#poetries and poems in every languages of the world

[xinganhao]

🌸 jihoon x poetry account!reader.

the one where jihoon reads all the poems you think he'll like. headcanons & bonus content under the cut. ➤ see also: svt burner accounts series

🌸 jihoon and the languages of love .ᐟ

jihoon claims: he can live without receiving gifts. he's never been particularly materialistic to begin with. he appreciates the bits and bobs he gets from fans, although he will also be the first to insist that no, you don't have to do this for him. spend your money on something more 'important'. save for a rainy day. he is fine without it; he is happy to just be remembered.

this is the same jihoon who will wear the socks he was given until there are holes in them. (even then, he'll try to hold on to, believing they serve their purpose.) jihoon who keeps all the gift tags from presents tucked away in a shoe box underneath his bed. jihoon who, with every poem you tweet, feels like he's receiving a little gift in itself.

jihoon claims: he's not a fan of physical touch. a lot of his members have chipped at his distaste for skinship over the years, but even then, he's not the type to seek out affection that way. he will indulge fans at fan signs. hold their hands when they ask. still, it is not something on the top of his mind when he thinks of the word 'love'.

this is the same jihoon who will stick to his members' side when they're out someplace unfamiliar. jihoon who will bear the weight of his twelve brothers' crushing bear hugs with little to no complaint, his expression exasperated but impossibly fond. jihoon who, when you mention loving the lyrics of hug, wonders briefly what that might be like— to share something like that with you.

jihoon claims: he doesn't deserve acts of service. he reasons that it's because he's nobody special. he's just a guy, not anybody you have to expend too much energy on. and he's an adult, at that, one who has always viewed himself as independent and self-sufficient in day-to-day. it's alright, he'll say. i can do it myself.

this is the same jihoon who almost cries when he realizes a blanket had been tucked over his shoulders during his sleep. jihoon who remembers like the back of his hand the snacks that his members love, the birthdays of all their own families, the names of their pets. jihoon who feels a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of people like you and what more he can do to keep you around.

jihoon claims: he's terrible with quality time. he's busy, always so busy, spending more time in his studio than anywhere else in the world. he works like he has more than just 24 hours in a day. he feels guilty at this one in particular, at the knowledge that he can only give so much of his already portioned minutes. it's the life he chose, though, and he takes care to remind himself of that every day.

this is the same jihoon who has a special ringtone set for the people he loves so no matter how deep he is in his work, he will know when he has to look up and check. jihoon who purposefully carves out time to respond to texts or meet up with someone, even if it's only for half an hour. jihoon who lets himself be selfish, lets himself be just a teensy bit greedy, when he doom scrolls through the poems you leave him. (five minutes more, he'll barter with himself. just five minutes more, please.)

jihoon claims: he could be better with words of affirmation. he tends to be blunt with his words, which may sometimes be interpreted as coldness. he jokes around sparingly. he doesn't have the cutesy text-speak, the suave pickup lines of the other members. there are days, even, when the three words that matter the most catch in his throat. when all that comes out is a helpless, flustered stutter of i— i— i— love you.

this is the same jihoon who means every damn lyric he writes. jihoon whose entire discography of love, and heartbreak, and yearning, and home, and family, is made with specific faces in mind. jihoon who stutters and stammers when it comes to saying things outright, so when it comes to you, he borrows words from people who say it better than he can; he loans quotes and phrases and lines, hoping that somehow it will all still reach you. he can be more fluent in these languages of love, he knows. but he trusts that you can hear and see what he means all the same.

BONUS CONTENT .ᐟ

⌗ ┆this is a slight homage to one of my favorite twitter accounts ever, poemsfornamjoon. i like to believe jihoon would also love a good poem (´• ω •`) ♡! hcs were also heavily inspired by this tweet (THE ENTIRE THREAD!!!), which i think of A Lot when it comes to jihoon: "woozi is always like, i'm so sorry i can't say saranghae. i can only write, compose and produce 100+ songs and counting for our band. i can only maintain a vast mental encyclopedia of 12 people's little things. wooahae. wooahae. wooahae. wooahae. wooahae. wooahae"

[swuumi]

Nerd Reader x Nerd Nanami = smart power couple

you and kento were sitting at a corner table on a café, your eyes glued on your notebook, fingers fiddling with your pen.

“you’re so focused, working on how to divide zero now?” kento chuckles as he leans back.

“haha, very funny. if could divide zero, i’d be solving the world’s fundamental problems, not this stupid equation.” you huff.

you were preparing for an upcoming exam and you thought about inviting kento to study with you.

because why not, right?

“there’s beauty in the paradox of diving by zero, maybe you should just stop looking for the answer and let the question be.” he shruggs.

“so, you’re saying that i should just stop solving and just appreciate it? will that get me a passing grade?” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“pretty much. though, to be fair, i get it. numbers don’t offer room for interpretation. but language—language is fluid. it can mean whatever you want it to mean... have you thought about math as a language?” kento suggests taking his drink and sipping a little.

“sure, math is a language. but it’s a language about rules. it’s all about structure and logic.” you refute, looking back at your messy math notes.

“if you look at it this way, math is a kind of poetry. just like a metaphor works in finding the unexpected connection between two things—math finds connections between numbers. patterns show up and suddenly something new appears where there was nothing before.” setting his cup down as he looked at you.

“you’re starting to sound like those motivational quotes that you find imprinted on the side of a coffee cup. you have a point, though i don’t think i’m gonna start writing sonnets about theorems anytime soon...” you laugh softly, scribbling nonsense on your notebook.

“i’ll take that as a win. i think you could give shakespeare a run for his money if you ever wrote a poem about prime numbers.”

“‘shall i compare thee to an irrational number? thou art infinite and never repeating…’” you say sarcastically.

“hey, don’t knock it until you try it. you could write a whole epic poem on pythagoras and his theorem, i guarantee it would have a bigger following than every other poems.” kento leans back on the chair again.

“yeah, yeah. you’re distracting me! go read whatever shenanigans you’re reading, you’re making me lose focus!” you lightly slap his shoulders.

nothing could beat moments like this, just you and him—throwing playful banters against one another.

and you did end up passing your test! but you’re not sure if you’re still gonna invite kento anytime soon knowing that he’s just gonna go off and talk about things that you really can’t comprehend...

who are you kidding? of course you’d invite him either way...

an: english isn’t my first language so this made my head hurt, i think i drained my brain juice and idrk how i’d portray this type of trope so i just went w it 😿 + i believe that kento is a english literature poem stuff kind of guy and becomes a yapper when that’s the topic, you can’t change my mind .

[atierrorian]

| Glad it's you | — R.H

PARING: Rook Hunt x Deaf!reader

SYNOPSIS: All your entire life, you knew silence. But—it isn't as bad as people make it out to be. Because even with your biggest flaw, he still chose you.

˗ˏˋGENRE ´ˎ˗ — Romance, fluff, angst/comfort

˗ˏˋCW ´ˎ˗ — Rook is already a warning. Ooc, mentions of bullying, stalking(It's Rook, duh) horrible poetry.

˗ˏˋNOTES ´ˎ˗ — Wow! It has been a while and I am so sorry for not making anything in quite some time, I've become so busy nowadays that writing has barely crossed my mind, so I'll make most of my free time writing this!

✎| Masterlists|Navigation |

♡ "Are you really willing to accept me?" ♡ "I've accepted you a long time ago."

People always pitied you for as long as you can remember now. Frequently assuming it must be hard not being able to hear. And yeah, sometimes—but it isn't as bad as they make it out to be, if anything, you find solace in the silent world you have lived in all your life. Sure, there were times when it was hard to understand people, especially if they didn't know sign language.

Luckily, you mostly used poems to interact with them. Though, it was amusing to see them struggle to grasp your poems—that's what makes it fun anyway.

And so, making use of your skills, you swiftly wrote down another poem for a certain hunter. He's one of the few people you've known who could actually decipher what your poems meant. And it's not to say each and every time you show him your masterpiece, he always seems to be on your level when it came to writing back to you.

It always makes you feel giddy inside when he writes back to you. Re-reading every syllable. Caressing the ink that was clearly carefully written with such consideration with each word he used, you couldn't help but feel as though he was hinting to you about something.

You scoffed; shaking the thought away. Who were you trying to fool? This was the Rook Hunt you were thinking about! He's like this with everyone. Besides—why would he go for someone who had a defect? To say the least, you weren't insecure with your disability but, thinking about the blonde hunter who seemed to always cross your mind whenever you wrote—you couldn't help but feel your heart tightening in your chest from such thoughts.

In the end, why would he choose you? You're nothing special, far from it anyway. You're just someone who could never hear and someone who just writes to communicate. But, even then, you were still wrapped around his fingertips. And besides—it doesn't hurt to hope, right?

You felt a hand placed on your shoulder, you froze. You had never stayed still like a statue so fast in your entire life until now. What? Millions of thoughts were racing through your mind right now—was it another of the students who were here to once again chuck balled up papers again? Take your poems away from you and ripped them to pieces or flames it until there's nothing left but ashes?

"Awww, what's this? Another one of your silly stories?"

"Look! It's another one of their love poems!"

"Pathetic if you ask me."

You didn't focused on them, you never even knew what they were saying, and you could care less what insults or degrading comments they were spewing from their filthy mouth. Your knees on the ground while clutching onto what was remains of the paper you once cherished. And they tore it all up like it was nothing.

Shuddering from the memory, you closed your eyes and continued to look at your lap; prepared for whatever torture they were gonna do to you again. Tore your poems? Throw paper at you? Mocking at you while you cry in tears because they had nearly killed you? What else did they had in store for you?

You gripped the paper even harder, shutting your eyelids even tighter if that was even possible. You were scared.

Huh.

You felt a piece of paper slid onto your lap, hesitantly, bit by bit, you forced your eyes to open to see what it was. Was it an insult written in a letter? If so, then you're surprised that they were even intelligent enough to finally realized that you had a hearing disability instead of using their vocals to try and insult you.

But no, it was not anything you expected or thought. Instead, your vision was blessed with a familiar handwriting. Subconsciously, you read what was was written on the white letter that graced your sight, and goodness it always doesn't fail to make your blood rushing through your face. By the sevens, how does he always make you feel this way?

Why such a blue face? You don't need to be ashamed of such a heartache; If you need someone to wipe your tears, my heart will gladly volunteer; What you consider flaws, is what I consider perfection —

Mon Cherie, you are the belle of my dairy heart, You, sweetheart, have me wrapped around your fingertips; I will never let go of the string that wraps around my wrist; That connects me, to you.

My heart beats loudly; even you could hear it— If your heart longs for anything, Mon cherie, just write to me; And tell me all your silly sorrows. -Rook Hunt

Though it was short and simple, you couldn't help but re-read the words every now and then. You smiled seeing the words written on the paper. How could you not? His words sweet like candy, it was addicting in a way even you were worried you wouldn't get enough of it. Or maybe it's too late for you.

Your heart started racing so fast you thought even you could hear it. The more you examined the poem the more it started to look like a love confession. But it couldn't be that, could it? You so badly wanted to hope that you had a chance but you didn't want to get your hopes up.

You, sweetheart, have me wrapped around your fingertips.

Those lines, shit, you couldn't help but swoon over them. Clutching the poem, you finally gazed at the author with wonders and hope. He smiled at you and signed those three words you've been waiting to see.

"I love you."

Was it even possible for your heart to be beating faster than it was before? You held the poem closer to your beating heart, trying to conceal it; worried he might hear it. It felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest. You sighed dreamily and thanked your heart for choosing him.

Meanwhile, Rook chuckled seeing your flustered expression. He found beauty in all things whether it was considered good or bad to others. But he found you the most beautiful of them all. He won't lie, he fell for you hard when he saw you. Because even when he learnt about your flaw, it didn't matter to him; you were still the fairest of them all. You weren't able to hear his words—but that's alright; he'll gladly write thousands or more letters if it meant to show you just how much he loves you.

He'd gladly and happily dance in hot and burning shoes if it meant to show you his devotion to you, just to show how much he cares for you. And if anyone were to make you doubt? Let's just say they wouldn't be coming closer to you anymore if they caused you pain. But before that, he'd come and comfort you, with words written on paper just so all your worries would go away.

Even if his fingers start to go numb and bruises appear, he won't stop until he finally sees you smile. He's glad that his heart chose you.

END

Wow! Uhm, heyy ik it's been awhile but I finally found enough inspiration to make this! Again sorry it's been awhile I've been so busy that I barely found any time to write at all, but I do hope you guys liked this!

[theinnerunderrain]

The Soldier, the Poet and the King [Yan! Genshin]

The Soldier is someone who will battle for his principles even if it means becoming coated in blood, sweat, and tears as long as he is victorious and able to obtain his treasured prize, that being you. Due to his ambition and perception that violence is in his horizon, he enters the violent world partly as a result of his own judgments. However, that voyage of violence seems to have been worthwhile when you are at the other end. As you extend your arms for his hug, you appear to be gleaming at him with a brilliant smile, but that appearance is merely a deception played on his mind, a greeting that only fools who are in love cannot see through.

After a long day on the battlefield, when he closes his eyes to drift off to sleep, you are the only image he can see as you are everything he has ever dreamed of. He was aware that it was immoral to want you, to lust after you like such a succubus, and to desire to knead every curve within your figure. He was aware that wanting to embrace you and tainting your innocence with his blood-stained fingers and the souls he took was wicked.

Nonetheless, he was driven by self-interest.

He wouldn't have survived this long if it weren't for you. In a quest to become a closer to you, he toiled so hard for you that he slaughtered and endured several scars from the Gods above. He partially gave up his pride, his family and childhood all just for you.

After all, he is a soldier. He must be brave, no matter what.

Will you not fulfil his one and only wish? To simply love you? Merely to be with you? In light of what he has accomplished, he is not really asking for much.

Don't be selfish now.

Consider those who had to die as a result of your actions. Think the women and children he had to massacre. All the homes he burned down, all the people he slaughtered.

Don't you think it would be a shame to have their sacrifice go to waste? Are they nothing but burnt corpses to you?

You don't want their lives to be wasted like that, do you?

Do you?

The Wanderer, Cyno, Childe, Capitano, Alhaitham, Traveler.

The poet is a serene being who values beauty and lyricism, and in his eyes, you are perhaps the most beautiful person in the world. Curiously delicate and appearing to be reserved for you and you alone, his words would stream from his lips much like roses spewing from water, pure and innocent. The poet would captivate you with one of his many talents, whether it was alchemy or simply simple poetry. Despite the absurd number of warning signs that are flashing in your face, it wouldn't take you long to become infatuated with him since all you can hear are his alluring words and assurances of an eternal union. But keep in mind that not all of what he says is truthful, even a poet is capable of telling lies.

One might even contend that poets are the greatest liars since they are so clever and skilled with language that any falsehood would be easily revealed.

You are his dearest muse, but that does not mean you are exempted from his lies, lies that are meant to protect you from the dangerous world. The poet wants to be able to depict your beauty, whether it be through writing, sketching, or even more nefarious tactics that involves a more scientific means. Even if his experiments of curiosity are a little strange sometimes, don't worry too much.

You are guaranteed to be safe.

Despite being arrogant, he was aware of his capabilities. Even you, who he longed to believe was immortal, knew that people were frail and continually constrained by the bonds of existence.

That's why he is in such a frenzy to acquire as many recollections of you as he can through songs and poems, artwork and literature, as well as by collecting pieces for your hair and dead cells that you left behind within your blankets.

He desired to be continually captivated with you and to retain a fragment of you with him forever.

You are his finest creation, after all.

One that he wants to keep around forever and ever.

Kazuha, Albedo, Dottore, Tighnari, Kaeya.

The King is an individual who feels the gravity of needing to oversee and undertake responsibilities for the entire world, so it is not strange that he feels a sense of obligation to you. He believes he must carry out his obligations and adhere to social demands because they are unavoidable.

Regardless of whether the king aspires to be a poet, he is always restrained by that notion of responsibility. In his heart, the monarch longs to be free to frolic and parade through the streets without the need for a care in the world. His people, his feeling of responsibility, though, bind him.

He felt some freedom and comfort in your presence, and that was enough liberation for him. You gave him the freedom to speak without worrying about being judged or making a mistake. Just by being there, he would lavish you with gold and diamonds, as well as opulent clothing and delectable cuisine.

So, he couldn't comprehend why you would be attempting to escape him.

He didn't understand.

He thought everything went well.

So why are you running?

You must take into consideration that this man was nevertheless a king, a monarch capable of starting war in another country with the snap of his finger, so perhaps it was a mistake for you to assume that he might appear to be a carefree poet in your presence. He was a man who was capable of coldness and savagery, and he could have your head in a matter of hours.

Thus, wouldn't you like to explore a little more with his game?

So do play around with his game a little further won't you? Apologize to him for running, and you will not bear any punishment.

Zhongli, Venti, Pantalone, Ayato, Diluc.

+

[mikareo]

⌗ SEASONS OF LOVE ₊ ˖ ་. a 呪術廻戦 miniseries

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HOPELESS ROMANTIC ; geto x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . episode four ! ꒱ . . . word count; 0.9k ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ leaves are falling, and he is too

⊹ ⠀⠀ with so many love stories on the shelf, geto feels his heart being influenced. if he's going to fall in love with anyone...it's you.

contains; geto suguru x fem reader, university (year 2) au, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, love triangle

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

"suguru how do you expect me to read when my heart is in a million pieces?"

he doesn't think he's ever met a person as dramatic as you are.

"these books can't teach me how to get laid."

it's kind of cute, though. annoying...but cute.

with the november breeze sweeping the leaves from every tree on campus, winter is approaching fast and geto feels like your irritation towards gojo is at an overwhelming high. there really isn't anything he can do about it. after all, he wasn't there when you oh-so-spontaneously confessed your undying love for satoru on halloween; to which you received a brutal rejection...this is why geto doesn't date— especially why he doesn't date in a world run by satoru gojo.

now, geto has done his very best at trying to distract you from the devastating heartbreak that comes with loving his best friend. there have many so many girls before you who've tried to get on with him after being ignored by the white haired boy; which is extremely insulting that any of them thought geto would be an easy target or a second option to satoru. when geto does fall in love, he hopes that it'll be with someone who chooses him first. someone who doesn't even consider their other options and believes that he's the only person in the entire world who can fit with their uneven puzzle piece. clearly, gojo isn't the person to fit with yours.

"maybe you just need to sit down and be silent?" he purses his lips in annoyance, trying his best to focus on the words of poetry and rhyme. poems are the language of love. you could take some advice from these lines. "you're talking so much that you're not even enjoying the book."

you groan. "this book is boring. who the fuck reads poetry for fun?"

um. he does.

the glare he sends your way is intimidating, but also gentle. "what would you like to read instead? since you're such an avid reader?"

his sarcasm is meant to be insulting.

a mischievous smile creeps into the corners of your lips; smile likes yours used to scare him as a child after having seen alice in wonderland one too many times. he never understood the other children's fascination with a purple, talking cat. it's just weird. "how about this one!"

the book your present to him isn't anything he's read before. actually, it's something that he hopes to never read ever. "you're kidding."

"dead serious!"

how is a cheesy romance supposed to make you feel better?

"that's just going to make you feel worse, y'know." he gently takes the book from your hands and shuffles through the pages. with his head nodding along to each words his eyes skim, it's painfully obvious that you're going to read this book imagining the male lead to be satoru. "you have such an active imagination, you'll be heartbroken all over again."

with his words, your smile melts and geto knows he's right. "satoru is a lost cause in the romance department." he explains, scooting a little closer to you and rubbing your knee. the two of you have been seated on the floor of the lovely little bookshop near campus for an hour now. you're practically the only two people in the entire store, which has made this fake date feel a little more real. "i promise that you're better off dating anyone other than him."

you don't move away from the comfort of his palm, and instead lean into it; but your words are in defense of gojo. they always are. you can't seem to find it in your heart to let him go— no matter how awful of a rejection. "he's not a bad guy. he just needs a little help learning how to love."

the look in your eyes is earnest and geto sees that you believe your statements with your whole heart.

"i can be the person to help him learn."

there's no physical tell that you're upset, but he can somehow sense that you're about to cry. maybe it's the way you slightly tensed up with your body rejecting his soft touch or the way your gaze refused to meet his; no matter, he's going to cheer you up anyways. there aren't many people that geto can make smile— but somehow, in the past four months of being your friend (?), you've become the only person he cares to cheer up.

he murmurs your name in the most comforting, gentle voice that anyone's ever spoken to you. "you are the most talented, most interesting, and most extraordinary person in the universe; and you are capable of amazing things—"

"because you are the special. suguru, i've seen the lego movie. you're not being slick." aw man.

your tone of voice is irritated, yet you still laugh. yes, geto knows that might possibly have been the stupidest and cheesiest thing he's done in his whole life, but he doesn't care. he made you smile. him! not satoru. geto suguru made you smile. it's not something he'd win an olympic medal for, though in his mind it's worth more than that. he doesn't know when you became so special to him. he doesn't know how you managed to creep your way into his heart and cause this embarrassing blush to consume his cheeks; and he isn't bothered to figure it out.

he doesn't want to rejoice in your heartbreak...however, there is a tiny part of him that's happy satoru doesn't love you back.

maybe it's finally time suguru gets to be loved.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[revalition]

OCT 5 - CONCEPTUALIZATION

Understand creativity. See Art in the world.

sorry so few drawings in today's (and the really lazy colouring job) I'm very tired and wanted to still get it out. I love love conceptualization!! I'll draw and colour you properly some day.

I drew him with legs in my banner (still a WIP, I need to colour it...) and I'm not sure what I like more... definitely don't ever expect tons of consistency from me haha

Alsoooo... I think I'm going to do mondays off instead of sundays so I don't split up the 4 groups across the break. and volition's realllly gonna need that extra day, I love that guy way too much

anyway! as usual tons of quotes and comments under the cut! conceptualization has sooo many amazing ones, it's too hard to limit it to 29 :(((

PALE PALE PALE

actually me the second I heard about the pale. I've spent a likely unhealthy amount of time contemplating it. I did a science project on the possible ways the Universe will eventually end when I was like 15 and only gotten worse since then, I live for this stuff. It fascinates me endlessly

ily conceptualization and volition. I had to suffer through the unbelievably embarrassing ordeal of the failed poetry the first time, when conceppy stopped it the second time I immediately fell in love.

NO why is turning him down an option??

:(

this was so vivid and sad

the whole revacholian nationhood quest is so delusional... but conceptualization is going to embrace it anyway

art cop my beloved

of course he'd find it artistic... it's definitely a statement I suppose

much love for this, conceptualization comforted me into accepting the sorry cop, like... 30 minutes into my first run

don't be sorry honey I always want to hear your artsy thoughts

Yes this is the poetry fail again... this was actually incredibly painful. Also first day of my first run, walked out of the Whirling over to the lorries. So many moments of 'what did I doooo' over picking 1 INT...

Almost every fail ends up with the failing skill giving you really really bad advice, I love how this time conceptualization is just. desperately trying to stop you from continuing. and he can't!! it just gets *worse*!! I'm not including the rest of the poem, I don't want to even look at it. conceptualization ily for trying to stop the horrors...

hehe conceptualization hates improv

ough I love this one. referring to Le Retour.

un jour je serai de retour pres de toi...

actually me as soon as the hyperfixation stops

silver stars melted down...

ough I love the melancholy of a lot of conceptualization's comments.

this one especially. it's so simple, but deeply, deeply sad. the authors of this game were definitely no strangers to grief.

I love when the skills are silly

I love these, they just make my heart happy

mm... true

hehe

I gain a year of life every time anyone mentions harry's blue soul. ily conceptualization

that's it thanks to the evil screenshot limit :((( I hit it so fast too. I'm going to actually die on Volition day. Maybe I can just type the quotes instead of screenshotting them... there's no character limit hehe

running through conceptualization's other language names through google translate: unconventional, concept formation, abstraction

I like these. Most translate directly to conceptualization, but the ones that don't are always cool.

ough I love conceptualization a lot. I barely heard from him my first run, but maxed him out the second. Him and inland empire and shivers are my lovely poetic boys.

Volition trusting Conceptualization is also extremely!!! important to me. as far as I remember, conceptualization isn't identified as compromised either. He just wants art. Even tells you to "lay off that love stuff, if you can" at one point. I'm very fond of him.

[bruisedboys]

LITTLE WOMEN—

“ there is a little bit of you in all the words i write. maybe you’re the language of love my heart speaks. “ with remus!!

roma coming through with the remus request yes!!!! tysm baby xxx

summary: remus writes poetry about you

fem!reader 0.5k words

Remus shows you an excerpt of a poem he’s written and you’re sure it’s about you. As much as you don’t want to assume, because that would be totally self-centred if you’re wrong, you’re pretty sure he’s written it about you. It’s good. It’s really good. He writes about sunlight in the colour of your hair. He writes about a birthmark on the hip of a girl with your skin tone. He writes about the lanterns at the Thai place you’ve been to together a million and one times.

He stands behind you while you read it at the kitchen table, waiting for your reaction. When you’ve taken too long to respond, he asks, “What do you think?” almost self-consciously.

You stare at the notebook in your hand, the words he’s scrawled that describe, however vaguely, you.

“It’s good,” you say weakly, but that’s not enough, so you say, “It’s brilliant, Remus. Really. But I— um. It’s not about me, is it?”

You cringe the second you say it. Remus doesn’t. He laughs.

“Of course it’s about you, dove,” he says gleefully, squeezing your shoulder with his big hand. He squeezes down your arm until he reaches your hand, weaving your fingers together with his. He rests his cheek on your head. “That’s why I showed you, silly. Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it,” you say, breathless. You like it so much you feel dizzy with it. “I love it. I’m just … well, I didn’t know you wrote things about me,” you finish shyly.

Remus squeezes your hand. “Are you kidding? There’s a little bit of you in all the words I write,” he says, and you feel like your heart might give out.

You blink. Look up at him, sick as a dog in love. “Remus,” you say, chiding.

Remus looks at you like you’re the crazy one. As if. He’s the one writing poetry about you.

“What?” He laughs, eyebrows disappearing into his hair. “I’m serious. You’re in every little thing I write. Maybe you’re the language of love my heart speaks.”

You gape at him. You can’t tell if he was joking or not with that last line. But he looks like he’s being completely serious, eyes all brown and melty, which is even worse than if it was a joke.

“That’s like, sickeningly poetic,” you say, a poor attempt to hide how he’s making you feel. Like you’re the only girl in the world. You think he can probably see right through you, anyway. But it’s worth a shot to avoid boosting his ego. “Did you make that up yourself?”

Remus’ grin is staggering and a tiny bit taunting. Yep. He can definitely see right through you.

“You like it?” He asks mischievously, and now he’s just rubbing it in. “Maybe I should write poetry about you more often, hm?”

He plucks his notebook from your hand and you’re left sitting there, knowing if he ever writes another word about you, you’ll probably die on the spot.

[deadpanwalking]

The cancellation of the 2024 World Voices festival reminded me that I meant to make a post about this last week, when PEN America announced that it could not hold its annual literary award ceremony because so many authors and translators had withdrawn their submissions.  I don’t doubt that there's another post of this sort making the rounds, but since the ceremony was going to be tomorrow, I wanted to celebrate the literary achievements of every Finalist with a demonstrable backbone.

This is a list of writers who acted with integrity by withdrawing their work from the American subset of PEN International, an organization which has served as a bridge between literature and human rights for over a century.  PEN America has largely built its reputation by supporting persecuted writers, and has let down the entire international literary community by failing to take a meaningful public stance against the ongoing genocide of the Palestinian people. 

The following titles have been withdrawn from consideration at the request of the authors and translators:

PEN/Jean Stein Book Award

To a book-length work of any genre for its originality, merit, and impact, which has broken new ground by reshaping the boundaries of its form and signaling strong potential for lasting influence.

Hangman by Maya Binyam 

Biography of X by Catherine Lacey

Poem Bitten by a Man by Brian Teare

Blackouts by Justin Torres

PEN/Robert W. Bingham Prize for Debut Short Story Collection

To an author whose debut collection of short stories represents distinguished literary achievement and suggests great promise for future work.

The Sorrow of Others by Ada Zhang

PEN/Hemingway Award for Debut Novel

To a debut novel of exceptional literary merit.

Promise by Rachel Eliza Griffiths

Natural Beauty by Ling Ling Huang

PEN/Voelcker Award for Poetry Collection

To a poet whose distinguished collection of poetry represents a notable and accomplished literary presence.

Couplets by Maggie Millner

suddenly we by Evie Shockley

PEN Translation Prize

From From by Monica Youn

For a book-length translation of poetry from any language into English.

Owlish by Dorothy Tse translated from the Chinese by Natascha Bruce

Trash by Sylvia Aguilar-Zéleny translated from the Spanish by J.D. Pluecker

[duckprintspress]

Celebrate Native American Heritage Month with 7 Queer Books We Love

November is National Native American Heritage Month! We’re celebrating with books (as always, lol). We asked our rec list contibutors for their favorite queer books either by Native American authors or starring Native American characters. Most of these books (maybe all, I couldn’t confirm for all the authors) are both! Contributors to the list are Nina Waters, hullosweetpea, D.V. Morse, Shea Sullivan and an anonymous contributor.

-

Indiginerds edited by Alina Pete

First Nations culture is living, vibrant, and evolving…

…and generations of Indigenous kids have grown up with pop culture creeping inexorably into our lives. From gaming to social media, pirate radio to garage bands, Star Trek to D&D, and missed connections at the pow wow, Indigenous culture is so much more than how it’s usually portrayed. These comics are here to celebrate those stories!

Featuring an all-Indigenous creative team, INDIGINERDS is an exhilarating anthology collecting 11 stories about Indigenous people balancing traditional ways of knowing with modern pop culture.

-

Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Díaz

Postcolonial Love Poem is a thunderous river of a book, an anthem of desire against erasure. It demands that every body carried in its pages – bodies of language, land, suffering brothers, enemies and lovers – be touched and held. Here, the bodies of indigenous, Latinx, black and brown women are simultaneously the body politic and the body ecstatic, and portrayed with a glowing intimacy: the alphabet of a hand in the dark, the hips’ silvered percussion, a thigh’s red-gold geometry, the emerald tigers that leap in a throat. In claiming this autonomy of desire, language is pushed to its dark edges, the astonishing dune fields and forests where pleasure and love are both grief and joy, violence and sensuality.

Natalie Diaz defies the conditions from which she writes, a nation whose creation predicated the diminishment and ultimate erasure of bodies like hers and the people she loves. Her poetry questions what kind of future we might create, built from the choices we make now – how we might learn our own cures and ‘go where there is love’.

-

A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger

Nina is a Lipan girl in our world. She’s always felt there was something more out there. She still believes in the old stories.

Oli is a cottonmouth kid, from the land of spirits and monsters. Like all cottonmouths, he’s been cast from home. He’s found a new one on the banks of the bottomless lake.

Nina and Oli have no idea the other exists. But a catastrophic event on Earth, and a strange sickness that befalls Oli’s best friend, will drive their worlds together in ways they haven’t been in centuries.

And there are some who will kill to keep them apart.

-

Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology edited by Shane Hawk and Theodore C. Van Alst Jr.

Many Indigenous people believe that one should never whistle at night. This belief takes many forms: for instance, Native Hawaiians believe it summons the Hukai’po, the spirits of ancient warriors, and Native Mexicans say it calls Lechuza, a witch that can transform into an owl. But what all these legends hold in common is the certainty that whistling at night can cause evil spirits to appear–and even follow you home.These wholly original and shiver-inducing tales introduce readers to ghosts, curses, hauntings, monstrous creatures, complex family legacies, desperate deeds, and chilling acts of revenge. Introduced and contextualized by bestselling author Stephen Graham Jones, these stories are a celebration of Indigenous peoples’ survival and imagination, and a glorious reveling in all the things an ill-advised whistle might summon.

-

The Witch King (Witch King series) by H.E. Edgmon

Wyatt would give anything to forget where he came from–but a kingdom demands its king.

In Asalin, fae rule and witches like Wyatt Croft…don’t. Wyatt’s betrothal to his best friend, fae prince Emyr North, was supposed to change that. But when Wyatt lost control of his magic one devastating night, he fled to the human world.

Now a coldly distant Emyr has hunted him down. Despite transgender Wyatt’s newfound identity and troubling past, Emyr has no intention of dissolving their engagement. In fact, he claims they must marry now or risk losing the throne. Jaded, Wyatt strikes a deal with the enemy, hoping to escape Asalin forever. But as he gets to know Emyr, Wyatt realizes the boy he once loved may still exist. And as the witches face worsening conditions, he must decide once and for all what’s more important–his people or his freedom.

-

Elatsoe (Elatsoe series) by Darcie Little Badger

Imagine an America very similar to our own. It’s got homework, best friends, and pistachio ice cream.

There are some differences. This America been shaped dramatically by the magic, monsters, knowledge, and legends of its peoples, those Indigenous and those not. Some of these forces are charmingly everyday, like the ability to make an orb of light appear or travel across the world through rings of fungi. But other forces are less charming and should never see the light of day.

Elatsoe lives in this slightly stranger America. She can raise the ghosts of dead animals, a skill passed down through generations of her Lipan Apache family. Her beloved cousin has just been murdered, in a town that wants no prying eyes. But she is going to do more than pry. The picture-perfect facade of Willowbee masks gruesome secrets, and she will rely on her wits, skills, and friends to tear off the mask and protect her family.

-

Black Sun (Between Earth and Sky series) by Rebecca Roanhorse

A god will return When the earth and sky converge Under the black sun

In the holy city of Tova, the winter solstice is usually a time for celebration and renewal, but this year it coincides with a solar eclipse, a rare celestial event proscribed by the Sun Priest as an unbalancing of the world.

Meanwhile, a ship launches from a distant city bound for Tova and set to arrive on the solstice. The captain of the ship, Xiala, is a disgraced Teek whose song can calm the waters around her as easily as it can warp a man’s mind. Her ship carries one passenger. Described as harmless, the passenger, Serapio, is a young man, blind, scarred, and cloaked in destiny. As Xiala well knows, when a man is described as harmless, he usually ends up being a villain.

What are your favorite queer books with Native American representation?

Want to chat your favorite reads with us? Join our Book Lover’s Discord server!

Update your Goodreads TBR with any of these books by visiting our queer Native American books shelf  on Goodreads!Shop books with Native American rep using our rec list on our Bookshop.org affiliate page!

[fatehbaz]

Coral today is an icon of environmental crisis, its disappearance from the world’s oceans an emblem for the richness of forms and habitats either lost to us or at risk. Yet, as Michelle Currie Navakas shows in [...] Coral Lives: Literature, Labor, and the Making of America, our accounts today of coral as beauty, loss, and precarious future depend on an inherited language from the nineteenth century. [...] Navakas traces how coral became the material with which writers, poets, and artists debated community, labor, and polity in the United States.

The coral reef produced a compelling teleological vision of the nation: just as the minute coral “insect,” working invisibly under the waves, built immense structures that accumulated through efforts of countless others, living and dead, so the nation’s developing form depended on the countless workers whose individuality was almost impossible to detect. This identification of coral with human communities, Navakas shows, was not only revisited but also revised and challenged throughout the century. Coral had a global biography, a history as currency and ornament that linked it to the violence of slavery. It was also already a talisman - readymade for a modern symbol [...]. Not least, for nineteenth-century readers in the United States, it was also an artifact of knowledge and discovery, with coral fans and branches brought back from the Pacific and Indian Oceans to sit in American parlors and museums. [...]

---

[W]ith material culture analysis, [...] [there are] three common early American coral artifacts, familiar objects that made coral as a substance much more familiar to the nineteenth century than today: red coral beads for jewelry, the coral teething toy, and the natural history specimen. This chapter [...] [brings] together a fascinating range of representations of coral in nineteenth-century painting and sculptures.

With the material presence of coral firmly in place, Navakas returns us to its place in texts as metaphor for labor, with close readings of poetry and ephemeral literature up to the Civil War era. [...] [Navakas] includes an intriguing examination of the posthumous reputation of the eighteenth-century French naturalist Jean-André Peyssonnel who first claimed that coral should be classed as an animal (or “insect”), not plant. Navakas then [...] considers white reformers [...] and Black authors and activists, including James McCune Smith and Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, and a singular Black charitable association in Cleveland, Ohio, at the end of the century, called the Coral Builders’ Society. [...]

---

[H]er attention to layered knowledge allows her to examine the subversions of coral imagery that arose [...]. Obviously, the mid-nineteenth-century poems that lauded coral as a metaphor for laboring men who raised solid structures for a collective future also sought to naturalize a system that kept some kinds of labor and some kinds of people firmly pressed beneath the surface. Coral’s biography, she notes, was “inseparable from colonial violence at almost every turn” (p. 7). Yet coral was also part of the material history of the Black Atlantic [...].

Thus, a children’s Christmas story, “The Story of a Coral Bracelet” (1861), written by a West Indian writer, Sophy Moody, described the coral trade in the structure of a slave narrative. [...] In addition, coral’s protean shapes and ambiguity - rock, plant, or animal? - gave Americans a model for the difficulty of defining essential qualities from surface appearance, a message that troubled biological essentialists [...]. Navakas thus repeatedly brings into view the racialized and gendered meanings of coral [...].

---

Some readers from the blue humanities will want more attention, for example, to [...] different oceans [...]: Navakas’s gaze is clearly eastward to the Atlantic and Mediterranean and (to a degree) to the Caribbean [...], even though much of the natural historical explorations, not to mention the missionary interest in coral islands, turns decidedly to the Pacific. [...] First, under my hat as a historian of science, I note [...] [that] [q]uestions about the structure of coral islands among naturalists for the rest of the century pitted supporters of Darwinian evolutionary theory against his opponents [...]. These disputes surely sustained the liveliness of coral - its teleology and its ambiguities - in popular American literature. [...]

My second desire, from the standpoint of Victorian studies, is for a more specific account of religious traditions and coral. While Navakas identifies many writers of coral poetry and fables, both British and American, as “evangelical,” she avoids detailed analysis of the theological context that would be relevant, such as the millennial fascination with chaos and reconstruction and the intense Anglo-American missionary interest in the Pacific. [...] [However] reasons for this move are quickly apparent. First, her focus on coral as an icon that enabled explicit discussion of labor and community means that she takes the more familiar arguments connecting natural history and Christianity in this period as a given. [...] Coral, she argues, is most significant as an object of/in translation, mediating across the Black Atlantic and between many particular cultures. These critical strategies are easy to understand and accept, and yet the word - the script, in her terms - that I kept waiting for her to take up was “monuments”: a favorite nineteenth-century description of coral.

Navakas does often refer to the awareness of coral “temporalities” - how coral served as metaphor for the bridges between past, present, and future. Yet the way that a coral reef was understood as a literal graveyard, in an age that made death practices and new forms of cemeteries so vital a part of social and civic bonds, seems to deserve a place in this study. These are a greedy reader’s questions, wanting more. As Navakas notes [...], the method [...] is to understand our present circumstances as framed by legacies from the past, legacies that are never smooth but point us to friction and complexity.

---

All text above by: Katharine Anderson. "Review of Navakas, Michele Currie, Coral Lives: Literature, Labor, and the Making of America." H-Environment, H-Net Reviews. December 2023. Published at: [networks.h-net.org/group/reviews/20017692/anderson-navakas-coral-lives-literature-labor-and-making-america] [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism.]

[melisnonstop]

𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚆𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂

↳📱𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚞 (13/)

TikTok Video – Henry reviews Rapture byCarol Ann Duffy

@sonnetsandspice

(The video starts with Henry sitting in his cozy nook with nice bright lighting despite the New York winter,a cup of tea in hand. The camera slowly zooms in as he begins speaking)

Henry:

"There’s something about poetry that lets you sink into emotions without being swallowed by them. It lets you explore them safely—at a distance—but every now and then, a collection comes along that feels like it's staring right back at you.

“For me, that’s Carol Ann Duffy’s Rapture."

(Henry holds up a worn copy of the book)

Henry:

"It’s an unflinchingly raw portrayal of love, written with an intensity that’s almost palpable. Duffy captures the entirety of a relationship—from the dizzying highs to the inevitable unraveling—and does so with a precision that cuts to the core."

(He glances off-screen for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing)

Henry:

"One of the reasons this collection resonates with me is how Duffy makes the personal universal. Every poem in Rapture feels like a shared experience, as if she’s handed you the language to describe something you’ve always felt but never quite found the words for. It’s... relentless in its vulnerability."

(Henry pauses for a beat, his voice softening)

Henry:

"And yet, there’s a quiet strength in that vulnerability. It’s as though she’s saying, ‘Here, this is what it feels like to love deeply, to lose, and to keep loving anyway.’"

(He flips through the annotated pages, finding a passage)

Henry:

"Take this line, for instance: 'The bed we loved in was a spinning world of forests, castles, torchlight, cliff-tops, seas.' That’s love, isn’t it? It’s fantastical, all-encompassing, and yet... fragile. It’s the places we go when we’re in love—both real and imagined."

(He closes the book and looks into the camera, his expression thoughtful)

Henry:

"If you’ve ever loved deeply, or even if you haven’t, Rapture will show you just how messy, beautiful, and human love truly is. It’s a modern masterpiece, one that lingers long after you’ve finished it. And for that, I can’t recommend it enough."

(He smiles, a little wistful)

Henry:

"I’ll leave you with this: if you want to feel—really feel—without being afraid of what comes next, read Rapture. It’s one of those books that finds you exactly where you are.

"Until next time—happy reading, and cheers."

(The video ends as Henry puts down the book, the quiet clink of his teacup against the table in the background)

↳📱

↳📱

[scotianostra]

November 5th 1877 saw the opening of the original Mitchell Library, Glasgow, now the largest public reference library in Europe.

The first incarnation of The Mitchell Library was on the corner of Ingram Street and Albion Street with a collection of 5000 volumes. By the time it moved to its temporary home in Miller Street in 1891 the library boasted more than 150,000 books and could accommodate 4,000 readers.

When The Mitchell Library first opened one of the first decisions of the Library Committee was to put together a collection of items relating to Robert Burns as a memorial to Scotland’s national poet. Highlights of the collection include over 900 editions of the works including two copies of the 1786 Kilmarnock edition, two printings of the 1787 Edinburgh edition and 200 books of selected poetry. 15 original manuscripts in the poet's hand, including the only surviving letter written by Burns in Scots and the only copy in existence of ‘The Ordination' Translations of the poet's works into more than 36 languages

The library struggled at Miller Street and so, following the substantial bequest of Robert Jeffrey’s library of 4000 books, including Audubon’s Birds of America, a permanent home was found in North Street and the doors to The Mitchell Library as we know it today were opened in 1911. Today, the library is home to more than one million items, and welcomes over 500,000 visitors every year.

The early years also saw the foundation of the library’s two main special collections; the Scottish Poetry Collection and the Glasgow Collection. Other notable books among it's prized collection are a 12th Century Psalter, or book of psalms, the oldest book in the library, a late 14th century French Book of Hours, Thomas Annan’s Old Closes and Streets, a facsimile of Audubon’s Birds of America - one of the greatest works of ornithology containing life-sized, hand coloured depictions of 1065 North American birds - and Robert Burns, Poems Chiefly in the Scots Dialect (Kilmarnock edition)

The Library also holds an extensive collection of maps and atlases with some 35,000 sheet maps and 300 atlases. These range from a 1647 edition of an early world atlas, Theatrum Orbis Terrarum by Joan Blaeu, to current editions of maps published by the Ordnance Survey.

As well as maps they have a rich and extensive collection of newspapers, from our earliest newspaper The Glasgow Courant of 1715 to today’s copy of The Herald in the Mitchell Library.

Art and Design is an area that the library have collected and curated since it opened, providing an impressive collection of materials for lending and reference particular in relation to Scottish interest.

The Glasgow Collection of local and family history has grown to provide a distinctive record of Glasgowssocial, economic and cultural heritage, and is a living and growing part of the city’s collective memory. It offers endless research and discovery opportunities to both scholars and the local community.

The library holds over 5000 books for lending and reference, online resources to 1200 musical scores, sheet and recorded music.

They contain over 2 million books, maps, drawings, photographs, postcards and many other items from all parts of the world, dating from the 12th century to the present day.

Pica are the original building at Ingram Street, and pics of the "new" building inside and out including a close up of the statue of "Literature" on the top of the dome.

[thepaleys]

Vladimir Paley at the Corps des Pages - Part 1

But Volodia's childhood was soon to be over. The grand duke wanted his younger son to follow the dynastic tradition of an army career, and in that same year, 1908, the little Count von Hohenfelsen became a student at the Corps-des-Pages, the Saint Petersburg military school for aristocratic youngsters. Half-ignored by his imperial relatives, he lived in the house of his tutor Colonel Alexander Nikolaiveich Fenu. Both Colonel Fenu and his wife Alya Vladimirovna were very kind to the boy. For Vladimir, suddenly deprived of the loving atmosphere of his family, and forced to face an unknown world, his first days in the Corps-des-Pages were dreadful. He had no military vocation, spoke poor Russian and felt completely out of place in the often rude environment of the school. In his letters to his family, he complained bitterly about his life in the barracks, remembered his Parisian days with nostalgia and dreamed to get out of the school to visit exotic and legendary places. He longed for Easter, summer and Christmas vacations when he was allowed to spend with the family in France or traveling to varied places in Western Europe.

Throughout his stay in the Corps-des-Pages, Volodia continued privately to school himself in painting and music. And it was around 1910 during his first years in the dreaded school, when the young Count von Hohenfelsen started to write poetry, a vocation that never would abandon him. His mother wrote: "Ever since the age of thirteen Vladimir had been writing delightful verses… Each time he returned home his poetic talent displayed itself more decidedly… He availed himself of every free moment to devote his mind to his cherished poetry. By temperament a dreamer, he observed everything and nothing escaped his subtle, watchful attention… He loved nature ardently. He went into ecstasy over everything God had created. A moonbeam inspired him, the scent of a flower gave him an idea for a poem. He had a prodigious memory. What he knew, what he had time to read in his short life, was truly marvelous. Vladimir wrote his first verses in French, the language most familiar to him at that time. The few ones published by Jacques Ferrand in his biography of Grand Duke Paul (Agonie, Les miettes, Indifference, Chanson de Therese, Le Chemineau, Vieillesse), written in 1913, show an already remarkable talent for images and versification, as well as deep feeling. Until this day, however, most of his French poetry remains unpublished in his relatives' archives in France or the archives of the Russian Federation, along with some poetry he wrote in English.

Gradually, the young count got used to the life in the Corps- des-Pages and even started to enjoy it, a situation that probably was encouraged by his progress in Russian, a language he eventually learned with perfection. His letters home became much more joyful. He also found good friends among his classmates who called him Goghen, a russified abbreviation for Hohenfelsen.31 Some of them would perish during the first World War and be remembered by Vladimir in sad verses.

"A Poet Aming the Romanovs" - Jorge F. Sáenz

[cyancherub]

do you have any book recommendations for us :D

MAYBE SO.......!!!! u know i love talkin abt books!!!

well, ok since ive posted about most of the books ive been reading recently MAYBE i can also post about some that i ordered and am waiting to arrive??? because all of these sounded very interesting to me!!!

SO books i have coming in the mail:

surrealist novels:

the woman in the dunes by kobo abe

the hearing trumpet by leonora carrington

the melancholy of resistance by laszlo krasznahorkai:

the third policeman by flann o'brien

nadja by andre breton

(been really into surrealism lately if it isn't apparent. most excited for melancholy of resistance i think)

horror, gothic, etc:

bruges-la-morte by georges rodenbach

the damned (la-bas) by joris-karl huysmans

floating dragon by peter straub

classics, short stories, etc:

french decadent tales (oxford world's classics) by stephen romer

in watermelon sugar by richard brautigan

swann's way (in search of lost time, #1) by marcel proust

selected short stories by balzac

icefields by thomas wharton

some ive picked up recently & stoked to read:

ada, or ardor by nabokov (my most beloved author of all time)

carmilla by le fanu

nightmare alley by william lindsay gresham

a king alone by jean giono

twilight of the idols by nietzsche

transparent things by nabokov

dark water by koji suzuki

selected poems by jorge luis borges (also beloved)

trolled my goodreads for more recs

books ive read & enjoyed so far this year:

the iliac crest by cristina rivera garza

the tenant by roland topor (FAV!!! huge fav)

crimson labyrinth by yusuke kishi

pedro paramo by juan rulfo

carolina ghost woods by judy jordan

death in her hands by ottessa moshfegh

the unbearable lightness of being by milan kundera

in the lake of the woods by tim o'brien

disgrace by j m coetzee

goth by otsuichi

books i enjoyed from last year:

the lottery & other stories by shirley jackson

the vegetarian by han kang

rosemary's baby by ira levin

piercing by ryu murakami (an all time fav)

the bloody chamber by angela carter (fav)

starve acre by andrew michael hurley (also a fav)

the glassy, burning floor of hell by brian evenson

the devil's larder by jim crace

monstrilio by gerardo samano cordova

and as a bonus, literally anything by nabokov. i have a big book of his short fiction that ive been reading slowly for a long while. despair by him is my fav book of all time, hands down. he is a master of absurdism (and a master of every language he writes in).

ALSO!!!! if youre into poetry, anything and every single thing by: t.s. eliot, baudelaire, rimbaud, borges. i also love neruda's poetry but i have heard he was an awful man so keep that in mind

[melodic-haze]

(🎀) HELLO. HI. THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT ASK. i come bearing The List™ since i’m still [very] determined to take rayne - the og simp anon - down, and their ask was definitely a cute try - adorable even, but i’ve come here to win your heart, haze. not to play simple children’s games, so, here are 50 concrete reasons as to why i should be your sole & only wife <3

(+ apparently there are ppl following along on this … very strange love saga? hope u guys consider rooting for my side - i’m very committed to my dear haze <3.)

1. i was ur first ever ask, but before that i kept on lurking on ur account since i was too shy to say anything but every time i opened tumblr i checked ur account first, because i genuinely thought your writing was just lovely but i couldn’t find the words to say it </3 i thought of you as beautiful before i had even come to understand you

2. i’d make homemade meals made just for you + i’d satisfy any and all of your cravings

3. i’m mixed filipino, japanese, AND italian, so that’s how yk the food i can cook is good 🤗

4. i’d buy you flowers whenever, just because <3

5. on every birthday & date anniversary i’d spoil you with any and all the gifts (both handmade and bought) you’d ever want just to make your day extra special

6. i’d bake sweet treats for you every week, along w/ cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner tailored to your likings. bc only the best for you, love 😓😓

7. i’ll write love poems dedicated to you so you’ll know what it is like to be loved by another writer who can see your the beauty of your own language the same way you show your love

8. i’ll take out on beach dates…bookstore dates…photobooth dates…movie dates….anywhere you’d want to go i’ll take you there

9. i’ll write a single love letter to you for each day we’re together and happily married and gift them all to you so you’ll never forget just how much deep my love is for you

10. i’d marry you with paper rings!!

11. my focus in writing / literature in general is poetry and i could write a thousand poems on the beauty of you, your soul, and how gorgeous of a person you already are <3

12. plus i’m the same age as u so…no worrying cases there HAHSHSSJ 😭😭

13. i play the harp + the violin - arguably 2 of the most romantic instruments out there

14. you’d never need to worry about losing a 50/50 again since i’ll fund ALL your gacha game pulls - any character you want you'll have

15. i’d accept that i’d always be #2 to robin, bc. let’s face it. it’s robin, it’s universally impossible to /not/ love her 🫶

16. not only would i be a built-in wife, since i’m [also] a writer, i can be your built-in beta for proofreading and editing advice too

17. i’d drive you anywhere you wanted - passenger princess ofc :) <3

18. you are my eternity, haze. all i’ve been thinking about for the weeks upon end was you. my universe. my other half. the soul of my life, in every way possible, i’d want to love you so intimately; tenderly, slowly, the type of love that feels like the feather-tip press of a kiss to your temple. i’d worship the ground you walked upon if it only meant that the life i would have with you wouldn’t just be a dream. you make this world brighter; something worth living in. i forgave the cruelty the world let run rampant, the day i cast my gaze on you

19. i’d make playlists for every moment we shared together

20. forehead kisses…<3

21. even through death, i would still love you. endlessly. until the end of this universe. the beauty of love will forever transcend the passage of time

22. i’d serenade you with a bridgerton-esque rendition on the violin of lover by taylor swift. or any love song in general, i’d play whatever you wanted as long as it meant i got to fall in love with your soul all over again

23. rain kisses!!! i’d take you out to the sidewalk and pull you into dancing with me under the sheen of the rain <3

24. i’d grow a garden full of your favorite flowers just for you, and on every anniversary i’d hand-pick a bouquet myself because you deserve to be loved the same way it is, to be known

25. i’d take you to late night drives on the beach and i’d just be content watching you in the glow of the sunset, as the waves lap all around us, and for a moment; it’d feel like time itself had stopped in the presence of your beauty.

26. i’d write hand-written notes to leave at your nightstand each morning with tiny gifts (chocolates, handmade jewelry etc)

27. i’d dedicate every love song to ever exist to you <3

28. i’d constantly give out ‘i love you’s’ & reassurance

29. i once believed that my love would forever be burning red, but now that i’ve met you, it’s golden. like the first searing hues of daylight 🙏

30. if you are what you love, then i would spend all of my life writing literature on you. you deserve to be loved gently. even if the divine frowned down on us for our love i’d gladly look back from hell if that meant i could see your face one last time

31. on each birthday of yours, i would write the same amount of poems the age you would be turning, and all of them would be about how i’ve loved you through the years

32. i hope to be able to love you one day and realize that my heart is filled with the idea of you that i’d want nothing more than to be able to call you mine

33. i’d carve our initials on the sand on the beach just so the soil of the earth and the beginnings of all the life that stood before us knew what exactly it meant, when you loved somebody to the point of creation

34. if you wanted to go anywhere in the world - especially abroad - i’d take you. you deserve nothing more than what your heart desires and i’d always make sure to see that your wishes will be fulfilled so you will never have to wonder what it is like to be kept waiting

35. we’d go on aquarium dates!!! 🫶🫶

36. i’d make sure to hold your hand in every life and in every universe

37. we’d spend lazy days in our house just cuddling & watching sitcoms for as long as we’d want!!

38. haze…it’s no use haze. haze, we've got to have it out. i have loved you ever since i have known you haze. i couldn't help it. and - and i tried to show you and you wouldn't let me which is fine but i must make you hear now. give me an answer because i cannot go on like this any longer. i’ve worked hard to please you, and I gave up billiards and everything you didn’t like, and waited and never complained for i hoped you’d love me, though I’m not half good enough — i can’t love anyone else! …if you loved me haze, i would be a perfect saint.

39. kisses all over your face!!! i’d want the entire world to know how much ily and i’d never be afraid to hide it

40. i’d learn everything you have ever loved or enjoyed; whatever it is that makes your heart burst with joy, and memorize it to utmost perfection just so you could have somebody else to understand how it is that you want to be loved

41. i’d build a house for you, brick by brick. any way you wanted or any way you wanted to build a life together, i’d make sure to see fit to it

42. daily coffee dates!!!

43. i’d want nothing more than to just /be/ with you. to exist just knowing you are here and that i am full of the love i hope to give, would be enough for me already.

44. haze….I LOVE YOU!!!! i will stand with you between the heavens and the earth. from the moment i first saw your writing appear on the sub arlecchino tag, i have loved you desperately. i cannot breathe when you are not near. i love you, haze. my heart calls your name. i burn for you.

45. we could match everything!! matching bracelets <3 matching rings <3 matching jewelry in general <33 and trust, it would all either be hand-crafted or the most expensive things you could ever want bc i only want the best for you darling

46. i’d always have the idea of you on my mind. i don’t think anything - not even the divine forces could keep me away from knowing how much i adore you

47. baking with you!! i’d teach you all of my favorite recipes and we could bake together :) we’d make heart shaped cookies and red velvet muffins

48. WE COULD ADOPT PETS TOGETHER!!! cat moms!!! or dogs!! or any animal in general!! i’d want nothing more in life than to just spend it with you <3

49. my first novel would be about you. i’d write countless - thousands - of poems for you, haze. i’d write a collection of all the love i harbor for you in any way conceivable. you are perfection personified - a living muse - it is you i want, haze. it is only you who i would always want.

50. lastly, i’d ALSO suck on your tits any time u wanted :)

so? what do you think? how’d i do, sweetheart? :) if you ever have an answer for me, i’ll be waiting for as long as you’ll have me <3

(btw just for…clarification pls do /not/ take this way too seriously 😭😭. i am just a very over the top (hopefully will be) eng lit major who js wants to win over ur heart <3.)

FIFTY FUCKING REASONS WHAT THR FUCK YOU ACTUALLY WROTE IT OUT I saw this a lot earlier than just now but I had to coordinate backing vox lines for my band's next gig

Anyway the way I genuinely JUMPED when I saw this LIKE FUCKING HELLO......IF ANYTHING THIS IS WHAT DEDICATION LOOKS LIKE GUYS TAKE NOTES oh babe I could KISS YOU

AND THE TAYLOR SWIFT REFERENCES❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️I'M SORRY RAYNE.........

I find the lit and performance majors tend to be the ones who do this and take the entire mile which makes a lot of sense actually

In summary I am FLOORED I fear. And absolutely swooning oh my goodness 😩 AND THE AGE POINT HAHAHAHA THE MOST IMPORTANT THING OF THEM ALL 😭😭😭😭😭 IT TOOK ME OUT like how I'd let you take me out for dinner ;)))

[yeyinde]

Oh my god- your Johnny fic!!! You’ve left me absolutely panting, breathless, sitting here absolutely feral. I literally annotated it (on a separate note page in my notebook correlating the quotes and lines) because I was like yeyinde’s language is too beautiful not to in-depth look at. I’ve got all my favorite quotes noted and surrounded by MASSIVE amounts of exclamation marks. Reading your stories is like reading poetry- you making writing an art form. I think my favorite thing was the analogy of the doe in her dream- it reminded me of the medieval poem by Thomas Wyatt- Whoso List to Hunt. It’s based on the Italian poem by the same title but he changed it about Anne Boleyn (supposedly). But the basic idea of “The vain travail hath wearied me so sore” and “Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore, Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind”. It reminds me of Johnny’s own damaged and weary- lonesome mind. His fight to gain family and stability by forcing an injured doe into his hold being like someone trying to catch the wind- an impossibility. Yet he’s tireless in his journey. It also showed the idea of Anne Boelyn being innocent and naive in court (to Thomas Wyatt), just as Johnny views his doe- too fragile for the real world and for cruel nature, needing him to collar her like Thomas’s for and keep her untouched by any but him. He clings to her for normalcy and love and acceptance that he cannot give himself. It’s such a beautiful fic and such damn good smug and inner psychological battle!

you are so sweet!!! i'm always so blown away by every nice thing you have to say about my writing 😭 thank you so much!! i wish i could organise my thoughts as eloquently, but this genuinely means so much to me! 🖤

that poem is perfect and fits the og version where it was in Soap's pov so much!!!! especially because it opens with him spotting a real doe stuck on a cliffs edge near the fjords and when he pans his scope up, he finds you. his doe. and you're so spot on about Johnny's obsession with doe, too. it stems from a sense of worthlessness. i don't think Johnny is the type to retire. i think he'll go and go and go because he feels useful when he's doing something. plus a weird mix of saviour/hero complex, too. which is how i wrote him. forced into hiding as his team moves on without him. just spending day after day doing the same thing (and eating some good asf frybread lmao), and so, when he sees you clamouring along during his hunt, it's like. why not engineer a situation whe

i cut out so much of this fic because it was ballooning close to 30k and i couldn't see why Johnny wouldn't just start growing roots the moment he had you, but everything you said perfectly aligns with the "aftermath" of what happens. with him spiralling into a caretaker role because it's how he feels needed. it gives him that same sense of purpose as it probably did when he decided to risk his neck in mw2022. i think he just needs something to do. a mission. and you're it. unfortunately.

goddd!!!! sorry for rambling. i just read this and was like YES. you get it. thank you so much!!!! 🖤