#my love for writing

[optimistc-apathy]

Before anything else, I am a writer.

I would also call myself a singer. Or a textile artist, maybe. I could be a sibling, or a friend, or a student, or a baker, or a gardener, or a cook. There is an incredible number of labels you could put on me that would fit.

When I was a kid, I would deny so vehemently that I ever wanted to be a writer. I used to read like it was breathing, and when my relatives would interrupt me in the middle of a story to ask if I'd ever want to author one myself, I would tell them that reading and writing were two different things, thank you very much, and just because I was a reader didn't mean I was a writer.

But, through that love for reading, I ended up figuring out what the phrase "Stockholm Syndrome" meant much younger than you might expect. Think eight or nine, after reading the "Series of Unfortunate Events." Which, if you didn't know, is a notably bad place to garner vocabulary. Lemony Snicket is in the habit of explaining words in a context entirely different from what they actually mean. Still, I have a vivid memory of sitting in a corner of the living room on Thanksgiving as a nine-year-old (reading, naturally), and hearing my sister's boyfriend ask my mom for clarification on the concept of Stockholm Syndrome. I looked up from my book and told him what it was -- much to the chagrin of my parents, who were wondering where I'd learned it.

It's ironic that it was a book that introduced me to the concept of Stockholm Syndrome, and that it was one of the few phrases that Lemony Snicket ever explained correctly. I doubt you're unfamiliar with it, but it means to be trapped or held captive by something, and to grow to love it anyway.

When I think about it now, I realize that it was inevitable that I learned to love to write. I also hated learning how to read, but my dad taught me before I even started kindergarten, and I loved knowing I was better at it than the other kids. It was my way of setting myself apart. I drank so desperately from the books I read that I couldn't help but fill myself with words.

And then, just as inevitably, they had nowhere to go.

That was the first part of my own experience with Stockholm Syndrome. I was folded into myself like origami, with so much to say and no space for it. Every word I'd ever read was crammed into my lungs, and I didn't know what to do with them. It wasn't until I found other people's writing (like Broadway shows I loved, intersectional queer lit, characters that looked and felt and breathed like me, etc.) that I ever wanted to make my own.

I didn't start writing until I was 13. I found my first inspiration -- and what it was, I'll never tell because lord, is it embarrassing -- and I made something out of it. It felt like reaching down into my chest and taking hold of something I barely knew was there and turning myself out onto the page, but in a different font. Whether that be Times New Roman or the chicken scratch I had going in 4 different notebooks simultaneously, there was always something to say. I could never get away from it. And, as the Stockholm Syndrome mention might suggest, I grew to love it.

There is a part of me now that is inextricable from my writing. I put words together to get feelings out, in a way that is both authentic to myself and more beautiful than anything I have ever been. I put words together to process what I've been through. I put words together to write lives that I've never lived, and I grow vicariously through them. I know that love exists because I write it into existence. I am all that I need to be through the words I put down.

At the end of the day, yes. I am fully and completely bound to my writing. I am trapped in a way that I will never experience elsewhere. I would be nothing without it.

But fuck, I love it.

[soul-from-another-era]

Unconditional love isn't a free pass to hurt me.

[almondpiglet]

ppl were drawing mikus from all over so heres habesha miku and her lil twin sibs rin and len!!

[noperopesaredope]

I wish we had more female characters like Eleanor Shellstrop. One of the most unlikable people you've ever met. Read a Buzzfeed article on most rude things you can do on a daily basis and decided to use that as a list of goals. Makes everyone's day worse just by being there. Dropped a margarita mix on the ground and tried to pick it up, only to get hit by a row of shopping carts which pushed her into the road where she was hit by a boner pill delivery truck, killing her instantly. Cannot keep a romantic partner despite being bisexual. Had a terrible childhood but will die before she gets therapy. Best employee at a scam company. Just the worst but also can't help but root for her to improve.

Absolute loser. Girl-failure. Bad at almost everything. Literally perfect female character.

[pink-heart-writes]

[peaceishim]

[creativepromptsforwriting]

subtle acts of love

giving them food without them asking for it

randomly bringing them flowers

holding a door open for them

pulling out their chair for them

guiding them with a gentle hand on the small of their back

making them lunch to take to work with them

fixing their clothes or hair

giving them a massage

talking casually about a shared future

showing them their appreciation for them

waiting at home to say hello when they come in

paying complete attention to them

giving them a casual, but thoughtful compliment

writing them a love letter and hiding it for them to find

showing them something that reminded them of their partner

humming a song to calm them down

giving them a quick kiss whenever they pass each other at home

casual grabbing their hand and swinging it back and forth

remembering something they told them

[letztetraenen]

I am very tired and I want to be held by someone who loves me

[minimalist-quotes]

Don't make the mistake of being so understanding and forgiving that you overlook the fact that you're being disrespected.

[ashoss]

needed to draw kori and this is what came from it

[heartswithinreach]

sylus always answers your calls. always. no exceptions.

he could be in the middle of a gun fight or a messy interrogation but when he hears the inside joke of a ringtone he set for you, he uses his evol to shackle everyone in place while he answers, calm and collected as can be.

“kitten, it’s late in linkon — you should be sleeping. no, i’m not busy at the moment.” a cold glare is the only warning his enemies get to stay quiet. “what do you need?”

some of the world’s most powerful and feared men have had their final agonizing moments prolonged by listening to the leader of onychinus sweet-talk you.

[soul-from-another-era]

[semiferalstreetcoyote]

there’s something that’s incredible about the intersectionality and flexibility of werewolves as metaphor.

anger issues? werewolf. intrusive thoughts? werewolf. unresolved trauma? werewolf. rejection by society? werewolf. autism? werewolf. transgenderism? werewolf. queer expression of any sort? werewolf. plurality? werewolf. dissociation? werewolf. repression of any sort? werewolf. abuse cycles? werewolf. emotion so strong it physically changes you? werewolf!!!

really doing it all

[slavhew]

dandadorks

[loveelizabeths]

love elizabeth s.

[lena-oleanderson]

you're allowed to be held.