stuck thinking about when day gets crowded and overwhelmed on his birthday he calls out to gee of all people there to remove him from the situation; and how when day tells her he wants to be alone she makes sure he knows she wants to understand him and he can talk to her (not to help him or to fix things for him; simply to understand him) and when day reaffirms a boundary she accepts this and doesn't press further. he's her friend and she cares for him but he's still an adult and she has no problem treating him as such and i think that at the moment she is the only one from day's past who is actively able to do so
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helloo! can i request 97, sunset with solomon? thank you and stay hydrated 🫶 (love your works btw)
A question lingered in the air unanswered
Your laughter echoed amongst splashing water
Getting through my eyes, it stung and hurt
I didn't need to know what you would say
Wispy was your presence; barely there
As you looked through me and saw someone else
You laughed again,admiring the sky
Asking me to repeat myself, innocence in your eyes
Seeing your trembling lips, as if begging to be unseen
So I was me again, the me that you know
The me I can only be for you as I pretend to forget
Night isn't far away
(97 words, sunset, solomon)
writing request instructions here
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So like I know my childhood was a bit fucked up because of how my parents are/were. I started figuring that out when I was like 11. But for the second time this year I’m reading a book about an absolutely wildly fucked up family situation now that the daughters who ended up writers despite their parents are old enough and settled enough to write their memoirs. I expected to go “wow that’s fucked up! glad I didn’t go through that,” and I AM but a lot of it is also me looking at a page describing some of the most immature avoiding bullshit I’ve ever seen and seeing my own family’s words thrown back at me. Absolutely wild.
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Reminds me of when I was 13 and my mom’s old car got a Laura Pausini cd stuck in its cd player for months: whenever she wanted to listen to some music, that was the only option available. It was also my prized possession, the only authentic cd that I had of that singer: needless to say, I was very jealous and wanted to keep track of it, so everyone got to suffer through the best hits of Laura Pausini anytime we drove for more than 10 minutes anywhere. In the end everyone got sick of Laura belting ‘ho l’inquietudiiinee di viveeereee’ and I don’t know how but my father unstuck the cd one fateful evening, and returned to me a very broken cd lmao
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who's been on tumblr long enough to remember when you had to actually go to the reblogged post itself to read the tags and felt disappointed when there weren't any tags or is it just me
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writing og stuff is really making me realise just how much I'm completely unable to write serious things these days. I'll have all these serious sad angsty ideas and then I write them out and everyone's too dumb to be adequately serious about it. I'll plot something arguably depressing and my characters will go at it from the silliest angle possible anyway. absolutely incredible
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