#i was gonna write just a short little poem. this is So Long

[butchdiaz]

for @winterofbuddie week 4: time tales

[woozisguitar]

my loooove congrats on your milestone omgg 🤧❤ also i'd lay my soul down on the road for a jun fic from you sjksjk. i still think about the way you put ttpd for jun in your svt as ttpd songs IT SUITS HIM SO WELL. so maybe something inspired by that? a fic, a drabble, or just even how you think he fits the elements of the song in general. honestly, you can do anything you like you have the full freedom to be creative ofc <3

congrats againnn i'm so happy for you 😭💕 also feel free to ditch the fic if you're not up for it, it's totally okay ml <333

esa my loveee 💕💕💕💕💕 thank you so much!! the fact you remember I put ttpd for jun I rlly hope you like it!! sorry it took a while jshdlj love you and thank you again 😭😭 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

requests for 200 celebration post: open (but slow updates!)

warning: kinda angsty and long, sorry 😞 BUT its a happy ending dw

You left your typewriter at my apartment Straight from the Tortured Poets Department I think some things I never say Like, "Who uses typewriters anyway?"

when you first met junhui, you found him to be a little… weird. there was no better way to put it other than this, and he was not weird in a bad way. sort of eccentric rather? or maybe reserved? this was in the third year of university, in a creative writing class. with no other seat remaining, you took one next to him. you tried to smile and make pleasantries, an attempt to make a friend in the literature department as this was your only english class. now that you think about it, perhaps it wasn't just junhui, because the professor decided to call this class of 30-some students “the tortured poets department,” and assigned the semester project, which was writing a short book of poems about the person next to you, who was also your now-assigned partner. that was the first time junhui spoke to you. a simple hello and introduction, an attempt to make acquaintance with the person he was going to spend the next few months writing about. over time, you found that junhui had rather a … peculiar sense of humor. he liked cats and often resorted to using only cat memes in conversations. he liked spicy food, albeit his tolerance was not that high. oh! and he owned a typewriter and his only explanation ever was ‘i'm a writer and this is the most efficient tool,’ with an expression as blank as the paper he was writing on. you teased him ever so often, asking the rhetorical question, ‘who uses typewriters anyways?’ throwing a small teasing smile in his direction which he bashfully returned.

But you're in self-sabotage mode Throwing spikes down on the road But I've seen this episode and still loved the show Who else decodes you?

during a discussion lecture about franz kafka, you discovered junhui might have more underlying layers compared to what he tells people. he would often point at a self-criticizing quote or excerpt and joke that it was about him. but his eyes often told a different story. he also had… days when he’d disappear and his only answer was he had to get the inspiration out of his head and on paper. over time, you got used to this, the sudden disappearance, the sometimes concerning jokes, all of it. and you still stayed by his side as a friend. it wasn't uncommon for the professors and class members to ask you about junhui’s absence and what surprised you more was that you knew exactly where he’d be.. 

And who's gonna hold you like me? And who's gonna know you, if not me? I laughed in your face and said "You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

this friendship with junhui eventually blurred into something more. it wasn’t lovers, not yet, but it also wasn’t just friends. you’d discuss philosophies and arts beyond the confines of the project and class. no, he was slowly taking the place of the closest person in your life, your best friend. and you liked to believe you did for him too. junhui would often talk about making it big as a writer, meeting big names at even bigger venues. you’d often laugh at his dramatics and found them endearing. 

but now, years after not hearing from him, you knew he made it big. you read all his books, hell, you even have copies in your library but you’d always deny if asked. ‘we aren’t who we want to be. nor are we in a place where we should be. we’re modern idiots, that’s all,’ is what he said before he left your apartment and that was the last you heard from him. none of your tears, crying, begging could stop him at that moment. looking back, the only trace of his existence, apart from the wounds on your heart, was the stupid typewriter snow globe he got you.

And who's gonna hold you like me? Nobody No-fucking-body Nobody

so you let him go. despite your hurt, you knew you had to let him go. that was the only way he'd realize no one could love him, hold him, know him like you. you went to class the next day and found that junhui had shifted to finishing his semester online. he already had the credits to graduate, all he had to do was sit through the last week of this semester. your professor asked if you’d like to submit your part of the book and present alone, to which you agreed. this set of poems was, after all, evidence that what you felt for him was real. the junhui you knew was real.

You smoked, then ate seven bars of chocolate We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist I scratch your head, you fall asleep Like a tattooed golden retriever

the absence of his presence haunted you like the echo of a poem you never wrote. you tried to live your life normally, walking past the old shops and stores, allowing yourself to indulge in the memories of junhui once in a while. like the convenience store outside which you dared him to eat seven bars of chocolate in one go, or the alleyway where you and him tried your first cigarette, and immediately regretting it, making you giggle quietly to yourself in the dead of night. you adopted a cat, sylvie, in hopes to distract yourself, but that ended up being a terrible plan because she reminded you of him in every possible way. she would fall asleep the same way junhui would in your lap. petting her was the closest new equivalent of scratching his head as he slept.

But you awaken with dread Pounding nails in your head But I've read this one where you come undone I chose this cyclone with you

things weren't working out for junhui either. ever since he left you, he convinced himself it was for the best. he knew about his tendencies, his weird habits and attributes, and he also knew you'd accept him, flaws and all. and while he had made peace with the idea of sabotaging himself, he would rather die than let anything hurt you, even himself. he convinced himself, in a true poetic fashion, that leaving you meant he would never be able to hurt you ever again and you won’t have to deal with any of his tendencies. ever since then, he would often wake up in sweat, remnants of a nightmare and faint outlines of your figure still prominent when he’d close his eyes. he would see his books, his poems, come to life in these dreams starring you as the main character. on some nights, the memories with you would plague his mind and feel like nails pounding in the forefront of his skull. but junhui’s conviction and love for you outweighed everything else. even if he knew this would kill him, this heartbreak, he would still endure it because it had you written all over it.

And who's gonna hold you like me? (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?) And who's gonna know you like me? (Who's gonna know you?)

so he wrote. and he wrote. till his brain was filled with letters and every waking moment felt the need to be penned down in his diary. he thought that maybe if he made it big, he would go back to you and tell you proudly that he did it. he would finally be able to confess his feelings and emotions rather than using words as camouflage. he wouldn't be a modern idiot trying to find his place in this world. he would be your idiot. just yours. he knew, in the back of his mind, the chances of you still feeling the same as him were slim to none, but he still convinced himself that he had to do this for you. during his first book release, he spent the entire tour and interview, looking for you in every face. when questioned about his dedication, ‘to the one I’d always leave my typewriter with,’ he would simply laugh and say it was an inside joke and the person he’s dedicating this book to would know. 

but years passed and you never reached out. when junhui tried to visit you at your old university, he found that you moved after graduation and severed contact with everyone. he tried calling, texting, letters to your parent’s home, all of it but you never responded. he visited every single place in this world that could have a tie to you and searched, but alas he could not find you. when he returned, he was about to give up hope to ever find you again and accept his fate. that’s when he saw you, standing against the railing overlooking the park lake. you looked exactly as he remembered you, and for a second he was transported back to your apartment. you hadn't noticed him looking at you yet, and he basked in your presence from afar for a moment. but you looked up and your eyes met his.

I laughed in your face and said "You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots" And who's gonna hold you like me? (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?)

for the first time in years, junhui braved up, put on his smile, and walked towards you. with each step, he could feel his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. when he reached you his first thought was that he was wrong. he should never have left. he had everything he could've asked for but he didn’t have you and everything else felt like dust without you. and that you were much, much more beautiful than when he left. when he met your eyes, he saw swirls of sadness, anger, but he also liked to believe he saw hints of love.

“hi,” he squeaked out, “i’ve been looking for you.”

“i know. my parents called to tell me about the letters,” you said, guarding your face devoid of any expression, crossing your arms in front of you, “why reach out now junhui?”

“i was wrong. all those years ago, i was wrong. i shouldn’t have left. ever. you were the only person in this entire fucking world who saw me, my bestest friend. and… and i just left you,” he finished, breathless.

No-fucking-body (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?) Nobody (Who's gonna hold you? Gonna know you? Gonna troll you?) Nobody

“yeah you did. you left me all alone for years junhui. who exactly do you think you are? you’re not franz kafka and i’m not milena jesenská. i don’t care what messed up idea of love you have in your mind, but i am willing to love you. i will always be willing to love you. i don’t care how much it will ruin me in the process, i know you’ll save me in the end, because we are y/n and junhui. we make our own story. let me rescue you this time, junhui,” you ended with the quote, tears brimming your eyes.

“letters to milena,” he breathed out, “you read kafka? you hated his works. always complained that they were too sad and depressing.”

“you liked them though. i did everything i could to feel closer to you. i even have that stupid typewriter snowglobe you got me,” you giggled, wiping the corner of your eyes.

junhui wiped his own eyes, smiling at you fondly.

“so, mr. writer, do you want to follow the steps of the ones who came before you or are we writing our own story where i finally get to hold you forever? there’s also space for a new typewriter in my apartment, you know.”

junhui laughed, wiping his tears and nodded, “yeah, fuck the poets. let’s be modern idiots and write our own story.” junhui kissed you for the first time that night, against the lake with the moon shining bright above you, in a true poetic fashion.

Sometimes, I wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me But you told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave And I had said that to Jack about you, so I felt seen Everyone we know understands why it's meant to be, ‘cause we're crazy So tell me, who else is gonna know me? At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger And put it on the one people put wedding rings on And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding Who's gonna hold you? (Who?) Me Who's gonna know you? (Who?)Me

“i know it’s too early to say this now,” junhui started as the two of you lay wrapped up in bed in the comfort of your apartment, his fingers drawing patterns on the ring finger of your left hand, “but i will put a ring on this finger someday. i think i’ll die if you leave again.” you giggled at his promise and kissed his nose. “i think i would die too, so i guess it’s a good thing i don’t ever plan on leaving,” you wrapped your arms around his frame, snuggling closer to him. junhui hummed, his heart content for once in his life.

Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Gonna know you? Gonna troll you?

“everyone probably thinks we’re crazy,” you said after a moment of silence.

“i guess but they don’t know us like us, so there’s that,” he said, his voice drifting off, “as long as i’m holding you, i don’t really care about the people now.”

You left your typewriter at my apartment Straight from the Tortured Poets Department Who else decodes you?

with his typewriter sitting in the corner of your living room, you knew your life with him was now for the better. he was still a tortured poet for the world, but at the end of the day, it was still you who could decode him. no one else.

a/n: the cat being called slyvie is a reference to Sylvia Plath (sorry im a nerd like that 😔)

[burntb4bydoll]

WOAHH NO WAY IM ACTUALLY WRITING FOR ONCE?!?!?? CRAZYYYYY!!!! This is my first time writing for Ville so im sorry if it feels super inaccurate!!😭

Ville Valo general dating headcannons

•ok so hes a bit of a grump…

•hes just got a lot of attitude so it seems like hes pissed off a lot of the time but hes actually a big softie🤭

•LOVES to keep his arm around you when you go out in public (hes also subtly squeezing your ass and boobs the whole time but he likes to act all innocent afterwards🙄)

•lots of interviewers like to bring up your relationship and sometimes they talk about you very passive aggressively, and he absolutely despises it. He quickly shuts them down by interrupting them , making very rude and stand-offish comments towards them until they change the subject

•and yk his petty ass wont let it go so the rest of the interview is so awkward

•he also laughs every time some female interviewer flirts with him. HE CANT HELP IT ITS JUST SO AWKWARD AND FUNNY TO HIM (hes trying his best to be respectful he just cant hold it in for long😭)

•you probably have to clean his house a lot cuz he doesn’t do it and like HAVE YOU SEEN THAT SHIT… ITS A WRECK.

•Ville is often found on the couch writing new songs, and he loves when you come and sit next to him while he does it. Hes a busy man so its one a the few times you get to have a moment of silence with him

•lorddd ik that man REAKS of cigarettes, alcohol and probably a bit of sweat😭 you gotta make him shower with you most times cuz he hates it and wont do it on his own🙄

•yall seen that beanie he wore over that greasy ass hair? Yeah, he likes to sneak up behind you and pull it over your head so that it completely covers your face. He thinks hes absolutely hilarious😐 that shit smells so bad like sweat and dirty hair pls wash it for your own sake.

•honestly i cant see him being huge on fancy dates. I feel like he would prefer to just go on a walk at nighttime or go to some random bar instead

•that doesn’t mean hes not romantic tho. Everyone knows just how romantic he can be

•he’ll draw/paint you little pictures and write a short little poem for you alongside it. Hes very thoughtful and romantic about it

•gives very specific compliments. Its never just “you look pretty” it’s always something very thought out and sweet.

•he doesn’t realize it, but his voice always gets so much softer and sweeter when he talks to you. One second he’ll be arguing with someone and cussing them out but the second he sees you hes all like “oh hi my love, I’ve been wondering where you were” in the most gentle tone ever

•can and will write you songs that only you’re allowed to hear. He wants you to feel special so he keeps his super meaningful songs about you private.

•although he will write songs about you and actually release them ofc

•would totally get a tattoo dedicated to you

(AHHH IM SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS IM SCARED ITS GONNA BE SO INACCURATE AND CRINGY.)

[shares-a-vest]

@steddie-week Day Six: True

Call him a snap. A lovesick loser. A nerd. A guy who likes fantasy stories and make-believe a little too much. An idiot who is setting himself up for disappointment and heartbreak.

But Eddie Munson believes in True Love.

He has read the stories and been swept up in the romantic plotlines of his favourites. He creates NPCs for his campaigns with unnecessarily detailed backstories with whole lives set out for them. Then he uses them to write poems and short stories he keeps safe in his notebooks for no one to see, where everyone gets a sweeping grand love story and a 'happily ever after' waiting for them by the end.

He's well aware others catch on, especially after he starts dating Steve. Yeah, an actual real-life love story sweeps him off his feet and he lets his guard down. Dustin and Lucas call him, "a pathetic lameoid". Mike and Will descend into a chorus of gagging noises. Even the guys tease him for writing song lyrics featuring admittedly, very obvious saccharine declarations. George will give a "Yuck", Gareth practically sings out his disgusted "Ew" and Jeff gives perhaps the worst reaction of all...

"Eddie... just. No."

Steve might as well be a Prince. Or a Knight in shining armour. A combination of both, maybe? Mixed in with the weapons and demon-slaying expertise of a high-stats Barbarian who runs around shirtless.

When Steve visited him in the hospital, drugged-up delirium had Eddie's mind drifting to fairytales where he lay in a nightmare-riddled slumber as a blood-stained and beat-up version of Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. Just laying in wait to be fixed by true love's kiss.

Steve calls Eddie his Prince sometimes when he's being all sappy and cute. It makes them both blush and giggle because, while it's romantic, it is also Steve trying desperately to sound impressive.

But Steve really is the Prince. Eddie insists on the matter. Even when he arrives at the trailer from a closing shift at Family Video, visibly tired with dark eyes, hair now flat and unstyled with a pained expression on his face as he blinks at a snail's pace.

"Thank god, I'm home" he sighs, voice cracking a little as he sets his keys down on the shelf near the front light switch.

Eddie snaps his book shut (A collection of Grimm Fairytales, no less), feeling all giddy at the thought Steve considers the place 'home'. But his glee doesn't last long as his homebound Prince barely toes off one of his sneakers before he clambers forward, arms unstretched in the direction of the couch.

Eddie catches him - or more, Steve collapses onto the couch and rolls into him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he panics, brushing back the mop of hair that has flopped in his face.

"I have a headache," Steve groans, talking into his makeshift pyjama top - an old Hawkins Tigers t-shirt, "Started as I was closing up."

Steve heaves his body against the couch, resting his head on the cushion back and screws his eyes shut. He fumbles with the buttons on his polo, failing to get anywhere near unbuttoning them. So, Eddie does it for him, barely finishing on the last one before Steve pops his shirt off and flings it halfway across the room.

Then Steve starts doing the same with his belt and fly as a wash of sickly paleness drains down his pretty face.

"I'll do it," he grumbles, pushing Steve's mighty paws away.

He helps there too, willing away a blush and a dirty joke as he loosens Steve's obscenely tight jeans. He isn't exactly sure how it works anatomically, but he is growing more certain with every headache that these damn jeans aren't doing him any favours (other than giving him a tight little, very squeezable, butt).

Steve puffs out what is vaguely a laugh before he slurs, "Think this is as far as you gonna get tonight, Eds."

He gestures at his underwear peaking out from his undone jeans.

"You want me to run you a bath? Squish you into the teeny-tiny combo?"

Steve sniffs under his arm and grimaces at himself.

"'Kay," he lolls his head back on the couch.

"Anything else?"

"Can you make me some tea?"

"Tea?" he questions.

He can't help it. Usually, he keeps his queries to a minimum when Steve is like this (which has been all too frequent lately) but this is a new request.

"Wayne made me some last week when I had a migraine."

"This is the first I'm hearing of it," he says, and in lieu of a physical presence, he glares at his uncle's recliner chair.

Steve smiles at the ceiling, his eyelids softening with a light flutter as he hums, presumably thinking about this magic tea Wayne is most definitely being interrogated about first thing in the morning.

"'S'nice," Steve shrugs.

"That old man with his tea collection like he's some old English Granny."

"Stops me from feeling sick."

Eddie leans over and pecks his deceptively-hot cheek. Stinky and on the precipice of a migraine or not, Steve is still his Prince Charming. He pauses there. Steve must feel his breath lingering because his lip quirks, threatening a smile and he opens his eyes.

"What?" he asks, a teasing tone dancing in there somewhere as he blinks slowly.

Eddie takes his hand and squeezes it.

"Let me kiss you."

"Okay," Steve replies and puckers his lips without moving an inch.

"True love's kiss will make you feel better, promise," he whispers as he closes the distance between them and presses a soft kiss to Steve's lips.

Steve squeaks out a noise and Eddie can feel his frown as he murmurs, "You're so silly."

[stellarspecter]

I'd Much Rather Be Jorting

@astrangersummer week 1: short shorts

1k, steddie, much talk about jorts

Read on AO3

Steve nearly choked on his own spit when he saw Eddie. It was the first truly sweltering day of the summer, and apparently that meant it was time to break out the shorts. The short shorts. The kind with the ragged edges and pockets hanging out the hems. Steve was almost disappointed they were black and not light wash denim. 

“Where the hell are they selling shorts like that, Munson,” he asked once he’d regained his breath.

“Selling?” Eddie quirked a brow. “Oh, Stevie. Jorts this good aren’t found, they’re made.” He did a little spin to show them off (as if Steve wasn’t already looking too much), finishing with a flourish of his hairy leg.

“Huh?” Steve said faintly. All he could think about was the pale expanse of thigh, visible for the first time, being paraded in front of him.

“You’ve never made jorts?” Eddie asked, the most adorable pout on his face. “Well fuck, babe, we’re gonna have to fix that.”

And Steve couldn’t help it. When Eddie called him that, he was weak to his every whim.

Which is how he found himself sitting at his kitchen table, a pair of jeans and scissors in his hands.

“Step 1 of jorts: choose the jeans,” Eddie instructed across from him. “You want a pair that’s well-worn, so that you’re not wasting too much fabric by cutting them.”

Steve glanced at Eddie’s own selection, which were more holes than denim at this point. “So your whole wardrobe?”

Eddie snorted. “Okay, rich boy, sorry I’ve got style.” He winked, which Steve was not equipped to deal with at the current moment. He cleared his throat and looked back at his soon-to-be-jorted jeans. 

“What’s next?”

“Deciding the length,” Eddie answered. “The holes in mine usually decide for me, but you can do whatever feels right.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Steve muttered. He stared at the jeans in front of him, wondering how he was supposed to conjure a leg measurement out of nowhere. 

“You don’t like ‘em?” Eddie asked, clearly teasing.

Steve blushed. “I didn’t say that.”

Eddie smirked, satisfied at his reaction. “That looks like a good length.”

Steve looked down to find a line drawn in washable marker on his jeans. Maybe about mid-thigh? Whatever. He’d wear whatever, as long as Eddie said it looked good.

“Okay. So now we cut it?”

“Got it in one,” Eddie confirmed with a smile, and Steve had to focus hard on his scissors to make sure he didn’t accidentally cut himself while he was busy daydreaming about his friend’s lips.

“And there we are! Some brand new jorts to welcome in the summer,” Eddie announced, holding his own up proudly. These ones were regular blue jeans cut to a much more conservative length than the pair he was wearing.

Steve held up his own pair, a bit uncertain that they were going to be any good. He’d only ever bought clothes from a store and thrown them out whenever they got their first tear. Cutting clothes up on purpose felt blasphemous. But, he supposed, Eddie had been doing it for years, and clearly he pulled it off.

“Do I… try them on?” He hazarded.

“Yes, try them on! See how they feel!” Eddie waved him towards the bathroom to change. 

He came out with his new shorts on, tugging awkwardly at the hems. They sat a bit higher than he’d anticipated, but still nowhere near as short as Eddie’s.

“So?” Eddie waited expectantly for his verdict.

Steve shrugged. “They’re okay.”

“Okay?” Eddie exclaimed. “Just okay? Steve, jorts are more than okay, they’re great! They let you partake in the act of creation! That’s the kind of thing people write poetry about!”

“Poems,” Steve repeated flatly. “About jorts. Sure, man.”

Eddie squinted at him, then stepped away from the table and drew himself up to his full height. “The days of spring will surely bring the birds and bees cavorting,” he recited, the sing-song cadence making it clear that this was a poem. “But since I am a gentleman, I’d much rather be jorting. Hempstead Snarlton, 1943.” He paused, clearly expecting Steve to be proud of him for reciting poetry from memory.

Steve leveled him with a look. “You just made that up.”

Eddie squawked. “No I didn’t! It’s a real poem, look it up!”

“The word ‘jorts’ didn’t even exist in 1943!” 

“You don’t know that!”

Steve scoffed. “I can take a pretty good fucking guess.”

“Whatever,” Eddie sulked. “You just don’t think that gentlemen should be jorting.”

Steve blinked in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself when you talk.”

“Do you?” Eddie retorted. “Are you saying we’re not gentlemen? You don’t think I’m a gentleman, Stevie?”

“Why is this the hill you’re dying on?” Steve wondered out loud, baffled that this is the same man that scrambles his brain with just the sight of his legs.

“Because I’m jorting!” Eddie exclaimed.

Steve shook his head in bemusement and put his sunglasses on. “I’m gonna go back outside. Have fun with your… jorting.”

“Oh, I will,” Eddie shot back. “Outside, also.”

“Just can’t stand a single minute without me, can you, Eds?” Steve teased as he slid the back door open and ushered Eddie ahead of him. 

“What can I say, Stevie,” he sighed, “You and me are like gentlemen and jorting: we just belong together, don’t you agree?” He dramatically rested a hand on his chest and gave Steve a simpering look. 

Steve couldn’t ignore the flutter in his heart at hearing him say that they belonged together. Despite his ridiculousness, he couldn’t deny that he was still madly, deeply, head over heels for this man. As he watched him scamper off to wet his feet in the pool, he sighed. 

“Yeah, Eds.” Lovelorn on the deck, he watched his jorts-clad crush send ripples through the water. “I do.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics

title and poem and general inspo from bdg's "how to make jorts" video, because i am, to my core, silly. thanks for reading

[crmsnmth]

1000 posts (a little note for the readers and to my fellow poets)

I started this project back in February. February Third to be exact, ( a month after my father passed away from a car accident and a major stroke) posting really short one liners, still unsure if I wanted to share my art. I'm glad I did share it though. I'm not gonna lie, this helps with my self-esteem, and if you've actually read any of my work, it's pretty obvious I'm not my biggest fan (I am fine, I'm ok, I will never go down that path again) I know I post a lot, and considering I like to write about the same instances, some of my work is redundant. But still, there's always someone out there who sees it and lets me know, be it a like, a reblog, a comment and sometimes even a direct message. And that kind of makes it worth it. It makes me feel like that maybe I'm helping someone out there go through their own personal hell. I've been to hell and back so many times, Satan just waves when I show up. But all that means is, if I help just one person, my obsession with nonstop writing is worth it. Thank you to everyone for the kind words and the likes and all of that jazz. You have no idea how humbling it is to hear or see this happen. My heart is so warmed, and I don't feel nearly as alone as I did for so long. So very long. I've always written like a maniac, and I've always written stuff that might be consider a little emo, or a little dark (there's a reason I call myself a misery poet) and for years I kept them in my notebooks, hoarded away to never see the light of the day. Honestly, most of those won't ever be seen. If they were meant for public consumption, I would've done it. Those words stay hidden. Putting myself out is difficult, due to years of abuse, both by the hands of people who said they loved me, and from my own twisted up medication filled brain. I found another reason here, and I've gained confidence in my real life from this. I cannot possibly thank you all for the positive feedback. Even the few negative things I take with pride and in stride, I wish I could thank each and every person that's interacted, or even just read my work in passing. I never would've guessed that I'd be putting my work out on a public forum like this, but here I am, 1000 posts later, most of which being original poems and parts of stories. I love you all. Thank you for being here on this weird little journey I'm on. Hopefully, one day my name will be on an actual book, and when that day comes, you are all entitled to a free copy and a dedication page for you all. And I am 100% serious. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my bottom less heart

[kingofthe-egirls]

Psssst, you okay with writing a Luffy smut short? Surprise me, add your own prompt and twist love❤️

Hmmm ok! I’m in love with Luffy so im always ready to write about him lmao

(cw: modern au, livestreaming on PornHub, onlyfans, camming, rich!luffy, food mention, trashy romance novel au)

(a/n: this is gonna just be me completely self-inserting myself. i need it.)

***

Your long brown hair falls over one shoulder, fluffy and tangled from under your headphones. You’ve been streaming on PornHub for a while now, having built your career with OnlyFans and livestreaming. You’re proud of what you do, albeit a little exhausted.

Hey!

Someone types a greeting, and you smile in response. “Hey there! What’s up?” You put on lipgloss, smacking your lips close to the mic in case he’s into ASMR.

I like ur smile :)

“Aw, thanks!” You click on his name to add a gold star, favoriting the newcomer on vibes alone. “Whatcha into?”

Hmmm…

He types, and you give him room. Men are typing with only one hand, usually. You smirk. “I’ve got tarot, ASMR, blowjobs, cosplay…SPH and foot fetish, although those are extra,” you meet the camera’s fisheye, but only for a moment. Eye contact is hard, even virtually.

What’s sph?

“Small penis humiliation,” you reply, clicking through your playlist. Marina and the Diamonds, today. “How To Be A Heartbreaker” is a classic, and you smile. “D’ya like being made fun of?”

Nope! But that’s okay lol

You hum.

What’s tarot?

You pick up your deck from beside you on the table: the Goblin Market Tarot, based on one of your favorite poems. You love faerie tales. “It’s a form of divination! Or just a game, depending on how you use it. But it’s cool! You can ask questions about love, career, relationships. And then the cards will tell you something specific about what’s going on!”

You shuffle the cards, shiny and periwinkle, experimentally. “Wanna read? It’s only $5 in free chat, ‘less you want a longer reading in exclusive.”

kingofthepirates has tipped you $5!

“Okay!” You say, excited. Tarot readings are your favorite. You have youtube videos and tiktoks, too. “What’s your question? I only pull one card for free chat.”

What’s for dinner?

“Ha!” You laugh out loud, “Let’s see!”

You flip over a card. Two more fall out of the deck after it, and you place them on the table in front of you. You scooch your laptop a bit farther away, to give the cards room.

“Hmm,” you say, peering over the watercolor art, “Looks like a lot, whatever it is. Ten of crowns—that’s swords—in reverse, eight of wands, and nine of platters. That’s pentacles, or earth. Which means food, material wealth, clothing, even. What d’ya like to eat? He’s got a platter of pears,” you hold up the card for the camera, grinning slightly.

Meat! Lol

“Haha, okay!” You tap on the cards in front of you. “Looks like a big party, maybe some conflict going on. Maybe a buffet? Like you’re fighting over food. But ya don’t have to be, with ten of swords in reverse, there’s plenty of food to go around. D’ya like barbecue? That’s what I’m getting.”

I do!

You sweep the cards up, and place them back in the deck neatly. “Well, that’s what I have for you! I like barbecue too, maybe I should order ribs…,” you click through your browser tabs, opening DoorDash to see what’s up.

Omg no way!!! Sanji is having a barbecue tonight!

“Sanji?” You ask, distracted, “Is that your boyfriend?” You love teasing men about having boyfriends and such, being bisexual (and nonbinary) yourself. You like tipping on the scales of heteronormativity, in whatever way you can. It makes them blush.

Nooo lmao he’s my cook! My friend

“Cook?” You ask, teasing. “What are you, rich?”

Yep!

Your eyebrows fly halfway up your forehead, but you don’t say anything. You calmly put the tarot deck away.

“I’ve never had a cook before in my life,” you cross your arms on the desk, letting your back arch so your cleavage sticks out.

It’s fun! He loves cooking and he’s the best at it. I also have a bodyguard but he’s my friend too. He likes swords ⚔️

You giggle at the emoji.

“Well, you came to the right place if y’wanna spend money,” you flirt, glittering at the camera. You’re not wearing makeup, but the pink light you have set up overhead does wonders for your skin. Plus the ring light to the side adds a couple sparkles to your eyes.

kingofthepirates has tipped you $50!

“Holy shit,” you breathe, quickly adding VIP to the stranger’s folder. “Thanks, king!” You smile, beaming at the screen. Maybe bills aren’t gonna be so bad, this week.

Let’s go to a show :)

“Gladly,” you fiddle with the collar of your robe, already itching to get undressed for this man. You hope he’s cute. “Exclusive?”

Sure 😈

kingofthepirates is requesting an Exclusive show. Accept?

You click “yes.”

Obviously.

***

The boy is very cute, as it turns out. He’s fisting his cock in one hand, camera turned on, with a sculpted abdomen and veiny forearms. His camera doesn’t show his face, but that’s normal for you. His glistening six-pack and toned arms are enough for you to get wet, grinding in your desk chair as you suck off your silicone toy.

“This is so hot,” he moans, voice raspy and sweet. His mic is turned on, which you usually hate, but this time it’s cute. Your pussy is aching, and you need his cock inside you soon.

“Fuck—,” you manage out, in between licks up the silicone shaft, “Glad you like it,” you pant.

“Love it,” he whines, playing with the bronze cockhead. His fingers are long and thick, with splotchy bruises on the knuckles. You wonder if he’s a boxer, or something. Or maybe just a troublemaker who gets in a lot of fights.

You pinch your own nipples, having teased off your silk robe at the start of the show. Now, you’re naked besides your cotton underwear that you usually keep on. Pussy’s for the OnlyFans, babes.

You’re actually turned on, too.

“Mmm,” he groans, speeding up his pace. He’s probably gonna cum soon, unless you slow down your show. You teasingly poke the cock into your mouth, stretching out your cheek. You roll your eyes up, moaning like a hentai girl.

“C-can you deepthroat it?” He asks, panting. His voice is so sexy, oh my god.

“I can try,” you giggle, and slide the cock halfway down your throat. Your gag reflex triggers, and you cough as you pull it out. “Sorry, I’m not the best at deepthroats,” you slap the toy against your cheek. He moans, anyway.

“God, you’re good,” he grips his balls with his other hand, and you notice scars up and down his arms. He also has one shaped like an X on his chest. You wonder where he got those, if he really is a reckless fighter, having adventures you can only dream of.

“What do you do?” You ask, jumping up and down in your seat. Your tits jiggle, and he groans appreciatively.

“Wish I could touch you,” his voice cracks. His hand trails up his abdomen, playing with his own nipples a bit. His hands are wide and thick, and you lick your lips.

“Me too,” you confess, genuine. He’s one of the hotter clients for you. You set the dildo down so you can play with your own tits. They’re soft and heavy, and you bounce them in your hands.

“But, ah,” he palms his cock softly, “I’m a MMA fighter. What about you?”

“Besides this?” You ask, tossing too-long hair over your shoulder. It brushes against your bare skin, and you grimace. You pull it up into a bun instead. Your eyes glitter at the camera, and your lips purse. “I make content on PornHub, OnlyFans, and other places like YouTube and stuff. Cosplay, tarot, mostly blowjobs. But not—on the wholesome places,” you breathe a laugh. “I’m kinda everywhere, these days.” You pause, unsure of what to do. “Here, let me copy and paste my username.” You send the info in chat, hoping to get an extra $5 for the OnlyFans sub.

“I’ll hafta subscribe,” he flirts, “Can I see that ass again?”

You grin, flushing slightly, as you stand up and turn around. You grab your ass in both hands, squeezing heavy flesh tightly. You bounce up and down, letting him appreciate the jiggle. Your cellulite and curves are one of a kind, you know this. Not everyone is stick-thin and spray tanned, so when customers click on your page they know they’re getting something genuine, and special.

At least, you hope.

“Fuck, baby,” he drawls out, and you turn over just in time to see him cum. Thick bursts of semen paint his clenching abs, and you hum.

“Good job,” you praise him, and he laughs. You sit back down.

“Shishishi,” he giggles, and you blush. He’s mad cute, to be honest. He fiddles with his phone, bringing it up to his face for the first time. You hitch a breath.

He’s mad cute.

“Make sure you favorite me,” you breathe, staring at his boyish features and jet black hair. His face is flushed, handsome, with a curved scar under one eye. He’s grinning at you with crinkly eyes. “S-so you can come back,” you stutter. Flustered.

Shit.

“Already did!” He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes up and down his camera. Looking at you, still bared body and soul in front of him. You wanna touch, and badly.

“Wanna hang out?” He asks, face cooling down. He grabs a towel, and wipes off his belly. He gasps, breathy, and leans back in bed. The covers are crisp and cool, almost like a hotel.

“Sure,” you breathe, ticking down to see your showtime extending. Past ten minutes, now. Fuck yeah, you think, leaning back in your own chair. “Whatcha wanna talk about?”

“Read my tarot again,” he cocks an eyebrow, “And let me know what it’ll take to get you to go on a date with me.”

***

Epilogue:

Hey 😈

He messages you on Insta, and you bite your lip. You’re sitting cross-legged at a café, having taken yourself out for a treat after your very long show this afternoon.

Hi baby 😇

You respond, too quickly. Who cares? You sip your drink, a foamy dirty chai. It tastes like cinnamon and almond milk.

Look up 👀

Frowning, you flick your eyes up and around the café. There. He’s seated across the way, at one of the square little tables situated in the center of the room. You blanch. That’s never happened before. Was there an angel of sex work watching over you?

You hope so. You gulp as he stands to make his way over to you. He’s even cuter in real life, and all thoughts of danger and serial killers and making mistakes leave your brain in one, swift breeze. You grin.

“Heya,” you say, sitting back to cross your legs. Your warm latte sits in both hands. You clear your throat. “Nice to meetcha,” you extend a hand. He takes it, smiling and warm.

“Hi,” he takes the seat across from you, pulling it out with one hand. The iron legs scrape across the granite floor. There's an exposed brick wall behind irl kingofthepirates.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," you hedge, raising an eyebrow. "Do I need to be worried?"

He blanches, eyes wide. "N-no!! I swear I'm normal. I don't--live here, I'm visiting. I have a--a match tonight! D'ya wanna come see it? I can get you VIP seats." He scoots his chair closer, looking up at you from under pretty lashes. You purse your lips.

"Prove it."

He giddily takes out his phone, a very nice smartphone with a cute charm hanging from the side. You tilt your head, and see it's a little skull-and-crossbones. You smirk.

"Here!" He hands you his phone, sliding it across the table. "It's me!"

You see a YouTube video of a wrestling match: two muscular dudes with their hands wrapped in fists. One is wearing white-and-blue shorts with pink hair, tied back with a bandana. The other is kingofthepirates, wearing red shorts with his hair loose. It’s black and floppy in spikes. He jumps up and down a bit, getting ready. The bell dings, the ref moves, and the stadium around the ring erupts in lights.

King shuffles forward, fists up, and knocks the pink-haired guy out cold. “Holy shit,” you breathe, watching the match end after only one shot. “That’s you?”

“Yep!” He grins, “We’re having a rematch this afternoon. Wanna come? I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Sure,” you decide, not having much to lose. “Can I bring a friend?”

“Boyfriend?” He asks too soon. You sip your drink.

“Girlfriend,” you correct, arching an eyebrow. “Is that a problem for you?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, as long as we can still do shows sometime.”

“Sure,” you say, nodding. “I liked your show.”

He smiles, wide and delicious, before going back to his phone to text someone furiously. “Lemme getcha two VIP seats. I wanna see ya after the show.”

“Okay,” you hum, letting him type. You lean back in your chair, pulling up your own phone. You text Nami, your girlfriend.

Babe? Ur not gonna believe this ☠️

***

[gemini526sdumptruck]

And now here's a proper introduction for the Emobjects!

I'm gonna be honest, I only still call them that because I don't have a better name xD.

I made these backgrounds, featuring little character symbols I made for each of them! These actually took longer than I anticipated! I didn't feel like making alternate poses for them after that so I decided to just make their bio post now lol.

Let's meet them!

Heartbreaker (She/Her): Heartbreaker is a dark angel who was sent down to Earth by the leader of the dark angels, Timekiller, to deal with some dark creatures (still deciding what) who planned on invading Earth. Realizing she was probably going to be here long term, she figured she needed somewhere to stay and something to do. So she set up a home for herself and decided to somehow enroll into the local high school, everyone would hopefully think she's just a regular teenager. This is where she would meet the rest of the group, who would slowly but surely consider her one of their bunch. Heartbreaker tends to take things extremely seriously, especially her mission. She was also hesitant to warm up to the others, because making friends was absolutely not her goal. But just how the others grew to like her, she came to like them as well. Hearbreaker can be snippy, is very straight to the point, and doesn't take anything from anyone. Her mallet is her primary weapon. It packs a powerful punch, but it's very heavy. Yet you will never catch her without it. Despite her unapproachableness, she is very loyal to the people she can tolerate.

Shady (She/Her): Shady isn't exactly the social type. Unless if she's around her friends or her sister, Shady's first instinct when it comes to conversations is to try and end it as soon as possible. She's a little deadpan and pretty blunt in her speech, too. However, Shady has a passion for creating and writing. Shady likes to sketch things in her sketchbook, writes short poems, and when she's really feeling it, whole stories. She was the first to meet Heartbreaker, and Shady thought she was the coolest object she's every seen. Like she's not imagining things, that girl actually has wings! Shady still isn't the most talkative, but when you get her going on something she's pretty nice to talk to.

Fang (He/Him): Fang is a half vampire, only half because he was turned rather than born that way. However he fully embraces that. Fang is probably the most social of the group. He talks...a lot. One of his favorite things to do is scare people for fun, whether it be pretending to bite them or just generally freaking them out by describing how he lives his unlife. He hangs from ceilings sometimes, he sleeps in coffins (which is how he prefers to sleep), and he even drinks blood (from frogs but he still counts it as blood, blood isn't easy to come by in the object world).

Deathcap (He/Him): Deathcap is snarky and tough. He's generally closed off from other people, and the rest of the group are really the only other people he interacts with genuinely. He can also get pretty aggressive, especially if someone else is dissing him or the rest of the group. If somebody takes a swing at him, he'll likely swing back with an insult of his own. Deathcap is a bit of a metalhead, and if you see him with earbuds, he's probably listening to metal on full volume.

Pinz (He/Him): Pinz is a bit of a strange one. He was found by Fang one day while he was walking through the graveyard. Pinz is a zombie doll thing who before joining the group was just wandering the graveyard aimlessly every night. After Fang befriended Pinz, Pinz got attached to Fang pretty quickly, and started following him everywhere. Fang decided to just introduce Pinz to the rest of the crew, and Pinz has stuck with them ever since. Pinz doesn't have a lot going on in his head, and he doesn't say much. All he's really able to say is his own name, "Pinz". Despite being a literal zombie, Pinz is harmless. He's actually quite friendly, but not a lot of people wanna be around him because of how scary he looks.

Acute (They/She): Acute was a mutual friend of Shady before joining the group. Acute sticks out in comparison to the others, but that doesn't bother them! They're just happy to be included in the group. Acute is excitable and could also be described as hyper. Acute generally just loves to have fun. They find fun in going online and posting whatever random thought is on their mind, visiting the arcade and maybe getting a burger along with it, and they especially like to dance to music on their playlist. (I also still desperately need to give them their own accessory xD)

Radiax (He/Him): Radiax has a passion for science, he's always had one. He definitely teeters on the line of "mad scientist", and he wears that label like a badge of honor. Debatably the smartest of the bunch, Radiax has his own secret lab in the basement of his house. His parents think he's just playing around, but they have no clue just how serious Radiax is about this science stuff. Weird sludge, probably toxic goop, and slime that seems to move all on its own, Radiax knows it all. Classic monster movies and creature features are some of his favorite media, the freakier the better! Radiax himself is intelligent, eccentric, and at times pretty smug, but often has the most "out there" solutions to things (almost all of them involve some kind of weird liquid he made).

I love these guys so so much. I hope they feel more like actual characters now, that was my primary goal here lol.

[sonicexelle-junkary]

I actually wonder what inspired you the most to write HH.exe's story? Like what media did you watch or read to get an idea for the current storyline and concept? Were you ever scared to post it online? I love your work a lot!

I’ve answered this question before, but it’s been a while and I think I should explain this in more detail. (Gonna be a long post so bare with me)

The main thing that sparked the idea of the AU was the short comic We Need To Talk About Tails. Mostly the whole ‘sonic goes crazy over something’ plot line. The au went through a fair bit of revisions starting from that, but it fairly quickly turned into the idea of Sonic being a cannibal. It wasn’t until after Frontiers was released that I began to make some changes to the initial story, to make everything more cohesive and to make it make a lot more sense in the world of Sonic.

There are a few other various things that have inspired me in terms of writing, drawing and whatnot for the AU as well. Most of them are for the remake of it. A couple I’d include are:

RecoveryEXE- @misscloudiedays (EXE)

Stranger- @brutuusonic (EXE)

You Cant Run: Enchore (song)

Vita Carnis (analog horror)

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (book)

Scream (movies)

Creep1+2 (movies)

As well as a various amount of other things (EX. Poems or general fascination of certain things) that can be a bit too obscure to share a single link too.

I wouldn’t say I was scared of posting my work online initially, but eventually I did get a little anxiety with continuing to do so, as I do want to work in the comic industry eventually and my work here is free to the public. But I really love horror so I eventually just said ‘ah what the hell’ and now I’m doing what I want, but I am being slightly cautious of what I am doing.

[cowboybrunch]

writerblr interview tag!

thank you for the tags @tragedycoded (here) @sableglass (here) and @saturnine-saturneight (here) <3 ive been meaning to get to this one for a minute sooo let's get into it

Short stories, novels, or poems?

i started with poetry, so it has a special place in my heart. all of my short stories turn into beasts. is it a cop out answer to say all of the above?

What genre do you prefer reading?

it'd be easier to list what genres i don't like. when i say ill read anything, i mean ill read anything. lately i've been on a sci fi kick (thanks Pierce Brown) but i love a good modern trashy romance as much as the next guy (i read the booktok sludge so you dont have to!) im not really a nonfiction guy but hey, if anyone has some recs, ill give em a shot

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

def NOT a planner. usually when i start writing i have a vague idea of where we start and where we need to end up, but what happens along the way is a surprise for everyone involved

What music do you listen to while writing?

SILENCE. sometimes white noise. i cant focus with music, brain gets jumbled

Favorite books/movies?

of all time? oh god for books, probably This Is How You Lose the Time War or The Song of Achilles but The Locked Tomb series is def up there. not a novel but i've read Bluets by Maggie Nelson so many times i probably have it memorized by now favorite movie is Zoolander, easy answer. that movie owns. i can watch it on repeat and ill never get sick of it

Any current WIPs?

Dust to Dust is still alive but im taking a bit of a hiatus before hopping into the final bit (tag is here if you wanna see me ramble about it) Felix Wonder is the fun time brain break WIP of choice currently and im working on draft 3 of Burden of the Reluctant Death (we will get to the ending this time. we will)

Create a character description of yourself: 

Elusive, or pretends to be. Too much energy in too small a body. Refuses to sit properly in a chair. Prone to fits of melancholy remedied by sunlight. Easily excitable, but fussy. Same outfit every day: big sweater, little pants, fuzzy socks. Nails bitten bloody but at least her hair is clean (if a bit too long for summer)

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

i could say no but that would make me a liar

Are you kill happy with your characters?

i was gonna make a joke but it would be spoilers soo. i write about grief. no way everyone makes it out alive

Coffee or Tea while writing?

coffee. i dont like tea (sorry sorry!)

Slow or fast writer?

im very much a burst writer so. flood or drought, no in between. lately i'd say SLOW but im just waiting for that spark u get me?

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

this really isnt fantasy but i feel like i was destined to be the kind, slightly off-putting maintenance man in a haunted apartment building that says cryptic things like "don't take the east elevator on a full moon" and "the air conditioning has made that noise since the fire in 12B"

Most fav book cliche:

yea there's only one bed and ill eat it up every single time!!! also: "i didnt know where else to go" or basically any overdone romance trope you can think of. im here for it

Least favorite cliche:

if there's a cliche that i dont like, i havent found it yet

Favorite scene to write?

confession scenes of any kind! scenes where the big tough character breaks down. any kind of emotional revelation, positive or negative

Reason for writing?

words in head, need words out of head ok ok fine, serious answer. i feel like writing is both asking and answering the question, "have you felt like this before? has anyone ever felt like this before? am i alone?" and it's proof that you're not the first and only person to ever experience the things you're experiencing. even this made up guy in this pretend world understands rage and despair and joy and grief and love. the source is different but the result is the same. human connection, man. love it and! it's fun. im having fun

tag!!

@knightinbatteredarmor @friendlesscat @tildeathiwillwrite @glassonthewall @illarian-rambling

@mysticstarlightduck @dyrewrites @sarandipitywrites @oliolioxenfreewrites @xenascribbles

[autistichalsin]

your halsinposting inspired me to make a tav to romance halsin and now i’ve started writing fics about them and oh my GOD these two literally have me in tears just because of how sweet they are together. i’ve never smiled or teared up so much while writing two people literally just having a conversation.

i’ve spent all night writing the dialogue for a little pre-relationship heart-to-heart between them and it’s absolutely killing me that none of it makes sense without the context of this tav’s backstory because i need to show them to literally everyone SO bad. these are my babies now and they are so important to me and i need everyone to see how much they care about each other.

this tav is very strong and only a little bit shorter than halsin (his celestial genes gave him The Tall), which leads to many shenanigans, including but not limited to: Pick Up The Druid To Make Him Blush, Use Long Limbs To Spoon The Druid At Maximum Big Spoon Capacity, Crush The Druid Back When He Hugs Really Tight, and Hold The Druid Up Against A Wall (Or A Tree) By His Thighs And Kiss Him Until He Forgets His Own Name. when he finds sweet things in his travels he saves them to leave at halsin’s tent, always along with a little note with a short poem written on it. halsin learns like two days into being at the camp with them that when they’re going to bathe, they just walk around camp buttass naked getting their stuff together and asking if anyone wants to join, and…oakfather preserve him, that’s all I’m gonna say on that.

anyway, i’ll stop rambling in your inbox now, i just had to show them off to Someone and i thought you might appreciate them. thank you for being my gateway into this madness, now it’s time for me to go get possessed by the spirit of these gay motherfuckers and start writing again.

- vampcaprisun (this is sent from my main)

Oh my gosh, that is so sweet! You totally SHOULD share your Tav's backstory- people LOVE that in this fandom! I LOVE those antics, Halsin DESERVES to be the small one for once!!! and I love the other parts too. I just... I love them. I am so happy you got to smush your Tav and Hal together!!!

Don't worry, you aren't rambling at all, and it makes me so happy to hear!!! EVERYONE NEEDS TO ROMANCE HALSIN YOU WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN I STG

[eurydicees]

in need of fanfic/book recs from ya <3

ooooooh okay idk what genre of book or fandom/ship fic you want so here are my general recent favorites! i'm not gonna give a summary, just a small note/review with my thoughts, so ur gonna have to google the books and click the ao3 links--my apologies but this post was getting way too long lmfao

real life books!

gideon the ninth / the locked tomb series by tamsyn muir: i'm really working my way through this series and i loooooove it. the characters make me crazy and every turn in the plot has me screaming a little. there's been a lot of deranged texts to irls about this one.

under the whispering door by t.j. klune: this book DID make me cry. it's a really well woven story about love for your family and your friends and death and finding satisfaction and fulfillment in life (and death) and moving forward. HIGHLY recommend his other book (the house on the cerulean sea) as well!! i read that one first and it's a really gorgeous, satsifying read.

the shell collector by anthony doerr: this is a short story collection technically but i loooooove it. each story individually is really beautifully done and i absolutely LOVE his writing style. i think i take a lot of inspiration from him for my own writing!

on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong: top books that, like, make yourself feel seen. another author/poet that i feel i can attribute a lot of inspiration for my style and love of words to in general.

sharks in the rivers by ada limón: poetry collection! but one of my all time favorite poetry collections and i can't let this go unnamed. i absolutely ADORE ada limón (you may know her from "the great blue heron of dunbar road" or "instructions on not giving up", which floats around tumblr pretty regularly). i think i first read this collection for class but it genuinely changed something in me. i actually have a tattoo based on these poems <3

post-colonial love poem by natalie diaz: another poetry collection but this one, like, fucked me up. it's woven together as a collection in an absolutely breathtaking way, but each poem also stands alone really beautifully.

fics - haikyuu!!

a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam by swampdragons (iwaoi, 6911 words): i read this a bit ago and really loved it, though it was also really emotionally difficult for me to personally get through--one of those fics that really drives the emotions home so deeply that it hurts to keep going. part of that might just be my own personal connection to the topic. idk. but either way it's ABSOLUTELY worth it.

The Benefits of Patience by Moami (iwaoi, 3363 words): this one's silly and funny and so much more lighthearted than the prev rec lmfao. it's like. healthy but messy but established but not established but a real relationship but an almost relationship to be iwaoi <3333

The Way He Looks At You by roobtheboob (iwaoi, 3805 words): i think i read too much iwaoi. but this one's really cute i PROMISE. i like the kyoutani POV idea a lot and i think the way kyoutani is written overall is really well done, particularly in the team dynamic and his respect for iwaizumi.

The years shall run like rabbits by ladyoflalaland (ushiten, 7292 words): obsessed w this fic. ushijima's mother is written out to be a REALLY interesting character and her strained relationship with ushijima is fascinating. the passage of time of it all......man.

fics - other fandoms

"Normal" by OnigiriCat4Ever (fruits basket, kyohru, 7140 words): this one's a really cute post-canon character study of sorts and i really love it. i love how the 7yo hajime is written and his relationship with kyo is really sweet.

The act of loving in return by kindokja (bllk, ryusae, 2809 words): this one's both funny and heartwrenching and sweet and painful all at once. beautiful, necessary mix in a fic. i like it a lot.

turn your face (towards the sun) by youareoldfatherwilliam (atla, gen, 5813 words): im normal about fics abt the chit sang and the 41st, in case u were curious!

that's all i got for now? i literally just went through my most recent bookmarks and cherry picked some special highlights lol. feel free to let me know if you want anything more specific!!!!! u already know i loooooove giving recommendations<3

[measureformeasure]

@lesbiancassius' (very late) february reads

yes I will do this monthly now.

books (as it turns out, I was busy. one book)

Enter Ghost, Isabella Hammad - An actor, Sonia, returns to visit her sister Haneen in Haifa and gets caught up in playing Gertrude in a Hamlet production in the West Bank. Stellar.

short fiction & poetry

Why Don’t We Just Kill the Kid in the Omelas Hole, Isabel J. Kim - obsessed with this on title alone. It has such a feel to it in the way it moves that I envy.

Parthenogenesis, Piya Patel - horror that makes me want to peel out of my skin and/or get a hysterectomy.

Eschatology, Eve L. Ewing - poem that was circulating recently and God. Fuck, dude. Yeah. Yeah.

Ouroboros, Megan Xing - The to-do lists in this got me because I was having my little freak out before my show went up where you think you can fix everything with to-do lists. Also heavily feeling replacing ineffective psych meds with yogurt, a pickle, and two advil.

I also read Cancer Buffet by Mary Hannah Terzino and Soft Opening by Elle Nash, but I was tired and don’t remember them.

(some) articles

Who Was Barbie? (A Symposium), n+1 magazine - this cemented to me that I truly, truly do not care about Barbie or the Barbie movie and if I have to hear anything about it ever again I'm smashing a bowl on purpose

A bunch of Hera Lindsay Bird’s advice column, which is delightful.

Let’s talk about Goodreads, Nicole Brinkley. There are many days I am glad I do not want to pursue a career as solely an author of novels. Godspeed to the authors out there you're braver than I will ever be.

Saving a Life, Patricia Lockwood - my god I have got to read a Patricia Lockwood book, and also my god getting grievously ill on vacation is one of my greatest fears so this one made me a little bit crazy.

The Secret Life: On the poet Molly Brodak, Patricia Lockwood - again, my god, I need to read a Patricia Lockwood book.

A Final Checklist Before You Print up Your Play, Rick Roberts - this reminded me so much of Joshua McGuire’s Rules For Writing Libretto, which I think of a lot.

“I think the word is dignity” — Rachel Corrie’s Letters from Gaza — I don’t know what to say. Read these if you can. They’re striking.

The Sexual Status of Aeschylus’ Cassandra, Paula Debnar - I can put an academic paper here you're not the boss of me. why I opened this one I don't remember but I was fervently texting friends in the middle of a certainly unrelated class about it because I've never been normal about Kassandra and Klytemnestra and I'm not going to start now.

tv/movies

Rewatching Severance, slowly.

Rewatching Sort Of, less slowly - this is probably niche to non-Canadian readers but it is a very good show.

Watched The Prince, which was a long time coming, and then wrote a paper about it. Bless.

tbr/nightstand

in the midst of Salvage the Bones, which is of course very good

Helen of Troy: from Homer to Hollywood

I'm gonna be rereading like every play off my Shakespeare class syllabus for the final which I wish I was more excited about

[thebisexualwreckoning]

Mind analysing your poem a little? 👀

Incredibly long post alert to anyone who plans on reading this

Obligatory transphobes and terfs dni. The following poem is about and written by ‘them gotdamn trannys and queers’ and is about beautiful beautiful t4t sex

i am kissing you. on the mouth.

thank you so much for sending this in i genuinely love talking about my poetry so much muah muah muah!!!

Original poem if anyone wants to read it:

Anyway.

Welcome to Prof A. 's line by line analysis of his poem*. So buckle your seatbelts because this is gonna be loooong ride. Let's get started!

*Disclaimer: you might interpret some of these lines differently then i do and that is perfectly alright. poetry depends on everyone's own lived experience and that does not make any one interpretation less valid. i might have written the poem, but your interpretations are still just as true.

I'm going to start with inspirations and the title first because i love providing backstory and talking about other poets. Very specifically one poet that inspired me to write this actually. You can skip this part if you just want to know about the technical structures and literary devices and specific meanings behind the poem

The title was originally part of a completely different short story/prose poetry  (i hadn't made up my mind yet) thing i was going to write but then never got around to finishing. but i just so happened to be going through my old writing (always keep a handy little notebook on hand. it has saved my life so many times) and find the little snippet i wrote and go, 'wait i actually like this very much' and decide to reuse it for something else.

but anyway, couple hours later im doing a voice of country thing for my literature class and analysing poetry by indigenous and aboriginal Australian poets. and i come across this little poem called 'a portrait of a genderkweer on fire'  by a certain Ellen van Neerven (who belongs to the Mununjali Yugambeh people of south east Queensland btw) (go check out their poetry it is genuinely life changing) and it sticks with me you know. it really does. poc trans people writing about their lived experiences as poetry? why didn't I, a poc trans person, think about that!

(no seriously, in all my years of writing poetry it for some reason never occured to me to write about my people. so genuinely thank you Ellen for that!)

now i've already got a first line ive been wanting to use, i am feeling extremely queer and angry because of unrelated transphobia a friend faced and i have a mechanical pencil and notebook in hand.

So i start writing.

(Apologies for my awful handwriting. i was writing while pacing and waiting for the bus)

Alright, kiddies. As you can see, most of the poem was taken verbatim with very few changes to the actual word choices behind the poem. (I will be doing a deep dive into the language as well, dont you worry)

The biggest change made actually is the switch from prose poetry to a more traditional stanza poem. i made the decision to do this actually because originally the poem was meant to be much longer and incorporate the original piece i decided to rework this into.

The quote 'sometimes i imagine what heaven is like' was meant to be repeated at the start of different stanzas which would be written in prose form, each detailing a different phase of queer love in secret, from secret night time affairs (this specific poem) to escape and loving loudly (the original thing i wrote). however, it didn't really work the way i wanted it too and i decided this was fine as it was and started to edit and play around with it a bit.

i changed 'sometime i imagine what heaven is like' to 'Do you imagine what heaven looks like?' and made it the title of the poem instead of the first sentence. the poem itself now becomes the narrator's idealised image of what heaven would be like for them. i go a bit more on depth about this in point 3 of Changes to the structure

Changes to the structure

As mentioned, the first change was from prose to stanzas. I'm about to get full on literature student about this so bear with me

Each stanza has one (1) extra line from the previous one in the poem. For ex: stanza 1 has 4 lines, stanza 2 has 5 lines, and stanza 3 has 6 lines. this was a deliberate choice i made. not to be too english teacher about this but it shows the narrator is coming to some sort of a revelation soon. (i wont spoil too much about this tho. for reasons)

ENJAMBMENTS!!! if you don't know what an enjambment is, it refers to a line break that interrupts the flow of a sentence: usually the line usually doesn’t end with punctuation, and the thought continues on the next line. now, i heavily fuck with enjambments in poetry. which is why i was so eager to use them over here. they represent a kind of stream of consciences here rather than structured thought. enjamments also help in rising tension and drawing the reader in deeper, making them want to continue reading to find out what happens next.

syntax: now the poem is actually meant to be wish fulfilment of sorts for the narrator, where they imagine all the things they wish they could do with their lover. that's why its not written in present tense using sentences like 'the moon shines' or 'the bedsheet are sweaty...'. The narrator is basically telling the moon to shine through his windows and the bedsheets to be stained and his lover to run a finger down his spine. we don't actually have anything written in present tense till 'She holds me close...'

the random spaced out/missing words a.k.a SYNTAX 2.0! because yes. there are certain words missing. ive intentionally left a space between 'left' and 'tramp' and between 'Boy' and 'fuchsia'. there is also a missing word before 'count'. now, if you read my original version of the poem, you can find out what words are actually supposed to be there, but when i put it into verse form, i found that many of the words id written in prose didnt actually fit. but without them the sentence kind of fell apart. so i decided to leave blank space where those words were supposed to go to signal to the reader that something is missing while not actually needing to mention that

4.5. just like the stanzas growing by a single line in each verse, the missing words also increase in a frequency of one (1), zero of them in stanza 1, a single missing word in stanza 2 and 2 of them in stanza 3.

5. capitalisations and Punctuations to immerse the reader more and help with the stream of consciousness style of the poem, most of the poem is written in lowercase with no punctuation being used throughout the only things capitalised are 'Factory Made Cunt', '... Boy' and 'She holds me...' you may have noticed a common string between these words is they are all related to gender. 'Factory Made Cunt' especially was written to put emphasis on the inherent transness of the character while '... Boy' was capitalised for this and to have more of a visual distinction from the black space that follow. 'She hold me...' however was written to directly contrast the lowercase 'god' and how to the narrator their lover is the divine being instead of any so called god (which is weird because i personally am a religious person).

Language choices and line by line analysis:

'moon shine through the' - moon shine over here is meant to show how queer people often can only exist in the freedom on night time and their love is often only seen within the secrecy of moonlight and not under the brightness of the sun. (also all moon deities are queer icons).

A friend of mine also provided the connection to 'moon shine' being a reference to illegal moonshine (home brewed extremely strong alcohol) and how that itself was a reference to illegally transtioning without the goverment knowing/able to get medical stuff

'window illuminating short bristles of': the narrators lover being a trans girl with a buzz cut was an intentional choice to show that gender expression does not equal actual gender. buzz cuts are traditonally associated with men, but also many butches in the community rock a buzz cut as well and its too show that there's no right way of being trans and presenting as a woman.

'her hair tickling' and 'the underside of my nose': im going at these two together since i don't really have much to say about them separately. it's more meant to be visual imagery, reinforcing the two are intimate in some manner but not really expanding whether it's platonic or romantic yet. its also meant to evoke the image of the narrators lover lying on their chest and but the narrator not caring about the fact that they might be slightly uncomfortable but loves their girl too much to push them away

'bedsheet sweaty and cum': confirming the fact that they are in a sexually intimate relationship and are lying post-coital (i cannot believe i just used the term coital. this has become an academic essay)

'stained entangle around the curve of' - some sensual imagery and tactile imagery

'her thigh where my' - more imagery

'lipstick left        tramps stamps on her' - tramp stamp is a reference to how trans women are often oversexualised and is meant to be a reclamation of their own bodies and sexualities

'Factory Made Cunt' - emphasis is placed on these words by being the first capitalised words in the entire poem as of yet. its meant to kind of condemn the never ending discussion about trans women's bodies and especially their genitals and the hyper sexualization of girlcock by fetishisers (not that there is anything wrong with girlcock. this user loves girlcock and boypussy). its kinda like the narrator is saying 'so what if her pussy is surgically made. how does that make it any lesser)

'           count down the' - once again, not really much to say

'knobs of my spine leaving behind a shivering' - more more sensual imagery

'mess of a Boy    fuchsia bright silicone' - just like how 'Factory Made Cunt' condemned speculation on trans women's bodies, this condemns speculations on those of trans men. it also challenges the assumption that just because you are a man or that you top, you immediately have to be the dominant one in the relationship. 'fuchsia bright' was also a deliberate syntax choice. the silicone is the bright thing here not the fuchsia giving the narrator the chance to have a dick which is bright/illuminated moment for them as a trans boy.

'dick still hard whispering lover' - the 'dick still hard' part was meant to be an ironic comment on how cishetero patriarchal society is always going about people in sapphic relationships using dildos and saying that they should just fuck a real man instead of a fake approximation of one (not that they are that eloquent) but the joke is that while those criticising sapphics who use dildos actually need to wait for a dick to get hard again before they can have sex while the sapphics don't have to worry about that since dildos are always hard. also the 'whispering lover' thing was written completely out of spite to prove the friend with the moonshine interpretation wrong when she said that lover cannot be an appropriate term of endearment and to her credit she has since changed her mind and has been very gracious about it and glad to be immortalised in a poem in this form

'in my ear She holds me close' - more more more sensuous imagery along with auditory imagery of whispering in ears.

'leaving behind no space for god' - a play on the popular phrase 'leave some space for Jesus'

Anyway, this turned out way to big and way to detailed for a simple little analysis but once again, i am a student of literature and this is quite literally my life's passion, made even easier since i have direct access to the writer's brain instead of having to make my own assumptions and spend hours researching.

I hope you enjoy if you or anyone else even bothers to read through considering just how much i actually wrote. but yeah, here's my final literary analysis of my poem Do you imagine what heaven looks like?

[thechaoscryptid]

The Great WIP Cleanout of 2024

(and a general life update because hello, I am indeed still alive)

SO 👏🏻 I've been busy doing pretty much everything BUT writing for the bulk of the year, but especially these past few months I've been absent. There's been a lot of zine work (ended up as a surprise shipping and finance mod on four projects in various stages of completion), a lot of knitting (hats are my favorite things, actually), and I got really into M*A*S*H over the summer (Hawkeye...beloved.....).

Despite the large amount of not-writing, I have been working on SOME things. I published my first erotica story in @/duckprintspress anthology Many Hands, I have a narrative poem in an upcoming poetry zine from Memento Viviere Press, and have been picking steadily at some other short stories for publication and press patreon rewards.

I also have a really, really big creative journey I'm about to embark on, and that means getting serious about what I'm actually going to finish and NOT finish fanwork-wise (as well as doing some major housecleaning in my docs folders so I can go into this with a clear head).

I've got a whole shitload of work in my documents that, realistically, I am not going to finish. I'm either uninterested in the work, the fandom, or some other aspect of the ~process~ and those obstacles are making finishing the WIP more hassle than it's worth. That said, I want to share what I have, because some of it slaps (even though it's old)!

Sooooo over the next week or so, you can expect to see me putting quite a bit of unfinished and abandoned work on AO3 in the interest of utilizing its ARCHIVE function. I'll also be posting a summary to finish Wake the White Wolf - the fic was SO close to my heart for a long time, and I'm really grateful for every single person who's ever been invested, but the style and knowledge gap between when I stopped updating and now is just. Impossible to bridge (and not something I have the time and energy to do these days).

I'm gonna try and be here a little more too, because I miss interacting with y'all. I think the time away has done me a solid and left me a bit more centered, more able to get in touch with myself and really hammer out my next steps in both writing and life in general.

(and you can DEFINITELY count on me still doing fanwork, even though I've been moving toward more original stuff ❤️❤️)

[down-the-rabbid-hole]

Okay SO, since y'all seemed to like my idea post I'm gonna ramble about the Borrower Woodrow au! This isn't really a fic nor headcanons it's just me writing down a bunch of ideas for this au

LONG RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT!!!

Okay so for those who don't know what borrowers are, the short answer is fairies without wings. They're little creatures that often resemble rodents that live in people's walls or out in forests, and often "borrow" human items (or in this case Rabbid items) such as food and trinkets like buttons, felt, anything really.

They fit PERFECTLY with the aesthetic of pallet prime!! Given they're often shown sometimes living in trees, or using stuff like acorn caps as hats or tree leaves as clothing, there's so many connections to be made!

Anyways back to what you all are probably here for, Woodrow but s m o l

He'd still have his curse! And wouldn't be too different personality wise? He's still a monochromatic poet. But he'd (at least as a kid) be hiding in the town of pallet prime, scavenging and "borrowing" supplies while trying to stay hidden and avoid being stepped on or caught.

I can see him residing in a library of sorts, and after closing time he'd try his best to read the poetry books there, even making a few poems of his own! Though despite his curse...it probably wouldn't go well. Every time Woodrow's curse would cause something bad to happen, the townspeople would blame it on this "spirit of bad luck", which would become basically this urban legend amongst them.

Eventually, Woodrow would've encountered a young Sweetlopek, who immediately thinks Woodrow's a fairy of some kind would try and befriend him, at first Woodrow would try and avoid him out of fear (Sweets is like 20 times his size, can you blame him??), but after getting over his fear of being squashed he'd accept the friend offer!

(also, I can't stop imagining a tiny Woodrow riding around in Sweetlopeks overalls pocket, it's too cute and image)

Part of me wants to say they just stay as friends since then, but the other part has another idea...

Woodrow starts reading Sweets some of the poems he's made, which is of course causing all SORTS of trouble for the townsfolk, one of which managing to trace the chaos to Woodrow (bonus points if it's that one burly Rabbid that punched Woodrow in canon)

That Rabbid connects the dots to the bad luck spirit and Woodrow, causing the townspeople to go into a frenzy trying to catch him, and he unfortunately gets separated from Sweetlopek during this, who's trying to convince the townspeople Woodrow did nothing wrong and didn't wanna hurt anyone.

Meanwhile in the chaos, Woodrow ends up getting fucking TRAMPLED by the mob of angry Rabbids, but somehow escapes into the forest to safety. Where he'll stay for a while to lay low and avoid other Rabbids.

Aaand I'm just gonna stop the post here before WOW it's getting long, I know that was a lot of angst BUT DW THERE'S FLUFF STUFF COMING SOON I PROMISE. Just gotta get the angst out of the way first. Also gonna be renaming this to the Borrower!Woodrow au instead of Borrower!Phandrow au since it's not ENTIRELY Phandrow centered, though there is phandrow in it eventually!

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk