#fib poem

[nightshadereaper66]

Fibonacci Poems

These are Fibonacci poems, also called Fib poems. The number of syllables in each line follows the Fibonacci Sequence. (1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,etc)

Yeet Yeet! Now Off you Go, on a Journey out the Window. Defenestrate someone You hate today! Legal only now, during the Purge.

I Wish I Liked Math I Wish That I  Liked math more. It is frustrating When I make small mistakes out of Distraction. So many of my special interests  Are in math-filled fields, so I watch them from outside and wish I could be a part of them.

[rebouks]

in the space that's in between of what's real and what's a dream i fear not those things unseen but swim upstream from what has been the future lies ahead agleam distracting minds from what they've seen and though the slate is left unclean it's not too late yet to redeem those caught forever in between

[matildazq]

Write the Year 2023—Week 39: Three Little Fibs

Exactly what it sounds like: Three Fibs inspired by things I’ve seen this week. Title: Three Little FibsWC: 45 Title: Just BreatheIsawthem onthe trash can—silver fairy wings—and wondered whose light had winked out Title: RemainderedThenotefor Paulfrom Sophiestuck to the coverspine uncracked. Old issues: Free. Take! Title: SandboxThedoll,its legstill nearby,contemplated sandand children’s…

[baptismbaby]

♡ HEARTBEAT

toxic! ellie x toxic! reader (modern) warnings: degrading, breathplay, hitting, bruising, strap usage (r!receiving), player!ellie, petnames based on heartbeat by childish gambino wc: 2.9k<3

You and Ellie had the worst breakup in Jackson. You two were dating for years and were constantly arguing, taking breaks and making up again. The cycle frustrated everyone who hung around you two. You would tell your friends you were single “for real this time,” while Ellie kept her distance waiting for you to knock at her door. Usually you would but if you didn’t, Ellie would sneak into your house and you’d walk in your room to find her sitting on your bed. She’d promise she wouldn’t hurt you again, wouldn’t cheat on you again, and you’d fall into her arms with tears and forgive her. Things would be fine for a week until she’d fuck up again. 

At some point, you decided you really wanted to move on. You had gone to her place and told her to never talk to you again. She thought you were fibbing and showed up to your house while you were sleeping, waking you up to say sorry. When you threatened to shoot her in the leg if she wouldn’t leave, she stormed out and broke the picture frame you had of the two of you on the ground. You blocked her on everything and avoided the places you knew she’d go.

That was a year ago. Of course, you’d spot her somewhere but you would quickly leave to make sure she didn’t see you. What you didn’t know was that she would. She even made new social media accounts to keep up with what you posted. Four months ago, you got into a relationship with a girl named Eliana. Ellie thought it was hilarious, you dating a girl with a similar name as her. You’d post about how sweet she was and Ellie would get angry. She had half a mind to send Eliana a video of her fucking you from behind and claiming it was recent just so you’d come by, yell at her but hopefully give in to her convincing you to be with her.

Ellie would hook up with a new girl almost every night but hated it. They just weren’t you. At some point, she’d let a girl named Sofie come by whenever she wanted. She looked similar to you so it was easy for Ellie to pretend it was you. Although there were similarities, she didn’t even compare to you. She was awful. She didn’t get as wet as you would, which Ellie missed. She was also extremely vanilla. It didn’t bother Ellie that much but it bored her. She gave Sofie a key to come by whenever she wanted to get fucked but Ellie always had to reach out first. It wasn’t often but enough for Sofie to assume they were dating. Ask Ellie and she would say otherwise.

About two months in your relationship with Eliana, you had sex with her for the first time and was disappointed. She wasn’t good at it. You were trying to be patient with her, telling her how to touch you and how to use  a strap but she just wasn’t catching on. She started to get more pissy with you and grew distant. You couldn’t stop thinking about Ellie. You missed her terribly. You’d take the arguments with Ellie over Eliana anyday, at least it would end in hot, angry, makeup sex. You refused to let Eliana touch you. She was getting annoying, always bitching in your ear about shit so miniscule that you couldn’t help but to laugh at her every time she tried to belittle you. You wanted to reach out to Ellie but didn’t know how. You unblocked her on everything instead and hoped you’d receive a text from her.

A month later, you were no longer posting about Eliana and Ellie had taken back the key from Sofie. Ellie noticed your lack of posts. Eliana would post stupid heartbreak poems and dumb shit like “if she wanted to, she would.” Ellie decided to try texting you. It was stupid, she believed you definitely still had her blocked. She sent you a simple “hey,” expecting it to go green. It was blue and said delivered which made Ellie immediately chuck her phone away from her. You responded a couple minutes later, “I was waiting for you to message me.”

You started texting Ellie behind Eliana’s back, talking about how Eliana was tedious and mean. Ellie would sympathize with you, telling you all the right things that made your love for her grow. A couple weeks ago, you got into a fight with Eliana. She brought up a touchy subject with you, something you felt comfortable enough to share that only Ellie knew besides her. You made her leave and called Ellie, crying. She came over to comfort you until it led into a makeout session, then she fucked you for hours. She wanted to overstimulate you to make up for lost time, she wanted to break you, she wanted to make sure you’d come crawling back to her. She would also get real gentle and sweet with you, to remind you how much she loved you without having to say it. But something about you feeling unsure about leaving Eliana for her woke something up in her. The idea of coming around when Eliana wasn’t there to get a taste of you boosted her ego. It was sneaky and gave the both of you an adrenaline rush, the idea of being caught turned the both of you on. 

So you two kept seeing each other. When Eliana would leave, you’d call Ellie and ask her to come over. Or you would leave Eliana’s place and go straight to Ellie’s. Tonight was another night of arguing between you and Eliana. You couldn’t wait for her to leave so you could call Ellie and complain about everything she said. You knew Ellie would come over in a heartbeat.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” you spat out. Eliana groaned and reached down to grab her bag. “Yeah, that’s right. Run away from me. That's all you know. Run from all your problems and refuse to take responsibility!”

“Fuck you!” she screamed. “How about you go crawl back to that stupid bitch Ellie. I can’t put up with this bullshit anymore. She can deal with you now.”

“You know what? I just might. At least she knows how to fuck me and make me cum!” you hollered.

Eliana left, slamming the door hard. You scoffed and headed into your room, grabbing your phone off the dresser. You dialed Ellie’s number and held it up to your ear. After a ring and a half, she answered.

“Need me to come over?” she asked. You could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m so fucking done!” you griped. “I’m over it, Ellie! Over it!”

“Wait, with me?”

“No, with Eliana. She just left,” you said. 

“I’m coming,” Ellie hung up before you could respond.

Ellie shoved her phone in her pocket and looked over at Sofie, who stared down at her twiddling thumbs. “I gotta go, my friend needs me. You should probably go so I can get ready.”

Sofie looked up at her with watering eyes. 

“Sorry, she comes first. She’s been through a lot and-”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Sofie interrupted. 

Ellie stayed silent, scratching her head and scrunching her nose.

Sofie got up from the couch and turned towards Ellie, placing her hands on her hips. “I should’ve known. You’ll never be over her.”

“Okay, Sofie. I don’t see why you’re bothered about it.”

“Cause we’re dating?”

Ellie chuckled which made Sofie angry. “We are not dating. I fucked you a couple times and that’s it.”

“But you gave me a key to your place?”

“Yeah, to come by whenever you wanted to fuck. I took it back because I don’t want to fuck you anymore. You never used it, anyway,” said Ellie. She was getting frustrated. She wanted to get ready and get to you as soon as possible. “I only let you come by because you said you wanted to talk.”

“Yeah, about us!” Sofie snapped.

“There is no us. There never was. I was clear from the beginning that this was short-term. You were someone to have fun with for a bit. It was alright but it’s done.”

Sofie stormed out, yelling something about how Ellie was a horrible person who used her. Ellie shrugged it off and sent you a quick text. “Getting dressed. I’ll be there soon, sweetheart.”

-

Ellie arrived at your place fifteen minutes later. Instead of knocking, she walked through the door and right into your room. You were already half naked in your bed, wearing a see through tank top and a thong. Ellie smirked, kicking her shoes off and removing her jeans and hoodie. Ellie already had her strap on over her boxers. Your cunt ached, desperate for Ellie’s touch.

“Needy little girl,” she teased, crawling over your trembling body. “I haven’t laid a hand on you yet and you’re already shaking.”

“You don’t know how badly I need this, Ellie.”

“What, your little bitch can’t fuck you good?” she asked in a condescending tone.

“No, Ellie. No one can,” you breathed.

Ellie brushed her fingers down your body, eliciting a moan from your lips. “My little angel, I love that you miss me when I’m gone.”

Her hands reached your panties. You thought she was gonna push them aside but instead she gripped them and tore it off, throwing the ripped fabric off to the side. You groaned, feeling your pussy throb even more. You loved when Ellie was like this. You’ve had to throw away so many panties and tights because of her. You didn’t mind though, she always got you more.

Ellie pressed the tip to your entrance. “Beg for it,” she demanded.

“Please put it in, Ellie!”

“More.”

“I want you inside me! Please,” you whined, bucking your hips forward to try to sink yourself onto her strap. She shoved your waist down and slapped you across the face, watching in awe as you yelped and held your cheek to dull the pain. 

“Don’t fucking pull that again, little whore. I decide if you deserve my cock or not. Are you too stupid to get that? Huh?”

“Y-Yes, Ellie. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl. C’mon, keep begging me to fuck you,” she growled.

“I need your cock inside me, please! I want you to fucking ruin me.”

“Yeah, you wanna be my braindead little slut don’t you?” she taunted. “You don’t wanna think about anything but my cock stretching your tight cunt.”

You sighed, struggling to keep still as her hands went all over you. She shoved your shirt above your tits and grabbed them. 

“Fuck me Ellie, please! I can’t take it, I need to feel you. Please,” you cried.

Ellie smirked and put her cock back to your hole, slamming it inside of you. You screamed out, gripping the sheets underneath you. Ellie wrapped her hand around your throat and squeezed tightly as she thrusted into you hard and fast. It was hard to keep your eyes open to watch Ellie. All you could manage to do was squeal in pleasure. You started to get dizzy from the lack of oxygen in your brain. Ellie noticed and took her hand away, caressing your cheek then slapping it.

“You like that, huh? Yeah?”

You couldn’t speak, unable to focus on anything besides the feeling of Ellie’s cock fucking you deeper. 

“Aww, poor pup can’t talk,” she mocked.

She placed her thumb in your mouth and you opened it to suck it. Ellie moaned as you gently bit her. She pulled away and leaned towards you, her breath fanning over your face as she felt herself getting closer from the friction. “You’re mine, all mine,” she whispered. “You belong to me. You’re my pet, my fucktoy to play with. No one fucks you as good as me. Say it!”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered. You could feel your pussy tighten around Ellie’s strap. “I-I belong to you. I’m your… I’m your pet, your f-fucktoy to play with. You can u-use me anytime, anyw-where you want. Oh, fuck, I’m about to cum. P-Please can I cum, Ellie?”

Ellie nodded, giving you the permission to let your orgasm take over you. As your body shook, you absentmindedly cried out that you loved her. Ellie felt a warmth go over her entire body in adoration. 

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed, fucking you through your orgasm. She was close too, all it took was you calling out her name once again and she finished. Ellie collapsed next to you, the both of you breathing heavily and giggling.

“God, I love fucking you,” spoke Ellie.

“I love when you fuck me.”

Ellie glanced over at you, admiring your glazed eyes and red puffy lips. She noticed your cheek was starting to form a bruise. “Shit, I didn’t mean to hit so hard.”

“It’s okay,” you replied. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s gonna be a nasty bruise.”

“It’s from you. It’s okay.”

Ellie relaxed at your assurance and let out a sigh. “Seriously, I wanna know what you ever saw in Eliana. She sounds like such a bitch. I mean, bringing up… y’know? I’d never do that to you. I know I’m not the best but I couldn’t say that to you. I think I’d die if I did that.”

“I saw nothing in her,” you said honestly. “I mean, she was cool at first, I guess. She really was kind. Boring but that’s just because we had nothing in common. I wanted to move on from you. She was a rebound, that’s it.”

“Then why deal with her when you could’ve been with me this entire time?” asked Ellie.

You grinned. “It’s fun, isn’t it? Sneaking around, texting each other behind her back. I hate cheaters but… really, she deserved it. She is not a good person.”

Ellie’s heart stung at the mention of cheaters, suddenly remembering the drunken nights when she’d make out with a random girl at a party or let one grind on her thigh while dancing to make you jealous. She reached over and grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

“I know I always apologize then do the same shit over again. But I swear to you, baby, I’ll never do it again. None of it. Without you, my life was a living hell. I would hook up with different girls but it meant nothing to me. They weren’t you. I only want to be with you. When I lost you… I knew I had really fucked up. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance. Or, well, you’ve given me lots of those but a real one.”

Something told you that Ellie was being genuine. Before, you knew she was lying just to get you to stay but didn’t mind it. You couldn’t live without her. You tried and you were an empty shell. You shouldn’t have gotten into another relationship. You should’ve gone back to Ellie months ago. 

“I believe you, Ellie,” you finally vocalized. “I need you, really.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Ellie played with your fingers. “You know what’s funny?” you said.

“What?”

“Before I called you, Eliana told me she didn’t want to deal with me anymore and to crawl back to you.”

Ellie opened her mouth to say something but your phone rang. You picked it up to see Eliana’s name across the screen. You groaned, flipping it over to show Ellie. She laughed and grabbed it. “Let me answer!”

“No!” you tried to snatch it away but Ellie held it above you.

“Come on, it’ll be funny,” Ellie begged. “I’ll put it on speaker so you can hear.”

Before you could decline, Ellie answered. You tried to slap her arm but she grabbed your wrist and gave you a look before smiling. “What do you want?” she questioned. 

“Wait, who is this?” Eliana asked.

“It’s me, Ellie.”

“What?”

“Eliana, listen: she took your advice and came ‘crawling’ back to me. You don’t gotta worry about her anymore. She’s in good hands.”

“What the fuck?”

Ellie muted the phone so the two of you could cackle. Whatever Eliana said, neither of you could hear it. Ellie shushed you and unmuted it. “You fucking bitch!” Eliana screamed before Ellie could talk.

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Can’t believe you fucking cheated on me with Ellie,” she continued, rambling to herself at this point. 

“She was mine first. She always belonged to me. If you know what’s best for you, you won’t be trying to reach her again. You don’t even wanna know what I’ll do to you if you try it,” Ellie threatened. “I suggest you lose her number. Don’t get stupid and try coming over here.”

Ellie hung up the phone and went to your contacts to delete and block Eliana’s number. She set it on the dresser next to her and turned back to you. “There,” she said proudly. “You don’t have to worry about her no more. You’re my girl.”

“She… definitely deserved that,” you chuckled.

“I kinda wanna fuck you again,” said Ellie, changing the subject.

You bit your lip and swung your leg over Ellie so you were straddling her. You leaned down and kissed her softly. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

[youremyheaven]

angel imagery and vedic astrology 👼🏼🧚🏼‍♀️

i had previously made an observation that angels in cinema are often played by actors who have deva gana nakshatras. upon looking into it more, i noticed that people who repeatedly use angel imagery often have pisces rashi nakshatras, mrigashira, swati, punarvasu or purva & uttaraphalguni placements.

sufjan stevens on stage. he has ubp moon, mrig mercury, jup revati amk, punarvasu saturn amk

this is the album cover of nirvana's last studio album. kurt cobain has mars and ketu in swati. swati is associated with eggs and conception and creation. the album heavily features themes of birth and death, nurturance and violence. the original title was supposed to be i hate myself and want to die (kinda ominous considering the fact that kurt took his own life not long after) but the final title was taken from a poem written by Courtney Love, who has punarvasu sun & moon.

ill make a separate post about this but punarvasu & swati are deeply intertwined nakshatras. both deal with the nature of the universe, creation and reality itself.

Van Halen's 1984 album. this is singer David Lee Roth's last album before his exit from the band. David has swati mercury and saturn with pbp moon

swati sun & stellium, katy perry at met gala wearing angel wings

here she is at the grammys wearing angel wings

david beckham has a large back tattoo of an angel, mrig venus atmakaraka, revati jup punarvasu saturn

revati moon rihanna has the winged egyptian goddess isis tattooed on her chest

angel of the north sculpture by antony gormley. it is said to be the largest sculpture of an angel.

he has purvaphalguni sun, revati moon and swati mars, uttara phalguni ketu

this depiction of an angel is a very modern and "high-tech" and to me the polarity between depicting an angel (in itself a very archaic and otherworldly concept) in a very human albeit futuristic way is 100% the influence of his revati moon and swati mars.

the angel and the woman (1977) is about a murdered woman who is brought back to life and becomes romantically involved with the angel who rescued her. carole laure who plays the rescued woman has purvaphalguni stellium punarvasu mars atmakaraka and revati jup amk meanwhile the angel is played by lewis furey who has mrigashira sun and swati moon

l'ange or the angel (1982) is an experimental art house film and its letterboxd description says its about "The climbing of an immense staircase made up of the most varied stairs- Symbolic scenes occur on different levels where characters seem to be prisoners of their deeds and of their own folly. The steep staircase leads little by little towards the zones of great light where human beings and nonhuman beings meet."

the director has pbp moon, revati mars atmakaraka, mrigashira saturn amk

the character of Angel/Archangel in the X-Men movies has been played by two people

ben hardy, pushya moon and ketu plays Archangel in X Men. like i said in my previous post, angels in cinema are often played by deva gana nak natives and pushya is a deva gana nakshatra.

thisrole was previously played by ben foster who has swati sun, punarvasu moon, uttaraphalguni venus and jupiter

i married an angel 1942 is a very punarvasu coded film

its about a wealthy man, Willie who swears he'll only marry an angel. soon enough an angel comes into his life but due to her divine nature, she is unable to fib and has no human failings. Her honesty alienates her husband's high society acquaintances and his biggest customer and causes a run on his bank. His sister, Countess Palaffi, saves the day by teaching the angel about the real world. Willie and his now Earthier angel live happily ever after.

jeanette macdonald who plays the angel has mrigashira sun, punarvasu moon and mercury and pushya rising with purvaphalguni mars

The Vintner's Luck 2007 is a queer coded movie about a man who is visited by an angel every year. gaspard ulliel plays Xas, an angel, he has anuradha sun and ketu with ubp rising. the movie is directed by niki caro who has uttara phalguni sun, anuradha moon

its based on a book by elizabeth knox who has ketu in revati

Angel's Bone is a one act opera, which follows the plight of two angels discovered on earth who are forced into spiritual and sexual slavery at the hands of a financially troubled couple.

the angels longed for earthly delights and that has, mysteriously, brought them back to our world. they're found by a couple who nurse the wounded angels back to health. but they keep them as prisoners and decide to exploit the magical beings, clipping their wings and forcing them into prostitution to earn back their plucked feathers.

Do Yun who composed this piece has mrigashira sun revati ketu with venus and mars in bharani

Bharani is karma and concerns itself with purging and purifying whatever it touches. everything that is dirty, impure, false or frivolous is stripped away to reveal what is true and real. this specific work of art displays Bharani themes with both the couple and the angels facing their karma in different ways.

in the tv show Touched by an Angel, Roma Downey plays monica who is an angel. she has bharani sun and purva phalguni moon

Bharani is karma and bharani is also tasked with guiding souls to other realms. in this show, Monica is an angel in heaven who travels across to the earthly realm to help and guide people.

Gisele Bundchen has Pushya sun, Swati moon, punarvasu mercury mrigashira venus

Swati moon, Kylie Jenner frequently wears angel wings

she also has revati saturn as her atmakaraka and ive already talked about how much pisces girlies love butterflies<3

here's the whole clan wearing angel wings one halloween

swati sun, ubp moon, kendall jenner dressed up like a fairy

rihanna, revati moon wearing angel wings

mrigashira venus atmakaraka megan fox

as to why these specific nakshatras are drawn to angel imagery, i have a few thoughts.

mrigashira is associated with shape shifting, as Brahma's daughter assumed the form of a deer. angels are divine beings who can assume different forms and travel to different worlds.

punarvasu and swati are both connected to the universe and creation itself. it shouldn't be surprising that these natives are drawn to angel imagery.

purvaphalguni and uttaraphalguni nakshatras are both symbolised by the marital bed, union and consummation of love/marital bliss. again coming back to conception and creation. it seems to me that wherever there is creation, there are angels protecting it.

pisces rashi (pbp, ubp and revati) is the point of dissolution. its the final rashi and here, all that's been learned through all the other rashis is contained, it reaches its absolute point. its the height of moksha. spiritual liberation is the aim and again, it makes sense as to why natives of this rashi of completion and surrendering would be drawn to heavenly and angelic imagery.

[ace-and-ink]

when you read this i want you

to take a lighter to the bottom corner of the page

and let it eat my thoughts before you

can read them all

i struggle to write realistically

blatantly and honestly

and make it sound poetic

- just ask last notebook i wasted

it’ll tell you why i swore off it too -

i’ve run through about three scripts now

“how’re your poems going?”

“i’m going to a show this friday night and it’s free for us”

“any valentine’s day plans?”

throwing away all the cliches about hearts with those

i think the heart is like a bulb of garlic

small and firm in the palm of your hand

you have to peel back the layers

to get to what you want

and even then

you often have to crush it

to get to the best parts

to add to your little dinner called life

and a lot of people find it gross

when you smile and speak to them

with hints of it still on your breath and in your teeth

i had a dream with you there

then i rolled over and got nauseous

what does that make of this?

on the verge of my teenage years

you’d think i’d have more experience

instead all my works are about hurt

unless i’m fibbing to make something edible

i like getting wrapped up in your words

tangled in tragic romance

or in lines the color of tooth-ache

i’d let you pull my strings too

it wouldn’t take much but i’d let you poise me how you please

by your tongue and pen and face

does that count as a cliche?

i end up falling into those often

almost as much as i fall into this

and by the time you get to this point

my words will be nothing but ashes

or cinders or soot or whatever the right term is

i have faith in my longwindedness

to have stalled the confession long enough

for that’s what all this was

a poem of confession

using every word except the ones i mean

to tell you the one thing i’ve been dying to

and with this ending i hope

those words die too

taken to the wind with the shreds of this sheet

in hopes i can separate my love for you

from me

— slow burn

[burningvelvet]

Lord Byron defending himself and Percy and Mary Shelley from rumours spread by his literary enemy Robert Southey, 1818:

Lord Byron to John Cam Hobhouse, from Venice, 11 November 1818:

“[..] the first Canto of Don Juan [contains] a dedication in verse of a dozen to Bob Southey - bitter as necessary - I mean the dedication, I will tell you why. - The Son of a Bitch on his return from Switzerland two years ago - said that Shelley and I ‘had formed a League of Incest and practiced our precepts with &c.’ - he lied like a rascal - for they were not Sisters - one being Godwin's daughter by Mary Wollstanecraft - and the other the daughter of the present Mrs. G by a former husband. - The Attack contains no allusion to the cause - but - some good verses - and all political & poetical. - He lied in another sense - for there was no promiscuous intercourse - my commerce being limited to the carnal knowledge of the Miss C. - I had nothing to do with the offspring of Mary Wollstonecraft - which Mary was a former Love of Southey's - which might have taught him to respect the fame of her daughter.”

Lord Byron to John Murray, from Venice, 24 November 1818:

“Lord Lauderdale set off from hence twelve days ago, accompanied by a cargo of poesy directed to Mr. Hobhouse - all spick and span, and in MS. You will see what it is like. I have given it to Master Southey, and he shall have more before I have done with him. I understand the scoundrel said, on his return from Switzerland two years ago, that ‘Shelley and I were in a league of Incest, etc., etc.’ He is a burning liar! for the women to whom he alludes are not sisters - one being Godwin's daughter, by Mary Wollstonecraft, and the other daughter of the present (second) Mrs. G, by a former husband; and in the next place, if they had even been so, there was no promiscuous intercourse whatever.

You may make what I say here as public as you please - more particularly to Southey, whom I look upon, and will say as publicly, to be a dirty, lying rascal; and will prove it in ink - or in his blood, if I did not believe him to be too much of a poet to risk it. If he had forty reviews at his back - as he has the Quarterly - I would have at him in his scribbling capacity, now that he has begun with me; but I will do nothing underhand. Tell him what I say from me, and everyone else you please.

You will see what I have said if the parcel arrives safe. I understand Coleridge went about repeating Southey's lie with pleasure. I can believe it, for I had done him what is called a favour. I can understand Coleridge's abusing me, but how or why Southey - whom I had never obliged in any sort of way, or done him the remotest service - should go about fibbing and calumniating is more than I readily comprehend

Does he think to put me down with his canting - not being able to do so with his poetry? We will try the question. I have read his review of Hunt, where he attacked Shelley in an oblique and shabby manner. Does he know what that review has done? I will tell you. It has sold an edition of the Revolt of Islam, which, otherwise, nobody would have thought of reading, and few who read can understand - I for one.

Southey would have attacked me, too, there, if he durst, further than by hints about Hunt's friends in general; and some outcry about an ‘Epicurean system,’ carried on by men of the most opposite habits. tastes, and and opinions in life and poetry (I believe), that ever had their names in the same volume - Moore, Byron, Shelley, Hazlitt, Haydon, Leigh Hunt, Lamb - what resemblances do ye find among all or any of these men? and how could any sort of system or plan be carried on, or attempted amongst them? However, let Mr. Southey look to himself - since the wine is tapped, let him drink it.”

Byron and Southey’s rivalry was infamous. Two books have been written about it. Byron frequently parodied or ridiculed people in his poems and Southey was his top target, mainly because he was an easy target. He was the Poet Laureate, disliked Byron, became something of a moralist and royalist as he got older, and due to popularity he generally sided with the status quo Byron despised. From Wikipedia:

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Writing Update

Some pretty intensive googling happened this weekend on the treatment of partial thickness burns and tib-fib fractures. (My poor blorbos…)

I’ve been obsessively working on my Damage Control series before a tough work week hits tomorrow. Ficlets for 1x11 Scarecrow and 1x12 Faith are done, working on 1x15 The Benders as we speak.

Winchester mild traumatic brain injury counter: Sam - 3; Dean - 3

Pondering whether killing a (fictional!) horse will make me lose half of my readers

Meanwhile, Athos is over here, like “When is rescue??” (Working on it, buddy)

Had a brief hour of writers block after being floored by a Kim Addonizio poem that made me doubt I could ever use words again

Febuwhump is coming and I’m still on prompt #1 *sigh*

How’s your weekend writing going? Need a nudge? Hot cocoa?

[hakunahistata]

Thank you @thescholarlystrumpet and @gaiaseyes451 for the tag!

Give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you love [fiction, non-fiction, from different works or the same, from completed stories or poems or WIPs, from yesterday or ten years ago]. If that seems hard, even one will do. It doesn't have to be perfect. It can just be something silly that gives you joy.

And give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you dislike and find shitty. Anything at all as long as you wrote it. If you think it's ridiculous or absolute fucking garbage, even better! That's the point of this game. To see that we all write good things and bad things. Yeah? You can do this. And remember that both these categories are subjective.

Starting with the lines (ahem, snippets) that need more love and care! I don't love them yet, but I'm determined to crack 'em. From three WIPs:

One:

They’d fought, that Crowley does remember. Lucian’s angry, narrowed eyes flashed in his head, the phantom grip on his upper arm. Crowley couldn’t remember what had sparked the reaction but really, it could have been anything.  Crowley no longer felt the swoop of regret in his stomach, his chest no longer went hot and tight when he thought of Lucian’s angry eyes and the disappointed moue of his mouth. Lucian was always angry with him. Hell, he was always angry to begin with. Crowley grew to learn it didn’t matter what he did, how sweetly he spoke, or kindly touched, it was their routine now: Crowley was there and Lucian was angry about it.

Two:

He cleaned himself up, dried himself off, and tried to ignore the weight in his chest, the heaviness in his heart. The only thing he could focus on was the fear that was still thrumming through his veins. Fear that stayed perched on his shoulders all through dinner and the dishes, through helping the little ones with their homework, during his shower and evening prayers.  “One more,” his father said quietly, not unkindly, as he passed his open bedroom door and saw him kneeling at the foot of his bed. 

Three:

Aziraphale paused for a moment, before steeling himself and placed his fingertips gently on her tiny chest and the small blue onesie she wore. He hadn’t intended to heal her but as his grace met hers, something charged. She slept on as she glowed with divinity, holy tendrils knitting together the damage in her small lungs and chest. It healed her instantly and the child inhaled healthily for the first time in her short life.

Now for the ones I am growing to love! Also from three WIPs:

One (feat human child!Crowley and angel!Aziraphale):

“Are you…like me, then?” There was a touch of hope given, fragile and something Aziraphale was careful not to squash. “Not as such. I’m an angel, you see.” Fear was suddenly scrubbed from his features, and replaced with narrowed eyes and—frankly—adorable skepticism. “You’re fibbing.” Aziraphale laughed. For the first time in a millennia, possibly more. “I am not.” “Are too.” Oh, this was delightful. Aziraphale was overcome with a desire to convince him, this little boy who had, as of yet, believed only monsters lived in his bedroom.

Two:

The house on Park Hill Road with the painted yellow door and rose bushes just below the bay window was just a house. When Crowley had visited the many times before it felt as though the home breathed right alongside its inhabitants. It was charming, its brick outer walls sturdy, keeping everyone inside cradled in warmth. Today, though, it was just a house. A two-story brick building that stood still and quiet. No breathing, no heartbeat, and while it stood more ominous, it was, Crowley supposed, appropriate given the day.

Three:

The creature inside him settled once he started moving and the tension of the day began to bleed away. Crowley imagined it curling up in the space behind his ribs, one eye opened to keep an eye on things—this damned, unforgivable creature with preternatural eyes and a forked tongue. Relax, Crowley spoke softly to the thing in his chest as he placed the dry ingredients in a fine-mesh sieve. 

Tagging in @transplantedmate, @the-literal-kj, @thenerdalert and viewers like you!

[msookyspooky]

honest question, how do you think severen would do with a mate who is asexual?

I'm Demiromantic and I'm pretty damn sure I'm Grey-Bisexual (Or just beyond picky it's hard for me to tell tbh). It's just such a broad spectrum ranging from "I feel no sexual attraction to others/very certain people but still crave sex." to "I feel zero sexual attraction to others at all including sex itself." so for this purpose I'm just gonna be as generalized as possible.

Severen with an Asexual S/O

- At first...Let's be so fr his ego is up there. He's not new to rejection but he definitely has a 'They want me so bad they look stupid. They'll cave eventually' sort of attitude...So...If you don't find him sexually attractive at all, not even a little bit, his ego feels slighted when he first developed attraction for you.

- Even if you're like 'Yeah you're handsome/pretty. Sure.' and described him in the most reasonable way he's confused because you find him pretty but not sexy? What is he, a fucking tulip?! 🌷

- I'm sorry but he was PROBABLY mildly offended at first especially if he was attracted to you/has a crush on you. Is it his hair? His smile? His voice? His body? You don't find him attractive at all?! The man is offended like a teen boy but won't admit

- Studied you heavily to see what you did like. Thinking he'll catch you fibbing to him. He just wants to know; What does that person have that he doesn't if he caught you flirting or ogling someone else? Just to see you weren't lying to him to spare his feelings...You really weren't attracted to anyone.

- That surprised him but didn't shock him. He's been around a long time. I'm sure you're not the first Asexual person he's met.

- At first, he would try to press buttons. It's just him. He's a touchy person and he's definitely going to try kissing your neck and let his hands travel and if you're sexually repulsed you're gonna have to tell him right away and really make him understand it's not a 'Oh, I just haven't found the right one~' And not the fact you truly do not want that sort of relationship.

- If you aren't sexually repulsed (If that's incorrect terminology srry) but just not sexually attracted to him he'd just shrug it off. Big deal. It's not like it's only him you're not attracted to so how could he take it personally? You're with him after all! Especially if sex was still on the table.

- But if you do not want anything sexual from him at all? Ever? He is going to be a bit unsure but it's not a deal breaker.

- Once turned blood gives them a euphoric state of mind anyways (Que Caleb smiling on the ground like a space cadet on cloud nine from drinking Mae's blood or Severen hollering and licking his fingers and acting like he's happier and more hyped than usual) so it wouldn't shock me if blood replaces a lot of sexually urges they had as humans anyways. So no sex isn't as big of a deal.

- He's charming, born over 100 years ago in a more gentry era even if he's always been a bastard and a touchy loving person with those he likes. So idc what anyone says, the man can be romantic even if he's not 'the romantic type'. It may not be poems or serenading you or classic dates...But a night with just you two and him surprising you with gifts and telling you how wonderful you are to him? Yeah. He would.

- As long as he's still allowed to kiss, cuddle, hug you? He's okay with that. And boy, does he ever! He's very affectionate and sweet when he wants to be.

- Calls you the most mushy embarrassing names like his 'cuddlebug' or 'snugglebunny' just to tease you because it's something you do plentifully with him (Even if he's the one being the snuggly one here). He just adores you and as long as you're held up in his arms; he could care less whether you're sexually attracted to him or not or if you even want sex at all.

- Would be your best friend 💯 Before anything else. You're his mate and he doesn't take that lightly. You are his partner in crime through and through before romance or sex.

- With how he was the ONLY vampire in the entire movie that either A. Didn't have a mate and B. Didn't want one; he could be on the Ace Spectrum himself! Whether it be Romantic or Sexual. Ace or Demi/Grey....I feel like he understands or could easily learn to.

- Wouldn't change his vulgar mouth too much I am sorry but the man has been crude for over a century...However, if you get zero reaction from him flirting or making a sex joke he'd naturally back off it because he is an attention grabber more than anything. He wants to make you smile and impress you and have your undivided attention. If Dad jokes and being sweet is what has you smitten with him more than raunchy jokes and obscene flirting than he will be cranking out corny one liners and tell you how beautiful you are to him.

[nightshadereaper66]

Fibonacci Poems pt 2

These are Fibonacci poems, also called Fib poems. The number of syllables in each line follows the Fibonacci Sequence. (1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,etc)

I Could’ve Done Anything The  Board Covered In squiggles Numbers should make sense But I got lost in a daydream I was flying to Neptune in a silver rocket

Tick-Tock Watch Gears Working Together One falls out of sync And then you cannot tell the time Because it fell apart before you could even try

[rebouks]

Okay! Time to spill the tea, except it's not really tea, it's more like lukewarm juice aka my future plans and some more ramblings.. ahem ⚆_⚆

First of all, I wanna say just how much I enjoyed creating Somnium. It all started during lockdown... I found myself working from home full-time, I had the perfect excuse to be the homebody I was born to be, I had a lot of time on my hands, and once I found simblr I couldn't resist joining in. It didn't take too long before I decided to hop on the storytelling train and before I knew it, I had a new hobby! Except.. that hobby kinda consumed me. I didn't even know where it was going to begin with, but the more involved I got, the more obsessed I became. Hyperfixations amirite?

The point being.. I think I spent a little too much time on Somnium, which left me little time for much else and I don't want to fall down that hole again. In the future I'd like to challenge my perfectionism! What does that mean? Well, it means not making poses for every scene, it means not being restricted by a complicated overarching plot that requires forced filler scenes and timelines and needs to make sense, it means less dialogue, or gasp! no dialogue at all, it means not getting hung up on continuity with editing and g-shade and font style and blah blah etc etc. I'd even like to incorporate some gameplay too, since I miss just.. playing now n' then.

I want the freedom to think of something silly, or weird, or completely off topic and to be able to run with it instead of being bound by a plot that needs to progress. Am I making sense? I hope I'm making sense. Basically, I'm calling this next venture a "story not story" because rather than it having one large plot, it's going to be more like clusters of subplots with some gameplay, weirdness or silliness in between...

Forever In Between will kick off around about two years after the events of Somnium. Mostly focused on Oscar and his family, we'll join them on the journey of life as Robin and his siblings grow up in the Bay.

We'll also spend some time with other favourites too like Noah n' co. Salton, Ivan & Bruno, Suzie, Miya & [redacted] and Matilda, among others! Maybe we'll even see what Wyatt's up to at some point 👀 As we all know, life isn't always sunshine and rainbows, but Forever In Between (or fib for short) will be a lot less heavy, though hopefully no less interesting!

Obviously, I don't have any set plans but I have a few specific scenes and ideas in mind already, as well as some vague subplots planned for most, if not all of the main characters from Somnium.

Also! Although Oscar is very much still a main character, he'll be sharing the spotlight with Robin too, as I have a lot in mind for that special lil' guy.. tehe!

So, what's next?! I want to make a lil promo before I start and then I've gotta.. y'know, actually start working on it. I have the first few scenes in mind but then we're wingin' it baby! The best plan is no plan and all that... I'm being kind to myself though, so idk when we'll start, real soon though!

I've already given everyone makeovers and gotten a few of the main builds out of the way, enough for me to get started at least, and I'd like to make a new navigation/pinned post too.

I wanna be more organised as well, so story posts will be tagged as "forever in between" & "fib" and bloopers, extras, builds, cas pics etc etc. will be tagged as "fib" & "fib extras"!

Okay.. I think that's it. See you soon! 👋

[amrbokhari]

-a poem on lingering love-

birthed by

a breakup

the breakup

my breakup

andthisFleabagscene

[With All This Love]

I, with foolish pride,

carry and heave all this cherished love,

somehow unbroken,

but sickeningly blessed and swollen,

overnourished to the brim with tacit tons and garrulous gallons of heedless affection I cannot outswim,

like cells that ceaselessly multiply,

tearing me limb from limb while they

goodheartedly align and coalesce into cancerous love whereby I convalesce,

but killing me on a headless whim,

yet these cells are all mine,

forged and bathed with and in harmful care,

and still my proud design.

•

I held on with heartstrings and lung tissue,

morphed my biology into a finder of oxygen and sustenance in you,

but you held on via spider silk with slippery hands

I insisted I’d baptize with impassioned love and foolish future plans,

you held to me like the suicidal would to life:

flimsily, halfheartedly, knifed.

I carry now a wounded heart that holds its breath till it turns blue as punishment when I think of you;

my lungs now boycott O2,

they lead a conspiracy theory that every molecule is

carbon monoxide in disguise,

another potential you,

but they’ll come to trust,

they’ll come around,

no matter how unwise,

despite how unsound.

••

You left me with gargantuan love I couldn’t expel,

so I kept it all in my chest which nobody could tell,

until cacti protruded from my ribcage one day

and asked for the nearest desert so I pointed inward and begged it to stay.

My friends protested and detestably elected to evict the cacti

as I,

against deepest wishes, complied and,

as this poem’s title would imply,

lay rueful, requesting gentleness,

asserting that the DNA of my foolish soul

resided somewhere in that beloved mess.

After the marring, after this horror,

I took what survived to bury,

but it rebelled and blossomed into a rosemary-laden garden,

spoke a few potato rhymes,

then blew into unkempt hyacinths of proportions upsized,

but with no single rue in sight,

and it all felt inextricably right,

but as I was ill-versed in the tending of gardens,

it had to go,

plus the neighbors thought it unsightly,

this unendeared perennial field I half-intended not to sow.

•••

I deemed Earth unworthy of such indefinite life,

so flung it I did, spacebound, my cosmonaut;

it landed on some lifeless planet ungraced,

no whisper, no thought,

then sentience enflamed,

life had boomed,

atomically, they claim.

They thus visited me,

onerically,

“I am not your progenitor, leave me.”

“But look here, your silly soul’s DNA, we bleed thee.”

I sigh, half-lovingly.

They then ask how they came to be,

I say, weakly:

“Foolishly, but heavenly.”

••••

Its next form was a poem made for two,

I guess it wrote itself seeing as it’s a feat we planned but couldn’t do.

It was written with stardust,

frolicked midair,

and foolishly penned by “Intangible We”;

it told me,

“I die except on one day:

the eve of September 3.”

It tugged on my heart,

asked to be read,

I couldn’t tell it she had left so instead

I read

and read,

with dread, I read,

this fragment of death full of life,

it took me till daylight to finish the thing,

the recital nigh left me dead;

it blistered my cords,

ulcerated my tongue,

rendered my body unyoung,

even the parts she had shred,

unwritten, unsaid,

I persisted to read undone,

for what sin can one pin on a poem that asks

to be heard, fulfilled, and sung?

•••••

The last day it came as an orphan,

I shouted “not mine” but the twitch in its eye was a feature I couldn’t deny,

the same that I had when she left,

of which now I am sorely bereft.

It just sat there and wept, and wept, and wept,

drawing Ws and Ms on the wall,

the inverted letter we shared,

a dear fact I try not to recall.

I told it my name fit snugly in hers,

and how when I smiled she’d draw

a signet just by my wrinkling eye,

a seal that I had to declaw;

it smiled and the و was revealed,

then inquired on why she would leave,

I made up some disease to put it at ease,

a fib only kids could believe,

that it wasn’t really her choice,

that her hands were unsteady and moist,

and I said, with a foolish unconfident voice,

“Kites would not give her their strings,

she couldn’t clap nor wear any rings,

only 69 songs could calm both her hands,

which said pain is all that love brings;

she held you but you kept on slipping,

so I tearfully kept you—the most—in my arms,

then shame engulfed and embraced her,

so she left, but not without qualms.”

It half-believed me, but I did not,

it then hugged me feebly

—herein set in the rot—

pulse waned, breath gone,

it merged into me undistraught,

unpained, indrawn

toward its little corner of my world’s plot,

a grave marked by nothing,

a grave I did not dig but honored still, darling.

••••••

No visits after that,

how does one visit oneself?

No detrital revenants,

no perpetually returning love,

no remnants;

you can only return to the thing you had left,

but this love is sacrilegiously kept

and indwells my all

to be used and bring mirth

to loved ones, myself, and everything else,

this love I’ll send forth to the earth.

[jkottke]

Matt Webb’s AI-powered clock is now on Kickstarter! “It tells the time with a brand new poem every minute, composed by ChatGPT. It’s sometimes profound, and sometimes weird, and occasionally it fibs about what the actual time is to make a rhyme work.”

[nerdwhoauthorinserts]

Star Selfshiptober - Haunted

   I intended for this to be a poem, but I’m not sure how well I ended up writing it, lol. My head is not working well with me since I’m sick, so forgive me if this seems jankey in places.

   I initially meant for this to be for Boogieman/Blake and Shigaraki, but honestly, I realize it kind of works for a couple of my selfships tbh.    So, I guess this is multi-f/o content?

   TW: ...A tiny bit angsty? Just a little? Idk?

   The haunted will never forget. Not truly.    They remember everything but refuse to acknowledge it.    They go about their lives hoping to forget, but they never do.

   He was not the only traveller haunted, but he felt isolated.    He grew a distaste for the world that haunted him.    He wanted to haunt the world just so it'd know how he felt.

   He dodged streetlamps and scurried under the cover of night.    He reached out his hand to anyone that would reach back, but nobody came.    He lied to himself and said that he loved how it felt.    The fib that he loved being the monster under their beds.

   But the haunted can never hide from their true feelings.    Despite how satisfying it felt to get revenge, it made his stomach churn.    But now he couldn't be without it; that blood on his hands.    It felt like eating or drinking; he wasn't sure he'd survive if he stopped.

   Then, one night, scurrying under the blanket of darkness, he met someone.    Two pairs of monsters' eyes met in the dark.    Two haunted souls found one another by chance.

   They both suffered; felt the wrath of the people meant to care for them.    They saw red and did something they could never take back.    From then on, they were haunted; now were face-to-face.    They could sense the others' ghosts, almost hearing their internal screams of agony; Screams so familiar.

   The monsters, the haunted, desperately wanted to feel.    They wanted to know what it was like to touch and feel something other than ash.    Then, they reached out, hesitating after the other held out their hand.    They touched, felt each other's flesh. A strange sensation, a gentle touch.

   But they never wanted to stop feeling it. It quieted the ghosts and filled their hearts with a warmth they couldn't describe.

   Was this...love?

[jjungkookislife]

Made up fic title: If not now when?

If Not Now, When?

pairing: Namjoon x reader

tw: nosey reader?

"Be careful with that!" Namjoon exclaims as he rushes to your side, taking the box from you.

You huff, hands on your hips as you catch your breath. "What's in there? Bricks?"

Namjoon rolls his eyes. "Journals and books."

You perk up. "Journals? Is your diary in there? Can I read it?"

Namjoon turns red because yes, his diary journal was in that box and perhaps he had written about you and your friendship for the past three years and maybe moving in with you had him both over the moon and apprehensive as fuck. But he wasn't about to let it spill.

"I don't have a diary," he fibs as he takes the box into his bedroom. You giggle as you go into his room, sitting on his bed.

"It's totally a diary, but fine, I'll respect your privacy as your very best friend and not read it," you pretend to be interested in your nails until Jungkook is stumbling in with three boxes that block his vision.

"I'm his best friend!" Jungkook huffs as he sets the boxes on the floor. He then pants, his hands on his hips as he tries to catch his breath. "Only best friends help each other move 'cause fuck, that shit's heavy. I think I'd rather carry the box with his diary."

Namjoon curses. "How do you all know I have a diary?"

"I mean, you have your head shoved into that black leather-bound notebook all the time. I tried picking the lock once, and it broke my screwdriver," Jungkook shrugs before leaving.

"That idiot." Namjoon runs a hand through his hair.

"Hi," you wave with a wide smile.

Oh no.

"Can I trust you not to go digging in my stuff?" Namjoon asks as Jungkook asks him to help with the bookshelf.

"Perhaps," you smile diabolically and Joon almost rips the box open to take out his journal, but Jungkook calls for him again. His patience has grown thin with the abysmal heat.

Namjoon jogs out of the room and you open his box, jiggling the lock until it pops open. You skim through his journal until you land on a page with a drawing of you. You trace it carefully with your fingertips, turning the page to read a poem that's titled with your name and your heart melts into a puddle.

Namjoon loves you too.

send me a made-up fic title and i'll write a little something to go with it