOW PAR and i hate having to witness both.

I am so lonely.

I go so long without saying any word sometimes, its a wonder i stil breath, although sometimes when i was young id forget to.

why is it that i get more depressed when i come back to the family home

does anyone else understand being family oriented to a family that really for the majority doesn’t treat you the same?

The voice in my head wont stop. it wont stop telling me all  the ways i have potentially fucked my budding friendships with my new friends isha and matt 

how am i a person who shares so little yet so much

BUT MY LORD THANK YOU these are people who... who are considerate and are processing what i am saying and are thinking of me

but how fucked up am i

and will that push them away

im often distasteful but all the same complex and layered and so useful and so interesting

and that’s why often enough it seems people dont put in the effort, or frankly, dont give a shit about me once i requrie effort, though their “care” for me beofre then was only for their own benefit.

im exhausted 

One of my best internet friends was raped and i was the one who revealed that to her and she just didnt realize it yet and i havent been able to fall asleep without thinking about it

i have needed to cry for over a week now and i haVent gotten to still i am so sad i am SO SAD

I am so charming yet cannot help being alone no matter how enjoyable i am for others to have around

Matt

He makes me question if im asexual

But I am only a human

porbably deifntieyl still asexual

but too much all the same 

Im just lonely and touch starved probably (more than usual to be clear) and want to be hugged and loved and he’s so smart and we talk for hoours and comfortably, for me, occupy eachothers’ space we talk for 

hours.

this is becoming poetry.

I feel like i am beginning to sound like a hobo johnson broken record

stop being poetic fuck off liz

he;s so 

I havent been hopeful like this in people for a long time

we went to a museum to support isha (she had to do a project that invovled socializing so ya know the inrovert crew (though i dont know fi matt considers himself one)) and we just were togeter (in rather close proximinity) just speaking in accents, partly hoping to excite the strangers crowding everywhere about “foriegners” being here at the exhibit... but i think it was mostly just for us. for our fun 

because voices is what we like to do

i love voice acitng 

he committed to it, i fell out of it more times than he did and he gets more specific with accents than i do

he likes what i do

he loves the characters and my many talents

he loves my writing

he wants me to join his dnd campaign over the summer with his friends

is it for me?

does he want... me

or just my character maggie that everyone loves

he wants me to join the campign he’s in npw with his friends, as he’s a player character and not a dm as he would be over the summer

he doesn’t quite get how lonely i am

i worry i made him and isha uncomfortable last night... i joked about actually being loved properly

he immediately looked at me strange, me not realizing the joke was taken as truth

“Liz, is there something you need to talk about?”

“Oh! Oh, well, um...” hi i come from an abusive family and you both dont realize how much it meant to me that you wanted me to come and are consitently telling me and thanking me for coming because... you’re telling me im good company and its been so long since i have had real friends or gone out with friends and ACTUALLY FULLY AND COMPLTELY HAD A GOOD TIME OH MY GOSH YOU DONT EVEN KNOW I AM SO SHY ABOUT ALL OF THIS BECAUSE HOLY FUCK I CANT EVEN ASK HOW I BECAME SUCH A BASKET CASE BECAUSE I ALREADY KNOW I ALRWADY KNOW I ALREADY KOW I ALRADY KNOW AND I HAVENT’ GOTTEN TO REALLY TELL ANYONE IN SO LONG WITHOUT THEM LEAVING ME 

its been so long since ive been understood by a peer

(hi my name is liz and i am weepign right now)

“No, not yet at least.”

*isha laughs and it joined by matt soon. I’m smiling comfortably. I genuinely have a soft, contented hope i might get to tell them at least some of it one day.*

“not yet at least! sorry matt you have to be at least a level 4 friend to learn the tragic backstory”

thank you isha for lightening the mood

thank you for making the joke so many people who gave less than a fuck about me got offeneded at and confused when i made it so often years ago.

my comment was laughed off, we continued to watch the critical role espidoe i had missed

soon it was just matt and i. isha was to bed.

just him and i, and i, like id been all night (concious but making the decision to pipe down and trust the people around me), was all curled up, very relaxed and off my posture, sinking into the couch. MAtt was always upright ish. sometimes hed sink a bit or rest his hips on their side curl a little rest his head, but not as intesely as i did

sometimes he’d scoot closer to me, sometimes hed scoot away. sometimes hed move his legs so our knees would touch. i dont mind (not because i was finding it romantic, im not twelve, i just am understadning of the small situation we are in and its a knee for crying out loud) i wonder if i was taking up too much space with the way i’d sit comfortaly. I wonder if he thought so.

i would be lying if i said i didnt imagine us actually having contact with eachother. cuddling platonically.. on multiple occassions.

I have an imagination that thinks of everything and so many scenarios all at once and all the time after all

i was comfortable with the idea but

it would be a bigger lie to say i wasnt absolutely and perfectly content wiht the way it did go.

i dont thiink i will ever know if he was comofrtable on that couch or more so if it was me he was comfortable or uncomfrtoable with. 

I will respect him to tell me.

he;s good at eyecontact and its comfrotable enoguh where i dont have to look away (it’s been a problem i never used to  have recently)

I’d peek up at him when he’d talk to me

i felt young again

when the stream was over he got up to leave.

i dont know if we daudled. dawdled? yep thats the word

i dont know if we did

we made small talk

shitty jokes that he declared wouldn’t be the last thing we said to eachother that evening

i agreed.

the last words that night were goodnights.

me with my raspy evening voice from a day full of talking and him with a look over the shoulder from the hall as the door closed behind him

he was obviosuly very slap happy sleepy as he was talking about the light not being too bright in the hall (to his happiness)

it was a nice night

when was the last time i went to bed so happy? thanking God over and over and praying for my friend i mention way earlier

i didnt even have to drown my insomnia with a youtube video

i just went to sleep

2 am

i hope the weather continues

- jaques cruzio, pink panther

now im just in bed

at the family home

not my dorm

fighting my depression (its been three hours, i was getting exhausted by 9:30 due to it) as i rest

i was curled in a ball, slumped and face planted, arms slumped when i decided i need to talk to someone, or say something mroe than what i vented to my little sister (small bits about how lonely i feel and how i worry ive fucked things up) hours ago

and here we are 

12:14 am

just some broken twenty something asexual with a mind that’s usually over sixty talking about the amazing people i met two weeks ago while in the background i think about the girl i used to be the boss of (online moderator work) and how she’s essentially in love with her idea of me and how i make her feel... and not just for me.

i am mysterious and cool and smart and hot and talented and useful to her.

I want to be complex and dedicated and helpful and pretty and so skilled and hardworking and wanted for me.

i want to  be considered and deserving and im hoping that isha, matt and my other two roommates can help start to fill that hole in my life

because, God, so far they have so much potential for it in my eyes

(so far)

thanks for listening, void.

actually feeling quite a bit better. the misery is still lingering, i wonder if i should cry more. But, i can breathe easier and my eyes dont feel dead. I just am tired and am prepared to enjoy things again.

proabbly will watch claire from BA make jelly beans.

or the Noel Miller guy isha told me about.

I dont know if it’s appropriate if i downloaded matt’s contact into my phone from when isha put us both in a groupchat together and i hope its not weird and i hope maybe he did the same, but by God i dont think i’ll be texting him first.

i like in person better.

with anyone.

always have

i have so much more on my mind

[wlwhc]

A to Z Fluff - Lena Luthor

—————————————————————-

(A/N):

FINALLY SOME LENA FLUFF

I apologize for the low quality of this thing, I’m doing my best at writing on my phone since Tumblr on my PC does not let me post anything, Idk why

I also have to put the codes like and you guys know I write long things so…it’s making me crazy, sorry for any grammar mistakes to JUST SORRY FOR EVERYTHING OKAY?

—————————————————————

A= Attractive.

what do they find attractive about the other

Your hands,  off all things,  this angel find your hands to be the most attractive part of your already unbelievable attractive body. Is not just because she’s a thirsty gay, is also because she finds your hand movements to be as graceful as art itself. You use your hands a lot to be express yourself, from a simple point of view to a delicate touch that reminds her how much you love her,  she loves your hands.

—————————————————————-

B= Baby

Do they want a family?  Why? / Why not?

Y E S. But not soon,  she would love have kids with you,  two or three as much, but she doesn’t want to rush things and she has the company and too much work,  she likes her work, so she want to have a family with you when the right time comes,  and she knows she’ll have time for you and the baby(ies). *whispers* and she wants a girl

—————————————————————-

C= Cuddle

How do they cuddle?

The tighter you hold her the better. She will be so close to you,  she just loves to dive into your arms and forget about the world and the weigh of the company on her shoulders. A lot of neck kisses oh my god,  this girl,  she just can’t help it,  she will see a little bit of skin and she’ll have to kiss it!

Also,  don’t even try to get up from that couch or she’ll murder you with a glare,  or she’ll do grabby hand and will pout and you’ll probably die from so much cuteness.

She’s really needy for affection, most of the times she’s between your legs or sitting on your lap,  either way,  she will always manage to hide in the crook on your neck if she gets sleepy,  and she’s always holding your hands.

—————————————————————-

D= Dates

what are dates with them like?

A lot of laughs and gossip. You want dates for her to be fun,  so you always manage to make her laugh and complain about her Co-workers if necessary,  she loves the awful nicknames you give them.

“so,  it’s monkey ass face bothering you again? ”

“no,  this time is Assbut”

.

“ugh freaking Assbut,  he’s worst than coin face”

But there’s also heavy flirting and a lot of compliments,  specifically from her part. A lot of lips bites too,  thirsty gay mode on.

—————————————————————-

E= Everything

You are my ____ (e.g my life,  my world)

“You’re my everything, I see you everywhere I laid my eyes to,  I hear you in every melody, I don’t how you did it y/n,  but I’m immersed in your world,  and I don’t think I can get out of it”

—————————————————————-

F= Feeling

When they did know they were falling in love?

She noticed it,  it was subtle almost non-existing but it was there, her smile was bigger when you were around her,  her body would nonchalantly get closer to you like a magnet, she knew what was happening… And she didn’t hold back.

—————————————————————-

G= Gentle

Are they gentle with you?  if so,  how?

She’s such a sweetheart. She’s really sweet and soft with you,  even when she has to be firm or spat the truth at your face she will do it with a soft voice, never raising it or looking threatening.

—————————————————————-

H= Hand/Hold

How do they like to hold hands?

It’s subtle,  sometimes people misread it as a common thing because she will hold your hand mostly to drag you from place to place on the company. But you know that is not actually it,  she is not a big fan of PDA.

She loves to hold your hand while she’s taking with you,  softly caressing it with her thumb.

—————————————————————-

I= Impression

First Impression/s

Stunning,  you are stunning and oh my she was dying to talk to you. She nervously aproches you,  your eyes focus on your project,  clearly interested on whatever thing you were writing down. She clears her throat,  calling your attention,  and when she started talking to you asking about your project,  she was stunned. You are not only gorgeous,  but smart too!

—————————————————————-

J= Joker

Are they into pulling pranks?

Yes,  that devilish smirk of her should be enough for you to noticed when she is going to prank you. From little jumps scares,  to dyeing your hair, but nothing that may hurt you,  it’s just to get revenge on something or just to have some laughs.

—————————————————————-

K= Kisses

How do they kiss?

Extremely good, she will kill you,  or revive you,  she has no in between. Sometimes she will suck the life out of your tiny body with those hungry kisses that will also make you weak,  or will revived you with those sweet sweet kisses where you are sure angels are singing and bells are ringing.

She is a sucker for lip bites, so be prepared my friend,  she will eat you. A hand in your neck, so she can deep the kiss,  another hand either on your waist or hip,  she’ll grip you tightly. Her lips are so fucking sOFT.

Will absolutely don’t give a damn sometimes and make out with you on her office, sometimes neck kisses will be involve and she LOVES, Neck kisses.

—————————————————————-

L= litttle things

what little things do they love/notice?

You stumble over your words everytime you’re excited. And she can’t help but love it,  she thinks is adorable.

Another thing she noticed is how handworker you are,  you even spend more hours working that her. And even though she’s your boss,  she can’t get you out of your office,  too busy with your project. She sees your passion and interest in your project,  she loves it. Because no matter how tired you are,  you always smile at her at the end on the night when she asks you about how’s your project.

And a thing that she loves,  is how protective you are,  even though you said otherwise. You show this with little gestures,  a lunchbox on her office,  giving her your jacket when it’s raining,  arguing with anyone that dares to throw dirt on her name. You care,  she noticed that you care.

—————————————————————-

M= Memory

they favorite moments together

That moment after falling asleep. A lot of things can happen, but the best thing is that it’s just Lena and you,  no one else to bother,  just your girlfriend and you. Lena adores this moment,  when she can kiss you and talk to you with the comfort of her pajamas and bed.

—————————————————————-

N= Nickel

Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?

“Aw what a cute Puppy-LENA PUT THAT MONEY DOWN”

“but I want to buy it for you!”

She is rich,  she is in love,  she will spoil you to death,  I think that there’s no need to explain this. Whatever you want,  look or even just thought about,  you will have it,  no discussion.

—————————————————————-

O= Orange

what color reminds them of their other half?

Your favorite color

—————————————————————-

P= Petnames

What pet-names do they use?

Dear - Babe - Love -Sweetheart - Baby - Dr. Y/L/N (kinky cinnamon roll)

—————————————————————-

Q= Questions

what are the questions they’re always askin?

Have you eaten yet? 

Being a scientist and working for such an important company plus you being very passionate about your work,  would always lead you to forget about taking care of yourself,  your take more care of Lena that yourself. So Lena has to remind you to take a break,  just like you do with her. The biggest problem with you is food,  sometimes you will forgot to eat,  so Lena is always asking you if you had something to eat.

—————————————————————-

R= Remember

Their favorite memory of each other

That moment when it was just you and her,  alone, in a blanket fort at 4 am after she had a nightmare, product of the countless times when she almost faced death. She needed to get herself out of that dark world,  so you build a blanket fort,  drag her inside and begin talking about future projects she wanted to do, needless to say,  she forget all about her nightmare,  and got consumed by your voice, messy hair and paper mess.

I know a look people will think this is not romantic or shit, and you’re right, but it was what she needed,  no sugary words or endless promises about keeping her safe,  she needed someone to be there for her. You didn’t got scared or pity her,  you were there for her, and you know when she needs to be hold and when to be distracted. You are her friend,  not only her beloved,  and that’s something she hadn’t figure it out yet… Until that day.

—————————————————————-

S= Sad

How they cheer themselves / each other up

Disney marathons + cuddles

Lena loves it, sometimes you’ll have to sneak some alcohol to the mix but sometimes is not even necessary,  your warmth is enough for her.

She will cheer you up with kisses, cuddles and going out to do something out of the ordinary to make you forget about whatever had upset you.

—————————————————————-

T= Talking

what do they love talking about?

Science. You’re the only one that can understand her, and geek out with her. From Stars Wars conversations to the theories and number and oh my lord she won’t stop geeking.

—————————————————————-

U= Universe

Use a metaphor,  what are they to each other?  (e.g he was the universe, ever-changing and mysterious)

“She is made up of words that not anyone can understand, her mind is a dictionary of sadness and headache, her heart is a poetry book for the hopeless, she is the prettiest song, the most meaningful haiku, nd the longest novel, It takes a while to read her, Seconds to love her, And a lifetime to forget her”

—————————————————————-

V= Very___

they thoughts about each other (e.g she’s very smart,  he’s very stubborn, they’re very annoying)

she’s can be very childish with you, you’re very fond of her, she’s very soft with you, you’re very smart

—————————————————————-

W= Why

Reason why the love each other

You’re her everything. You’re not just a lover, someone to hold at night, you’re also her friend, and even though she has Kara, is still weird for her to have friends, and now she has you. You’re there for her, good times and bad times no matter what happens you are there, you listen to her and also know when to keep your mouth shout, but most important, you don’t have doubts about her, about the weight on her shoulders, about her turning “evil” , you trust her with your life, and that…that made her dive into you, that made her heart feel safe.

—————————————————————-

X= Xylophone

What’s they’re song?

Coldplay - Something just like this 

Url: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM7MFYoylVs

—————————————————————-

Y= You the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookie to my milk,  the macaroni to my cheese)

You’re the force to my Jedi 

—————————————————————-

Z= Zebra

if they wanted a pet,  what pet would they get?

[thisisaventing]

A vent?

This is a test. Size change. I like this size much better. So… I guess I should journal or some shit. Buying a typewriter to journal on so thats fun. I feel like Ill type more than ill hand write. Plus I can stick it in a binder n make it look cool n shit. Thats why I chose this font heh. This week I only work 3 days! I’m excited but also meh because I have lots of school work to do. I don’t want to fuck it all up ya know. Cry. Michelle is in here and i’m not wearing any pants. I feel kinda gross so umma go put some on. lol. I wonder when I can pick up the writer. Omg imma make so many lists. yasss. wait i may need to order ribbon crap. Ill do that asap. Maybe Ill write poetry. Or like short stories i don't know. Ive always liked the aesthetic of typewriters. I want something then become obsessed for a lil while lol. I’m so odd. My tummy is so mad. I’m sorry to my body. I don’t take care of you well enough. I wish I could. I wish I wasn’t such a fuck up. I want to do so much more but I fall backwards. I have the kettle going for a hot water bottle. There are many buttons on this keyboard. I like the clicky click it makes when i press them. I’m going to have to remember my grammar n shit when I use the typewriter because no spellcheck or autocorrect wow. I should go do my school work now but I don’t wanna. Anxiety is a bitch. I’m scared to go to work tomorrow. I’m scared about being, existing. Now i’m thinking of what I should eat for dinner. Hmmm. I want to make shit. Music, art, inspiring things. I want to be fucking inspiring. I want to make a change in the world but I can’t even change myself. Bleh feelingssss. Venting is good though I guess. Okay time to see if the lady responded to my message about u know what. No reply yet oh well. Tomorrow maybe. Okay Be right back school work time sigh. We are sitting journaling. I am listening to music. I got this feeling in my heart. Its a good happy feeling. I’m glad that you’re here with me. Last night I had sleep paralysis but it was quite different. I was asleep in my dream, I woke up and couldn't more very well. Then someone appeared and told me that I had been raped. I woke up immediately in real life after that. It made me so very anxious. I turned off the lights lit up my phone light and ran downstairs to join you in bed. I was all sweaty but so anxious I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be alone. Being close to you made me feel a bit better but, I was breathing deep, my heart was beating fast. Not sure what was up with that.

[mayaestudia]

what do you want to achieve this month? get on track with the uni (i’m new this year) favourite time of day to study mornings, bc i feel full of energy, the sun makes me feel good favourite book/book series Viaje al fin de a noche by Cèline (lol im chilean so idk the translation) your desk its like a rlly shitty desk, like, in ny country the cool stationery stuff its SUPER expensive n there’s a little variety, unless of course u ship it from china #studyblrsgetreal i’m new on this so idk what is it sciences or humanities? humanities lml library yes??? your notes i’m not currently studiyng so.. favourite font mmm this is a hard one, but maybe times new roman coz that’s the one the teachers always tell me to use, handwriting ??? lol idk future goals being the best, like truly overcome everyday and being kind and full of love in the way of improvment favourite quote “"lo único constante es el cambio”“ idk, i just feel that there can’t be a perpetual state of things, everything transforms so we should get used to it and embrace the change best school memory lol i miss so much school, it was kinda hippie, and we used to smoke cigars or weed an then play ping pong, i miss that blue or black ink? black lml stationery store of choice :( too expensive for me music or silence? silence, music distracts me hmm maybe some classical music, i ussualy hear wagner lol some hitler style everything in your pencil case, aesthetic or not am i supposed to take a picture?? i dont even have a pencilcase yet favourite productivity apps i dont use. im a old school kind of girl ultimate study break? lol last year poetry OMG!!!! hell yeaaah i fucking LOVE nicanor parra he was like an mad teacher (he studied physics in london i think) and so accurate and creative with words!!! but not like in a baudelaire beautiful way, but like a fucking rock star!!! he is rlly famous in latininoamerica, and i feel that the younges populationlikes him better than pablo neruda (the one chilean poet u probably know lol) anyway my fav poem is called "yo pecador” idk if its ever been translated but now that i think about it, probaby its kinda lame lol one 2017 study resolution mm to study lol (last year i didnt study so..) but trully its to get good grades, above the average favourite soundtrack mmmmmm syd barret ,, here i go what’s in your backpack? lol like trash and a water bottle skdk i need to get my shit together one exciting thing you did today i went to a capacitation(? to work at a censo (idk if thats an english word lol) favourite study youtube channel hmm i dont use that one hidden study tip hmmm i suck at studying favourite book you’ve studied for school WOWOW pierre bordieu, about the television MINDBLOWING 90's POSMODERN SHIT wooowowow coffee, tea or hot chocolate? tea, green bookshelf ?!?! good study website recs hmm nope what did you achieve this month? im waking up earlier YAYYYY (now im on vacation so normal ppl wake up at noon lol but i at 8 am)

ANYWAY i kinda did this out of boredom and bc i would LOVE if u maybe or anyone else could point me my grammar mistakes!!!!!! and of course, so u get to known nicanor parra’s work 😍 (he is trully a genious, and his like a hundred years XD i love him)