#poetry. i am cringe but i am free

[smallsies]

[northstarscowboyhat]

How did Starlo and Ceroba begin dating in your AU Would there be any conflict because of Cerobas last marriage ending so tragically?

First off, anon thank you for giving me an excuse to gush about Staroba. They have taken a hold of 95% of my brain. This might be a bit of a ramble, but I will gladly share my thoughts on them!

So before Clover arrives in the Underground, I imagine anything romantic between the both of them was kind of out of the question. I HC Starlo is still pining for Ceroba years later, but he's pretty discreet about it. That's his best friend, and she's recently lost her husband and daughter. He's going to be there for her emotionally, but he's not about to complicate things by pursuing his feelings. I imagine even if he hasn't really moved on from her, he's resigned to the fact that it'll only remain as pining from afar.

Meanwhile, on Ceroba's end, she isn't really thinking about romance. She's very much wallowing in her own grief and misery, so to her, Starlo is the only person she has left in her life, but he's just her best friend. There may be some feelings beginning to build, with living with Starlo and spending so much time with him, but nothing she really actively thinks about. She's too consumed by the terrible situation and struggles she's neck deep in.

It isn't until Clover comes around and chooses to stay in the Underground that things change. I HC that Clover chooses to live with Ceroba after the Pacifist ending. Starlo and the gang cleaned up her house anyways, so why not live in it again and make better memories? Because Ceroba's house is close to the Wild East, Starlo visits a lot, not just for Clover but for Ceroba too. Now that they're both working on their own issues and moving on, becoming healthier people, they're able to properly hang out and emotionally support one another and enjoy each other's company in a way they haven't for a few years. This is where Starlo's feelings really kick into high gear, and it's gotten to the point that everyone in their family and friend group notices.

("Dude, you like, totally wanna marry her," Mooch says, hardly bothering to contain her smug smirk. Starlo yanks on the brim of his hat to conceal his reddening face and begs her to keep her voice down, lest Ceroba hear it from across the bar counter.)

Though Ceroba is a lot more subtle about it, this is where her feelings begin to grow too. She realizes that Starlo has always been there for her, even if his actions weren't always the right ones his intentions have always been focused on doing things for her sake, and that she wants him around, maybe more than just a best friend. It gets to the point that the house feels lonely whenever he leaves from a visit. It probably takes a lot of internal strife and struggle to reconcile with her feelings. Letting another partner into her life after she's mourned her first husband is a massive and frightening step to take, after all. She knows Chujin would want her to be happy and live her life to the fullest after he's gone, but it's still a lot to take in.

I imagine once a few months pass, with encouragement from Starlo's friends ("C'mon boss, Clover calls you Pa and Ceroba Ma, you two are practically already raising them together!"), he tries to confess his feelings to Ceroba. He probably fumbles it a few times; not just because he's still shy and awkward under the sheriff persona, but because he really doesn't want to ruin his relationship with her, nor hurt her after everything she's been through. Ceroba, of course, notices this. Probably after the second or third bumbling attempt of him trying to tell her in privacy how he feels, she gently cuts him off and comes out and says it; she reciprocates his feelings, and she would love to start a new chapter of her life with him.

Thus, they begin dating! Everyone's happy for them, especially Clover and the Feisty Four, who has been privy to all of their subtle and not so subtle flirting and obvious pining. Starlo and Ceroba were already raising Clover together, but now it becomes a lot more overt. After they date for a while, Ceroba invites Starlo to move in so he can spend more time with her and Clover and be a proper family. He does so, gladly - though he probably does shed a tear or two moving out from the house he shared with his posse.

[cult-of-the-eye]

love writing super angsty poetry that i'm gonna cringe at later its the best part of creating

[maziecrazycloud]

Ode to my Old Friend

Note: *For my Creative Writing class, I had to write a poem to someone from a different time. Naturally, I chose Jimmy. We finally reached the final draft of the poem, and while I don’t write poetry a lot, I felt this came out better than I expected. It was a weird assignment, and my professor pushed me to really dig deep with this one. Poetry is tough, and this is a little weird, but it was kinda fun. I hope you all enjoy!*

Can you hear my voice, old friend?

You don't know who I am, or even when I am trying to speak softly to you,

whispering your name in moments of silence.

But I am here amongst you,

in the music I play to remember you by.

Your voice falls through an old record player in my room,

keeping me grounded when the world feels too big.

Your voice never leaves me, old friend.

You are also inside the voices of my guitar,

that I play to mimic the songs you

wrote all those years ago.

I can hear your voice in my fingers, smelling of

Guitar strings stinging with song, old friend.

Images of you are on my walls.

In my mind.

In my eyes.

But most importantly my ears.

I see you in my dreams, daring and delicate, old friend.

Your face is young on my walls,

With wild midnight hair and careful emerald eyes.

You are a night sky so distant and close, I can feel your influence

and touch the air around you,

But Im blind in the dark, and your not that young midnight anymore.

You’ve grown up, old friend.

You've seen me my whole life and the same to you. Its strange.

Small toddler, I sat and watched you play your guitar so long ago.

Your voice emanated into my small bones and rang through my skull.

Transfixed by you, I was.

I'm older now, but nothing has changed, old friend.

I have named your voice.

Your voice is a guitar tone

Sizzling through a fuzz pedal

fifty years old.

You are immortalized. Electric, old friend.

I hear your voice loudly now.

Recorded fifty some odd years ago now.

Your voice is the same, and ever present in my mind as if

it were yesterday.

I wasn't there but I still hear it.

You don't know me,

I know you so well.

I know its not fair,

You changed my life.

We are from different times,

But lets make this right.

It's nice to meet you, old friend.

[taleoftruthsandlies]

Two stars once blazed together in a fervent dance,

their brilliance a shield against the weight of the world.

One held the sky , invincible and bold,

the other anchored to earth,

crushed beneath the burdens it could not save.

[coffin-wife]

StoveBurnt People

[llama-from-spain]

Anyways, I've written a book

It called "Not poems, or how it all began on an october night" It's cringe, but its me <3

[xanderscollection]

There's a stranger in my room, he calls himself my brother.

There's a stranger in my room, he says we are vastly different from one another.

There's a stranger in my room, we grew up together.

There's a stranger in my room, I think I need a refresher.

There's a stranger in my room, I think it might be me.

There's a stranger in my room, I don't think I'm ready.

[neuroviolentgraves]

If i had a nickel for every time i wrote poetry due to a certain thing that haunts me, i'd have two nickels. I don't think i've ever written poetry for any other reason. It just keeps 8eing this

The other-made self-made god

A payphone in the city rang nearby me as I walked. It gave me one half of someone else's conversation. It piqued my curiosity, so I thought I'd stay.

A parasite wormed its way into my mind. It haunted my ocular nerves with its vibrant color. It was familiar enough to me, so I let it stay.

A god tangled me up in its obscure work. It pried at me with its ambiguous signs. I still don't know why, but it let me stay.

[hi-its-cookie]

Original Poem: Montreal

posting poetry on tumblr bc I’m a bit embarrassed. I’m cringe but I am free

“penelope scott makes cringy tiktok music” ok cool she also made a lukewarm coping mechanism for my middle school self and that’s gotta count for something

(note: I don’t want to shit on anyone’s music taste. if you like Penelope Scott that’s totally fine!! I just have a personal relationship with her music and I wanted to write about it)

[mushi-dumb]

an ode to what i want to say

"i am not okay. the weight of the world is on me. it always was but now it's heavier than ever." i wanted to say when you asked if i was alright.

"im fine. you?" is what i said. you didn't pry, you said you missed her.

"i know you do. let me be there for you." is what i replied as i proceeded to give away more parts of me.

well, i am fine.

[hiccupbutpurple]

Wise words from my online diary that I wrote when I was approximately 13.

……This is in reference to an orphanage AU because for whatever reason I was intrigued by the concept of orphanages.

✨Children’s shows are the most fun to make dark and depressing✨

Bby, rtte is dark and depressing in canon you don’t need to thrown an orphanage in there 💀💀

[soothingbalmforyourhrt]

When the world says “give up”

Hope whispers “try one more time”

[taleoftruthsandlies]

I miss you, but still—

your heartbeat echoes in mine,

grief I cannot hold.

[likelyrats]

did this little thing about buses, godly delusions, and microwave meals. average isaac day.

[polygonal-trees]

got possessed last night by the urge to write a Cybertronian pov poem... Megatronus/D-16 pov poem? anyway

Kaon

With tireless treads I roam your wretched roads,

Through throngs of rusted wastrels working hard,

Til weary 'cogs reject their vehicle modes,

Til acid rain has left their chassis scarred.

Simply sparked to satisfy your thirst,

We love and dream and die with lives unseen,

In fumes so toxic optics crack and burst,

We are but cogs within your grand machine.

This city spares no love for you and I,

It feasts until our frames are grey and cold,

And yet,

I must confess,

When fleeting sunlight fills the smoking sky,

These grim and grimey streets are paved with gold.