#into badly written poems

[voidcatofbedlam]

For Orpheus and Eurydice

Sun dips low beyond the hills,

‘twined forms bathed in golden hues;

Your voice soared and my heart thrills,

Oh in all things I find you.

In darkness our lone paths lay,

Doubt comes in with fates’ call due;

Your glaze turns and my soul frays,

Still in all things I find you.

[drlickitysplitty]

To die in a world where the only things that could ever love you without judgment being the stars

And even then the stars died

If blood is thicker than water

Who's to say blood cannot be falsified

I am a man loving a man

I cannot have because the world hates lovers

History will only ever kill the ones you love and write of your victories

Failures don't get written in the history books unless your what the world has deemed evil and monstruous enough to be taught about.

[badly-written-teen-poetry]

teeth (of a coyote)

my teeth hurt today

and i can’t help but think

that it was from killing

some sort of prey

[my-little-c0rner-of-the-universe]

August

In five years I see myself saying “come meet me behind the mall”

Because baby I see a future,

Just not one near,

Cus Baby I can paint a picture,

Just not now right here

(Will I be selfish to ask you to wait

But baby i fear it might just be bait

Do I dare to ask

Cus baby i can’t let this pass

Right here right now isn’t a possibility

Oh baby am I losing the probability

That is you and me

Slotted together; family)

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

The HORROR of hearing your little five-year-old voice singing awkwardly along to a pristine backing track because your dad was just dying to shove you in front of a mic and produce a song as soon as you could enunciate words semi-intelligibly.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

not me actually writing the saddest BODY BACK excerpt for tonight's writing session oh my god:

“Why are you upset?” Harrison asks, drumming his ringed finger against the counter’s lip. What does Suzanna see when she looks at him? A miniature version of her wearing a jacket that once belonged to her at his age, and an earring that once belonged to another mother? Or is he a stranger? They know each other best by genetics. If she asked Harrison what he thought her favourite colour was, he’d have no idea. “This isn’t a big deal.” “Oh, please,” Suz says, teary like the actresses on her favourite Portuguese soaps. Sure, Harrison doesn’t know his mother’s favourite colour, if in childhood she was the type of girl to make rings out of peach pits, if she was the type of girl to rip worms bare-handed, if she’d eat cottage cheese with cantaloupe, if she thought about enrolling in a life drawing class before she got pregnant, if her idols are pop icons of the 80s like his are, her favourite way to fold a paper airplane, when her birthday is. But he does know she does not cry. When young Jesus stayed in Jerusalem unbeknownst to his mother, what did Mary do? Perhaps she stared at her hands, thought of the last time she touched him. Perhaps she wept. Or perhaps she found the closest mirror, wiped her sleeve against the glass until it glossed, and tried to find her son in her own reflection.

this is... an underrated relationship in my books LOL

[merlintheenchanted]

it has come to my attention that most works of art are bad. it has also come to my attention that most works of art are loved. and therefore that most works of art are good

[buglyknight]

545!) Introduce

I'm so pathetically in love

And this love is so disgusting

Does everyone in love feel this ugly?

It consumes me

I surrender I have to surrender to it

Oh wait nobody here has met her

So they mustn't know

I should introduce you guys

So you can fall in love too

Her name is ugly bug and,

Ok guys wait I know what you're thinking,

She is so amazing I love her.

Huh? Wait you think she's ugly?

No guys, you're missing the fucking point

God damn it. Haven't you been listening to these?

No, we love her, not she is ugly. Oh my god

You have to love her despite the ugly

Okay I get it, but you can't just say that

Listen keep it simple

Just love her, or I'm going to fucking kill you people.

So yeah, now that you're looking

You guys feel that too?

Oh shit security is coming back

[remtheenlightenedone]

I guess I haven't been writing long enough to experience that. But oh boy lemme tell you about ART---!

writing, in theory: fun

writing, in practice: [unintelligible noises] [sobs] [maniacal laughter] [screams]

[laraaaale]

if love is warm, then it is like shade of brown that your eyes have. if love is bright, then it is like your smile.

if love is calm, then it is like your words when i am emotional.

if love is alive, then it is like the way you make me feel when i feel dead.

if love is comfort, then it is like the way your arms wrap around me.

if love is deep, then it is the conversations we share about our secrets.

if love is anything at all, i'm sure a beautiful example of it is you.

[void-tiger]

Sure enough, having things basically resolved socially into the foundations for a comfortable rapport has me feeling less batshit insane with social anxiety inbetween interactions.

[alemendesz]

As cliché as it may sound, know your worth and never settle for less.

-AM

[what-even-is-thiss]

Brian David Gilbert accidentally reinventing ska aside, I do wonder why there was barely any new music written after the 1960s in the fallout universe. To the point where people in the wasteland aren’t just listening to 200 year old music but 300 year old music. During fallout 4 if you’re listening to diamond city radio when the one original song comes on Travis freaks out because he’s not used to playing tracks by people that are still alive.

If I’m gonna come up with an in-universe explanation I might guess that it’s an extreme example of what might happen if a nation devalues art to the point that cultural stagnation occurs.

Creativity is so discouraged in favor of science, warfare, engineering, and mathematics that nothing new gets produced. Old patterns for clothes are used for over 100 years, hairstyle books and learning materials are never updated, almost no new music is written. Deviating even slightly from American exceptionalism and style is heresy. New ideas outside of the sciences are stupid and to be mocked. What few artists remain just learn how to recreate what’s already been done.

I mean a vault full of musicians wasn’t even a control vault. There was no real effort to preserve musical knowledge. They were subjects in a mind control experiment.

And this attitude gets carried into the big afterwards. After the Great War all that several generations have ever known is the devaluing of creativity and new ideas. And everyone is too tired and focused on survival to try anything new.

So Magnolia writing new music? That’s weird. That’s really weird. It’s been weird for over 300 years at that point.

And if I’m remembering correctly, the only people you meet in the games writing poetry are writing really bad poetry. But in this sort of context, that makes sense. There’s this idea in writing circles that when you take a long break from writing you need to allow yourself some time to write very badly in order to clean the garbage out of your brain and get your creativity muscles exercised again.

The fallout universe is experiencing this on a global massive societal scale. Jerry the Punk writing bad poetry comparing a girl to a deathclaw and Beatrice writing a bad poem about being stuck underground is a sign of slow but steady healing. The fallout world is getting a lot of garbage out of its system from over 300 years of cultural stagnation and learning how to make stuff again.

[myrkulitescourge]

i'm surprised i haven't seen any text posts yet about the Unsubtle Differences between astarion’s tiefling party/high approval forest scene and the one you get after the goblin party.

there’s something so terribly interesting about how the conversation afterward plays out depending on which variation you pursue.

like, most people have seen the tiefling party version by now. astarion basking in the sunlight the morning after, playing off most of what tav says with relative ease, even when they ask about his scars and he tells them about cazador. his cadence is smooth and composed, his smile almost friendly, even though you know, as the viewer, he’s playing a game of manipulation at this point. the only real crack in his demeanor is if tav notices that cazador’s “poem” was written in infernal, which, understandably, startles him.

but recently i watched the goblin party version of this same scene, and everything reads so differently. unlike at the tiefling party, it’s still the middle of the night when astarion tries to leave, thinking tav is asleep—almost immediately after the act, in fact. when tav does speak to him, he’s visibly nervous, halting and stammering in the middle of lines delivered unflinchingly in the other version of the scene. he gestures broadly and fidgets more while talking, his smile comes and goes. there’s even some of his distinctive high pitched, fake laughter sprinkled throughout the exchange, almost identical to later scenes where he's very, very obviously uncomfortable (like if raphael mocks him and magics off astarion's shirt to show the party his scars in act 2, or when confronting the gur children in their cell in act 3, etc etc).

siding with the goblins represents something deeply familiar to astarion, a level of cruelty he's more than familiar with and embraces likely because cruelty and duplicity, to him, go hand-in-hand with the power and freedom he craves so badly—but he won't stay the night with this tav, even if he approves of their actions. no, in this case, he'll keep to what's familiar and attempt to leave them in the forest under the cover of the very same darkness he resents having been cast into by cazador. when he gets caught, it sets him on edge, and everything he says becomes such a blatant lie to save face that tav would have to be completely oblivious not to see through him, or maybe just not care enough to.

but if tav saves the refugees? challenges his worldview and comes out victorious? oh, he'll complain of the poor rewards for his trouble at the party and whine about it being boring, but he decides to stay with tav through the night while they're asleep and on past dawn. he takes a moment to enjoy the morning sunlight, returned to his life after two centuries without. the same is true if you have high enough approval that he asks before the party, in which case, you've almost certainly hit his biggest approval gains: trusting him and supporting his safety. maybe he doesn't trip over his words when he speaks because, well, maybe this is someone he doesn't have to worry about. someone who's already more than proven themselves a foolish, heroic sort with a bleeding heart or otherwise demonstrated that they're already in his corner. in other words, not a threat—at least not to him.

does any of this make sense. i wanna study this guy under a microscope.

[woewriting]

basorexia (i)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: you're dying to know what cairo's lips taste like. word count: 2295 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no pronouns used, kissing, slightly nsfw, sexual tension, a bit angsty, not exactly a happy ending, sorry...

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Clearing your throat for the 5th time since class started, you tried to look away from the girl that stood in front of the class, paper in hands as she read the words written on it to everyone. The brown eyes would often travel around looking for any reactions that she would entice, from Mr. Miller, to her best-friend, to the rest of the students and finally landing on you. 

Cairo gave you a brief smile, but enough to make you blush. The heat wave taking over your body, making you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Sitting in the front row, that close to her, was not the best idea.

As the brunette finished presenting her paper, the professor motioned for her to return to her seat, right next to you. Also not a good idea, but she insisted and it wasn’t hard to comply with her wishes. You swallowed hard, eyes looking at your hands that rested on your lap, avoiding to look at her, being this closed never failed to agitate your heart, especially after her readings.

“So,” Cairo leaned closer, whispering in your ear with a sweet voice. “What did you think?”

“It was incredible, as well as everything you've ever written. You have a way with words that never fails to astonish me.”

The girl let out a small laugh. “Is ‘astonish’ your word of the day?”

“How did you guess?” You retorted in the same playful tone.

You finally looked at her. Big mistake, if you cared to admit to yourself.

Cairo was close, leaning into your personal space as she always did to test your reactions. Her eyes carried unspoken words that you wished she’d share with you the same way she does when working on her writing, but it never seemed to be something that would, eventually, come to reality. She had many things she wanted to share, unfortunately, none involved you.

Not directly, at least.

Feeling your throat dry at the sudden closeness, your eyes darted from hers, down to her lips where a small smile rested, knowing damn well the effect she had on you. 

“I can read you like a poem.” She whispered, pulling back to pay attention to the rest of the class.

It was a truthful statement, she can read you as if you were written by a high schooler, with shallow, badly used words that confuses everyone around, including you.

Sometimes it felt like she was interpreting you wrongly, in her own ways.

And that only made you more confused as to what was the feeling you felt when she was beside you. And what she felt for you.

Yet, you burn inside to hear her mind. 

The rest of the morning went by like the wind, occasionally blowing on your hair, threatening to rain every second. Like every other ordinary day. 

Cairo would spend time either writing or reading in her own world, completely focused on the words she would type on her laptop, stealing glances from you every now and then when Winnie’s laugh got her attention. You pretend not to feel the brown eyes burning your side profile, but the brunette always noticed the way you gulp and bite on your lower lip before returning her attention to her work. 

Only then you’d look at her. And it was as if the world was muted by whoever controls this reality, making everything disappear as you gazed at her face, from the messy fringe that covered her forehead to the light-colored dots that were spread on her skin, your favorite one being a small freckle on her lip that you wished to kiss away and steal it for you.

You were dying to know how she tastes, if it was bitter like the coffee she insists is better than any other sugary garbage you and Winnie chooses to drink, or if it was minty like the cigarettes that always rested in her hands. Maybe it tasted like cinnamon because of the gum she carries in her back pocket, or cherries since she loves to eat them when she’s alone at home.

Shaking your head, you turned your attention back to Winnie Black and whatever was the subject she seemed excited to talk about, and all you could do was laugh when she did. 

Cairo noticed your behavior.

On your way through the trees, you trailed behind her, just admiring the way she would kneel whenever a new insect crossed her way. 

“Don’t you think they’re cute?” She asked with glowing eyes, looking hypnotized by the green praying-mantis in her hands. 

“It would be more interesting if they could kung-fu.” 

Cairo rolled her eyes at your joke, coming closer to you to lay the innocent animal in your own hands, a disgusted feature took over your face once you felt the tickles in your skin. 

“If they could kung-fu, you’d be dead by now.” She joked back, walking her way out of the woods that led to the old, empty mansion on the other side, leaving you behind unsure on what to do with the tiny creature in your hands. Luckily, it jumped off on its own as if it had noticed your discomfort. 

You laughed to yourself, following her once again.

The old place had slowly become your second house as you stayed there more than at your actual home. With Cairo’s parents out for most of the days on working trips, you’d find yourself more comfortable with the other’s presence as you both worked on your assignment in silence after class.

It was dark outside the window when you let out a sigh of relief, finally finished with your work. Looking over to Cairo, she still had the laptop on her lap, but little did you know she had finished her own homework way before you.

“Do you know what ‘basorexia’ means?” Her voice made you stare at her with a confused aura. You denied with your head, sitting back up on the chair you were in. Cairo took one last drag on the cigarette that rested between her fingers before putting it out on the small, porcelain plate on the nightstand by her bed. She walked to you at a slow, calculated pace until she was standing in front of you. “It means ‘the overwhelming desire to kiss someone’.” She explained, calmly placing herself on your lap.

“What are you doing?” You choked on your voice, trying to back yourself away from her, but her hands firmly on your shoulders and legs resting side by side with yours made you stay in place. 

“I want the truth.”

“What truth, Cairo?”

When the brunette leaned closer, you could smell the mint in her breath. Her fingers found the collar of your shirt, touching your neck with the tip of them.

“About what you want.” Her eyes were dark, pupils full blown at the feeling of you so tensed up under her touch. “I see the way you look at me, an overflowing desire that is almost drowning you in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried to play off, but your voice failed you as you looked away from her, focusing on the vintage furniture that decorated her bedroom; everything looked so antique, matching perfectly with the personality of the girl stranding your lap. 

Cairo’s hand left your shoulder to lock your chin over her index finger as she made you look at her.

“You can lie to yourself as many times as you want, but you cannot lie to me.” Her thumb brushed softly on your lower lip and you had to stop yourself from sucking it into your mouth. “You think you’re doing a great job at hiding what’s in your head, but your body gives away your true intentions.”

“And how’s that?” The low, curious tone in your voice made the girl lean closer, brushing her lips against yours.

“Your eyes love to travel up and down my body, but they seem to have a strange obsession with my lips.” She licked on them, the tip of her tongue touching you. You closed your eyes for a mere second, but the small tilt on your chin made you open them again. “Your cheeks gain a pinkish tone whenever I lean closer to you and you stop breathing as if the air I let out is toxic. Your hands refuse to touch me out of fear I’ll burn under your touch.” The hand that wasn't holding you in place found yours that were glued to your sides, making them rest on her thigh. “So, I want you to tell me what’s going on inside your pretty little head.”

Cairo Sweet is objective, what she wants, she’ll have it. One way or another. And she had her own ways to justify the means.

Your brain tried to form a single sentence, but the words had left your vocabulary, all it had left was the new word you had just learned: basorexia. 

Was that what you felt in your chest? 

Once again, the girl proved to be ahead of you, knowing your true wishes. Reading you like an open book displayed on her desk among the others that she devours. 

You took one last deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts before you let out all that’s been troubling you since you first met Cairo.

“I want to kiss you. But only once, I think.” The girl smiled, reaching out for your other hand so that now both rested on her thighs. “I just want to know what it’s like and I’ve spent enough time staring at your lips that I can’t bear the thought of never finding out.”

“What if I don’t want to kiss you?” 

“Then that makes us two liars instead of one.” Your voice was nothing but a lowly whisper, afraid to break that thick tension that surrounded the both of you like the smoke that Cairo blew out of her mouth.

Your hands moved up and down, never trespassing the fabric of her black skirt. You didn't want to abuse a boundary that you didn't know existed, but imagined. Everything about Cairo was a mystery, she spent more time hidden in the words of her books than actually expressing her wishes out loud, it was rare the times she felt comfortable saying them, and when she did, it felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane.

Her hands were heavy on your shoulder, slowly moving to tangle in your hair to pull your head back. You looked at her with half-opened eye lids and parted lips as she carefully analyzed you, deciding on what should be her next step. All she knew was that, after the first one, she couldn’t take two back.

Cairo fixed herself on your lap, holding back a heavy breath that threatened to escape her throat at the touch of your burning hands moving past her skirt. You wanted to grab the flesh and move her against you just to hear that sound again.

You watched with hypnotized eyes when she stopped smiling, hovering over you with open lips, her hot breath mixing with yours, but never closing the small gap between the two of you. She was unsure, hesitant, almost as if waiting for someone to push her off the edge of a cliff.

This time you took the first step, your hands held her waist and your torso moved against hers to capture her lips with your own, sucking on her bottom lip. Cairo kissed you with hunger, easily taking control of the situation with her hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you towards her as she pushed herself on you, not even air could go through you.

She tasted divine on your tongue, even more than you could ever dream of, and the sounds that were escaping from her parted lips whenever you tilted your head for a different fitting filled your ears and soon became your favorite sound. When she moaned against your mouth, feeling your nails dig the skin of her waist, you went to heaven and back, your body heating up as if hell embraced you in a tight hug. 

Moving one of her hands from your face, the brunette guided yours up, squeezing her breast with a small smile while kissing you before leading it down her body once more. 

She was hot against your fingers and it was easy for you to slide them against her slit at a torturous pace. Cairo held your hand steady, deciding to move her hips against you, whining on your lips with eyes closed. Short nails digging at the nape of your neck, a bearable burning on the spot. 

Trailing your kisses down her neck, you licked on her pulse point, earning yourself a hoarse moan before she pulled back from you, standing up before she reached the ‘no return’ point.

You nearly screamed at the sudden abruption, following behind her. As your arms were to wrap around her waist, she pushed you down back on the chair with a firm hand on your chest. You stared at her, frustrated and bothered, and she didn’t seem so different from you. Swollen lips, dark eyes and heavy breathing, her shoulders fastly moving up and down. Once again, you were confused with her actions.

The awkward silence that filled the bedroom was loud, screaming inside of your head. You wanted to slap that expression on her face, the one that looked at you with a tensed jawline. Instead, you just got up and took the jacket that rested on the chair’s arm, hearing the flick of her lighter before you closed the door and walked down the stairs, a burning feeling on your chest.

[schoenht]

↳ if he wanted to, he would.

characters: ace trappola, lilia vanrouge, rollo flamme, silver, azul ashengrotto

synopsis: things that he does because he wants to or without being told to do so.

a/n: SHOUT OUT TO MY MOOTS THIS IS FOR YOU @taruruchi @linabirb @kunikame @lunavixia this is my early Christmas present to you all :D

Takes you out on spontaneous dates with nothing on his mind but you.

ACE never has a set plan in mind. Sure, he is not as impulsive as others but that doesn't mean he won't show up to your dorm at literally ungodly hours of the morning, just because he wanted to annoy you. (He's just a softie and will not admit he wanted to see you really badly.)

But Ace also loves taking you on dates. They are his favorite things because you're there and he can find little things about you that he never noticed before. Like the way your eyes sparkle at the sight of something you want, how your lips try to hold back from either sighing or laughing at a horrendous pun you made, how meticulously you scoured through every aisle to ensure you got the quality object you wanted.

Stays with you in silence, even when you're feeling at your lowest.

Dates are also a perfect time for him to spoil you. Never will you have to pay, except for the one time he forgot his wallet. Other than that, he refuses to let you pay. It's not much that he can do, he cannot get you the moon just yet, but memorizing your order, looking at the way your face lights up at your food. And every second he can take to be in your presence is a second he would fight for.

LILIA loves you and he doesn't need words to show it, albeit hardly being against it. But he also knows you and how you work when you're overwhelmed. There is a peaceful silence that you require and instead of getting up in your space, trying to hug you, he will give you options.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Do you want a snack? A plushie?"

"Do you want a hug?"

Writes you pages upon pages of his adoration for you. The expression "[one] could write hundreds of books and still not a number would suffice" comes from his actions.

You could lash out, you could stay silent. He knows, he can feel it. So he will stay there quietly unless you tell him otherwise. There is nowhere else he'd rather be than at your side. You're his lover, why wouldn't he stay? Even if you think you're a burden to him, you never will be. He has the strength and the compassion to hold you up. He always wants to hold you up, to love you at your lowest and at your highest. He's there no matter how many things come between you.

ROLLO is not too expressive, nor is he too reserved to interact. He prefers to release his adoration through ink and paper. The diary he has is barely finished and it is all because he is to focused on his journals that are written about you.

He studies your face when you're not looking, when he watches the moon with you. The moon itself pales in comparison to your beauty and while he doesn't think his sketches do you justice, they are enough to remind him of how precious he holds you to his heart. Every single bit of you is a part that he adores.

There is no shortage to the little things he sees about you. The things you don't notice? He does. Every single one. He writes it down with such careful handwriting, it feels like a caress to the cheek. He has love letters, poems, stories, date ideas, he has everything in those notebooks. They are stashed away in the back of his closet.

Makes you little crafts that remind him of you.

But one of those notebooks has one specific purpose and it will be your present for the day he gives his everlasting devotion to you. That notebook has love letters that could fill oceans with how many waves upon waves of adoration he has for you.

SILVER cannot keep himself awake most of the time and he hates himself for it because the dream version of you couldn't hold a candle to the real you. So instead, he makes himself stay up to create things. He is a soldier, a protector, yes, but with you, he is so incredibly soft.

He starts by crocheting you your favorite plush animals. He gives you paintings of landscapes that remind him of your eyes. He draws your face in a small sketchbook so many times, he has every part of you memorized. He annotates books to commentate on them with things he thinks you might like. He makes fake flowers out of pretty paper. He even makes you a blanket at some point, draping it over your shoulders when you study for finals.

Silver cannot stay awake for long, but heaven knows that he will do his absolute best to show you that he would move galaxies for you. He fears that the small crafts aren't enough, that you won't like them.

Would fly halfway across the world for you, just to see you for a minute.

But every single one of them holds a tiny piece of his heart. When you know you have enough, that is when you'll know he has given his whole heart to you.

AZUL isn't as open to showing love as most are. He tends to struggle with showing his vulnerability, even after all this time. He's afraid of losing his reputation but also afraid you'll find him too cheesy. So his acts of love comes in acts of service.

He's had to go across the world several times for his meetings and each time, he brings back some souvenir for you. But he knows that's not enough. If he misses you to the point where he would swim back, he couldn't imagine vice versa.

So, he has started traveling back to see you. He would drop a meeting, get on a jet, and get to your doorstep with flowers, just to see you for a minute. Maybe it's a hurried reunion but there is no denying the look in his eyes: the man is in love with you.

"You came from halfway across the world, just for me?"

He has to pause before he smiles a little. "I would do it several times, if only to see you for a minute." He definitely buries himself in an octopot once he leaves, but the sentiment is so incredibly sweet.