#but not poetry. it’s like a poetic story or whatever…

[ominousblob]

//I have this secret that I don’t think I could ever share, but you won’t tell, will you? You couldn’t, even if you wanted to.

[viviennevermillion]

With an s/o who is a writer

notes: so we have this now

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship

characters included: leona kingscholar, rook hunt, idia shroud, malleus draconia

warnings: none

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

Okay so Leona is like, the last person in the cast who'd be into creative writing if it wasn't for the fact that he was dating a writer but he's supportive. He's got the spirit. Even if he has different priorities.

Literally comes into your room, sees you sitting at your laptop and working on a story and he's like: "Are ya winning?" He pulls a chair next to yours and rests his head on your shoulder, looking at your draft with you. "Tf am I supposed to be winning?", you chuckle and ruffle his hair, gently scratching his ear in the process. "I don't know, the recognition of the internet people or something. You were the one who said 'Spite can be a great writing motivation' if I recall correctly", he shrugs and presses a kiss to your cheek. "It's not a competition, you know?", you laugh and get up, shoving your chair to the side to sit on Leona's lap instead.

He doesn't mind just wrapping his arms around your waist and letting you sit on his lap while you write. He'll read along and rest his head on your shoulder from behind, wrapping his tail around you as well. Now you have a clingy oversized cat attached to you while you work on your latest project. Congrats. He probably falls asleep halfway through, not that you'd mind.

It took a while for you to feel comfortable to show Leona your writing, because the second prince of Sunset Savannah could be quite the judgemental person. Leona would never mock anything you cared about as soon as he started dating you but seeing his demeanor towards other people still made you hesitate. But Leona has been supportive of you ever since you talked to him about your passion, even if he doesn't quite get it. Honestly be glad Leona isn't someone who'd ever start writing because he's inspired by you, he would turn this into a competition.

If you post your works online, Leona makes an account on whatever platform you post them on solely to follow you and support you. If you work on something for several hours and get less notes than someone with two paragraphs Leona is more frustrated than you.

He originally just wanted to support you but he finds himself surprised at how the plot of your stories actually intrigues him and he's curious what happens next.

If you write poetry, he's less involved. He just doesn't get poetry. He's like "why don't they just say what they mean?"

If you ever get Leona to write anything it'd be literate roleplay. Only joins because you asked him but gets really into it halfway through. Wants to make his character cool and wants him to fight the other characters. He's like "this is my character, he's a king and he can do whatever he wants-"

Leona's stylistic device is using poetic descriptions in the same sentence with words like "bastard" and "shitfaced" and he somehow manages to actually pull this off

You took him to tabletop night with Idia and Azul once and he got himself perma-banned from Board Game Club because he fucked with their nerves so much that they never wanted to see him there again.

He's worried you might be mad at him at first. "Nah it was kinda funny", you reassure him, "though if we ever do this again it should probably just be the two of us..." Leona chuckles and pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Rook writes poetry himself and he loves the arts so he's so on board with this.

But, listen. Rook is that one reader every writer wants but few of us actually get. He reads literally anything you write ever and he responds by sending you like a whole essay of his thoughts on the characters and the plot in depth and how it made him feel.

"Beauté", Rook tears up and pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead enthusiastically, "I must thank you, mon chéri / ma chérie, by sharing the work you put your heart into with me and presenting me with the result of your creativity and passion; you have made my heart feel a little more complete and my mind more enlightened. Because you have chosen to let me view the beauty that is your prose and poetry, every day I get one step closer to truly call myself le chasseur d'amour! Truly extraordinary!" He takes your hands into his and looks deeply into your eyes as he tells you this; like he's confessing the full extent of his love to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips softly, trying to convey all the feelings that overwhelm his heart and that words would never do justice to you.

He will gush about your works to Vil and Epel so much that they are tired of hearing about it.

He’d be happy if you tell him your thoughts about his poetry too. He writes a lot of it but he doesn’t really have anyone to talk about it with because most people just don’t get his poetry. But if you keep an open mind and give him some appreciation for what he wrote, Rook is so thankful and excited.

He’s so excited for anything new you write. “Feel free to notify me immediately once you’re finished with your newest chef-d'œuvre, even if it’s the middle of the night and I am asleep”, he smiles at you and kisses your hand. 

He’s not kidding, btw

He wakes up in the morning to see you snuggled up against him and he gives you a kiss on the forehead, waking you up softly. “Ugh…just 10 more minutes”, you groan and bury your face in his chest. Rook chuckles and runs his fingertips up and down your back. “You seem very tired, mon cœur”, he whispers and presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss back gently and wrap your arms around him. “Were you working on your newest oeuvre d'art until late at night again?”, he asks and shakes his head. He loves everything you make but he’d rather have you well-rested and comfortable. You confirm his suspicions with a tired nod. “Well, did you finish it?”, he asks. “Yes”, you mumble and try to hide from the rising sun by burying your face in his neck. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up, so I can read it?”, he gets up and turns on your laptop, carrying it over to the bed so you can enter the password. “I thought you were exaggerating”, you shrugged and opened your finished project. “When have I ever exaggerated?”, Rook asks and wraps an arm around you while his eyes wandered across the document, “you should know best that all I express towards you is nothing but raw, unfiltered honesty.” You sigh. “Right, you have a point.”

Getting to read your newest work literally makes his day. Rook is your biggest fan definitely.

Okay you can't tell me Idia doesn't write fanfiction or at least read it. That man has been through every genre of fanworks.

You write? He admires that. You write fanfiction? Even better.

Send him soul-crushing angst of his favorite characters please, his reactions are so funny. He's like "why would you do this to my poor otaku heart HEFHHSJEHFHSBFDBSNFXNNENNSNR 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭"

He will literally commission you or request from you to write his ideas and surprise him with something he'd love.

He'd be like, kicking his legs and text you his live-reaction.

Idia is one of those people who request from you and make it so hyper-specific that you need to read into the lore of an entirely new game or anime just to even understand what exactly he wants. He'd send you "Can you write angst with this character if his love interest had the blood curse from the hit-game 'Below the 2nd Temple' but if the blood curse made you seek out the 5 goblets of wisdom and then drop dead. What would be their reaction to the one they love dearly leading such a pitiful existence? Oh and can you make the dragon from the sequel 'Below the 3rd Temple' appear at the end when the love interest runs out of horvathian gemstones?" and you sit there like what the fuck did he just say????

He's like "oh it's all on the official forum lore section" as if you're going to read in-depth lore for a game you never played just to write his angsty crossover AU.

"Why don't you write it yourself at this point?", you look at him and sigh. "But I love your works", Idia wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek repeatedly, pulling you into his lap.

He will absolutely try to bribe you into writing it. He'll offer you kisses and a nice, warm bath and a massage....whether you fall for it is up to you.

But he's so happy when he gets the final result. He geeks out about it to Azul who understands even less about the request than you when you first started working on it.

Idia would also do semi-literate and literate roleplay with you online.

Overall loves that you're a writer and will support you whenever you need it. Idia can actually be pretty creative himself so when you struggle to continue and lack an idea, he might just deliver exactly what you need.

Malleus has read many books throughout his lifetime. Be it biographies, fiction or textbooks about all kinds of topics. Most of them were outdated and the writing style of the novels he’s read has long since gone out of fashion. 

Malleus is mostly unfamiliar with the modern way of writing stories. Hell, many of the things he’s read have been written with a magical pen and ink. The Briar Valley castle libraries contain many books that are unique and don’t have any other copies in the whole world. The newer ones were written on a typewriter. 

He’s super interested when you tell him you write as a hobby for the first time. He’s seen many printed books since coming to Night Raven College but watching you just pull out your laptop and write a whole story in just a couple of hours is fascinating to him. He lets you sit on his lap and wraps his arms around you. He rests his head on your shoulder or against your head and watches as the words just seem to spill onto the pages. He reads along and asks you a couple of questions in the meantime, still being careful not to distract you though. 

“Why did the king say this to his daughter?”, Malleus asks with a surprised expression, “is he hiding something?” You chuckle. “You’ll find that out in about five chapters”, you turn around a bit to be able to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Malleus smiles and puts his hands on his hips. “And when do I get to read those?”, he asks and you let out a sigh. “Only god knows”, you bury your head in your hands, “if the heavens decide to randomly inject me with whatever writer steroids I was on when I wrote the first three chapters, it might be tomorrow after an all-nighter and an unholy amount of coffee. If things don’t go well it could be next New Year’s Day.” “But it’s January…”, Malleus sighs.

He’s always the first to witness all the frustrations that come with being a writer. He finds it amusing but he also hopes you always find the motivation and productivity you want. 

If you write poetry, Malleus always reads it with great interest, trying to search for messages within the lines. Before the two of you got together, this was how he’s been trying to look for hints of your feelings for him.

He’s so unfamiliar with the modern world that sometimes he finds out way later that something you mentioned in your works is in fact not a fictional thing you made up. He’ll smile at you and tell you how creative you are for coming up with all this fantastic and wondrous stuff and then you rent an apartment with him to stay at during your fourth year internships. “Wait, you’re telling me roombas are real???”, he just stares at the little apparatus cleaning your living room floor in awe. You raise an eyebrow: “You thought they were fake?” He just stares at you with a slightly confused expression.

Malleus is actually pretty easily motivated to write something himself. And he’s good at it too, given his eloquent way of speaking and writing that has been taught to him at a young age due to him being a prince. He has so many in-depth thoughts, it’s pretty easy for him to make detailed descriptions of something and bring a story to life. He projects a lot too. Like, you know him too well and you just know exactly where the lines in the story about the lonely gargoyle just wishing for a friend or for anyone to care about his feelings come from. But that’s a conversation for another day. 

[lovemyromance]

SJM doesn't write her men as fuckbois, end of argument. This is romantasy, this is not real life situationships.

She writes her men as prideful beings, unwilling to kneel for anyone but their woman.

She writes her men as desperate for their female counterparts, willing to wait centuries to even earn a second glance.

So this concept of "Oh, Azriel & Elain don't actually want each other, they're just trying to blow off steam." Is ridiculous.

Regardless of their past, their background, the second they meet their love interest they fall in line and are head over heels for that ONE woman. It's not finicky love. It didn't just pass over the course of 2 pages.

SJM empowers the women more and gives them previous love interests. Feyre had Tamlin & Isaac Hale. Nesta had half of the seedy bar crowd in Velaris (no shade, go off city girl) & Tomas Mandray. Elain had Graysen.

You know what their past flings didn't get?

A POV.

We never got a POV from Tamlin, despite him being a main character and love interest in ACOTAR. We didn't get a POV from Tomas or random dude in Nesta's apartment. We didn't get a POV from Graysen.

You know which MMCs did get a POV?

Rhysand.

Cassian.

Azriel.

That in itself should be enough evidence that whatever happening between Elriel isn't just a fling, as the antis try to make it out to be.

Rhysand got a POV when he was endgame with Feyre. Cassian got a POV before he was endgame with Nesta. Now Azriel gets a POV, and there's only one sister left....

Why would SJM give Azriel a whole POV otherwise? Why not just tell it from Elain's POV?

And no it's not because that would reveal how much she apparently secretly loves Lucien while she's ready to drop her panties for Shadow Boy

That bonus chapter in ACOSF was not just SJM being in a silly goofy mood and deciding to write fuckboy Az as a new part of the story.

Also - all these people clamoring "wELL hAvE yOu rEaD tHe aZrIeL bOnUs cHaPtER?" They're just trynna use each other - Have YOU read the bonus chapter?

What part of that longing and tension and pining gave you lust and incel behavior? This man feels so undeserving of her, he thinks even touching her is to taint her goodness.

That shit poetic af.

He's out here being Azriel Allen Poe, describing her hair like dawn and begging on his knees to taste her and y'all are out here thinking "nah, they're just a fling."

Do you spout poetry and are tortured every waking moment with the love you hold for your situationship? If so - I don't think they're a situationship anymore bestie.

And Elain also wanted his hands on her. The antis trying to spin "oh she was indifferent to it, she could have been fine with or without him" is so ridiculous because literally she says yes. OFFER AND PERMISSION. She is aroused when he touches her NECK. Like come on, how down bad do you have to be for someone to get turned on when they touch your NECK. And, on top of that, she feels hurt when Azriel says this is a mistake.

Would someone only trynna get laid feel hurt over that? Would they avoid the other person after if they just wanted to blow off steam? No. She wanted Azriel just as badly. And anyone who tries to say otherwise, is just flat out not reading the words on the page.

When will Eluciens & Gwynriels quit trying to cheapen what is canon in order to make their ships work? SJM doesn't write fuckboi men. That's not up for debate.

And the fact that they'd rather have Az be using Elain (or I vice versa) for sex than actually hold feelings for her says a lot.

[canmom]

reading Herbert Mason's translation of the Epic of Gilgamesh, as you do!

I went with Mason's translation after I saw it quoted here and there and seemed pretty solidly written - but it isn't precisely right to call it a translation, more a retelling of the story as Mason understands it. so it's not a line by line translation, and some major parts of it are presumably interpolations or paraphrases.

i knew the broad outline of the story but it's fascinating to put it in context, and discover parts of the story i hadn't heard about. for example, i didn't realise the concept of droit du seigneur was part of this story - I'd thought that was basically a goofy myth about the medieval period, but here in the oldest surviving written story, it's just a thing the mythological king Gilgamesh does. though the exact translation seems a little contentious - Mason writes:

As king, Gilgamesh was a tyrant to his people.

He demanded, from an old birthright,

The privilege of sleeping with their brides

Before the husbands were permitted

But Wikipedia quotes a different translation by Stephen Mitchell which says:

He is king, he does whatever he wants... takes the girl from her mother and uses her, the warrior's daughter, the young man's bride.

The general thrust is similar in both cases, but the details of the custom are different. I don't have Mitchell's translation so I can't find how he describes the moment Enkidu arrives to interfere with Gilgamesh doing one of these kingly rapes (like let's not beat around the bush here, it's a different social context and whatever but you can't possibly say no to the demigod king).

Moving on...

Viewed with modern eyes, the transition between the first chapter and the second is kind of abrupt. We've got this great establishing story for Gilgamesh and Enkidu having a rather homoerotic fight and becoming best bros, but then we abruptly skip forward to Gilgamesh declaring that they're going to go fight a monster called Humbaba, and Enkidu is all like, no, that guy is way too high level, you'll die! Modern writing advice would hold that you'd want to spend some time building up Gilgamesh and Enkidu's relationship 'on screen' here, and perhaps foreshadow the existence of Humbaba a bit sooner to build up the threat a bit - but then I'm not carving this into stone tablets, I can afford to be a little bit roundabout, and who knows what's been lost? (scholars of the Epic probably have some idea lol)

The word used for Gilgamesh and Enkidu's relationship is 'friend'. This feels like it's probably a bit of a lossy translation to me - would lover/boyfriend be projecting too much? I obviously don't know the nuances of Sumerian that well, so maybe this is the best available word, but their relationship has a lot of physicality and a lot of affection.

The woman who goes to Enkidu in the wild and has a bunch of sex until he becomes civilised is described here as a 'prostitute'. My understanding was that she belongs to a religious role here, harimtu, that's usually translated as 'sacred prostitution' but apparently this identity is contested, and also she has a name, Shamhat? I don't know why Mason doesn't use her name. Shamhat has a pretty big role in changing Enkidu and convincing him to come meet Gilgamesh, but her own motivation isn't really explored.

Still, I don't want to come off as only complaining. Whether they originate in the Epic or with Mason, I'm enjoying a lot of the poetic turns of phrase in this version - the style is just the right level of minimal - simple appropriate words, but effective for that. Mason writes in verse, but doesn't rhyme - I'm not really familiar enough with meter to say more than that. There are a lot of fairly short, declarative sentences, mixed up with an occasional much longer metaphor across multiple lines. I think you could fairly easily delete the line breaks and just have prose, but having them makes it flow in an interesting way, like waves? Poetry is not my bailiwick so I'm probably describing some fairly basic facets of the medium, but it's interesting to observe.

I'll add more when I've read a bit more, I'll be in this train a while...

[askew-d]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "askew-d "?

hello, there! sorry for the long wait, i forgot to check my notifs :( i will do better next time. thank you for this question! i feel like i’ve waited ages for someone to ask me exactly that, lol. i could talk about well-written fanfics forever!! can i give you a hug? because this is wonderful, really.

let’s go for it! my range of fanfiction that i enjoy vary, but one thing remains: i will adore your fic, no matter the fandom, if it’s written with passion and if it contains good, poetic introspection. i love poetry. for me, if there’s melancholic tropes of any kind i’m into it. immortal character and reincarnation? give me now. supernatural elements or slice of life with doomed narrative? i’ll ignore sleep to read it. angst with happy ending? my endgame, for sure.

however, i also adore silly, comedic, cute pieces of domestic life or otherwise. i had a hard time choosing from my bookmarks for this, and i also reviewed some of my favorites, it was fun. before we continue, here are some of the tags that i don’t dive into for whatever reason: porn without plot (it personally just doesn’t interest me at all), non-con, gore, a/b/o dynamics, soulmates au. sorry if you were hoping for it! i’ll try classify them into an order of what i like most.

1. jellyfish, by mystery twin, for the haikyuu!! fandom — i read this when i was finishing high school and coincidentally the story talks about finishing high school! i have a personal attachment that makes me reread it every year. it’s some sort of tradition at this point. not to mention i love kagehina dearly.

2. teen project to change the world, by animeloverhomura, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — respectfully speaking, i would find this author and give them a big hug. their writing is spetacular! if you've never seen this one and you're into mdzs, know it's a story where the characters get to see every event from the novel and donghua, even the dead characters. they watch wei wuxian journey, can you believe it? so goddamn entertaining. promptly waiting for the next update!

3. a hundred or so hellos, by iwillstillopenthewindow, for the haikyuu!! fandom — remember i said i love melancholic stories? well, this one broke me so hard, i had to mention how i hold it with tenderness (we love things that breaks us, dont we?). this fandom manages to write the cutest, most unhinged things sometimes. even it's an anime about sports. i always get amazed by it.

4. no certainty of doors between us, by betts, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — certainly the most silly little fanfic i've ever seen, it's hilariously sweet. i want everyone to read this masterpiece because, seriously, whoever did this deserves only the best. so, so, cute. it had to be in my top 10!

5. their kindred encounters, by fireflavoredwhiskey, for the untamed rpf fandom (bjyx) — you know those kinds of shows, books, any piece of media, that tears up apart? well, this one was it for me. it's a very famous one that deserves all praise, certainly well-written and enjoyable to the core, with doses of angst, romance and beauty overall.

6. as the clouds part and clear, we finally meet again, by 12262325, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — aaaaa, i was truly torn between putting this in the third or fourth place, but i ended up putting it here. come on, i love an age difference kind of story, especially for wangxian, and this one was perfectly done. sweet and funny. the development? the yearning?? outstanding!! i read this many times already, i'll never get tired.

7. pursuit, by emleewrites, for the haikyuu!! fandom — mystery, romance, lawsuits, poker games, adventure, slice of life, AMAZING depictions and so, so goddamn well-written? that's what you're looking for in any fanfiction. the author dedicated herself entirely for this story, and, like i said, i love stories that are written with passion, you can see it pouring through every paragraph. besides, highly entertaining. i'm not very into long fics, but once i started it off, i couldn't stop. that's how addicting it is.

8. linger by the door (i’ve always been yours), by piecrust, for the mo dao zu shi fandom — epistolary?? have i mentioned how i love it?? some of the phrases in this are gold, in my bookmarks you can check some of them (i ought to make a list of my favorite fic quotes, btw, i will sure do it). through each letter i could comprehend more of wei wuxian's feelings and his internal conflict. i love feeling this connected to a character.

9. all the world is ours to take, by khrys, for the fugou keiji fandom — i have more than one favorite fanfiction for this couple. you know these kinds of developing relationship where the transition from (maybe enemies too) friends to lovers happens so smoothly that it feels like they've been soulmates first and foremost at the end? i don't even know how to explain. i just love how, when they finally are together, it's like they've been together for years. and they just... made it official? i like it. i love my mr. kambe haru.

10. he won’t tell you that he loves you, by hellshandbasket, for the house m.d fandom — i found this to be the most fitting, perfect story for this specific couple. they deserved more stories like this, but we dont see it anymore. i would hightlight the feelings realization in this one, that is so fucking real? haha in any case, it's a fanfic that i enjoyed a great deal.

that's it, i guess! i wanted to add link click fanfics also, however i barely started reading fanfictions from its fandom, i'm drowning in it lately but it's just a start. perhaps very sooon!

oh, i’m gonna finish explaining about the name! in my native language, i’ve heard someone tell me before that ‘life’s a little askew, nothing’s ever perfect’, and that quote remained in every biography of any english website i ever went to. then in literature class someday i had to write about historical women and came across this one named anne askew (i wanted to write about the mostly barely-spoken women). it was the second time i saw this word. i didn’t think of it as a proper name before, but then i had to create a nickname for my ao3 profile and thought, humn, why not just ‘askew’? the quote has been engraved in my heart anyway, so i went for it. we’re all flawed and askew. so, yeah, it just… fit? the ‘d’ here on tumblr it’s only because my surname has a ‘de morais’ in it. i also liked that it resembled ‘alaska’, the john green character i was kinda of obsessed with back in my teenager grunge phase. i don’t like these kinds of books anymore, but i guess some details stay with you. do you think it’s weird? never thought of changing.

thanks for this outstanding ask, it certainly entertained me. and hope you have a nice sleep today, big hugs coming your way! 🤍

[dallonwrites]

my fault for opening twitter but this pissed me offffff......."requires knowledge of form and structure" okay which ones? list out all of the forms and structures of a poem you know. how many do you know? do you know their conventions by heart? are certain ideas of poetic structures/forms held to a higher literary standard? what part of the world do they come from? can every possible poetic expression be categorised this way, shoved into categories? what do you actually mean by "knowledge of form and structure?" what does someone have to study and understand before they're allowed to "do" poetry? what elements of form and structure? who decides what ideas of form and structure people are required to know before they can "do" poetry? "and of course some amount of talent" how do we measure or define talent? how can you say that writing poetry requires and undefined amount of study of an undefined type of poetic theory, but you also need to possess some innately incomprehensible and abstract thing that makes you "better" at poetry than someone else? who decides what talent looks like? who gets access to "talent"? "poetry isn't just a thing you can do" why not? you can do anything because you are a human who is alive. how does the person who wants to write a poem about their feelings get to the point where they are skilled, studied, and "talented" enough to be allowed to write and share their poetry? what does this idea say about the art they create to get to this impossible end? it is fun to grow as a poet, an artist, to study theory and see yourself improve but you don't have to do anything of that if you don't want to.

poetry, like any art form, is in fact something you can just "do". you can write a poem with no form or rhyme or anything about the omelette you had for breakfast if you feel compelled to. you can write something melodramatic. just like how you can write a story about fighting dragons if that sounds fun to you. you can paint a picture of the sunset with no knowledge of colour theory if you want. the only thing you need to create art is whatever it is inside you that is compelling you to create

[idyllicsam]

#2. how to be descriptive and not bore the reader.

i struggled with descriptive writing for the first two years that i started writing somewhat in a "professional" way, which is why i think these pointers are quite necessary to know. so here is how i improved my descriptions while progressing in writing!

expand your vocabulary.

i think this was pretty obvious. descriptive writing requires a pretty vast vocabulary. i used to read a lot as a child, which i think helped. but when i was writing, i used to think I wasn't as good at being descriptive(which is true, i wasn't good at all at first) so i started with a folder in my notes app, where i noted down all words i thought were beautiful. i basically scoured the internet and the thesaurus website to the point where i had hundreds of words i thought were aesthetically pleasing. let me list some of them for you: bucolic, effervescent, archaic, abditory, demure, mellifluous, and i can go on and on.

i recommend making your list in alphabetical order though! because it's easiest to use that way.

poeticism.

being poetic and being a writer often go hand-in-hand. this basically means that everything that comes with poetry can also come with writing a story. you may use your extended vocabulary with rhymes to make your reader smile whilst reading, or have so many figures of speech that there are hidden meanings everywhere. it just depends on how you are able to portray the certain emotions with specific choices of words.

but this skill certainly requires practice and will take time to master. so don't give up hope if you can't be as poetic as other writers at first. with continuous practice, you'll surely get there. even i felt insecure about it first — some parts of my wip would be so poetic it made me feel like i was in the renaissance, but some parts were so choppy and terrible that i felt like giving up. but the important part is, i didn't. which is why i'm comfortable and confident with my writing today.

use. your. resources.

now, i know what you might be thinking. what kinds of resources are we talking about here? we live in a technological age where everything we want is at our fingertips. for example, the thesaurus. or a handy website called descriptionari.com that i used a lot in the beginning of my writing journey. now, i'm not saying to completely copy paste whatever's available at these sites that have creative writing readily available. but take what they give you, and paraphrase it in your own words.

i'll give you an example. i picked this description for a sunrise out of descriptionari: "how the greens and blues were risen into a new and vibrant glow by the sunrise."

if i were to paraphrase this sentence, it would be somewhat similar with different wordings. something like: "how the sages and spruces blend into an untrodden morning."

i quite literally did nothing but rearrange the sentence in my own words, changed the word for "green" and "blue" to specific shades, and threw in a little something of my own.

© idyllicsam

[oh-shtars]

You said you loved to get asks about your AU

Weeeeell I wanted to know, what are your plans for Amaya? What’s her deal? Her backstory? Her personality? Tell us about the queen 👀

I’ll be honest here Anny, I have NOT done her redesign yet and she’s a character I’m so frustrated with right now because I keep getting stuck on creating her- jdksjdjsks

But I have worked out her backstory! It’s just her role in the actual RFTS!storyline that’s bothering me 😭😭

Character Plans:

See, just as I’ve made Magnifico a parallel of Star, I’ve made Amaya a parallel to Asha. Whereas RFTS!Asha keeps her dreams and desires to herself because she’s insecure and afraid to take charge, Amaya is also just as highly ambitious but headstrong and ruthless.

I have Asha to represent how “To achieve great things and for people to believe in your lead, you need to be the person to believe in your capabilities first. To be brave enough to take a leap of faith.” Amaya is the opposite. She has her dreams and desires, but she’s willing to do whatever it takes to get her way. Even if she needs to crack a few eggs to get it. I wanted her to represent how “Pursuing your dreams is great, but at the expense of other people and dragging them down to get there, is a very shtty thing to do.”

Amaya has a passion for discovering and desires to learn everything there is to the world of magic around her. I did say she was just an eviler version of Zarina, didn’t I?

The thing is though, she is willing to sacrifice certain animals and “poor unfortunate souls” as fuel for her experiments. So umm, yeah. I wonder what happens to the people kept in the castle’s dungeon-

She believes the reason that most of the magic in the world is unknown and undiscovered is because people are holding themselves back because of “sympathy and feelings.” Amaya didn’t like that one bit, so her main hobby and goal is to keep digging out for more. Always hungry for more.

Bonus Facts:

- Unlike Magnifico, whose trauma has prevented him from effectively learning magic, Amaya is actually competent with magic usage without the use of any certain artefact. No staff or anything.

- She’s skilled at disguises and making up fake stories or lies on the spot that are easy to believe. (As a reference to previous Disney villains who used this tactic)

- Similar to Asha who has a sketchbook around with her, Amaya keeps a notebook that she keeps her notes in. (I guess this can be the substitute for the ‘forbidden book’ in the canon movie. lol)

- Amaya has a pet sphinx cat whom I decided to call ‘Espino’. It means ‘thorn’ in Spanish.

- While everyone else is just a tool for her to use, she does feel genuine love and concern for her husband when he does spiral into a PTSD episode. She’s had no one else in her life for a while now and Mag was the only one who ever understood her, so she’s willing to aid him whenever she can.

- She likes horse-back riding in the woods and does so often to relax or collect ingredients for her experiments

- She hates the idea of anyone or anything holding her back from what she believes is her true potential.

- Amaya holds the calculative and strategic skills in her ‘brains and the brawn’ duo with Mag. Mag is more on delivery and force if necessary. She’s calmer and aids Mag whenever he’s stressed or having temper issues.

- She’s also quite a fan of novels and poetry and likes the sound of poetic and fitting endings. It’s the reason why she’s being so nice towards Asha because she sees her as a fun toy to play around with. Especially when it comes to considering the king and queen’s strong opinion about Tomás.

(Tomás used to be hers and Mag’s assistant before he was tragically killed died after strongly holding beliefs that oppose their rule. It’s quite an entertaining irony if they were to have Tomás’ own daughter follow in his footsteps. One that he obviously would’ve hated to see if he was still alive.

Magnifico disliked the idea of having an inquisitive annoying girl around his work. Like I said in my previous drawing, he finds Asha ‘unbearable.’ But oh well, anything for the wifey. Happy wife. Happy life.)

Backstory:

Amaya grew up a little typical girl in Rosas with big dreams of mastering and getting to know everything regarding alchemy and magic. It’s a whole world that’s surrounded by it and who knows how much is left undiscovered?

The unfortunate thing is that her family was against this passion of hers since, well, not everyone thinks magic is a necessary skill worth your time when you can do it by yourself the traditional way. While her parents didn’t mind how King Oliver and previous other rulers have always provided an easier living for their people with magic, they want to keep the family tradition of achieving things by themselves magic-free. It’s how their ancestors established their livelihood as farmers after all.

Rosas had the best reputation of being the most inclusive and welcoming kingdom, so people holding these magic-free beliefs still have their boundaries respected and allowed to refuse magical help if they wish.

But Amaya? Amaya didn’t want to follow her parents’ footsteps. She wants to pursue her own dream.

…..

Mag and Amaya’s love story is basically Royalty x Commoner.

They met when Mag was 15 and she was 14 and were best friends ever since. Back then in the past, when there wasn’t as much worries and things were a little more simpler. But Amaya’s parents progressively start discouraging her to interact with Mag as they believe his role as prince and the future sorcerer king of Rosas is influencing their daughter to take up magic too.

Until one day, Magnifico never heard from her again. And then years later as young adults, they found each other again in the woods, where Amaya had fled away from her home to secretly study magic on her own there. They bonded over feeling so pressured to give up on their initial desires just because their parents and life decided to be unjust and cruel to them.

“Like, don’t you ever just wish you could hold the world and shake it soo hard because you’re so mad? OMGG BESTIE, SAAME.”

👆That was the look Amaya gave him when Magnifico asked if she ever felt “helpless and trapped,” like he did. It was at that moment that Magnifico fell down a flight of stairs and head over heels for this woman.

Sooo, childhood friends, to losing each other for a bit, to finding each other again, and then to romance.

(Wait- wdym they’re like Simba and Nala too? Pfft-)

The thing is though, Amaya is a wanted outlaw. (Or criminal? Idk the right word. Do they mean the same thing?).

Her identity is not exactly known. The guards are aware that there’s someone stealing ingredients and breaking Rosas’ rules and safety regulations about studying magic. The kingdom bans the production or study of any magic that could actively harm or terribly curse animals and humans. Remember when I said Amaya couldn’t give a single flying sht about that? She just managed to keep her real name clean because of her skills in disguises.

Amaya’s state and Magnifico potentially withholding information lead to another father-and-son argument with King Oliver again.

But just to sum it up before this gets too long, Magnifico ended up taking his role as the next king with Amaya by his side. Upon obtaining his magic staff and finding the ability to collect wishes, he banned the usage of magic with the exception of him and his wife ofc. Under the excuse it’s for Rosas’ greater good and safety. In the castle, Amaya is finally given the freedom to explore the unknown. Something about “I’ll give the whole kingdom to you if you asked for it” and “I promise we’ll both get that world we both deserved.”

Which would be a sweet kind of thing if it were another couple in another innocent context…. :)

Idk, Anny. Might change things up a bit but let me know what you think. Thanks so much for the asks btw!! 💖

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Comfort Items

Part Three: Baggage Synopsis: Twin princes had been cursed centuries ago, forced to become mere items and subjected to whatever their owners wanted them to endure. Cuddles, pressure, or even being tossed out or passed down, until they could overcome their own arrogance and learn what it's like to love and to be loved, in all senses of the word. Ships: Intrulogical/Roceit Taglist: @arodynamic-enby @arizona-tate @asdfghjklicia @hypnossanders @transmanrayner @under-the-blue-moonlight

The older twin prince had the entire world spoon-fed to him, with the utensil being made out of only the finest silver. Everywhere he went he was reminded of his inevitable fate - that of which to be crowned and clothed in gold and jewels, and being handed control over everything and everyone.

So, he decided he could use his status. 

He would dress up and look down on the citizens that he was supposed to be caring for. He would sneak them into the garden and recite poetry while on his knees. One by one he would kiss their knuckles, and one by one he would shatter their hearts. Their pain was exhilarating, and he loved their cries of desperation. They loved him. They needed him. 

Around town, people could hear him beckoning, that love was a hole in their hearts that he could easily fill, promising splendors and fun and a tragic ending. 

And this was a story children were told. And children told their children. And everyone knew it. So it was fabled.

…

He’s alive. He’s alive and not ripped to shreds. He’s alive.

“The purpose of poetry is to convey and evoke certain emotions while keeping a somewhat ambiguous tone throughout. Melancholic but rhythmic.” 

Janus scoffs at the description. “That’s not always true. Some people write poetry in order to express themselves or the hardships they’re dealing with. Not everything has hidden meanings; some things can be written for the sole purpose of being blunt.” 

Logan eyes him. “Is that the kind of poetry you write?”

“What makes you think I write poetry?” 

“You’re defensive,” Logan states. “You also know a lot about the subject, and you’re simply poetic by nature. If you don’t write poetry, I recommend you take it up as a hobby. You’d be good at it.” 

Once more, Janus scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Perhaps I will.” 

He’s alive. He’s alive, and wasn’t handed to some spoiled, jam-covered kid. He’s alive.

Logan adjusts his backpack, turning to the side to avoid touching a group of kids crowded in the hallway. His bag then hits somebody’s arm, and they shoot Logan a scowl. Logan utters an apology, but otherwise keeps walking. 

“Why is your bag bigger than normal?” Janus asks, as they round a corner. He’s looking back at Logan’s bag, which seems stretched past its usual limits (which is already an impressive feat, considering the folders and textbooks he already keeps in there). 

Logan looks embarrassed at the question, but clears his throat as he mumbles “Remus is in there.” 

Janus snickers, adjusting his own bag. “Really, Logan? Bringing toys to school?” Janus teases, and watches as Janus huffs and rolls his eyes. 

Little does Logan know, Roman is snugly packed into Janus’s bag as well, it’s just not as obvious. 

Janus frankly didn’t see the point in bringing every textbook he was given to school; he hardly used them. Why waste the extra space? 

“If anybody sees, you’ll never hear the end of it,” Janus then states, which has Logan sighing. 

“I know, I know,” Logan sighs, as he adjusts the straps of his bag. “I just felt bad about leaving him at home!” Logan bites his lip as they head into the classroom, and is even careful when setting his bag down. “I’ve never owned a stuffed animal before. Even when I was little, my parents preferred building blocks and books over plush toys.” 

“Separation anxiety?” Janus blinks his eyelashes mockingly, and grins when Logan huffs. 

“I don’t have separation anxiety, especially over a stuffed animal. That’s absurd.” Logan clears his throat, before making a waving motion with his hand, sweeping across the hallway. “Now, back to the topic at hand: poetry.”

“Logan, please, I’m not going to get into poetry.”

Logan looks as though he wants to stomp his foot on the ground. “I’m not saying you have to, I’m just saying that you might find some enjoyment out of it, whether that be through writing or reading it.”

“Oh yeah? Then name a poem right now that you think I’d like.” 

Stopping in his tracks, Logan looks at Janus like he’s absurd. “What?”

Janus smiles smugly. “You heard me.”

“You’re putting me on the spot. I can’t just… come up with a poem I think you’d like.” 

Smiling as though he’s won - despite having made no actual argument at all - Janus shrugs and proclaims “there. Poetry is not for me. End of discussion.” 

They move into a classroom, and sit down side by side. Both of them gingerly set their bags onto the floor, but neither of them notice their care echoed in the other. That is, until Logan struggles to press his bag against his desk enough for it not to present as an obstacle to people walking past. Someone’s bound to trip on the bulging backpack, and Logan would rather not have that happen. 

“If you’d just left Remus at home, you wouldn’t be having this issue.”

“I’m just worried my parents will see it and believe it to be… misplaced. Or lost.” Logan presses his fingers together, looking away from Janus’s playfully judgemental eyes as he speaks. “They might try and donate it, and I won’t be home to offer them the explanation that I’d fixed it up and was intending to… keep it. Or something.” 

“Your parents are hardly ever even home.” 

Logan’s lips quirk into a frown, as he stares at his hands, which he folds neatly on his desk. “They come home sometimes.”

Janus leans against his hand, resting his cheek against his knuckles as he adds “and when they are, they usually retreat into their room, and go right to sleep.”

“They work long hours.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “You try performing surgeries or practicing law, and then tell me how often you’re home and awake.” 

“I don’t even have a job and I’m hardly ever even home as is,” Janus retorts. “Your house is much nicer, anyway. Did I tell you I’m pretty sure we have termites?”

If the bear in Janus’s bag could scream, it would. Sure, Janus’s voice was muffled through the thick material of the backpack, but that didn’t mean he was completely unintelligible. And though Janus looked put together and well-groomed, Roman didn’t want to be stuck in a house with a bug infestation! Termites?!

“You did not.” 

Janus huffs, and twirls a chipped faux-gold ring on one of his fingers. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to call a pest control company.” 

“If you need money-”

Janus stares at Logan. Logan abruptly stops talking, and sighs as he turns back to his desk with a muttered “right.” 

There’s silence between them, but not in the classroom, as it slowly starts to fill with students eager to chat, and annoyed to learn. One of them accidentally kicks Janus’s bag on their way to their seat, making Janus quickly scramble to gather it up and glare at the kid. 

“Idiot,” Janus hisses, as he adjusts the zipper on the bag. It’s Janus’s fiddling that admittedly draws Logan’s attention to the item, which has him noticing it looks… fuller than usual. 

“Did you take an extra textbook home with you or something?”

“Hm?” 

Janus glances between Logan and the bag, before a light pink blush quickly spreads over Janus’s cheeks. He quickly says “yes,” before clearing his throat and more calmly adding “I’ve got to get better grades if I’m going to make it anywhere in life,” but his response leaves Logan unimpressed. 

Raising an eyebrow at the display, Logan holds his hand out. Begrudgingly, Janus forks over his bag. 

Logan opens it without asking - which, frankly, Janus expected he’d do - and gasps as he peeks inside and sees Roman’s soft red fur. Lip jutting out in disapproval, Logan looks between it and Janus, before stating “and you had the audacity to criticize me? Hypocrite.” 

“I told you! Termites!” Janus snatches his bag back, and reaches inside to pet over Roman’s head before he quickly zips the bag back up. “I don’t want the bear that… I am holding on to-”

“Nice save.”

“-to be covered in bugs! That’s disgusting.”

Logan adjusts his glasses, smug as ever. “Uh-huh. Will that be your excuse tomorrow, too?”

“It’s better than yours.”

Logan gives an unimpressed smile, before the teacher walks in, and punctually addresses the class. Immediately, Janus slides his phone out and hides it beneath the desk, while Logan leans forward in his seat, clearly invested in whatever their teacher has to say. 

Stuffed in their bags, both bears are thinking completely different things. While Roman is intensely focused on the muffled mention of “termites” he’s heard exchanged between the two men holding onto them, Remus is more shocked that both him and his brother have persisted the test of time. 

Sure, at first he believed this stupid curse would only last a few years and they’d come out of this with minimal harm done and a life lesson or something, but it’s been way more than a few years. So much time that Remus couldn’t even guesstimate how long they’ve been alive. If being confined into an inanimate prison even qualified as being alive - Remus wasn’t really sure it did. 

But, having also experienced his fabric being torn, he was aware that pain was real, and it was intense. So much so he couldn’t even deem it pleasurable, as each tear in his plush body felt like an open wound until it was thankfully stitched shut (and even still, the needle felt giant as it slid in and out of him). 

Surely, if pain was still possible, death was too. 

And Roman wasn’t dead! That’s what fascinated him. He’s alive. He’s alive, Remus thought, the two words looping in his mind as his beady eyes were forced to stare at the thick material surrounding him, feeling the pressure of being squished between books and folders alike. 

Roman could have been ripped up, thrown to a dog, shipped overseas; he could have been an unfortunate byproduct to circumstances outside of his control. And yet, out of sheer luck , he was tucked safely into the bag directly across from him. 

But, well, Roman wouldn’t call that luck. He’d define it as “fate.” 

After he gets over his internal screaming over termites, he begins thinking as a way to block out the annoying droning of their teacher that he can hear even through Janus’s bag. 

It makes him think of being home, all those years ago, drooling over a beautifully carved table as intelligent wizards and so-called doctors would come and speak to him and Remus, attempting to teach them things they very simply just didn’t want to learn. Those men would always get so angry with the two of them. Roman doesn’t miss that one aspect of life one bit. 

But even being forced to listen to the incomprehensible philosophies of men in weird cloaks would beat being unable to do anything at all. No speaking, singing, dancing; no method of creating or sculpting things, which absolutely beat Roman’s heart to a pulp. 

He aches to create. He aches to build. He aches to do anything but sit and wait until this owner passes him along to the next, who gives him to the next, who eventually donates him again. 

Maybe, though, just maybe - and Roman truly does put emphasis on that word, as it’s a struggle for him to get his hopes up after centuries of disappointment - the fact that he and Remus were brought together once more was some sort of sign. Some blessing from the stars above that perhaps their freedom was just around the corner. Just a couple of days, maybe a week even, away. An arm’s length. 

Fate. Much better than luck.  

***

A slur is shouted in Logan’s general direction, and Logan was truly starting to wish his parents didn’t need both of the cars they owned. He had a license, but with no vehicle to drive, it was admittedly useless. 

But the group of kids stalking behind them saw Janus and Logan walking the sidewalk together as an invitation to be imbeciles, it seemed. 

“You think they’d grow out of this,” Logan mutters, as he ignores a snide comment regarding his body type. He’d heard all of their insults before, and while they might affect someone else, Logan genuinely could care less about what his classmates had to say. He’d seen their test scores, and thus would take any statement made by them with a metaphorical grain of salt. “Or at least get some new material.” 

“I mean, throwing you in the dumpster was new.” 

Logan glances at Janus, as a smile slowly spreads onto his lips. “And impressive. You wouldn’t think kids that scrawny would be capable of lifting an air mattress, let alone a whole person.”

A sudden thud alerts Logan to the fact a rock has hit his bag, which has his lips falling immediately into a more annoyed frown. Janus looks at the rocks on the side of the road. 

“I could always toss one back.” 

Logan shakes his head. “They’re not worth it; you’ll just encourage their behavior. They’re being childish.” 

Another rock is tossed at them, hitting Janus’s bag this time. 

“Yeah, well, they’re pissing me off.” 

Janus moves to turn around, perhaps shout at them or something, but Logan grabs his upper arm and holds him steady. Firmly, Logan responds with “no, Janus. Stop it. Unless you want them to follow us around the entirety of senior year, it’s best to just ignore it. They’ll get bored of us eventually.” 

Truly, it was mystifying how some other kids their age - almost legal adults - could still be so immature. Logan believed that bullying should have died out four years ago, back in junior high, but clearly some people just had nothing better to do. 

How Janus and Logan became targets of that bullying was a mystery in itself. Both of them generally kept to themselves; Janus didn’t like people (for reasons that seemed very obvious as he and Logan are followed down the street), and Logan typically preferred people he could have intelligent conversations with (which eliminated a majority of the people they went to school with). 

The two of them pass two large houses, and nudge each other in the direction of their backyards. They slip between the houses, and hop one of their fences, cutting through their yards in order to skip a block over, to Logan’s street. 

There’s no car in Logan’s driveway when they reach it, but neither of the two boys expected there to be. 

The house is silent as they make their way up the stairs and into Logan’s bedroom, but the serenity is quickly cut off by Janus groaning as he falls face first onto Logan’s bed. 

“I hate people.” 

Logan lets out a closed mouth laugh, though it’s less amused and more deflated, as he sets his bag against the side of his bed and crouches down to pull Remus out. “You’re being dramatic. Certainly there’s some people you like. Like me.” 

“You’re pushing your luck,” Janus responds, rolling onto his side to watch Logan set Remus against his pillow. Janus stares at the bear as Logan zips his bag back up, and then moves it to the side of his desk instead. Janus pokes Remus’s stomach right as Logan turns around, which has Logan setting his arm between Janus and the stuffed animal. 

“Hey! Don’t jab him.” 

Janus snorts, before he fetches Roman too. He sits up in order to set Roman on his lap, making the bears face each other. Logan slides behind Remus, and sits him up too, wrapping his arms around Remus and squeezing tightly. Remus feels pressure build up in his body, but strangely it doesn’t feel bad. He still mentally sticks his tongue out at the affection though, wishing this creep his age (or, what would be his age if he hadn’t existed as a plush toy for a couple hundred years) would get a hobby aside from fetching stuffed animals from a dumpster. 

“We look like we’re set up for a tea party,” Janus quips, as he holds Roman loosely in his arms. Despite Janus’s supposed indifference towards the bear, it looks to be in good condition. The bright white prince suit the bear is in seems to be even more pristine than it was when Janus had first found the bear. Perhaps he washed it? 

And once more, Remus and Roman are facing each other. Directly across from one another, and unable to say a word. 

Luck. 

Fate.

[ghostoffuturespast]

Your Guide To The Archives...

Howdy, you can call me Ghost (she/her) and welcome to my digital haunting grounds. 

This blog’s been a lot of things over the years, but, as of right now, it’s primarily my repository for whatever catches my fancy and Cyberpunk 2077. I refuse to make a sideblog, so if you’re not up for all my shenanigans, know that I’m not keeping you here. I’ve gotten pickier about who I’m following these days and don't always do follow for follow. Nothing personal, I just already have a hard enough time keeping up with people on my dash, but I know my regulars. I see you!

You don’t have to be a mutual or even a follower to interact with me though, I’m down for tag games and my inbox and messages are always open. (You can’t ask anonymously because I do require a return to sender address.) Almost all of my posts and reblogs are scheduled or queued. I may or may not be online but if you leave a message after the beep, I’ll get back to you eventually.

I like to keep it organized around here and prefer to tag my posts (weird notes included) for archival purposes and batch queue stuff, so expect a delayed reaction on almost all of my reblogs. If something’s not tagged it was probably an accident. I’m not great with buttons.

Tags

#little ghost on the prairie - Me out and about. Could be anything really but most likely it’s probably me standing in the middle of a field taking blurry pictures of plants or bugs.

#friday field notes - I work as a naturalist for my day job and this is a series of really informal posts about what’s happening out on said prairie. Lots of plants. I love plants. Will also crash the car to watch birds.

#haunted - The eerie, the beautiful, the surreal. The things that stay with you.

#night city streets - VP related to Night City. Could be mine, could be someone else’s.

#from the top - My Cyberpunk 2077 VP collection. Lots of environmental shots, story photosets, and whatever else happens to catch my eye. All taken unmodded on PS5.

#oc: valerie hye jin li - My Cyberpunk 2077 OC, corporate grunt-cog turned merc badass, aka the Notorious Stinky Grandpa V. Alternate tags are #my grandpa v and #stinky not fresh. (She’s got the personality of a grumpy old man, what can I say?)

Writing

So It Goes - My completed CP2077 V/River Ward long fic. If you like part ones of epic length duologies, gritty slow burn neo-noir, vivid writing that waffles between prosaic and poetic, kickass action sequences, convoluted corporate conspiracies, copious amounts of angst, mind-numbingly large portions of smut, poetry references, and dumb jokes with punchlines pages down the road… Boy, have I got a referral for you. Tagged under - #fic: so it goes

Horror - Unrelated one-shot horror stories set in the world of CP2077. Most of these feature original characters and plots but take their inspiration from the game world.

Fluff - The Garden - Shimmer & Shine - For something completely different

WIPS - Coming soon to a theater near you…

🧡 Happy Hauntings,

[flameswallower]

recs?

Hi, guys! I am thirty four years old, and pretty much the only philosophy/ theory I’ve ever read is stuff I was assigned in college (I was studying English and visual art)— mostly excerpts from longer texts I don’t remember well anymore.

I do like to read, both fiction (short stories and novels, some poetry-- shh on the question “is poetry fiction,” I’m trying to make this brief) and nonfiction (usually middlebrow “popular” nonfiction, or at least nonfiction that deals with more concrete subject matter— eg a work about the conditions in modern American prisons, who gets sent to prison, and what prisoners think about their situation rather than, like, Foucault on prisons or whatever). However, I am a slow reader, particularly with material that requires a lot of thought or parsing, particularly particularly if it’s also the case that I find the material somewhat boring or impenetrable in places. I have been about thirty pages into Hegel’s preface to the Phenomenology of Spirit for like a year now!

I would like recommendations of key texts, or even chapters/excerpts from key texts, in philosophy, leftist (anarchist or socialist) political thought, academic theory, etc. that meet some (say, at least two) of the following criteria:

Easy to pick up and put down and come back to without losing track of too much

Short

Written in a relatively simple, straightforward, and/or concrete style (vocabulary is not an issue if the meanings of all novel terms and unconventionally used terms are clearly explained in the text or very easy to guess from context— but long sentences with convoluted syntax are often an impediment for me)

“Flashy,” ie exceptionally humorous, on-its-face interesting to someone without a pre-existing love of theory, exciting, beautiful, poetic, written in a way that might “grab” a person with severe ADHD and draw them in and keep their attention without a moment-to-moment struggle

I’m looking for things that are crucial reading in and of themselves, things that an unsophisticated person could use as a step towards understanding more complicated "crucial" works, and things that might be interesting to me specifically and personally (like, if you're reading this and you know me). It’s okay if you recommend something I’ve actually already read (VERY unlikely), I’m just looking for ideas here.

Please do not recommend that I read any TERFs or crypto-TERFs. At this point, right now, I don't want to do that even "so I can understand the history of second-wave feminist thought"/"so I can understand how my opponents think"/etc.

[arlechinav-blog]

Mediterranean Trancework Part III: Prophecy

Prophecy is a bit hard to categorize in English. It can basically be distilled into the concept of truths humans shouldn't be able to pull out of thin air without divine assistance. And it can be hard to separate prophecy from divine madness without understanding the different ways that these things manifest. Probably the most important aspect of it comes in the form of Proof of State.

Proof of State is established in a lot of different ways in trancework but it is always present where gods and spirits are concerned. This helps to weed out charlatans because proof of state is hard to fake. If you can do it then you can do it, if you can't then you can't. End of story.

Spoken Prophecy is a skill and proof of state is established by being able to perform that skill. There is a reason why prophecy is given in verse in theatrical representations of it. It is because traditional Mediterranean forms of prophecy (not divination, there is a difference in mediums there) involves spontaneously composing accurate prophetic verses--often in song or some kind of rhyme. There are expected poetic formats for it as well. These link the number of lines, syllables, and meter to symbolic numbers related to whatever they are doing.

For instance, those who speak for the dead traditionally compose their utterances in 6 lines with each line possessing 9 syllables. Always in divisions of 3 because death dances and death traditions in general play off of the number 3 quite a bit and all of those things go together. These songs are usually improvised on the spot at funerals where these practices are still observed. These songs form the background of funerary dances so they have to fit the pattern to go with the steps that everyone knows.

A good living example of this tradition exists in the Corsican voceru (singular) or voceri (plural). A voceritrice will speak from the perspective of the deceased to call out the living who wronged them in life. They speak on injustice endured by the deceased as well as express feelings of longing and desires for what they have left behind. These poetic expressions are often then carved as epitaphs on the deceased's gravestone. Giving everyone a unique voice in death and giving the living a chance to atone for their misdeeds before facing the cursed consequences of a pissed off ghost. (Perhaps not exactly a haunting--unless they were murdered--but more of a curse that befalls the living when they do something bad to someone and that person then dies.)

Prophecy has very strong celestial associations. Gods and spirits associated with the stars, with birds, and with pretty much anything that floats in the sky will usually have something to do with prophecy in some context. I think the folkloric idea behind that is that the sky itself sees everything and therefore knows everything but I am sure there are multiple layers to it. Certain cults focus on it more than others. For example, the cult of the Mountain Mother involves some aspects of prophecy. It is an ability given to the Deity Brides of the Mountain Mother--who compels all kinds of spirits. It is also associated with the sun, poetry, music, and gods like Astraios in particular. It can sometimes be applied to the Muses as well because they compel certain individuals to speak divine truth--which is in the same family of concepts. Birds and snakes are both envoys of prophecy in that they embody spirits and pass freely between the spiritworld and the mortal world.

Not all snakes though. Snakes are kind of a wildcard in iconography. Their exact meaning depends on the other context clues that surround them. So, snakes shown in the context of Dionysian ritual are not implying prophecy--just the presence of spirits. And if you have been reading along on some of my other posts you may also be aware that spirits heckin lie all the time. So, you may very well receive messages from spirits but unless those messages are true and they pass from your lips in appropriate verse, that's largely regarded (folklorically) as spirit gibberish/ divine madness.

And before we go any further on prophecy, let us take a moment to talk about spirit gibberish. Glossolalia is the language of spirits. I believe the classical Hellenic concept for this can be translated as "belly talk." It is usually described as being done in a demonic voice--basically using your 2nd set of vocal cords--which hurts like hell if you aren't used to doing it. It sounds like gibberish, it is gibberish. You may be able to understand it in the moment but nobody else will and that is the big difference between these things.

Prophecy is true, comprehensive even if cryptic, and rare. Spirits babble pretty much constantly so divine madness and spirit gibberish are neither rare nor really something to act on. It is there as part of the expected landscape. It happens in trancework quite a lot, especially in spirit possession traditions. But even the highest ranking spirits that possess mortal bodies are full of carp. It is always best to ignore it.

(Bet you thought that was a spelling error. lol)

Divine madness may not come to you in a demonic voice. You may just feel an idea or phrase pop unbidden into your mind that sounds kind of wise. Go ahead and tell somebody about it or write it down and read it later and it will sound neat but will ultimately be completely useless. Divine madness is like a windfall apple. You didn't ask for it. You have no way of knowing where it came from. And if you put it in your mouth there is a good chance you will find it rotten. It is fun, sacred in its own way, but it is not prophetic and should not be treated as anything special.

We are all just human and all divine stuff can seem wise and actionable but only prophecy is true. Proof of state keeps these concepts separate where we can enjoy each of them for what they are. the other thing that helps to compartmentalize these concepts is the ritual itself. Prophecy, like other forms of deeper Mediterranean trancework, is initiated by a combination of legomena (sacred words) and deiknumena (sacred items) to get to the desired dromena (responses/behaviors).

To have some control over where your divine inspiration is coming from, and making sure you get a good source for it, you make an opening prayer to a trusted deity or spirit associated with the type of prophecy that you are seeking. Asking that deity or spirit to guide you by forming the words in your mouth and asking that those words be true. You will also burn fragrant things associated with that deity or situation. This establishes a proper divine link and gets you into a receptive state. Covering the eyes and removing excess stimuli can help a lot, veiling is pretty essential to maintaining the receptive state. Others might close their eyes. This is part of why the archetype of the blind bard is so entrenched in Aegean and wider Mediterranean prophetic folklore. It is because the eyes are a distraction and being without them implies a naturally more prophetic state.

The entranced will then hum or drone, sometimes while rocking in a seated position, and wait for the inspiration to come. If and when it does, it will be improvised completely on the spot. Some prophecies are short and sweet. If we add the divine composition of epics into this then they can just go on and on for hours. Droning and polyphonic chant are associated with states of divine inspiration, partially because they can be sensory blockers. Like closing or covering the eyes, the echoing sound of a drone (such as you might get while singing in a cave) reverberating back at you can help block out other sounds and make it easier to receive divine inspiration. Basically you are engaging in ritualized sensory deprivation.

So the opening prayer constitutes the initiatory legomena, the incense, veiling, humming, and rocking motions initiate the deiknumena, and the prophecy spontaneously composed in verse is the expected dromena--which also provides the proof of state if the utterances are true.

This can happen to anyone but it most frequently is associated with women (including Trans) and non-binary persons. Gender does have traditional spiritual authority here but folklore gets a vote, not a veto. The gods and spirits choose who can do it and when. Sometimes an affinity for doing it repeatedly can arise in a person. That can be taken as a sign of favor from a deity and may lead to a relationship as a Deity Bride.

Which brings us to the last post in this series. Read more in Part IV: Deity Bridalwork

[resonancewitness]

in regard to “Bystander” and “Everything is Lovely” (post 1, my backstory) 

i need to put a disclaimer here: first of all, unfortunately, i am in no way near as profound, subtle and educated a commentator as @potteresque-ire, so my thoughts on the topic of some examples of modern chinese lyrical poetry will be shallow, blunt and naïve

but writing is what i use to make sense from experience, so here i go, bravely and imperfectly

the backstory of encountering “Bystander” and “Everything is Lovely” for me is that some weeks before that I had finished watching The Untamed for the first time, read the books, and then watched some episodes again to appreciate the work of the scriptwriters and lin hai laoshi more. 

what stood out for me was, first, how the theme of “confessions unfulfilled” in the movie is represented by the use of Wuji theme in every place where the characters felt love — and would have had a chance to say something to each other, but didn’t

second, the creative way of making some music magical (here we learn something good and useful from jin guangyao, worthy of his title): you put your cultivation energy in whatever passages you want to have impact, and don’t put it in the other ones that serve as camouflage 

in my sociopolitical environment at the same time very strong restrictions were put on open support for queer people, and I have been thinking about silencing, stealing the voice, and other forms of oppression, and about the ways people always “fly” from being “trapped”, if we reference Gilles Deleuze here. I was thinking about the songs as such "lines of flight"

i did not know about the story of gg and dd at the time, so I had a “thematic conflict story development bunny” (…bite me in the ass…:)): what if irl their direct digital communication would be very much monitored, even privately, not to mention their public conversations? would they pull the “musical theme” card here? amongst other things?

i was somewhat off the mark there, i guess, but not off the mark where “public conversations” are concerned. 

I did not know about the turtles then and the assumed communication between them two and the community, via the language of candies

so my first premise was “publicly, they may use the songs that they have a say in choosing, to communicate with each other, leaving gifts-that-keep-on-giving”. 

“what permanent message do I want to leave in your playlist at this time?” 

my second premise was “when they put heart, in a very special way, in what they sing, the singing sounds different than when they don’t do it to the same extent”.

I started with “Like the Sunshine”, which spoke to me in a very soothing way, as I know the experience of being in a long-distance relationship for years

then I found “Walking through the Coffee Shop/ The Only One I Love Is You” and “Made to Love”

then the “Bystander” and “Everything is Lovely” were released, and I could see the recurrent metaphors and images

I asked myself: “if it was poetic dialogue, what would be the questions these songs serve as answers to?” and went back into retracing the songline back in time, all the way to “Satisfied” (I am sure I have missed a lot of songs, though, so this project of re-creating a songline of these years is ongoing)

...the benefits of entering the fandom so late with the beginner's mind: there are already so many dots waiting to be connected :)

this is totally a fanfiction, clownery and brain rot :) as you know such things always are

(to be continued) 

[laundrybiscuits]

(Hanahaki AU tag)

Steve’s careful around him now, in a way that Eddie can’t stand and also can’t get enough of. Every time Eddie starts coughing again, Steve’ll pull over and hurry around to help Eddie out of the van, running a big hand up and down Eddie’s spine.

“I’m not a fucking invalid,” Eddie always says, no real heat to it.

“Yeah, I know. Just thought it’d be a good chance to stretch my legs,” Steve says with a fucking insufferable smug look on his face, like checkmate, asshole. Eddie lets him have it, because what else is Eddie going to do?

They swing through Vegas, which they both hate. Eddie also secretly kind of likes it at the same time, though. There’s something about the oily glitz and the way the city seems to be endlessly, blatantly craving more and more: money, fame, sex, glamour, anything at all to take you away from your life. Some guy even offers to sell them an 8-ball of coke, which makes Steve’s face do something hilarious.

“Sorry, pal,” laughs Eddie. “Think we’re a little too provincial for that kind of product. Better luck next time.” He tugs Steve away before the guy can start trying to wheedle them into taking a sample, because he’s sure as hell not going to be responsible for Steve Harrington ODing in an back alley.

“Did you…want to try the, uh, the coke?” asks Steve that night, as Eddie comes out of the bathroom, scrubbing a towel over his hair. Motels are actually pretty cheap here, so they’re in a half-decent room for once, and Eddie’s been basking in the water pressure for the last half-hour.

“Do I seem like the kind of person who’d buy hard drugs from some random guy on the street?” Eddie’s not offended; he’s actually sort of curious. He knows Steve’s no choir boy, but he also knows Steve’s about as small-town as they come. He wants to know what Steve thinks about who Eddie is and what Eddie might do.

“No, dude, c’mon, I just mean. You’re doing the bucket-list thing, right? If there’s stuff you want to try or whatever, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll, you know, I’ll help. If I can.”

Eddie immediately thinks about Steve on his knees, helping, and rolls his eyes at how fucking predictable his brain is. Takes that thought and locks it in his deepest vaults, melts down the key.

“You’re already helping,” is all he says. “It’s been—nice. Having company. Wasn’t expecting it on this little sojourn. I kinda always figured I’d die alone, you know? Even before this bloom shit, it felt like my kind of fate. Something nice and poetic, a lone wanderer disappearing into the murky beyond.”

“Sorry to mess up your poetry,” laughs Steve, who has probably never read any ancient stories about fate. Eddie thinks the black-eyed susans in him must also be sunflowers, the way he feels every famished part of himself turning to soak up as much of that bright smile as possible.

Eddie chucks the damp towel at Steve’s head and flops down on his own bed, a respectable distance away. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, Harrington; just don’t let it happen again.”

[emabatis]

Hello, all!

I'm EM Abatis, and I make words. This is my designated professional account, for my very serious not-at-all silly poetry and original fiction. (Maybe a couple reviews, too, if I'm so inclined.) I'll also reblog things that inspire me, whether it be poetry, visual art, music, or thousand-word infodumps about the bronzed cowbird. I'll tag my stuff with "my poetry" or "my fiction" and other people's stuff with "look! art!!!"

My work sometimes dips into dark or adult subject matter, but I've never written something that couldn't feasibly be read to a high school class. That being said, I'll tag possible triggers, even if the poem is vague and obscure about it, as it usually is.

I tend to write short, experimental things. Poetic inspirations include Gertrude Stein (especially Tender Buttons), Douglas Kearney (especially Patter), William Blake, Emily Dickinson, and many others I can't think of at the moment.

Real reactions to my work include "I have no idea what just happened, but I loved it," and "That was so funny - was that supposed to be funny?" and "You're like the reincarnation of Edgar Allen Poe, except as an alien." If that sounds like your jam, stick around! If you have questions about my process, or anything else really, please feel free to ask! 🦇

My instagram is em_abatis though I don't post there often and don't really know how the site works. I'm much more comfy on Tumblr.

My current big fiction project is a middle grade/children's/whatever chapter book about existentialist philosophy, the limitations of language, and grief, which I'm tentatively titling "Ruth, Windows, Wishes", but I'll tag anything about it with "the icy wip" Intro Here

I'm also working on a short story collection about monsters in everyday settings (Masterpost Here), something I've been calling "skeleton collect-a-thon," and a "Strawberry Shortcake-meets-DnD" fantasy novel.

[onyourowndaisymae]

Your writing style is just unmatched. What inspires your style??

i've been toying around with answering this since i saw it bc i want to make sure i answer it right-- so first of all, thank you for the compliment! this blog has been the main factor in me taking pride in my writing and it's in part due to lovely people like you who compliment me in such lovely ways ♡

as for my writing style, here is some of my best advice/information about my personal journey for anyone curious:

first of all: i have been writing for nearly a decade. some things take practice. you don't need a lot of experience to be a good writer, but doing it for awhile helps you get some perspective on what you like and what seems awkward to you. you don't have to write good, quality prose either. i started out writing soul eater and creepypasta fanfic and now here i am, on a throne made of fictional demons with attachment issues ;)

read!! all sorts of genres too!! and i'm not just talking books-- video games, poetry, comics, whatever has words and tells a story. each genre has its own conventions and flow. reading helps you identify what you like and what feels awkward. it also helps you pick up vocab naturally that can be integrated into your writing.

prose is often disregarded as something that's not poetic or pretty, but i strongly disagree. write poetically. write with varying sentence length, with commas, with all sorts of gramtically (in)correct run-ons and metaphors and whatever it takes to paint the picture you want. writing is music, too.

more practically: avoid using the same words and descriptions too often. find new ways to describe the mundane. and then describe it as mundane sometimes, too. fingertips can ghost delicately over the soft expanse of someone's silky skin the same way they can brush against someone's arm. life is poetic and boring all at once. but don't overcorrect, either.

i like to focus a lot on physical gestures, especially in romatic scenes. people are constantly moving and twitching-- noticing that adds a level of care that makes you seem like you know what you're doing, even when you don't.

on that note: PLEASE try out your dialouge and the gestures you write first. sometimes you write something, read it aloud, and think "no one would ever say that shit ever" and that's okay!! you have time to change it around. doing the gestures can help you make sure you're not having someone move in ways that don't make sense/are unintentionally awkward

proofread your work. i don't personally do this but i hear it's a good habit to get into lol

i think this is all the advice i have for tonight. let me know if you all are curious about any other parts of the process, from inspiration to logistics. i promise i don't bite strangers in my inbox ;)