#listen I’m taking a poetry class

[isawhitney]

Nonsenses

Well, word soup! And jingoism,

Teatime, of course - banality?

My please, often syllabus is

Better a teaser than pudding.

Why? Doctor whenever catnip

Combination whatever for?

Enough for evil listenings, for

All and scientific butter. Bliss

Bar none a collocation army

Band my dear, my dear! How

Trumpeting! How elephant and

Mouse! If verbalised juicer

Crisping near and by the book,

Then let me know. All words

And violinists are just for show.

[merlieve]

bibliophile :: jess mariano

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 & 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬

𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Note: i wrote this while listening to “si tu m’aimes demain’ by iliona + the intro is inspired by 500 days of summer, so that’s basically the vibe of the story 😋 Ik there isn’t a market for GG fics but I just love me some Jess.

SUMMARY | Jess says something about how it’s a shame that people arent as beautiful and interesting as books, but he looks at [Name] and realizes that she could be the only person who could be compared to the books he loves.

The soft glow of Luke’s Diner’s sign casts a warm ambience onto the quiet street, the last remnants of daylight as it settles to the night sky.

Inside, the diner was practically buzzing with people, the sounds of plate clattering and a few conversations filled the air.

Ring. The sound of someone coming inside alerted Jess but he didn’t bother to stand up from the bar stool.

“The Old Man and the Sea? I love Hemingway!”

Jess was so caught up in his world that he failed to notice the girl seated next to him at the diner countertop. “Excuse me?”

“I said I love Hemingway,” She repeated, now gaining Jess’ full attention. “You have good taste in books.”

“Thanks, uhh?” — “[Name]” The girl said with a smile. ‘A pretty name for a pretty face’ thought Jess, looking at the girl beside him up and down.

“If you read Hemingway, I’d suggest Bukowski if you’re into poetry.” She recommended, looking down at her nails as she was slightly nervous by the way the boy was looking at her.

“I take it you like classics.” Said Jess, putting down his book.

“Oh, I like any genre! Mystery, historical, sci-fi… you name it.” Smiled [Name] as she rambled about her interests.

Jess found it adorable. “Quite the bibliophile, aren’t ya?”

“Guess you could say that, stranger.”

He was just about to ask for her number when someone came behind the counter.

“Jess, your break’s over.” Said Luke, glancing over the teenagers in front of him.

“Well, duty calls.” Sassed Jess, grabbing his book by the counter but not without giving the girl a wink. “Bye, stranger.”

Ever since that day, Jess couldn’t seem to get [Name] out of his mind and it didn’t help that she was everywhere; the quaint bookstore, at school, the library, even at the Walmart he works at, and that’s at Hartford!

If Jess had learned anything by being [Name]’s friend is that he knew that the way to her heart was to challenge her.

The two could make a conversation about just about anything, whether it was debating the end of The Bell Jar or trying to find the best coffee place in New Haven.

When she talked about her favourite books, Jess had the time of his life listening to the passion in her voice. And it wasn’t only him. Whenever Jess talks, [Name] sounds like she’s actually interested in whatever he’s talking about.

They’d exchange books, they’d lend each other books and return them fully annotated with their own opinions. They’d have study dates after school, which skyrocketed Jess’ grades by a ton and he even helped [Name] out with her AP classes. They’d go to each other’s houses to have movie nights, [Name] would pick some kind of chick-flick and he’d be “mad” at first and then grow on to love it.

Every time he spent time with her, his blooming crush would only grow and grow. At some point, he realised that his feelings for [Name] went beyond simple platonic attraction and not only did that scare him from having a genuine friend at Stars Hollow but it was how he couldn’t contain it.

Not to mention, Luke started to get sceptical when Jess said he was going to school. Since when did Jess actually go to school?

“I’m leaving!” Shouted Jess with a book bag slung across his shoulder as he closed the door.

Luke’s curiosity got the best of him and he followed Jess to a house. He knew it, Jess was lying, again. But right before he was about to reprimand him, a girl who seemed about Jess’ age walked out of the house, she looked a little familiar.

The two seemed to talk to each other for a bit before walking back… in Luke’s direction.

Luke had no choice but to hide in the prickly bushes to remain hidden from his nephew’s sight… ouch.

Later that Day

“Why’d you got a bandaid on your nose?” Asked Jess, referring to Luke’s earlier injury.

“It’s nothi- just shut up.” Challenged Luke as he walked over to refill a few coffee mugs.

A few hours passed until closing time and the diner was starting to get empty. Just when Luke was about to clean the countertops, the front door opened. It was the same girl Jess was with before.

She approached the counter with a friendly smile, the kind of smile Luke hadn't seen in a while.

"Hi, is Jess here?" Asked [Name], her eyes wandered around the diner.

Almost on cue, Jess walks out of the kitchen and greets the girl with a smile. “Oh, great. Are we throwing a fiesta or organising a pity party? 'Cause, you know, I'm just on the edge of my seat here.” Babbled Jess.

"Jess, I got a 95 on AP Bio!" The girl excitedly says, holding a paper in the air. "Really? Let me see," he replies, walking over to her.

“What, you don’t believe me? Well, it’s there and it’s in a big red mark with the words ‘Fantastic’!” She eagerly hands it over, her eyes shining with pride.

“Look at that, Ms. Fantastic,” Smiled Jess as he looked over her paper. “You hungry? It’s Danish day. C’mon it’ll be my treat.”

After hearing the news, [Name] gasped, “It’s like the stars were aligned” She giggled, taking a seat at the nearby table.

Once Jess walked over to the counter to grab a freshly cooked Danish, Luke cornered the boy.

"So, what's the deal with you and that girl?” he asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.

Jess shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Just helping her out with her AP classes. Turns out, I’ve got a brain in this pretty little head of mine."

Luke raised an eyebrow sceptically. "And since when did you become the tutor type?"

Jess rolled his eyes, “I like her, she reads Hemingway.” He said as he looked at [Name] who was still walking on cloud nine.

Luke nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "She’s a good influence on you, kid. Don’t screw this one up, okay?"

Jess scoffed, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, well, don't go spreading that around. I've got a reputation to maintain."

[theetherealbloom]

NORMAL THING

Summary: It's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.  

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader  

Warnings: Age-Gap(ish), Huge Crush, kind of Power Imbalance (cause you’re a fan but nothing absolutely weird), Hurt-to-Comfort, Infatuation, Fluff, ANGST, Dog, Older Sister, COVID-19, Pandemic Era, Cheesy, Awkward, Hallmark-ish Vibes, Whirlwind, Work, 

Word Count: 3k

A/N: That mf voice note-turned-song has me sobbing and dying every time I listen to it. Then I was also listening to "Normal Thing" and was like, “ohhhh this song is for me… help.” I wrote this fic in a place of just… feeling sorry…? Like apologetic that Pedro had to go through that kind of feeling all alone for a while. Anyways, there's a few sentimental moments here inspired by poetry and things I've read and learned, hope you enjoy!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: "Normal Thing" by Gracie Abrams, "Pedro" by Omar Apollo

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

| Main Masterlist |

You had gone to visit your sister during your last summer break before graduating. Then, the second wave of COVID struck Europe, making it uncertain when you could return home. However, since all classes had shifted to online learning, the timing wasn't as critical.

Your older sister calls your name, snapping you out of the book you were absorbed in. "Hey, I’ll be out later getting groceries… do you mind taking Hershey for a walk after dinner?”

Her chocolate brown Labrador retriever, Hershey, a retired service dog, perks up at the mention of his name. You can't help but smile at his eager expression. “Yup, I can take him out later.”

She reminds you, “Don’t forget your mask!”

You playfully roll your eyes at her. “I won’t.”

Your sister thanks you and leaves for the store, leaving you alone with Hershey. You decide to take a short break from studying and take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood.

As you make your way down the quiet streets, Hershey happily sniffing at everything in sight, your thoughts drift to Pedro Pascal. Ever since watching him in The Mandalorian, you couldn't help but develop a bit of a crush on him. His charm and charisma on screen had captured your heart, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

But it was just a normal thing, right? To have a celebrity crush? You reassure yourself as you continue walking.

You've always been drawn to movie stars and actors. Growing up, you had posters of your favorite celebrities plastered all over your bedroom walls. It was just harmless admiration, nothing more.

But with Pedro, it felt different. You found yourself constantly daydreaming about meeting him or even just catching a glimpse of him in person. You even shamefully admit that you've watched his interviews multiple times just to hear his voice.

It's ridiculous, really. You were fully aware that it was just a fantasy and that nothing would ever come out of it. And even if by some miracle you did meet him, what then? He would never be interested in someone like you - an ordinary college student from a small town.

You sigh and shake your head, trying to push away these silly thoughts as Hershey tugs at his leash to sniff at yet another tree.

But then something catches your eye - a poster for an upcoming film starring none other than Pedro Pascal himself. Your heart flutters at the sight before reality comes crashing down on you once again.

You shake your head and continue walking with Hershey, wondering when this infatuation will finally fade away.

Your older sister had always been supportive, albeit a bit concerned about your celebrity crush. "It's sweet, really," she would say with a soft smile, "but just don't lose yourself in the fantasy, okay?"

Your friends, on the other hand, found your crush hilarious. During your video calls, they would tease you mercilessly. "Come on, you'll never meet him!" one friend would laugh. "It's just a harmless crush, right?" another would add, their tone light but the message clear.

In the privacy of your room, you sometimes found yourself talking to the mirror, practicing speeches you would never give. "Hi, I'm a huge fan… and I just wanted to say..." you'd trail off, feeling foolish. You even practiced smiling and having conversations with yourself, hoping to perfect that effortless charm you admired so much in Pedro.

Yet, your self-awareness kept you grounded. You knew it was just a fantasy, a way to escape the stress of your real life. With a sigh, you would push those daydreams aside and focus on finishing your papers and remaining projects.

You wished one day to work in production, to be a part of the magic that created the worlds you loved to escape into. As you typed away on your laptop, you allowed yourself a small smile. Maybe one day, you would be behind the scenes of a film or a series. But for now, you had work to do, and dreams to turn into reality.

The sun sets late in Switzerland, casting a warm, golden glow over the tranquil residential area. You enjoy these walks, the peacefulness a stark contrast to the bustling city life you're used to.

Right after dinner, you take a stroll with Hershey, you notice a man sitting on a park bench, his shoulders slightly shaking.

Frowning, you glance down at Hershey, who looks up at you with curious eyes. Adjusting your mask, you make your way down the sidewalk, intending to walk past the stranger. But Hershey has other ideas, pulling you towards the bench with a wagging tail.

Instinctively, the man begins to pat Hershey, his touch gentle yet shaky. “Oh, Hershey, wait—” you start to say, but then you notice the tears streaming down the man's face.

You pause, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the far end of the bench.

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, and nods. “It’s fine.”

You sit down, giving him space but staying close enough to offer comfort. You give him your name then look over to your adorably friend-shaped labrador, “And this is Hershey.”

“Pedro,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by the soft sounds of Hershey sniffing around. Then, gently, you ask, “So… what’s on your mind?”

Pedro hesitates, struggling to find the words. “I… I don’t even know where to start.”

“I know it might seem a bit strange, but sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know. No judgment, just listening,” you say, offering a reassuring smile.

He chuckles softly, a small spark of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Besides,” you add with a playful grin, “I promise I’m a great listener. I even have a certificate in listening from my sister's dog.”

He laughs – a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seems to lift a weight off his shoulders. Your laugh follows, a sound so infectious and bright that it makes people around you feel lighter, happier.

“Your laugh,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s... special.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your face and chest. “Thanks. So, Pedro, what’s been going on? Are you visiting family or…?”

“Oh, no, no. I just… I finished a job.”

“That’s nice. What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looks a little uncomfortable admitting it but he settles, “I’m um… an actor.”

You smile, your eyes crinkling as you do, “Do you like it?”

“Like what?” He asks in confusion.

“Y’know, acting?”

He takes a deep breath and begins to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. He speaks of the pressures of fame, the loneliness that comes with it, and the crushing weight of expectations. You listen intently, offering empathy and understanding.

“You know…?” he asks, surprised. “You know who I am?”

You nod and shrug. “I… I figured it out after you mentioned some of your projects.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

Pedro looks confused for a minute, and you offer a simple smile. “I’m not famous or anything extraordinary like you. But I can only imagine how exhausting it must be, constantly looking over your shoulder. Not wanting to mess up or upset people must make you feel like you’re always on the edge, always holding your breath.”

He nods, his expression softening. “That’s exactly it.”

“I've done my fair share of pacing and reeling,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I even thought it looked cute at times. But I know there's more to life than just this feeling of uncertainty. Even though right now, it feels like there isn't any moment past this one.”

You sigh as your eyes get misty. “In the end, if any of us are going to make it, we simply have to believe. We have to believe that we aren’t alone, that people see us for who we are and what we can be. You have to visualize it; cling to whatever fills you with courage, because the world needs you here. It needs you.”

As the night wears on, you both share stories and laughter, the conversation flowing naturally. By the time you part ways, Pedro looks visibly lighter, as if a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

Beauty no longer has an effect on Pedro. It takes more than physical appearance to impress him. Instead, it's the ability to intrigue his mind and provoke his thoughts that truly captivates him. That is what he considers someone as magic.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Anytime,” you reply. “Had a good time, but I guess I'll see ya. Take care, Pedro.”

Years later, when the world isn’t as plagued by the pandemic, you’re working in New York, living your own life but occasionally checking in on Pedro’s career through social media. He’s become a prominent figure, his face everywhere. Yet, you can’t forget the vulnerable man you met on that bench.

One night, you’re at a bar in the Bowery Hotel with friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with laughter and chatter. As you share a joke, your laugh rings out, catching the attention of someone across the room.

Pedro looks up, his heart skipping a beat. That laugh – he knows that laugh. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He feels an uncanny sense of familiarity, a powerful pull towards you that he can’t quite place.

Your friends laugh at a joke you made, but your mind is already miles away. Tomorrow, you’re heading to Glendale, California, to work as a sound engineer on an upcoming project at DreamWorks Animation. The excitement and nerves flutter in your chest as you excuse yourself to start packing.

Pedro starts to make his way towards you, determined to find out if his instincts are right. Just as he’s halfway across the room, a fan stops him, asking for a picture. He smiles warmly, grateful for the support, and agrees. 

“Thank you so much, Pedro! This means the world to me!” the fan gushes, snapping a quick selfie.

“No problem at all,” he replies, his gaze drifting back to where you were sitting. He quickly wraps up the conversation, eager to see you again. But when he looks back, you’re gone, as if you vanished into thin air.

Pedro’s heart sinks. He scans the room, hoping to catch another glimpse of you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Meanwhile, you’re outside, heading towards the subway station and waving goodbye to your friends. “I have to pack and get some sleep. My flight is early tomorrow morning,” you explain, your excitement barely contained.

Your friends hug you, wishing you luck on your new endeavor. As you descend down the stairs and board the subway train, your thoughts drift back to all those years ago, on the little bench, and now the bar, to the man whose presence had stirred something deep within you. You shake your head, putting on your headphones, distracting yourself with your favorite songs on your playlist.

Inside the bar, Pedro stands in the exact spot where he last caught a glimpse of you. A strange mix of disappointment and determination fills him, knowing he must find you again. The connection he felt was too strong to ignore – he needs to see if it was genuine or just a fleeting moment between two strangers on a park bench all those years ago.

The next day, you arrive at the DreamWorks Animation campus in Glendale, California. The excitement and nervousness intertwine as you step into the studio, ready to start your new role as a sound engineer. 

Your supervisor gives you a brief overview of the project, "The Wild Robot," an animated film in production. "We need you to record and mix the voice actors' takes for each character," he explains. "Attention to detail is crucial – the right sound can bring the characters to life."

You nod, absorbing the requirements of your new role. "Got it. I'll make sure every line is perfect."

As you glance at the cast sheet for the voice actors, you notice that a few roles are still being finalized. Your mind drifts back to the previous night, to the man in the bar who looked so familiar. Shaking off the distraction, you focus on the task at hand. 

Your days are filled with recording sessions and mixing tracks, immersing yourself in the world of "The Wild Robot." The work is demanding but rewarding, and you throw yourself into it with everything you have. 

Despite your busy schedule, thoughts of the bench in Lucerne and the glimpse of him at the bar keep creeping back into your mind. The way Pedro had looked at you, the sense of connection you felt—it all seems so surreal now. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. The story you want is the story you get. Are you special, or was this all scripted in his head?

Back in his home in LA, Pedro can't shake the feeling that he needs to find you. He starts making discreet inquiries, hoping to track you down without drawing too much attention. The memory of your laughter and the warmth in your eyes keeps him going. He knows he needs to see you again, to see if what he felt was real.

As you finish another recording session, you glance at the cast sheet again. A new name catches your eye—Pedro Pascal as Fink the fox. Your heart skips a beat. Could it be him? The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on your work, but your mind keeps drifting back to the possibility. What if it really is him? What if fate has brought you together again? The anticipation builds as you wait for the next recording session, hoping that your paths will cross once more.

When the day finally arrives, you’re setting up the recording equipment, your hands trembling slightly with nervous energy. The door opens, and you hear footsteps approaching. You look up, and there he is—Pedro Pascal, standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised to see you.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. “It’s you.”

You smile, trying to steady your racing heart. “Yeah, it’s me. I didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I mean,” you start to fidget with your fingers, stumbling over your words, “I read the call sheet and I—”

“I didn’t expect to find you either,” he admits, taking a step closer. “But I’m glad I did.”

There’s a moment of silence, both of you taking in the significance of this unexpected reunion. Then, with a gentle smile, Pedro says, “Do you have time to catch up after this?”

You nod, feeling a rush of warmth and excitement. “I’d like that.”

As the recording session progresses, you can’t help but steal glances at Pedro, who seems equally distracted. When it’s finally over, you pack up your equipment, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Outside the studio, the two of you find a quiet corner to talk. Pedro takes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he admits. “Ever since that night in Lucerne, and then seeing you again at the bar… I knew I had to find you.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if it was real or I just made it all up in my head.”

“It’s real,” Pedro says, his gaze intense and sincere. “And I want to see where this goes, if you do too.”

You smile, feeling a sense of hope and possibility. “I’d like that very much.”

The air between you and Pedro is charged with electric energy as you talk and laugh, baring your souls to each other like old friends. Time seems to stand still as you swap stories and reveal your deepest desires, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. This is more than just a chance encounter; and the both of you can feel the spark of something new and thrilling forming between you.

[danny-doodles]

Steve’s Hobby

This is a short 2k blurb about one of my Steve hcs, I am only really good at critical analysis writing so I’m sorry if this is bad!! Creative writing isn’t my strong suit but I felt like I couldn’t really explain this hc in a drawing as well as writing it could.

Growing up Steve was often taught the importance of words from his father, thinking it would be useful for his son’s future in the business. Steve was never the best reader, letters jumping around the page made it too difficult, so instead he listened to everyone around him. Teachers, his parent’s coworkers, older kids, all of them taught him the importance of the meaning of words.

How certain words would make someone a town pariah yet others a god among men. Steve was a more quiet kid but as he grew up he also grew confident in his words. He could tear someone down with one sentence, ensuring they knew he was not to be messed with. That’s why he was so confused when he struggled in his english class, he knew the power of words and the many meanings, but his teacher never understood. Sure he made grammar errors, how no one else struggled with the dancing letters he didn’t get, but how could the teachers not understand his connections? Steve shouldn’t have to explain why the red of the handmaid’s cloaks represented the ripping of humanity from the women, it was so clear to him. Obviously the boar head could be comparable to the church, how could his teachers not make the connection?

Even Nancy didn’t understand, someone he considered smarter than him. He knew she was trying to be nice when she critiqued his college paper but it still left him in the fog. Basketball was war to him, a fight that was pointless with one but possible with many. A challenge that called for leadership and a strict order. Everyone had the roles, knew where and when to shoot, needed the ability to think quickly on their feet and not struggle under the pressure. Uniforms to not only separate from the enemy but to show they are a unit reaching for a common goal. It was so clear leaving no need to explain, especially to Nancy.

But she didn’t get it, no one got it.

Maybe he wasn’t as good with words as he thought.

Steve from then on fumbled his words when he got nervous, scared he would say something that made him sound dumb and point out his weakness with words. The concussions didn’t help either, making him take longer to grasp concepts. Reading felt nearly impossible, the headaches were unbearable. Not to mention the kids' comments, judgmental and brutal as if Steve didn’t have a reason to struggle in the first place.

Everyone around him loved to put him in a sudden spotlight and when he didn’t say the right line he was booed off stage and dealt with the looks of disappointment from his co stars for messing up. So Steve stuck to what he knew, his quick remarks. Were they bitchy? Yes, but not coated in malice like they used to be. Piggybacking off others points with sarcastic comments so the other person kept talking, anything to get the attention off him.

But Steve had a secret hobby that he shared with no one, not even with his platonic soulmate with a capital P Robin.

Steve wrote poetry.

Years of horrors that by law he couldn’t share that caused vicious nightmares and a clammy grasp on reality at times tended to keep Steve up. Another gift bestowed by his father though was a feeling of shame when sharing his emotions. Didn’t help that those emotions were typically down played or outright ignored by others. Therefore a bottle filled with his emotions rested in Steve’s chest, which after Vecna he really realized probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. So Steve took to writing them down, but he did it for himself.

No need to explain everything, he knew what he meant, he knew every context of every word. He wrote on his experiences, his emotions. He wrote when he was happy, he wrote when he was sad. Steve wrote and wrote and found his love for words again. And god did it feel good, it felt like taking back his voice from a world that underappreciated it. In a weird way it felt like revisiting a relative he had last seen as a child, that sense of freedom and the loss of expectation because in their eyes he was still that little kid. All they wanted was to see someone they loved and to Steve the words welcomed him back with a hug that rivaled his Nonna Maria’s.

Steve would ponder over lines at random intervals of the day, biting his pencil between his teeth during the quiet hours at work or simply jotting down a line right before picking the kids up. Steve wrote so often he kept his small little notebook on him at all times, usually accompanied by a pencil bound to it with a rubber band. (Turns out having hearing aids and glasses made it really difficult to put pencils behind one's ears). At this point everyone had seen his notebook, pale blue with some star stickers because he never had a shortage of them. Everyone assumed it was for something different. Some thought it was grocery lists, to-do lists, something productive. Others thought it was like a pocket calendar with all his plans listed so he didn’t forget. Dustin insisted it was meant to hold the definitions of anything D&D related so Steve never forgot, meanwhile Robin argued it was to hold all the wonderfully obscure movie recommendations she loved to give. All of them were wrong though and Steve kind of adored it that way. He didn’t have to explain himself that way, he could continue to hide under the blankets. Steve no longer held his tongue out of fear of others but because he had an outlet he much rather prefer.

Listening now felt less like a pop quiz, waiting for him to mess up his response, it felt like an actual conversation. Steve may not speak up as much as he would have before the Upside Down but he fell back in love with his own voice and maybe one day he would feel confident enough to share it with the Party, but for now it was all his.

No matter how much they wanted to prove who was right, the kids and older teenagers never touched the book when it was rarely separated from Steve. Well...after someone tried to grab it and they learned they really shouldn’t touch it.

While at the Harrington house the Party were preparing for a campaign session when the argument about the pale binded pages was brought up again. Steve had left it on the kitchen counter while he went to the bathroom, and Mike decided he was done with the bickering. He shot up and went to retrieve and open the book but before he could grab it the book flew through the air.

All the heads turned and landed on El holding it in her hand, “We are not Steve, this is his. It is rude to invade his privacy, would you like me to watch you without telling you,” everyone quietly shook their heads, “Then we do not watch Steve without him knowing.”

That’s exactly when Steve walked back in, it takes one look across the room at all the embarrassed faces and El holding his book with frustration painting her eyes to know what had occurred while he was gone. He walks up, kisses El on her head and softly thanks her while taking back his little literature.

After that incident no one dared touch the book or face the wrath of their favorite mage. They would find out when Steve was ready for them to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That damn little book haunted Eddie’s thoughts. He knew Steve was not what he assumed him to be so anything was on the table, he had been wrong about the guy before who's to say he won’t be this time?

Of course Eddie wanted to respect Steve’s privacy because Eddie personally would be mortified if Steve had seen any of his notebooks, mainly because of the pages of lyrics that not so subtly hinted at an itsy bitsy affection for the badass babysitter. If that didn’t give Eddie away the random ‘Eddie Harrington’ and ‘Steve Munson’ with hearts all over would finish the job. So yeah, Eddie was not crazy to offer up any of his notebooks to venture into Steve’s book. He just had no idea the universe would present him with a much more favorable offer.

Steve and Eddie started hanging out a lot more after Vecna, no shocker considering they shared a hospital room, and soon the bat buddies would spend their time together outside of the hospital. That’s why it wasn’t surprising for Steve to let Eddie venture into Steve’s room while he went to pick up their lunch.

Eddie was somewhat of a curious cat, so when he spotted the notebook and some papers scattered on Steve’s desk he was like a moth to a flame. He softly glided his fingers over the blue cover and exhaled some breath in a soft laugh over the star stickers Steve oh so loved. It was the paper though that caught his eye when he finished observing the book. It looked like lyrics at first but then he realized some of the lines were too short to be lines, if anything they looked more like stanzas from a poem. Steve had poetry on his desk, did Steve read poetry? Thee Steve Harrington likes poetry? God his whole doctrine was garbage huh. Eddie moved the paper towards him and started to read.

Watchful gaze

Setules on the glass.

Wishful gaze

Silent pleas of escaping rolling in the mouth

Fingertips slipping through the veil,

Grasping for warm hands,

Receiving lukewarm.

Hesitant to grab.

Dependency clasping the palms

Such a feverish feeling

Poking at the appendages,

A coldness that numbs.

Gently gripping for the heat,

The balmy yields.

Smoke and simmers,

Arms rushing to sides

Frozen.

Yearning for ardor,

Turn not yet given,

Waiting for the impossible,

Waiting for the unobtainable,

So understanding.

So relieving.

So desperate.

So alone.

Standing for the calling.

So patient.

So pathetic.

Empty Hands by Steve H.

Eddie was staring at the very last line on the paper, utterly flabbergasted. Steve wrote this? Steve writes poetry?! Is that what resides in the little book? Before Eddie could even find the power to turn to the book to look, Steve walked into his room. Again a quick look is all Steve needed to take before he knew what happened in his absence.

“Oh! Uh..I’m guessing you read it.”

Eddie slowly looked back up while caressing the paper, “Yeah, you..um..you really wrote this? Is that…uh..what’s in your notebook? Cause I will admit I never would have guessed that.”

Steve started scratching his neck, “I don’t blame you,” he huffs, “But yeah I write poetry, helps to let some of the thoughts out considering our lives y'know?”

“I totally get it dude! Lord knows my lyrics are infected with the whole spring break bullhonkey. So..totally cool if you don’t want to tell me but, why is this one out of the book? Were you gonna write it into the book?” Eddie picked up the paper to place it next to the notebook and turned to face Steve.

“Actually I copied it from the notebook, I’m gonna, okay wait, you can’t tell anyone this-”

“Even Robin?” Eddie exaggerated his smile to look wild.

“Even Robin.” Steve nodded with his eyes shut.

Eddie put his hands together and swayed while standing, “Wowww look at me, lil old Eddie Munson getting to learn the secrets of the mysterious writer Steve Harrington.”

“Eddie, you want to know or not?” Steve sighed as he put his hands on his hips.

“Yes. Yes please,” Eddie eagerly replied, barely letting Steve finish his sentence.

“The last time I went to Indy with Robin to go shopping at their mall we went to a cafe. The bulletin board had a flier for a poetry night and I got curious I guess.”

“You gonna perform the poem there?”

“That’s the plan.”

Eddie could understand wanting a fresh slate when it came to having a reputation. “Craving anonymity? Must be tough considering you are Hawkin’s golden boy.”

Steve smiles brightly and Eddie sees his shoulders lose tension, tension Eddie didn’t even notice because he was so distracted by the fact that holy shit Steve is a poet. “Exactly.”

Honestly Eddie would give anything to hear more of Steve's hidden works, he grabs some of his hair and brings it to cover his mouth, “I know you don’t intend to tell the rest of the bunch, but uh..would you allow a humble bard to observe your lyrical performance?”

Eddie looks at Steve’s face for any hint of annoyance and finds none, instead he finds a look that he could hope to be correct in his guess is excitement.

“Really? You’d want to hear more, it's not confusing or stupid to you?” Steve softly smiled at Eddie, making him swoon inside.

“It's art! It doesn’t need to make sense, it just needs to make you feel good, who cares if others are confused. And for what its worth even if I’m not right on the money that poem made me feel Steve, I mean as the expert in self-expression it felt real and vulnerable, y’know.” Eddie had to shut himself up before he himself waxed poetry about just how much he is dying to hear more from Steve to learn more about him.

“Thanks Eddie.” Steve gazed at Eddie as if no one had ever told him that before. Which now that hes thinking about it that’s probably the truth. Guess Eddie needed to constantly remind him then.

Eddie smiled, mirroring Steves while bending at his waist, “Oh but of course my liege.”

“Oh my god okay Eddie cmon the food’s gonna get cold.”

Steve started to leave his room and Eddie rushed to follow him, “Now that I know what the book is filled with may I pretty please read it?” Rapidly blinking his eyelashes in an attempt to look innocent and pure but instead looking like a piece of dust got in his eyes.

“Nope.”

“Ugghhh c'mon Steve! Just imagine the look on the little hellions when they see me opening the book! God the jealousy! The feeling of betrayal when they see me reading Steve Harringtons’s treasure trove of text and they are none the wiser to what is inside. And the best part, I have permission! The power I would hold Steve! The possibility, I could use them like little puppets to do my bidding while they crave information I alone hold!”

“Eddie that sounds like a headache for me waiting to happen, they’re just gonna badger me to tell them because they would claim it’s unfair you know and they don’t.”

“Eh, their egos could take a little hit don’t you think?” Eddie was now resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as the younger started to bring the food out of the carry out bag.

“Can I read your lyric notebook?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as his brain proceeded to remind him of every lyric he had written around his devotion to Steve. Red in the face Eddie responded quickly, “Nope! Mmm you smell that Stevie I’m so hungry, aren’t you?”

“Subtle Munson.”

“Tis my middle name.”

Steve fondly rolled his eyes, “Sure.”

As they settled down on the couch Eddie tracked Steve grabbing the remote, “So I can really watch you?”

Steve turned and looked at Eddie with a calmness on his face. “Yeah Eddie.”

Eddie grabbed his hair as Steve stared at him, “Cool, cool, it’s a date.” Eddie froze about to panic silently as he tried to fix his slip up.

“Yeah, it's a date.” The two looked at each other, neither wanting to look away. After a minute or so Steve turned on the TV and if the two fell asleep together it was their business.

[rel124c41]

I know he’s only going to be a temporary character, much like Rollo, but in my heart, he’s a transfer student who is assigned to Ramshackle so we can dance among the graves there and I can giggle and kiss him all I want.

Also if I was in TWST and was walking around and saw him, I’d be so smitten IMMEDIATELY!!!!! Like Vil would immediately hate this guy just because of how fast I’d fall for him and how gorgeous he is and I’d start campaigns on how stunning and sweet he is.

cementary dates!!!!! cementary dates!!!! ( ★^O^★ )

bringing him to dine by the two graves in front of ramshackle, watching grim and zero play with one another. the night ambience of a full moon and ebony darkness,,, him lying his head in your lap as you read edgar allen poe,,, threading fingers through his hair but watching out for the crown piece which is sharp like barb wire,,

perhaps him taking the book from you and reading it himself, all while standing on the crescent stone wall, very melodramatic and rich as he reads ‘the conqueror worm’ aloud,,, aaah i need to know who will voice him (ﾉ∀`♥) i hope the VA has a lovely singing voice it’s only natural

even if he’s not a transfer student …. indulge in this little fantasy,, so u know how jack skellington can take off his head in the film, imagine that with this TWST character. a whole lollipop chainsaw dynamic!!! he’s just so anxious and intrigued to see what this new world has to offer him!!! he’s never been outside of halloween town and this all so very exciting!! won’t you let him just attend a few classes with you!! pls,,, i’m imagining keeping his head in a school bag as his headless body wanders around ramshackle,,

he also has great yandere potential outside of silly fluff scenarios too!! jack skellington is very much gung ho when he gets an idea,, not listening to sally,, dragging the whole town into his scheme through charm and whismy,, his star-eyed gojo ass clone suddenly seeing you in TWST and becoming obsessed with you!!! it’s only natural that halloween town has a queen right next to their pumpkin king, soon you’ll have the whole town just begging you to stay with them!!

AAAAA Vil would be so annoyed with me!! i would be as bad as Rook, waxing poetry nonstop about this nameless pumpkin king!!! he seems like the sweetest and silliest guy!! 🖤🖤

i literally have so many thoughts about him and WE DONT EVEN KNOW HIS NAME!!!! 💀

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hello! I want to be a writer but I don’t think I’m very good at it, it almost seems like my work is written by an alien who is trying to convince others it was written by a human, if that makes sense. My work seems choppy, sometimes it’s really descriptive other times it’s really not is there anything I can do to fix this? Thank you in advance, I hope you have a good day!

Writing Seems Choppy, Description Wavers

First: if you write, you're a writer. Period.

However, to become a good writer, you have to do two things: learn and practice.

If you wanted to learn to play the guitar, you wouldn't sit down and start strumming, then say, "This sounds awful? What are some things I can do to make my guitar playing sound better?"

Because, the answer isn't that you need smoother chord progressions or you need to master your technique... the answer is that you need to learn how to play the guitar and then you need to practice.

And that's why your writing sounds choppy and your description wavers... because you don't yet know how to write well. You haven't learned how to plot and structure, you haven't learned pace and flow, you haven't learned how to develop setting and characters, and how to weave those details into your story.

So... read craft books (books about the craft of writing), watch writing craft vlogs, listen to writing craft podcasts, take writing classes and workshops, and read a lot of fiction. Practice by writing as often as possible. Do writing prompts, write fan-fiction, write short story, dabble in poetry.

I have a whole master list of top posts and a list of Recommended Blogs if you want to dive in on some basics, but there are loads of other amazing resources out there, too. It just takes time and patience to find them and soak them in.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[imnotevenusin]

Explaining some placements in my Natal Chart

1. Taurus Mars: Honestly, I am kinda slow to taking action on most things. Usually, I don’t get that defensive, and I’m more comfortable with letting things slide; I don’t have enough energy for confrontation sometimes.

- squaring Neptune: Mars square Neptune is my worst aspect imo. This placement makes it hard for me to feel motivated; daydreaming is my go to, but I’m “working” on trying to knock down my goals in a realistic manner. I think this also makes my actions misconstrued by others - I always got in trouble and perceived as suspicious by others.

2. Mercury in Leo 11°: My laugh is contagious. A Leo Mercury gets attention from the way they communicate or laugh.

- opposing Neptune: Fucking terrible. All my words come out so wrong and jumbled together. An unhealthy amount of daydreaming too. I’ve always been a creative writer tho.

- conjunct Saturn: This one is annoying too. I do feel like my comments or opinions get ignored sometimes. And I gotta talk slowly to get the best sentences out. In general, Mercury-Saturn eventually makes you smart and well-educated; Saturn takes out what isn’t necessary and makes you think about something longer before you say it.

3. Aries Moon: I’ve definitely witnessed my Mom taking the leadership role in the household while growing up. She’s always wanted me to be more militant and confident. Even when I think something isn’t a big deal, she’ll take it very seriously. I’ve also heard of the Aries Moons having big foreheads-trend.

I think this is the most sensitive Moon sign, because the Moon is such a vulnerable planet and Aries feels everything so fast. Whenever I face emotional problems - or discomfort, I like to work out, or listen to loud music. Its like this weird energy rush.

3rd House Moon trine Mercury: Mind is racing constantly. I like to write out my feelings and thoughts to feel better. I can accurately analyze my emotional state. I’m a good student too—not so much with homework—and I can easily pay attention and participate in class.

-sextile Neptune: I can express my emotions through poetry and music. Neptune makes me a little more empathetic.

4. Libra MC: Throughout school, I’ve always been known for having nice outfits. My biggest aspirations involve artistic things: screenwriting & music.

5. Sun in Leo 29°/8H: Theres a lot of enjoyment in Astrology—which is also rules by the 8H—for me. In school, I had a list of everybody’s birthdays for some reason. I’m heavily interested in the subconscious mind and how it controls you—your behavior and how it affects the decisions you make. I’ve always been more interested in everything under the surface.

6. Saturn in Leo: I never really felt my Leo energy like that. I’m more reserved tbr. For some reason, I feel guilty and annoying for enjoying myself and simply being creative - even when it’s not bothering anybody.

7. Capricorn Rising: People usually tell me I look older than I am. I feel naturally awkward for some reason. Since the 1st House deals with the relationship we have with ourselves, it took me a while to get comfortable - Saturn rules Capricorn.

8. Chiron in the 1st House rX: Honestly, I never really put that much importance on my height, until other people started commenting on it. And there’s always unneeded comments on my appearance. Since its in Capricorn, I’ve had teeth problems growing up, and now I have braces.

9. Pluto in the 12th House rX: The 12th House is separated from everything and everybody. I’ve always been existential since an early age. There was always a fear of being separated from people. I do like to dig deep into my subconscious mind and figure myself out more; I’ve realized how powerful the subconscious mind was and why I was acting the way I was. Detaching from everything also seems to give me less burdens. Sleep Paralysis issues too.

10. Saturn in the 7H: Suckkkksssssss. Growing up, I was definitely the late-bloomer when it comes to relationships.

11. Uranus in the 2H sextile Ascendant: Definitely felt like an oddball growing up. I’m not the only person that listens to Rock, but I definitely got weird looks and reactions for enjoying it. I do get self-esteeem from being different, even if it alienates me. My appearance and interests surprises people.

12. Mars/Aries in the 4H: WWE matches in my household/family.

[piratefalls]

i'm back! between work and trying to write my first fic for this fandom i've been falling really behind on reading, so for now these are going to be a more bi-weekly occurrence than weekly. in any event, there's truly a little bit here for everyone, so enjoy this week's mix of a+ works!

masterlist

you and me, babe, how about it? by @myheartalivewrites

Alex sits in the back of their Secret Service approved, PPO driven Land Rover, excitement thrumming through his body. The leather squeaks as he fidgets incessantly; his skin burns where Kieran’s shoulder is pressed into his, despite the layers of fabric between them. On the other side of Kieran, he can see Henry’s fingers twitch on top of his own knee, playing an imaginary piano, flicking out and squeezing in before releasing and starting again. Like he’s so fucking desperate to reach out and touch the leg next to his he’s having to muster up all of his self-control, draw on all the years of keeping himself restrained, just to not start things too soon. Alex can’t believe they’re actually, finally, doing this.

you know i can't be found with you by stutteringpeach

“He’s cute,” Alex declares on the first day of class. Liam doesn’t even bother to look up from his laptop. “Uh huh.” “The professor.” Liam makes a non-committal noise. “I’m gonna fuck him.”

Longer Than Most by happinessofthepursuit

“Oh,” Alex says. “Sick.” Henry can’t help but grin. He can’t believe he’s so bloody gone on a man who says sick and dude, who he’s slept with all of one time and proceeded to knock him up. Henry’s a cliche, honestly. “It is, indeed, sick, as you say.” Alex rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken a shade, giving him away a bit. “Listen, the closest I get to poetry is your fucking face. Excuse me if my vocabulary doesn’t quite compare to yours.” Or, Alex and Henry have a one night stand. That is, until a baby’s involved.

Baby (Let Me Put On a Show) by SatinBirds

It’s been five months, and still Alex is never completely prepared for Henry’s performances. Private or otherwise. Or, Henry is a night dancer, and he’s everything Alex wants.

Sun Salutations (Waif for Me) by @duchessdepolignaca03

He repeats the movement five or six times, his body heating up with each repetition, loosening the hangovers’ grip on him through very effective breathwork. Wanting to open up his hips a little bit more, he settles into a wide-legged forward fold. He holds the pose, enjoying the delicious stretch on his lower back and virtually all the muscles of his lower body. Then he just about jumps out of his skin when he hears, “Mmm, breakfast is served.” Or: Alex parties hard on a Thursday night and has some deliciously anonymous sex with the glittery blond he calls Waif. When he wakes to do his naked sun salutations, he learns that Waif is a very, very hungry, 'temporarily unhoused' boy whom Alex quickly invites to live rent-free in his head.

secret, scars, and trust by viciouslyqueer

He trails off and Henry takes the opportunity to cup his cheek, gently swiping his thumb over the smooth skin. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything. We can stop right now if you want to, or cuddle for a while. I can put on a movie if you’d like. I don’t mind either way.” Alex’s smile grows and he leans into the touch, pecking Henry’s lips again. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, and Henry has to fight the urge to react at the pet name. “But it’s not that. I want to keep going, if you want it, too. I just have to tell you something before, okay?”

make it five by anincompletelist

“Fifty bucks says I can get that guy’s number.” Popping the bubble of cinnamon-flavored gum Alex had just blown, he glances up from his phone to look at where Nora’s pointing. Just over the soles of his shoes, crossed at the ankles and propped on the flaking black wood of the shop’s front desk, there’s a man with broad shoulders lingering by the far wall. Alex hadn’t even heard the guy come in. “Nora. He’s literally looking at one of the biggest dildos I’ve ever seen,” he deadpans quietly. + alex works at a sex toy shop. it's usually a pretty easy job — if he could just stop daydreaming about the blonde guy that keeps coming in to buy literally all of alex's favorite sex toys.

talk by smc_27

Henry records himself for an audio erotica app. Alex finds it. And listens.

Got a ticket for two by clottedcreamfudge

Henry likes his apartment - he has done since the day he moved in a year ago. The light in the sitting room is gorgeous at all times of day thanks to the ceiling to floor windows which lead out onto a south-facing balcony, only just large enough for the plethora of plantlife his flatmates care for. The kitchen is always stocked with his favourite tea, everyone keeps to their allotted cupboard and fridge space, and the bathrooms are kept meticulously clean. There's a rota for chores stuck to the fridge with magnets from Rhode Island and Minnesota, London and Milan, with everything typed up neatly so that nobody has to squint to read someone else's awful handwriting. His flatmates themselves? Well, they're a little… strange.

Far Away From the One That I Love by allmylovesatonce

It's been an agonizing two months of Henry being in London and Alex being in New York. When an opportunity to finally be reunited with Henry comes his way, Alex jumps on it. But things don't go quite how they expected after so much time away.

If We're Caught in a Wage (I Will Carry You Over) by @sparklepocalypse

There it is, up ahead – the small island just offshore, with Alex’s favorite broad, flat stone outcropping, perfect for sunning himself in seclusion. He splashes into the shallows and dives in when the water’s up to his knees, and it’s a matter of maybe a minute’s swim to reach the island. Alex finds his footing among the sand and pebbles, pulls himself upright, and shakes the water out of his hair, then pushes it back from his face. He can practically hear the outcropping calling to him -- you know, if inanimate rock could speak. Alex stretches, his mid-back satisfyingly popping, and then skirts his way between some larger rocks until his sunning rock is in view. Except – there’s someone already on the outcropping, their short blond hair shimmering in the sunshine, the upper slant of their shoulders visible from where Alex is standing. (Movie or Bookverse AU; Alex rents a remote beach house and Henry is a cecaelia.)

Protect Your Solitude by graceofgrayskull

At the 2016 Rio Olympics, Alex stumbles onto Prince Henry crying in a storage closet and is forced to rewrite his perception of their first meeting.

Out For A Bite by everwitch

Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry. He’s staring right at Henry. Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n

my fingers slipped and now there are fingers in mouths. wrote this in one sitting at 5am today. please forgive any egregious errors, i wrote it without my glasses on and on no sleep lol. hope you like it. <3 title from New Girl by FINNEAS

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by coffeecatsme

The tour guide has a small bisexual flag pinned to his chest, right next to where his name is scrawled in big, bold letters. Alex, it reads; simple, to the point. The name tag rests on a red and black flannel, and underneath is a white t-shirt with Georgetown’s name stretched on the front, reminding Henry ever so starkly that he’s thousands of miles away from what he calls home. The flannel stretches over broad shoulders leading up to a strong jaw, all in contrast with the bright, dimpled grin stretched over a beautiful face. Henry thinks there isn't a place on the world far enough away from his grandmother to escape her clutches - even after transferring to Georgetown. Then, his tour guide extends a helping hand and shows him otherwise. Or, 5 steps Alex and Henry take to memorize each other and 1 time they realize they already do.

Praise & Supplication by NoCoastPosts

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. or When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.

Another Door Opens by 14carrotgold

Henry takes a long drink. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad's dead. He and my mum had the type of love straight from the storybooks and it got cut tragically short, so what is the point in finding something real if it's just going to hurt you?” Alex bites back a smile and shakes his head. “How in the fuck was that supposed to make me feel better?” He waves his hand awkwardly. “Oh, I just thought we were both sharing the trauma that impacted our romantic relationships.” - Henry and Alex first meet when Henry reveals their partners are cheating on them with each other.

Fifteen Hours Till Forever by inexplicablymine

“I would say that in this life, we aren’t granted many chances at true happiness, at the unadulterated freedom and joy that comes to the lucky ones. I would say that I know right now only fifteen feet apart, fifteen hours till forever, and somehow the universe has decided I ought to be one of the luckiest there are.” “But tomorrow,” he continues, “when we are saying our vows, when we are promising ourselves to one another forever, I want you to look me in the eyes and know that you are it for me.”  OR The year is 2025, and the world doesn't know they are getting married. 

home by rizcriz

For a moment he fears Henry’s been outed against his will somehow, but he scrolls down to find a video clip. Unable to trust himself to watch the video, he scrolls a little further to read the transcript. He learns that Henry had come out during a ribbon cutting, of all things. He’d stood in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people gathered for the opening of a new youth shelter, and he’d told his truth. Alex is tempted to watch the video, to examine his body language to see if it was planned or not, but he reads further and one sentence stands out to tell him it wasn’t. There is no comment yet from Buckingham Palace. -- or, six months after Henry rejected Alex at Kensington Palace.

The Way of Things by writerkenna

Henry and Alex have been very much enjoying the life they’ve managed to carve out for themselves. They’ve had to compromise and work and change to maintain it, but it’s worth it. Henry finds himself pregnant, though, and everything they’ve built starts to turn on its head. as always, let me know if you want to be tagged either because you're a writer or a reader (or both!) and i'll see you next time!

My life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Alex plans to be a lot of firsts in the world. But this absolutely isn't the kind of first he was thinking. He stares wide-eyed into the mirror at the letters on his shoulder while June whines to be let in. Alex finally unlocks the door and June bursts through. “Show me!” Wordlessly, Alex turns to show her his back. "What the actual fuck?" June exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, that was rude, but — is it more than one person?" Or: Five times Alex doesn't find his soulmate, and one time he does

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift omg i feel like i'm missing someone

[diacripticcomplex]

“Did you hear the new Sakamaki album?” “I did! It was amazing!” “I loveeee their duo songs but those 2 songs where all of them were singing together, that was great!, I can’t wait to see the music videos they come up with.” All throughout school, I kept hearing the about the Sakamaki album , I haven’t heard it myself, not that I didn’t want to I just never found these things interesting to me, I barely listened to music. Growing up , my father made sure I wasn’t involving myself with sinful behavior and that included music outside of the church.

“Hey look over here! The Sakamaki brothers are going to have a music video and they’re asking for models to appear in it! I wanna be in it!” One fan girl stated, she was seemingly overwhelmed with emotions. A music video that sounds interesting, maybe I should try listening to some of their music when I get home..

Later that evening, I went on YouTube and searched them up, and instantly I fell in love with their voices, it was like I was being serenaded by the vibrations, their music itself was definitely more on the darker side of poetry, yet I was very much drawn into this dark masterpiece. That night, I listened to all the albums and the solo artists.

I went to bed thinking about the ad for appearing in the Sakamaki music video it honestly would seem like an interesting experience. Somewhat fun too? I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, it’s as if I’m a new person, I found something I truly am interested in. I smile to myself as I turn to the side and drift off into sleep.

I wake up, thinking about the dream I had. I was thinking about it the Sakamaki brothers so much that I fantasized being in their music video, yea right, that won’t happen. Felt like a fever dream anyway. I get ready and then go off to school. Walking in from the back, where no one else was I noticed a limousine, and coming out were the Sakamaki brothers…I felt like my heart was about to explode, I could feel my face heating up when I saw them. They were even more handsome in person.

“What are you looking at?” The spunky red head Ayato said, his voice sounded annoyed, his singing voice was absolutely perfect however, maybe he was in a bad mood..I say nothing. “Ayato don’t be rude to a cute girl, hey why don’t you come hang with us for a bit? We’re new to this school” Laito said, Laito’s songs were super sexual, he gives such playboy vibes. “Um I don’t think I can..” I say quietly. “Alright then beat it, then out of here already you’re a nuisance to look at” Subaru said, he was as rude as ever but all the fans called him a tsundere..I believe it. I begin to walk away, but I was stopped by the voice of I believe it was Reiji. “Hold on a moment, we are new to this school. We were told a student was supposed to show us around. I believe you are the student to do so since you happened to stumble upon the correct location, please fulfill your task. “ he stated so firmly, I sigh and simply comply. Taking them around the school shouldn’t be too bad. I feel bad for the student that was supposed to do this job intentionally..

“Is there a place I can nap..? I’m so tired” Shu said, he was so handsome I wanted to just keep looking at him, I shook my head and said that there wasn’t a nap room but there is an infirmary room where he can nap if he isn’t feeling good, I showed them the room and Shu hopped on the bed, stayed there. He did not care to finish the tour.

“ Well that’s all there is..I have to head to class now, ah Ayato, Kanato and Laito we all have the same class next period, see you guys there.” I say smiling slightly, which caused Ayato to grab my wrist. “That look you just gave me..it was quite intoxicating, I like that face, I wanna see more of that face” he told me, I was blushing like crazy, I could feel it. I tried to remain calm but he began licking my hand, I jolt it back, gasping. “Your skin tastes nice, let me have a go at you” i look at him with confusion.

“If you’re gonna have a go at her, so will I “ Laito butted in , “so will I!” Kanato said, smiling at me crazy. “That’s enough of all of you, apologies for their horrendous behavior” Reiji stated, I thanked him and walked away quickly. That was so strange..they’re so weird but I’m kinda attracted to this..am I becoming weird?

[lavampira]

book recommendations

tysm @winedark and @rosenfey for the tag <:

passing it along to @hythlodaes @scionshtola @coldshrugs @likeabirdinflight @lesbianalicent @veeples @narrativefoiltrope @kirnet @disequilibria @jennystahl @elvves @queenofthieves @weird-ecologies @erielake @verbose-vespertine @solarisrenbeth @onceinabluemoony @queerbrujas @oldblood but ofc no pressure!!

1. the last book I read:

GOTH WESTERN by LIVALI WYLE — well. technically, it’s an indie graphic novel. but it’s a western meets magical realism about necromancy, revenge, and the power of love. and lesbians. I burned through it in a couple hours sitting because I was so gripped by it tbh.

2. a book I recommend:

THE HACIENDA by ISABEL CAÑAS — an absolute all time fave book in my heart; I would say one doesn’t even need to necessarily love horror to get invested in this one, since it also involves very interesting critique of spanish colonialism, religion, and class struggles in post-independence mexico only using hauntings as the lens to view it.

3. a book that I couldn’t put down:

THE PRIORY OF THE ORANGE TREE by SAMANTHA SHANNON — I was glued to this book for a solid two weeks despite its length. I have a lot that I would change about the pacing and certain events or qualities of some characters’ outcomes, but it was such a fun fantasy read, and I had a difficult time even moving on from the setting and protagonists once I was done.

4. a book I’ve read twice (or more):

THE SONG OF ACHILLES by MADELINE MILLER — my first time reading this myth retelling was my freshman year of college, so I reread it again ten years later to see if it would still hold up for how much I loved it, and it absolutely did. the perspective of the man standing beside and in love with the hero interwoven with the tragedy of achilles and patroclus takes me right out and the passages that tumblr enjoys to quote from it have so much more impact in the full context of the narrative.

5. a book on my TBR:

OUR WIVES UNDER THE SEA by JULIA ARMFIELD — this poor book keeps getting knocked down on my TBR but I’m determined to read it this year. I’m intrigued by the horror of the protagonist’s wife ‘coming back wrong’ in a sense, and the recommendations based on its similarity to ANNIHILATION, but also the fact it seems to be a wlw scifi horror, too.

6. a book I’ve put down:

AFFINITY by SARAH WATERS — I wanted to like this one so bad, considering how often waters has been hyped up to me as The Author for historical lesbian novels and the fact it delves into victorian spiritualism, but the pacing felt so slow at getting to the point in the plot, and when it finally did, the twist put me off on finishing the end. it’s probably more of a case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ but I def had to DNF it.

7. a book on my wishlist:

GHOST STATION by S.A. BARNES — space horror quickly became a fave niche genre that I got into last year, so I’ve been very excited for this release, too. I’m also a fan of how barnes writes atmospheric dread and I have high expectations for it.

8. a favorite book from my childhood:

WUTHERING HEIGHTS by EMILY BRONTË — it altered my brain chemistry as a teenager in high school and I haven’t been the same since I read it. I distinctly remember listening to ‘you said I killed you — haunt me then!’ read aloud and having to pretend like it didn’t make me feel so completely unhinged in the middle of class.

9. a book you would give to a friend:

PIRANESI by SUSANNA CLARKE — I was recommended this one by a friend to begin with, so it feels like an even more perfect book to pass forward. I think it’s one of those books that’s easy to get absorbed into even if it’s not a typical genre one would read, and it’s such a life-altering experience to go through with the protagonist, too. the underlying message that we’re all changed by our own trials and we’re never the same as we were before lingers with me.

10. a book of poetry or lyrics you own:

CRUSH by RICHARD SIKEN — it’s taken me so long to finally track down a physical copy at my bookstore but it was worth it because it remains my fave book of poetry to date. I could quote so many lines, after how hard they’ve hit me, and some of them have influenced my own writing or pairings in some ways.

11. a nonfiction book you own:

HAVANA NOCTURNE by T.J. ENGLISH — back in 2015-2016ish I went through a true crime phase in the prohibition era through the foundation of the US mafia, and this is a very informative book on how the mob became tied to cuba and how the revolution affected it.

12. what are you currently reading:

AN EDUCATION IN MALICE by S.T. GIBSON — I stumbled across this retelling of carmilla set in a late 60s massachusetts women’s college after reading gibson’s A DOWRY OF BLOOD and had to give it a try. I’m enjoying it so far; the prose is full of thick emotional yearning and electric chemistry, and the balance in the narrative of toxic mentorship, historical romantic and sensual attraction between women without shaming them for it, and vampiric elements is really fun.

13. what are you planning on reading next:

WHAT FEASTS AT NIGHT by T. KINGFISHER — I only found out the other day that the sequel to WHAT MOVES THE DEAD was even released but I’m so desperate for the next part of alex easton’s story (and how eerily kingfisher writes horror) that it shot up to my next read.

[quinnyundertow]

Can I ask what got you into writing? I love your writing style and I'm so curious about your process as well.

This is such a sweet ask. I love it. This may be way more than what you were expecting haha. But I’m alone in the hospital and this feels cathartic.

I’ve always loved to write since I can remember. When I was in elementary school I remember getting yelled at and crying because I had to write a story about a thanksgiving turkeys adventure and mine was like twenty pages. They said it was too long and hurry up and I was frustrated because I wasn’t done!

I think what really solidified my love for writing is I needed fantasy to escape. In middle and early high school my parents divorced and I was bullied relentlessly. Gum put in my hair, things thrown at me, called fat at every opportunity. I had teachers that bullied me too for being fat. I was SA’d multiple times, depressed and started cutting. I’ve honestly tried to block most of it out.

The point is I had found anime and a few friends who loved it too. So any opportunity I had I begged friends to do writing journals with me. We’d make up a crack fic plots then write self insert and pass a notebook back and forth between classes every chapter for the next person to write. We wrote for Yugioh, Naruto, Dragonball Z, Fruits Basket popular ones at the time. I also wrote poetry, fanfics and original stories to try and escape anyway I could. Writing was the highlight of my teenage years. But other than that it was hell and you could never pay me enough money to repeat them.

I dropped out of Highschool from the bullying and my depression. But I studied and took a test for Highschool equivalency and then went to college and got straight As. College is nothing like Highschool. No one cares what you do. At least in my experience. I wanted to be a writer or manga artist but my father told me I wasn’t good enough and I wish I wouldn’t have taken it to heart and listened. I stopped writing for like ten years except for periodic ideas in notebooks until this last November.

Jujutsu Kaisen had become my comfort anime and then chapter 236 happened. I was so depressed I decided to try and read fanfics again. I’ve always read a lot of published books and was staggered to see a ton of fanfic writers were just as good if not better than published writers. After reading a ton of amazing works I decided I needed a fix it story that was ultimately happy for JJK and here we are.

Sorry if this was boring or too much. But if you take away something from this take this. Life is always changing. Tomorrow will not be the same as today. That much is guaranteed. If you have nothing left to live for then you have nothing to lose by trying something crazy or new. I was broken down to nothing by bullies, family issues, mental and physical health and I was incredibly suicidal. Somehow I found the will to try again. I got on depression and anxiety medication (still on to this day), worked for a higher education and took a shitty paying job to claw my way back up. My life is far from perfect but despite everything I worked hard to now have a boss babe high paying career and after restarting writing and meeting you all I’ve never been happier.

As far as a writing process I pretend I’m not going to post what I write and write it just for me. I ask myself what do I think would be the coolest thing to happen? What would I want to see next? Then I write it. Most of the time it sucks, or I don’t feel like writing it but I force it out. I make myself sit for 15 minutes and just write something. Then I rewrite it. Keep what parts I liked toss what feels off. Repeat. Eventually I’m having fun and loving the process.

When rewriting I’ll name them things like WICYG Chapter 12.2 for the second rewrite etc. I’ll screen shot my google doc so you can see the insanity haha. Sometimes I’ll rewrite four plus times. At the end of the day I want to love what I write and do it for me. Then when I find people that like it too it makes me over the moon happy. I hope one day to have the confidence to write my original stories in my head out. Writing fics for yall has definitely helped build my confidence as a writer.Thanks again for the ask anon sorry for the life story but I’ve never told people all that and it was healing to get out.

My messy google docs 🥹 Madhouse is Sanity Last Stop lol.

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x student!reader - hidden art

Hi. Can you please do prompt #42 (from the new set) with Mr. Evershed? Somewhere along the lines of that he spots the tattoo on one of his students. - Anon 💜

42: “Nice tattoo.” “Thanks.” “What’s it mean?” “No idea.”

Sitting on the wall, you flicked to the next page of your book, taking a sip from your water bottle and you set it back down.

It was quiet in this part of the school during lunch, and since you weren’t a big fan of other people, you enjoyed sitting here instead.

It’s probably why you were easy to find, because when the door nearby opened you looked up from your book and you gave a small smile.

“Good afternoon Mr Evershed.” You greeted.

“How’re you today?” He asked.

Putting your bookmark into the book, you closed the book and set it aside.

“I’m good, what brings you out here?”

Mr Evershed sat on the bench and gestured for you to go over to him so you did. Gathering your things you made your way to the bench and sat down.

He held out a bit of paper to you which you took and quickly read over.

“Basketball competition?”

“I know our school focuses a lot on football and rugby, but you seem to enjoy basketball the most, I thought maybe you would be interested in playing on a team outside of school.” He smiled.

You nodded your head, folding the paper and you put it into your bag.

“Thank you sir, I’ll take a look later.”

He smiled at you, gesturing to your book.

“And what are we reading today?”

“A collection of French poetry from the 19th century.”

“French? I didn’t know you could speak French.”

“Oh I can’t, I can read it. I can understand if someone talked to me in French but I actually can’t speak the language, I’m not very good with the pronunciation.”

“Ah, right. Well, it certainly makes a difference. Would you say it’s a good read?”

“Absolutely, it’s good. Very different to other poetry I’ve read. Though there are still some works that nothing can beat, a few works by Shakespeare for example.”

He chuckled a little bit, nodding his head in understanding.

You took another book out of your bag and held it out to him.

“Maybe you would be interested in this, it’s a series of letters from world wars one and two that have been compiled into a book.”

He took the book from you.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to give it a read and have it back to you at the end of the week.”

You always gave him something to read, mostly old books, you never read modern literature, telling him it didn’t have the same effect as old literature did.

And since he was an English teacher you thought he would have interest in looking them over, which he did.

He liked to encourage people to keep their hobbies, to peruse them if it was something safe and of course not against the law.

He’d made that mistake once and it resulted in graffiti all over the school.

But you weren’t a trouble maker, you kept to yourself, you work in your classes, you had good grades, passing grades at least.

The bell rang and you picked up your stuff, giving him a small smile.

“See you later sir.”

“Have a good afternoon, and remember it’s non uniform day tomorrow!” He called.

You nodded, making your way inside.

The next day you went into school, it was some sort of festival going on.

You weren’t really paying attention when it was being explained, all you knew was that you didn’t need to wear uniform, and there was activities inside and outside.

But you weren’t interested in any of them, you thought it was just a waste of your time, so you made your way into an empty classroom, sitting on the windowsill as you read.

You head your headphones on, listening to music, blocking out the noises of everything and the people all around yelling and shouting.

Because you were listening to your music, you weren’t aware of the door to the classroom opening and closing.

The moment Mr Evershed walked in he stopped, looking over at you.

“(Y/N)? Why aren’t you outside with everybody else?”

He waited for a reply, and when he didn’t get one he began to make his way over.

As he got closer, he noticed the colour on your arm, but he realised that wasn’t it.

He reached out, tapping your shoulder with the papers he was holding and you turned to look at him.

Setting your book down you pulled your headphones down.

“Hello sir.”

“Hello to you too. What brings you here?”

“I don’t want to partake in the festivities, they aren’t really my thing. People and loud places.”

He hummed a little bit.

“Right, sorry. I forgot. How are you? Are you alright in here?”

You nodded your head.

“Yeah, it’s pretty quiet so it’s not so bad over this way. Plus I’ve got my music and book to keep me company.”

“Good, I’m glad. Do you mind if I sit with you while I grade some papers.”

You gestured to the classroom.

“Go ahead.”

He sat at one of the tables and you jumped down to join him, sitting down with your book as you carried on reading.

Mr Evershed used this as a chance to look at your upper arm again to confirm his suspicions.

“Nice tattoo.” He said.

You looked up, grinning a little.

“Thanks.”

“What’s it mean?”

You gave a shrug.

“No idea.”

This made him chuckle.

“How long have you had it for? And I’m rather sure that it’s illegal for you to have a tattoo.”

“You would be right on that, it is. But, I can get one with a parents approval from certain places, it was my birthday gift last year from my dad.”

“I see, do you mind if I take a look?”

You shook your head, pulling your sleeve up so he could see the whole design.

It was of a tree, he wasn’t sure what kind of tree it was, maybe a willow tree or something similar, but where it should be green it was covered in all sorts of colours, all in a watercolour style.

“It’s really nice. Out of all the students here you’d be the last one I’d suspect if a tattoo.”

You laughed a little, pulling your sleeve back down.

“I’m careful to hide it, it draws too much attention.”

“Well, as long as you keep it hidden I can’t see any wrong with that.”

“Thanks sir.”

He nodded, turning back to his paperwork and you went back to reading.

You were just a bundle of surprises, and even now there was still a lot that nobody knew about you

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Carbon Pen and Glass Bead Event (Day 2)

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for content yet to be released on the global server! ⌚

✦ thursday || friday || saturday || sunday || monday || tuesday || wednesday

【High School Affiliated to Loveland University Second Year (Section 1) Semester Schedule - Friday】

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

[PHYSICS]:

If asked to choose the class with the most exemplary learning environment, Victor would undoubtedly go for the physics class without hesitation.

“Next, I’m going to cover one of the most important topics for this semester, which will be included in the monthly exam. Even a fool should be able to grasp the essence of what I’m saying, don’t you think?”

With a cold laugh, the man places the nearly used-up chalk into the chalk box.

“Whoever fails to solve it when the time comes, you all know the consequences already.”

—

[MATH]: 

“Answer: D. Analysis: Omission.”

This is the most openly righteous lie in the world.

—

[ENGLISH]:

Take care of your eyes and make sure to rest properly.

I hope the next class, Brother Xiao Ying can be more serious while teaching. In a rare moment, Victor prays to himself.

—

[BIOLOGY]:

“Hey, Sir Vic, pinch me quickly. I finally managed to change to the seat at the back with so much effort, but I might fall asleep listening to Brother Wen’s never-ending ‘The Great Compression Mantra’.”

“If I do doze off, I’ll get late to grab the lunch later.”

—

[SPORTS]:

Right after the warm-up, the students are notified to go back to the classroom. It seems like something serious is about to be announced.

The result is that the physics teacher wins the class registration battle.

It is, indeed, quite a serious matter.

—

[CHINESE]:

“How come I don’t see any of you dozing off during the physics class, huh?”

The head teacher’s eyes curve into a smile, but it silences the entire classroom in fear,

“I’m showing my consideration and kindness to you guys, but I see no appreciation in return…”

“Since you all love to sleep so much, just keep your eyes closed.”

Victor quietly opens the math paper tucked beneath his Chinese textbook and starts writing to save time.

—

[CHINESE]:

How should I analyze your desires and wishes?

Using the first-person narrative will create a warm and friendly tone, while incorporating the second-person will enhance the emotional expression of the article, and using the third-person will portray objectivity…

“The author portrayed the joyous memories of his childhood with vivid imagery, showcasing his profound sense of homesickness…” - Victor’s expression remains stoic as he writes.

—

[CLASS MEETING]:

Today’s class meeting is rare in that it hasn’t devolved into a session of appreciation for classical poetry, and this causes everyone’s enthusiasm after school to soar.

When Victor completes his assigned duties and returns to the dormitory to retrieve his luggage, he finds that everyone has already left the dorm.

That’s alright; it came as a blessing in disguise to help avoid the crowded bus – Victor thinks this to himself as he walks to the bus station and waits patiently.

“Meow——”

Suddenly, a very soft cat purring reaches his ears, prompting him to turn around subconsciously. The little kitten’s paw gently taps on the glass window, as if extending him an invitation.

He walks over and greets the little kitten from the other side of the glass. He smiles happily, and as he turns back, the bus behind him has already left. 

──────

✧ next stop: Saturday

─────────

[ace-and-ink]

the other day

(i almost called it yesterday)

i wrote a poem after class

called it a warm-up

called it cards

i did everything my professor said i shouldn’t

took advice from my writing professor

who said

“here are a list of writing rules

go break every single one of them”

i’ll take this one slower

because my theatre class got out early

and i got to eat this time

the soda fountain was busted

the cherry coke wasn’t that

we read of those who wrote

with inspiration of art

i’ll never write like

the way orphan made me feel

i hear i song

and i cry

and i steal half their lines

want me to do it again?

i’ll list what i’m listening to

“take it from me

i’m not looking for anybody

i’m sick of car rides

you lied while we lay back to side”

my friend (?????)

[for our audio listeners

if you’re ever out there

there’s a series of question marks

because i don’t know

what i want her to be]

said goodbye to me as she left

and i couldn’t catch her

i had to fix my desk

i sat with a pretty girl today

she reminds me of my old friend

the one i’ve written about before

the one i’ve compared myself to with a dying moth

i wish she’d look at me like she did

she smiled at the end

before fumbling her papers

and i almost relapsed on the spot

i saw a pretty girl in my building

she lives a floor above me

i think about how my elevator sometimes

doesn’t say what floor it was going to

and i always have to double check

i wonder what system it uses

or if it just didn’t want to say it

if it skipped a line on accident

if it just had too much going on at once

i don’t think i can call this a poem

what if i call myself a moth again?

i use dogs too often

my hair looked decent when

i left the bathroom this morning

i saw my reflection when the poem wouldn’t load

and i think i almost lost three years of progress

that girl was from here

in this city i’m familiar yet foreign to

i reread my own poem

and i’ve suddenly never used a metaphor in my life

i talked about rocks

and i wrote about moths

i’ll only be a hit online

- by online i mean i’ll get clicks

from my one online friend -

my roommate always keeps the door open

the same friend from before had her room rekeyed

i don’t know how to make this a poem

my professor would never take this

i keep getting snapchat notifications

of my old teammates from home

celebrating each other’s birthdays

i almost don’t even go home for mine

so should i use a simile?

should i add a metaphor?

i can’t say i agree with holly in that song right now

i can’t drive

but they’ve lied while we laid together

and they’re still going on about getting high

let’s see

what can i say here?

i feel like a fish in a fishbowl

- there’s my vehicle -

i can see everything i want

but i can’t get to any of it

- there’s my tenor -

my writing class made me feel

like i at least have a chance

so far poetry

has made me feel like i’ve been fooling myself

i can’t call this poetry

i can’t say i’m good at all

which isn’t the problem

it’s that i don’t feel like i can be

i’m laying in bed

the brain killer

and now i don’t want to go to geology

which isn’t for another hour

i’ll call this a warm-up

like i do

being the fraud artist i am

saying every piece i don’t like

was a practice sketch

so i don’t have to claim it

hey if i add a period here

can i call this all enjambment?

ah shit nevermind

there it goes

i’ll end it on this

anyway.

— warm-up: tenor

[thepassionatespirt]

Hi typology Tumblr 😮‍💨

It has gotten to the very sad point to where I genuinely can not type myself in any typology system so I wrote a little paragraph about me I apologize as it is all over the place but I did the best I could 🫠 if anyone is willing to help type me I’ll be more than appreciative- unfortunately I can’t offer much in return, maybe a follow and like spam? But thank you for reading this fair anyway and feel free to use anything I said in this intro to type me as well

Me: Okay so when I first meet someone- I’m very shy but polite. I give compliments if I’m trying to make friends with the person I’m talking to. Normally I like to be approached first

With acquaintances I’m myself but I dial down just a tad bit. My personality also adjust to the people I’m around with acquaintances.

With close friends I can be kinda loud but I’m very friendly.

Across all three scenarios I’m very sarcastic but I remain polite depending on how close we are.

When I’m by myself I enjoy listening to music while scrolling on Pinterest or TikTok. I do have an eye for aesthetics. I occasionally write poetry. I also can daydream when I’m alone. When I’m with others I am very practical and grounded and in the moment. When I’m with myself in in my mind. I am EXTREMELY passionate and it can sometimes come off as rudeness. I am also very sensitive and don’t take well to criticism of any kind Real life scenarios I have been in relating to me being passionate to my values- I value respecting teachers not only because they want the best for the class but because it helps the class flow better and acting out is honestly annoying so when push comes to shove I will say something like “Respectfully, shut the fuck up” but I just want the class to flow slowly

Also- I highly value respecting boundaries and my ex friend did cross one of my boundaries before so I did cuss her out on her birthday and then ghosted her but like it’s not rlly even my fault fr

Also I can get to work and be extremely serious when need be but I often procrastinate. I also really like material things. I have a fear of fatal accidents and things like getting kidnapped but I’m not a skeptical person. I also have a very playful personality with my friends. I’m also learning a foreign language and enjoy it. I also get emotional sometimes. I could see a video of a new singer living paycheck to paycheck and their video only has one like and it breaks my heart. I could see an overweight dog and my heart breaks because obesity in dogs is fatal and that poor baby wasn’t even trying to get fat. In response I get enraged with the owner/ who’s responsible. Sometimes I get mad at the person who’s also the victim because you know that artistic careers barely make anything but you chose it anyway now I’m sad for you but you brought the life upon yourself Stress- under stress I get extremely nervous however I try my best to rise to the occasion

Fear- painful / undesirable death, experiencing any traumatic event, poor quality of life

Desire- to be happy , be everyone’s favorite

1) I’m focused on defending myself more than I’m focusing on defending others but I’ll say something if I see something 🤷‍♀️

2) I value my autonomy but I will not hesitate to get other options. Following their advice tho might be a little diff

Authority- I to be in those positions. Loathe rude, stuck up, money centered , greedy, selfish authoritarians

Morals- very important. Would die on a hill for my morals. I keep an open mind to everything but my values and morals and truly do believe that they are correct

Success- in the sense of e3s I think fame, riches , etc but for me success is not living paycheck to paycheck, good social group, good career

Anger- I tend to be ready to express it but u funny way to get myself in trouble so I hold back sometimes. BIG BIG BIG EMPHASIS ON SOMETIMES

Opinions on certain things - Philosophy- very overrated. It’s glamorized thought process

Politics - the vast majority of politicians running shouldn’t be

Practicality- good to have

Intellectual- also good to have

Physically- keep yourself in shape ig 🤷‍♀️

Home and school life - Home- very tense, poverty stricken, argumentative, very chaotic

School- more relaxed, pressure on self , feeling not wanted by peers and feeling like I’m annoying

Songs I relate to - groan by daisy and the scouts, ride by Lana Del Rey, watercolor eyes by Lana Del Rey

[rosewaterandivy]

I love your writing style and after stalking your blog I found out that you studied English. Got any writing advice for someone who's still trying to figure out and develop their own style? I feel like I have so many ideas but the execution is 👎

Hello sweet thing! 🥰 Thanks for reading and a quick disclaimer before I dive in here: I don’t really even understand my own process/style yet and that is perfectly fine. I think it’s important to take risks in writing to develop skills and see what vibes with you and what doesn’t. So, while I have two degrees in English, I’ve never taken a creative writing class— just wanna get that out there. Now, onto the advice!

Read. Read often and voraciously. This method is tried and true for a reason, and that’s because it works. When I’m lacking in the inspiration department, I read poetry, novels, non-fiction, works by other writers in the community, maybe do a deep-dive with some lyrical analysis— if you know, you know. Seeking out other voices to inspire and teach is paramount.

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To grow as a writer (or, really as a person), you can’t exist in your own silo. You need to engage with other stories. On some level, you should be listening to other’s voices and studying their styles. Otherwise, you’ll stunt your development as a writer. You could also, inadvertently, reinforce bad writing habits, if you’re not expanding your horizons by consuming other author’s works.

And this conversation has been making its run in the community as well as my corner of academia, but I’d be remiss not to touch on it here: there is no such thing as originality in literature. Everything from the Carolingian Cycle to Homeric Hymns to tropes, etc. has already been said and done. But what matters here, truly, is how you can put your spin on something. Have soulmate AUs been done to death? Yes. Is that gonna stop me? Hell to the no! I love that shit, of course I want to engage with that trope and see what I can do with it.

Rhythm. Cadence, flow, whatever you call it— this is crucial to me as a writer and academic. And honestly? I’m still figuring this one out for myself. I tend to talk or ramble as I write, mostly to test out dialogue for how it sounds but also as an editing trick. I tell my students all the time, read your work out loud before assuming it’s all said and done! You’d be amazed at how many things you’ll catch by stumbling over words and phrases that the eye would skip over.

I think a lot of this comes from patterns I’ve picked up from reading. Because I read and listen to other author’s voices and styles, I’m more equipped to see mistakes in my own syntax and voice because I’ve diversified my exposure to other styles of sentence structure, etc. So, yes, this does go back to reading and finding other voices— but it truly does help!

Feel it out. First and foremost, I am a chaotic writer— my GDrive is a mess and I can’t even imagine how many WIPs I have that are just a single sentence or phrase at this point. But everyone has to start somewhere, and for most of us, that takes the form of a sentence, phrase, or occasionally, a single word.

I just kind of just go for it in the docs, to be honest. I’ll get frustrated, walk away, delete (keep a doc designated as a graveyard/junkyard for this purpose, trust me!), get distracted, etc. But that’s okay and to be expected with the creative process. Flow can’t happen without a little resistance at first.

Play with syntax. Would a longer sentence be more meaningful here? Shorter? What about repetition? Think about word choice as well— identify the tone and mood you want to project.

Word Choice. Specific words are used for a calculated focus or effect— think about it. Would you want to hear the smacking of lips from a few tables over on a first date? Or hear the sounds of your roommate going to town on an apple while you’re putting the moves on that hottie from said first date?

Readers can feel the significance and weight of a word, how much space it occupies in a sentence: they have real influence. It’s not just morphemes and phonemes and phonetics; words project experience and sensation, so it’s important to tie your words to your intent or the mood you’re attempting to create.

If I’m writing an intimate scene, I’m not going to use abrasive words that will jar the reader from the tone I’m working so hard to craft. I’ll choose soft words, immersive words — a little repetition, as a treat, so we can sink more gently into the scene. Mention light, texture, employ the softness the surrounds the characters and kinesthetic imagery (imagery describing the actions or movements of the body), but above all, keep it soft.

Synonyms are a wonderful thing! Have a word that’s too clunky for that specific phrase? Find a shorter one; too harsh, find a gentler one; so on and so forth.

This is where reading other stories will help (she says, circling back to point 1). Inevitably, it will diversify your personal vocabularly and your ability to string words together in sentences. The tricks I’ve absorbed by just reading? Innumerous, incalculable and lucky for me, they’re instinct by now.

Format. What’s the goal? If the scene is action heavy, keep the sentences short. Urgent. Focus on the senses we should be aware of in a fight scene. Looking for something more intimate? Stretch things out, suspend time and let people ease into the moment gently.

Short sentences can narrow your focus; longer sentences, the ones that ebb and flow and gather multiple senses, those are some of my favorites— so enriching and immersive.

What view is most important in a given scene? Would a character be more focused on the feel of their beloved’s skin against theirs or the how the hurt reflects in their eyes?

Synesthesia. Ah, yes, my favorite. Synesthasia is a technique adopted by writers to present ideas, characters, or places in such a manner that they appeal to more than one sense, like hearing, sight, smell, and touch at a given time. I am guilty of using this whenever I possibly can because I think being able to embody a scene is crucial to effective writing.

Sensory experience is something that helps me find my way in a narrative. It allows me to settle in. Think about the various qualities of differing sensory experiences, and their consequence. Every sense doesn’t need to be included, just because you can does not mean you should.

Plus, it’s quite convenient for implying intimacy. A character who notices that another character smells of bergamot, cinnamon, or home accomplishes a lot of things in a few words. It immerses the reader in the scene in a very real way; it’s a quick, easy avenue into establishing a history and a relationship between the two characters; and it implies something deeper than a passing acquaintance/platonic interest.

But, I’m also an olfactory snob, so what do I know!

Oof, yeesh, sorry for the ramble here! I think the truth of it is this: I don’t make a lot of these choices consciously. I get stuck somewhere and feel my way around until I can make sense of it again, laying puzzle pieces or clues that I hope others will be able to find when they read it.

I guess my main advice is to read. Read often and well, experience other voices and styles, go outside your comfort zone! If you lock yourself away in that silo or echo chamber, you’ll only reinforce one style or approach— you’ll miss out on so much beauty and creative experiences that the world has to offer!

To close, I’m going to list and tag a few works and authors I’ve found to be instrumental in my reading and writing experience.

Best of luck anon!

QuinAnderson’s The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic

@loveshotzz , @carolmunson, @jo-harrington, @wroteclassicaly , @stevenose , @bettyfrommars (and I’m sure I’m forgetting some at this moment!! I’m sorry 😩) have their own special way of weaving a story, breathing emotion and life into it.

My fic rec tag

Poetry:

Crush by Richard Siken

Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz

Night Sky With Exit Wounds & Time Is A Mother by Ocean Vuong

The works of Louise Gluck, Elizabeth Bishop, Gloria Anzaldua, Slyvia Plath, Rilke, Ilya Kaminsky, and Jeanette Winslterson

Movies:

In the Mood for Love

Y tu mamá también

Moonlight

Atonement