#today was a good day to spend with poetry BUT I HAVE SO MUCH LEFT TO DO + IM BACK AT WORK FULL TIME IN FORTY-EIGHT HOURS GOD HELP ME

[dendrochronologies]

the number of books i am asking myself to read before term is astronomical. my friend gave me ANOTHER book last night because we were chatting about her home library and i saw it and GASPED because it was exactly what i've been researching, and then i found out i wasn't getting any results for carolyn merchant's books in the library catalogue because i was misspelling her name, but now that i've found her i have THREE MORE books reserved, and i still have NINE at home and EIGHT on libby that i haven't even STARTED yet, and term starts in nine days, and there are atill a bunch of documentaries i haven't seen, and WHY CAN'T I READ AND ENJOY AND LEARN THINGS FASTERRRRR

[blingblong55]

Healing -Vladimir Makarov

A/N: this is not me telling you how reader looks^

Based on a request:

i love love LOVE the great war. i’m foaming at the mouth for a part 2 BUT can you maybe do something with vlad and his love taking a bath while he reads her poetry or something along the lines. again love your work you truly are amazing 🌷

---- F!Reader, fluff/romance, wife!reader, husband!Makarov, poetry read, pregnant!reader ----

It's been a long day, Vladimir and you haven't seen each other since you left bed. And now, as you walk inside your home, he greets you with a warm meal. "Ah, the girl I have been waiting for." He walks to you, wrapping you in his hold. "What's all this about?" you ask curiously. His hand on your belly, "I think my sweet wife deserves a treat, after all, you did some hard work today." He teases. "Shopping is a sport," you kiss his cheek and he guides you to the warm kitchen. For months since he found out he would become a father, he gave you a credit card, 'spend it on you and our little one.' he said and every day, he sends you out with at least two of his men to buy at least ten things.

He wanted this all to be a thank you, for turning his life around and giving him a new purpose and as you both eat a meal he so carefully cooked with love, he finds himself admiring you. You look up, insecure for some reason until he smiles. "Did you know you are the kind of woman men write poems about?" He continues eating and you feel yourself blushing and a rush of happiness. One thing about your husband is that he knows what to say and how to make you feel, especially, now that you carry your first child.

You look at him, "What have you so….happy today?" He shrugs, "I have many reasons to be happy. I have you, my lovely wife, today all went well, we have a son arriving in a few months and did I mention I have a lovely, beautiful, small and incredibly amazing wife?" You smile and look away. "I mean it, love. I seriously thank you for being part of my life so please just accept all my love because trust me, pretty girl, no one else can get this."

After that much-needed meal, he offers a bath. And as he warms the water for you both, he watches mesmerised as you undress in front of him. Your beautiful body is all for his gaze to admire. For some reason, Vladimir couldn't help but feel a gush of emotions, all good ones of course. The way the room lit up, showcasing all your beautiful features and there was him, watching a goddess undress. It was like a schoolboy, the feeling he had, blushing and looking away from how excited you made him. To others, it's nothing to see your beloved undress anymore but to him, this was a privilege.

They always portray men like him as heartless men with no soul behind their evil loving gaze but if you look closely, there it is, the warm fire that still shines through. "Get in the tub, my love," his voice was always so soft with you. It was comedic how it changed when he spoke to those who aren't you. He was always so cold to others but when he turned to you, gave you one glance or one word, his voice was pure and soft. His hand holding yours as you get in. Hold it until you sit down in the tub. The second he let go, as he walked to the counter of the bathroom, his hand flexed. He was anxious in many ways and for good reason since you had changed the man he was before.

In his hands was the old book of poems he collected of his favourite poets or wrote himself. The book was old, but the words inside were worth more than anything in the world. As he sat down, he could feel the warmth of your back to his chest. You laid against him, finding comfort in his embrace and in some romantic way, this was professing love with unspoken words. His free hand playing with your hair as he holds the book of poems. "Let's see my love, what poem shall I read you today?"

You point towards one. "First Love by John Clare," the title wrote. "Very well, my love." he kisses your head and begins. "I ne’er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet, Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale as deadly pale, My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked, what could I ail? My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away, The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did start— They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter’s choice? Is love’s bed always snow? She seemed to hear my silent voice, Not love's appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling-place And can return no more."

His voice throughout the poem so steady, and clean and expresses the same emotion the poem itself meant to convey. He places the book on the small shelf by the tub, his arms wrapping you in a loving embrace. "Did you like it?" Vladimir's head resting on your shoulder as his hands caress your belly. "Mhm…I loved this one." your voice was soft as you began to relax with him. "Good, my love," he whispers before kissing your shoulder, one of his hands so delicately lifting your hair as the other writes on your back.

"I- L-O-V-E- Y-O-U" his fingertips spell out. You try and figure out what the message was but before you begin to think, you feel his soft and warm lips kiss the back of your neck. To him, this was the most beautiful thing lovers could do that also meant intimacy. Sitting in a tub, looking out a window that brings light to the bathroom, reading poetry and then doing something like this, kissing your neck with nothing but love, rubbing the same belly that carries his child. And then you got it, "I love you too, Vlad," you lean back, your head turning and your lips meeting his.

It was as if no other worry could bother either of you. Being here, that is what counts and in the darkest corner of his heart, he feels all those old wounds and worries heal. This is real, this moment in time, that is what feels so unreal to those who can't have this privilege but to both of you, this is real, it's love to its simplicity.

Tags:

@goldenmclaren @liyanahelena @selarus @kielsegur @mseccentricks @johfaam0 @moonsua1 @rvivienner @frazie99 @viomast @vampsquerade @saoirse06 @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @strangepuppynightmare

[slightlyaggressiveaffirmations]

Hey I'm having a really hard time getting out of a funk. I haven't put laundry away in weeks, and all my friends are going through things too so I can't unload on them. Not to mention my bff has a baby and now it feels like she has no time for me. I could use some positivity, thank you.

I know those feelings, frond. I had a nine-day period just recently that we all referred to as "Bed-Fest '23", cos I didn't get up or dressed or whatever.

First things first - it's OK to be in a funk. Sometimes we have one. It's totally normal. If you do absolutely nothing else, please remember to take any medication that you have - including anything for depression or other mental illness. Even if you can't shower or even eat - take your meds.

Second, prioritise those tasks that are most important and focus the energy you have on making sure that those get done. After medication, my list goes like this: dog's needs met, food/drink, safe environment, shower, tooth brush, washing clothes, clean environment.

By "safe environment" I mean keeping my kitchen clean and cleaning up after myself so food waste and such is not left lying around, which might attract mice, cockroaches, ants, mould and so on. Making sure my house isn't a health hazard, basically. Whereas "clean environment" is putting things away where they belong, like with your laundry. I also work from my bed outwards with a clean environment - if I'm spending all my time in bed, that immediate area gets cleaned first.

As for getting out of the funk - focusing on getting as much of the self care list done as you can - but not scolding yourself and engaging in negative talk when you do not, is how we start. Go to work, or school or whatever you gotta do, and then use what energy you can bear to do what you can. Then give yourself permission to just be. Do what will give you peace. Video games, reading, Netflix, extra sleep. Treat yourself and have no guilt or shame about it. This is what you NEED right now.

When you've recovered some energy by not forcing yourself to do too much, get creative. I write poetry and I draw in abstract colours. I put my emotions onto the page - whenever I'm in a depression or slump, there's a reason for it. There's emotions behind it and if you have an outlet to let those emotions out and into the world, they will start to seep out of you and ease you out of the funk. Your feelings are stuck inside you and need somewhere to go.

Get back into the swing of life slowly and as you feel up to it. Even if you don't have any friends available, it's good to talk to someone about the progress you're making - so you could even just blog about it on Tumblr. I just report in to my partner and mother. "Today I got two loads of washing done, and then I didn't really do much else, I just read a bunch of fanfic, but I left comments on it all, which is active instead of passive."

I hope that at least some of this advice is helpful. I never know if I have any advice in me until someone asks me a question. The life of an Accidental Agony Aunt.

The Slightly Aggressive Affirmer

[wheels-of-despair]

What You Deserve | Leonard Bast x You | Series Masterlist

Once upon a time, a boy entered a bookshop...

Part Three: Rest Your Eyes Words: 2.1k Date: Friday, December 20, 1912

"I hope he loves it. Have a happy holiday, and do come again!"

Your smile fades as the man shopping for his nephew turns his back on you and heads for the door with a new storybook.

You hate this time of year.

Everyone is far too joyful. People spend money they don't have on things they don't need. And how many bloody wreaths does one city need? It's all too much, and there is no escape from it.

Jimmy, the occasional employee who once had a crush on you, is now terrified of you. He'd held up a sprig of mistletoe between you yesterday and boasted, "look what I found!" You'd smacked it out of his hand and left him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. You suppose you owe him an apology. He didn't know that you hate Christmas. He didn't know that the sight of mistletoe turns your stomach.

He didn't know about Leonard Bast.

No one did.

You'd tried to carry on as usual, but everything felt different after that day. Despite your efforts, people noticed. You suspect that your father had shared his theory that you'd been attacked to your sisters, who no longer teased you about your love of books or lack of romantic prospects. They mostly left you alone now. You'd pretended to be sick last Christmas so that you wouldn't have to see them. You wanted to wallow alone in your shame. Would it work again this year?

You left the counter to dust shelves while there was no one else in the shop. It was nearing the end of the day anyway. No one ever came in at the last minute except for him. And you hadn't seen him in a year.

The bell above the door chimes, and you cast your miserable thoughts aside and force a smile as you turn to greet your customer.

"Good eve--"

Your heart stopped.

He was thinner. His cheeks were hollowed, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes that almost looked like bruises. His jacket was baggier and more frayed than the last time you'd seen it. And it was also wet, thanks to today's drizzle.

You knew you should be angry with him. That you should tell him to get out. But all you wanted to do was wrap him in a blanket and take him upstairs to warm up by the fire. He looked so cold. So miserable.

"I know you don't want to see me. And I'm sorry I've come. But…" He licks his chapped lips before continuing quietly. "I've a favor to ask of you. I know I have no right to. And I'm sorry for that too."

You swallow and try not to cry. "How can I help you today, Mr. Bast?"

He pulls a little leather-bound book from inside his jacket. Once upon a time, you'd thought that giving him this book of poetry, full of notes and underlined passages, would be a romantic way to tell him how you felt about him. Now, the sight of it makes you feel ill.

"I'm… I'm going to a place where I ought not take this. I wondered if you'd keep it for me?"

You stop staring at the book and meet his eyes, which are are pleading and apologetic.

"I'm not trying to sell it back. I just need someone to hold onto it for a little while."

"Why?" you croak.

"I just…" He sighs and starts over. "I was told I ought not take anything valuable or sentimental with me."

"Where are you going, Mr. Bast?"

He hesitates. The clock chimes, and he jumps in surprise, hugging the book to his chest. He looks like a frightened animal. What has the world done to you, Leonard Bast?

"Will you take it?" he asks, holding out the book to you. It's more worn than the day you slipped it into his parcel. His hands shake. You shove aside all the pain you've felt over the past year and make a decision.

"Only if you join me for tea, and tell me what's going on."

"I can't… I should…"

"Mr. Bast."

"Yes?"

"You broke my heart."

He flinches at your words.

"You broke my heart, and then you ran away. And now you've just walked back into my life and asked a favor of me. I think I deserve to know why."

He hangs his head and shifts uncomfortably.

"Will you please join me for tea?" you ask, a little softer this time.

His big brown eyes, which seem even bigger with his face so thin, look very glassy as he nods.

You move to lock the door, and he backs away as if he's afraid to touch you. You move slowly and deliberately as you lead him to your living quarters upstairs.

"Please," you gesture to the chairs by the fire, and he sits in your favorite one uneasily while you put the kettle on. He waits silently while the water boils, fidgeting with the frayed cuff of his jacket. You gather an assortment of food, hoping that he'll eat something, and place a tray in front of him.

He doesn't speak until you're seated across from him, and the tea is steaming on the table between you.

"I'm out of work." He stares at the food, but doesn't take anything. "I was told that my insurance firm was going under, so I took a position at the bank. And then the bank released me. I begged off my sisters for a while, until their husbands found out. Jacky left me for someone who could take care of her. She was right to."

So much for 'for richer and for poorer', you thought bitterly. He looks up, as if he'd heard your thought.

"I've sold everything… except this." He grasps the book you'd given him like he's holding onto it for dear life. "I can't take it with me. Would you please look after it for me? I'll try to come back for it one day. I'll pay you for keeping it safe, if I can."

"Where are you going, Mr. Bast?" you ask again, fearing the answer.

"A workhouse," he admits quietly, speaking to the floor. Your heart drops.

"Surely there's something else you can do?" you ask fearfully. When people go into workhouses, they rarely come out. And if they do, they're not the same. Hasn't he read the same literature on the subject as you?

He shakes his head in defeat, and all the breath leaves your lungs.

A knock at the door temporarily halts your turmoil.

"Excuse me for a moment," you say softly. You gesture to the food on the table. "Please, help yourself."

You cross the room and crack the door to see Jimmy. You'd forgotten he was fixing a wheel on the cart in the storage room. "Everything alright?" he asks.

"Just having tea with an old friend," you tell him in a hushed tone.

"Cart's ready. Need me to stick around?" He's peering over your shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of your guest. You shift into his way.

"No, thank you. You can go home for the night. I'll do the sweeping-up later."

You close the door before he can protest and return to Leonard.

He's eaten a few bites of a pastry and fallen asleep. His head rests against the chair's plush backing like yours often does, when you stop reading to rest your eyes for a minute that turns into an hour. You don't have the heart to wake him. Moving quietly as a mouse, you pick up a blanket and drape it over his sleeping form.

You sit back down to think.

The poor man has nothing. No job, no home, no wife. He is not yet forgiven for leaving out that little detail, but you cannot allow him to enter a workhouse. Leonard Bast is a bright young man with a brilliant brain. He's not built for breaking rocks.

If you can't find somewhere who needs to hire help, you'll hire him yourself. Your father has been longing to get out to the countryside more and breathe the fresh air, perhaps this could be his chance. Yes, Leonard could help you run the shop while your father takes a well-deserved holiday. It was just the two of you living here now, anyhow; your mother was long gone, and both sisters were happily married and living in big boring houses of their own. You could fix up the storage room and let him sleep there. Or would that be too cold? You could sleep in your father's room while he's away and let Leonard take yours. You could cook for him, and watch his cheeks and body fill out as they rediscovered proper nutrients. He could stay here as long as he needed.

The man may have broken your heart, but you would not let the workhouse break the man.

You were at the stove making dinner when he woke. His pale face went red immediately.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I'll go, please forg--"

"Would you please fetch two bowls out of that cabinet?" you interrupt, gesturing vaguely in its direction without looking at him. He falls silent and obeys, bringing you the requested dishes.

You spoon hot stew into them as he stands there, confused.

"Take those to the table?" you smile. His brow furrows, but he does as you ask. You follow with a basket of bread and sit at the table. He squirms uncomfortably. "Please have a seat, Mr. Bast."

His eyes dart from you to the food and back again, like it's a trick. It reminds you of that first time you let him browse after the shop closed. You smile and wait for the battle going on inside his head to cease. Finally, he moves slowly toward the table, sitting lightly as if he's not sure he belongs there.

You close your eyes and say a prayer, thanking the Lord for your food, and your shelter, and for an old friend to share them with. When you open your eyes and meet Leonard's, they're brimming with tears.

He needs food more than you need answers, so you drop your eyes to your bowl and take a bite, hoping he'll do the same. He does. The meal passes in a comfortable silence.

He tries to leave again when dinner is done. "Thank you for dinner, although you ought not have been so accommodating after I overstayed my welcome. I should be going now, I've wasted too much of your time already."

"Mr. Bast, I'm not done with you yet."

"You're not?" he asks, taken aback.

"Would you sit with me a while?" You gesture to the chairs by the fire, where he'd slept the evening away. He agrees, and takes his seat.

You sit across from him and stare for a moment, wondering where to begin. The man is a walking tragedy, but you don't want to make him feel like one.

"Mr. Bast, you know that I care for you."

"I don't deserve it," he says quietly.

"You don't deserve the workhouse."

"I do," he whispers tearfully. "It was my own fault. I listened to advice I should not have listened to. I lost my job, I drove Jacky away because I couldn't provide, I drove my family away because I was a beggar and an embarrassment, and I hurt you because I lied. I deserve it."

"Why did you not tell me that you were married?" you ask.

"I wasn't," he admits. "Not really. We told a lie so that we might live together. She had no one else to care for her."

"Did you love her?"

He looks at the carpet and doesn't answer.

"Because I loved you," you confess, your voice cracking.

"I know." He sniffs and reaches for the annotated book of poetry you'd given him a year ago. He opens it to a bookmarked page, skims silently, and closes it. A tear streams down his cheek. "I read it every day. I never stopped thinking of you, even though I had no right to."

You want to dry his tears and hold him. Instead, you wrap your arms around yourself and try not to let your own tears fall.

"I'm sorry," he says, rising from his seat. He deposits the book on the table and steps toward the door.

You're in front of him before you realize you've left your chair. You stand defiantly between him and the door. His eyes are red, tears threatening to fall, lip quivering.

"Please don't leave me again," you beg. "Stay here, we'll find you work. We'll find you a place to stay. We'll figure things out."

"Why would you want to help me, after the way I've hurt you?" he asks pathetically.

"I never stopped thinking of you, either."

[dungeonsdragonstdelinquents]

Hii, saw your post about dps fics being really poetically written, do you have any favourites or recommendations? Have a good day!! :D

Hi thank you for the ask!! Oh goodness my favorite dps fics…I will include in general fics that I liked, but the ones that I have placed an asterisk with are pieces that had me–for lack of a better phrase–crying, screaming, shitting on the floor from how poetic they made me feel. Which really doesn't make much sense, but when i say poetry within me i just mean this strange feeling that is difficult to describe. Also these are all anderperry because i am a basic bitch, so apologies if you were looking for any other pairs! Maybe after finals I will look into some of the other pairs and put together a list for them too :) also I tried formatting this the best I could, I typed it all out on google docs so apologies for any fuck ups.

(in no particular order)

What We Stay Alive For **** by PiscesVanity on ao3, 18/18 chaps, 66,485 words.

Summary: “Do we get second chances in this life, Todd?” Neil asks him like he expects a negative answer. Todd doesn’t give that to him.

“Yes. we do. I know it.” 

“Do you?” Neil grins, playfully elbowing him. “Did you at least wait to take it? That second chance? Until the world was more peaceful? More kind?” 

Ten years after the death of Neil Perry, Todd Anderson wakes up with a second chance.

My notes: This incredibly crafted piece of art was the first dead poets fic I ever read. It honestly set the bar for me, for future reads. Also i didn’t have the chance to reread this one because this baby is long as FUCK and as much as I love long fics to read, I have to study for finals today so I can’t right now. I’m like 80% sure this is the fic where they confess by the lake and say something along the lines of “if you feel something even similar to what i feel…” but again i can’t be sure. Either way all I remember is that this fic is fricken good. Just for context, this is a time-traveling fic, but the type of time travel that happens in 13-going-on-30. Todd prays for a second chance on the eve of the 10 year anniversary of Neil’s death and he wakes up in his 17 year old body, on the day that he started school at Hell-ton. I think in general I just love the dead poets fandom because it combines some of my favorite tropes in any form of reading–50s/60s time period, boarding schools, and well…being gay. It is a fix-it so there is some angst, but there is a happy ending. But it will hit hard, especially since it comes close in the end so be wary. When I first started it, I was concerned about my own interest dwindling because the fic was going to cover the entirety of the movie, and since I have issues rereading or rewatching pieces of media when I know the end or the majority of it, I didn’t know if I was going to last. But the author of this stunning work (I know it sounds cheesy BUT IT IS) crafted it in a way that didn’t leave me bored. Even though several lines were pulled from the movie due to it being a time travel fic I still felt involved and captured by the story. It was comforting at the beginning to see how Charlie and Todd took care of each other after Neil’s death, and it was also intriguing to see how Todd almost started where he left off with Neil when he went back in time. He was more open than he had been prior, but eventually had settled back into his ‘old’ personality that he had before his first encounters with the poets. 

to be alone with you by wordshakers on ao3, 1/1 chaps, 3,602 words.

Summary: “Thursday evenings were, unequivocally, Neil’s favorite part of the week.

On the surface, the explanation for this was simple enough. It was his opportunity to turn his focus entirely to the topic that made him happiest: Shakespeare. He savored the time he was able to spend sitting out on the dock, overlooking the lake, reading and reciting the words he loved so much.

The other reason–perhaps the more prominent one–Neil wasn’t able to explain quite as easily. In fact, he could hardly admit it to himself. Thursday evenings…they meant being alone with Todd.

An anderperry first kiss fic, set in a near-canon universe of the film (minus the death). Fluffy mutual pining.

My notes: I can’t recall everything about this one because my mind has been scrambled the last few days, but it is fluffy, it is cute, and it has Todd and Neil practicing lines together–what more could you want? 

letters to my dearest beloved ****by UniversalSatan on ao3, 4/4 chaps, 34,162 words.

Summary: 

“My dearest beloved,

It is with great relief that I finally write to you. I think it doubtful for my words to ever reach your ears, but spare me this chance to lend you a piece of my thoughts–and only a piece, for I must write with caution lest I be discovered.

Neil, amidst his own internal emotional conflict, accidentally stumbles upon letters Todd had been writing in secret to an unknown recipient. Neil (an idiot) continues to intrude on Todd’s privacy by reading each new letter in secret, continuously agitating over their purpose.”

My notes: I’m not 100% sure how well this fic is known because as I stated in the post you mentioned I am extremely new to this fandom, I think I only watched the movie the Saturday before last. Let me tell you, my heart was beating all over the place during this. I cannot believe the audacity of Neil! I don’t want to spoil it because it’s literally a masterpiece, like this should be published and printed and given awards to–the letters and the imagery in them were so *shakes author like a squeaky toy* I LOVE YOUUUU RAHHHHH. Anything i have to say just will not convey how fucking amazing this fic is. Please go read it if you haven’t. And also Neil is an oblivious little man in this fic, the best type of Neil.

A Midnight Summer’s Dream: A Story of Hope (chapter 2 specifically) by cc tinselbee (thearchivistonmars)

Summary: (my words) an almost main au that will tear your fucking soul from your body. Beautiful, amazing, life altering, makes me cry in the best way. The bittersweetness of it all is POTENT. It is an Almost Maine au (I am scared to look into almost maine now from how heartbreaking this fic was. I have only read the SECOND chapter, I’m sure the first chapter is magnificent but as of now I am in the midst of finals so I will check it out when I am done.)

My notes: Someone printed out this fic, tied it to a brick, and threw it into the window of my heart, shattering my soul into pieces. How could you do this to be, author? This piece has me able to physically feel my brain putting up barriers to stop thinking about the ending that is implied. Nope, nope, nope. If you are one for incurable angst, please go ahead and enjoy. It’s a wonderful story and it evoked emotions in me that I couldn’t even stand. The author is very talented for this and I’m manifesting that alternative/possible happy ending they mentioned in their notes/comments. I haven’t read the first chapter, so this is specifically about the second one because up until a few moments ago I didn’t realize that there was a first chapter–I clicked on the link to the fic from the author’s tumblr and was sleep deprived and thought it was the beginning of the fic 🙂

Gentle Lover, Remedy ****by violet_sunset on ao3. 1/1 chap, 13,135 words.

Summary: “Todd’s first semester at Welton marks the moment he stops going to church. There are regular Masses offered in the chapel, but whenever Todd thinks about going he’s overwhelmed by nausea and has to hover in the bathrooms until he is sure he won’t vomit. When he was a kid and he thought God was just a pair of arms open in embrace, he would have jumped at the chance to attend, to sing from the hymnal and listen to homily and absorb the sacrament of blood and body. Now, God seems like a distant thing.”

My notes: HOLY FUCK, RELIGIOUS GUILT MY BELOVED. That’s one of my favorite tags to see in a work, and it isn’t often that I have seen it in some of the pairings that I like. Of course, with religious guilt comes internalized homophobia and period typical attitudes–the fic actually made use of words used in that time period that were used to refer to queer folk, so if any of those trigger you please be wary as well. I love, love, LOVE the usage of religious metaphors and words that are littered all around in this piece as well as the descriptions that show Todd’s pathway of his beliefs. As we know Todd has a deeply ingrained inferiority complex and WOW does it shine in this fic. It made me cry feeling the second-hand guilt that Todd feels. Also, the author tackled the controversy of appropriation in the film–meaning Charlie’s preference of the name Nuwanda–and expanded on his ethnic background which was really nice to read. They also touched upon Charlie’s relation to gender and (semi-canonical?) non-binaryness (it's a word because I say so) in a beautiful and delicate way that is very rare in most works that I have seen. In general there are very few fics that I have read that have included Charlie as being anything other than cisgender, so it was wonderful to see it included in this work. As well as this, Todd having a panic attack/sensory overload when a certain ginger starts being homophobic was incredibly well written and it felt like it captured those feelings that you have during an overwhelmingly stressful moment, though that is an understatement. Todd’s inability to realize just what the fuck is going on and being sort of spacey during it all–been there and done that baby. This author is so fucking talented, and this is probably my favorite dps fic of all time. I dont have the words to effectively describe how amazing it is, so if you are able to, I highly suggest reading it to experience it for yourself :)

It’s Rotten Work by cc tinslebee (the archivistonmars) on ao3, 1/1 chap, 2,774 words.

Summary:

 “I was hoping…” Neil peered back up at him with those fervent eyes before he broke his inconspicuous character and cracked a smile, “my favorite scene partner would help me test it out?”

In the midst of Todd’s continual crisis of what exactly Neil’s ‘no’ means, Neil asks him to read from a scene from Orestes. You know, for practice.

My notes: Short and utterly sweet. I love reading pieces that just show how much characters love each other whether it’s platonic, romantic, or somewhere in between. I’ve always been one for a slowburn, and it wasn’t until I realized that I was aromantic that the reason I love that trope is because in between the first ‘hello’ and the inevitable kiss, that love that I read about was similar to how I felt. Just a simple fondness that the characters had for each other that made them feel alive and safe etc. I could go on forever about that, but what I mean to say is that this fic captured that feeling of affection in a fleeting moment between Neil and Todd, and I think it’s lovely.

The Pepper Ghost Effect by Anonymous on ao3, 6/6 chaps, 19,472 words.

Summary: 

“1964. Todd Anderson, now a successful playwright, whisks away an old flame from a horrifying mental asylum. That old flame, Neil Perry, becomes Todd’s new muse.”

Notes: Beware of the tags. It is a very angst ridden fic that addressed Neil’s mental health and the possibilities of what could have happened if he survived his first attempt on his life. Key word, first attempt. There is period-typical homophobia, past abusive partners, and ableism and abuse stemming from the sanitarium that [spoiler] is placed in for some time. There is a happy ending, so it’s not just angst and I feel that this fic is severely underrated. There are like only 24 kudos on it right now and 4 comments which?? What?? It’s an absolute masterpiece, and effectively captures the feeling and emotion of hopelessness and depression of a situation. Neil’s emotional response and numbness to everything around him resonated with me and I felt like it described my own brush with darkness from the lower points in my life. Read at your own risk and don’t push yourself if any of the tags may be triggering, but if you are able to this is a wonderful read that will elicit all sorts of feelings in your heart.

In the Subjunctive by ghostlin on ao3, 1/1 chaps, 5682 words.

Summary:

“The night the play opens, Neil turns left.”

My notes: This is a sort of fix-it fic with Neil coming back to the dorms after his fight with his father. It leaves off sort of ambiguous–and I do adore a good ambiguous ending–leaving the reader to imagine a happy ending. I consider it a happy ending because Neil is alive, but he is less than well mentally as of what he has endured. It also centered some on Charlie and Neil in the aftermath of it all which I enjoyed because I feel that sometimes fics forget that they are all friends. Todd wasn’t the only one mourning Neil–they all were. Also I liked the way the author captured the surprise of Charlie’s acceptance of Neil’s sexuality amongst the blunt hatred of the time. Often I feel like some fics don’t try to keep the edge of fear or vulnerability that that time period called for–which is totally fine! You do you, boo. I just have a preference for it because I feel that it almost adds to an ambiguous read of a situation. I also liked how the author wrote about Todd’s perception of Charlie and how he perceives him–whether or not Todd is supposed to be unreliable (I think it’s made somewhat clear that Charlie likes Todd–he wouldn't be encouraging Neil to spill his feelings if he didn’t) in his narration.

Also as a side note i love your pfp ive been needing to read the picture of dorian gray but ive been so busy 🙁 and you have a good day too !!❤️

[rughydrangea]

I made the decision a while ago for this to be a fandom space; I wanted it to be somewhere that I only posted about things that either made me happy or were completely meaningless. In my own life I spend a lot of time reading about the world and feeling great despair and trying to rouse myself out of my despair to do something (today was productive; I called and yelled at my senators' voicemails about Gaza and set up a recurring donation to Meduza), and I didn't want that to bleed over onto here.

I don't even know what I can say about Navalny. Last Thursday I flew out to Las Vegas to a professional conference--a large group of people who study Eastern Europe/Eurasia, a large number of whom are Russian citizens. On Friday morning, I woke up, read the news as I always do first thing, and felt something inside me break. Navalny rose to national prominence around the time I started getting serious about Russia, and he was a constant to me. In the past three years, again and again I was overwhelmed by his courage, and his ability to keep on joking and smiling and dictating memes to his social media people even as he suffered under such inhumane conditions. It turned out he meant even more to me than I thought, because the idea that he isn't here anymore, that he won't get to see the wonderful future Russia that he believed in and that I hope for with every fiber of my being hurts too much to bear.

In a way I was lucky that this happened when I was surrounded by Slavists, by Russians. On Friday afternoon there was a reading and Q&A by the opposition journalist Elena Kostyuchenko. The second question in the Q&A was asked by a middle aged man, who stood up and said, "Is there no hope left?" Her answer was quite beautiful ("There is still hope, but we must create it ourselves"), but what really stood out to me was the constant sound of sniffling, including from myself. Everyone was crying.

That evening there was a meeting (when that English word is used in Russian, it typically means a political gathering or protest). I live in a small town that is three hours away from the closest major city, so never have the opportunity to attend meetings. I went. It was in front of the Bellagio; in order to get there, I had to make my way through a luxury shopping mall and a large chunk of the hotel's casino. Once I was outside, there was a Lunar New Year celebration, and then finally, a small group of Russians, holding signs with slogans like Путин - убийца (Putin is a murderer) and the white-blue-white opposition flag. I had no sign and felt out of place, but settled in for a bit. Another woman from the conference got in an argument with a local Russian who was evidently anti-Putin (thus his presence) but somehow pro-Trump. It was a fittingly surreal experience for a surreal day.

On Saturday evening there was an impromptu poetry reading. People read out poems written in Navalny's honor, and other pieces of contemporary political writing, and shared their grief and fear for their relatives still in Russia. I have always been an easy crier, and though I was not alone in crying then, I felt like I was doing something wrong--nobody in my family is in danger from Putin's government. A woman afterwards said it was good that I cry so easily, it means I have a soft heart. I don't know that I think it's a good thing. There's a Hilary Mantel line: "You must thrive in spite of yourself; and so that you may do it, God takes out your heart of flesh, and gives you a heart of stone." I feel like I've been waiting for my heart of stone for 33 years, but it's nowhere to be seen. Maybe that's why I'm not exactly thriving.

I've always resisted communal grief. I thought I had permanently ruptured my relationship with my mother when I skipped my grandmother's memorial, but I couldn't face the prospect of sharing my grief with anyone, not even my family. It was too personal for that. But obviously I didn't know Navalny personally, and my grief for him is tied up in my grief for Russia, this country that I love so much and that I want to see free and happy and peaceful and kind the way I believe it can be. And Navalny did too, and never stopped fighting for it. Even when it killed him. Never for a second could I think of this as a personal loss. It's a loss we share. I feel lucky that I was able to feel that in a community.

(I felt this even more strongly when I briefly ventured into English-language commentary from the intellectuals of the internet (lol), who either didn't get why this was a big deal or didn't care because they know that Navalny was aligned with right-wing movements at the beginning of his career and apparently that is all that matters. I would never dream of defending his flirtation with Russian nationalism, but to act as though nothing that came after (even though was came after was the vast majority of his career) mattered, and to ignore the fact that he turned away from those nationalist movements is just complete bullshit and it makes me so angry. He practiced self-improvement, I thought that was a good thing. But no, I guess only saints are worthy of being mourned on Al Gore's internet.)

Today I woke up and watched Yulia Navalnaya's video. It's here, I highly recommend you watch it if you haven't already. I'm in awe of her strength, her anger, and her love. I made my advanced Russian students watch the whole video and translate it, I had my first years watch the ending with English subtitles. For my second years, I couldn't watch it again, but we listened to a song, "This will pass," by the group Pornofilmy. It's a protest song, and so fucking beautiful (it was my number one song on my Spotify unwrapped last year lol). "This will pass / what a black era has befallen us / but in the distance appears to me / the forgotten light of living hope / this will certainly pass!"

I just couldn't pretend to my students that everything was normal. As students of Russian language, too, they have to understand how important all of this is. Even though I started crying in every class, yikes. I know there's nothing more awkward than a crying teacher, but I still can't believe it. I still can't accept it. I am going to try to do what he encouraged: I won't give up, I won't do nothing. I will do my best to act, as I can, as an American (what I can do is different than if I were Russian, and my responsibilities are different, since my government commits its own evils).

Congrats if you made it to the end! The horrors of this world are too many to count, but as someone who truly loves Russia with all my soul, this fucking hurts.

[rosietrace]

Memory of me 💚

Genre: Birthday oneshot

Ocs featured: Zenith Devi, Victoria Shard

Main tags: Birthday oneshot, fluff, small angst, platonic soulmates

Warning(s): Possible spoilers for Zen's full backstory, Malleus/j, where this takes place in the main story timeline is left ambiguous

[ Reblogs are recommended ]

{ Apologies for any out of character moments }

Zen was bored.

He didn't have much to do today, since he already cleared his schedule earlier. So really, he had nothing to do.

Other than head to the music room, of course.

He did what he usually did in rooms like that. Play a couple of instruments, discover an idea for a new song, write the song, and finalize the concept.

Rinse and repeat. There was nothing new about the hobby he dedicated himself to. He dabbled in poetry, but music was his passion. His lifeline.

Almost nothing was quite like it.

After playing the violin for the past 45 minutes, Zen sighed. He decided that he wanted to spend his birthday another way than waste his time in a music room.

So naturally, he got permission from his headmaster and was allowed to leave campus grounds to visit his home.

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

Zen's smile was bright, eyes glimmering with glee as he was enthusiastically greeted by the servants at the house's entrance.

"It's great to have you back, master Zenith. Do you wish for us to speak to your father for a large celebratory event for your birthday?"

Zen paused and thought about it as he and the head butler were walking around the manor. He concluded and politely shook his head.

"No thanks. Dad's already busy being a marquess as it is, and I wouldn't want to stress him out with making everything picture perfect."

"But the marquess adores you, master. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

His grin softened to nothing but a small smile. One that the head butler recognized all too well.

"It's fine. I promise. I don't need a big extravagant party to be happy on my birthday." He reassured them, placing a hand on their shoulder.

They sighed."You're truly just like your mother, master…" the old man huffed, an exasperated yet endeared smile on their face.

Zen's smile faltered at the mention of his mother. But that didn't stop it from quickly returning.

"Thanks…. May I visit her?"

The butler turned to them with a look. One that asked Zen if he was sure of his request.

To which Zen replied with only a nod and the softest smile he could muster up.

The butler pursed their lips and bowed."Of course, master. You may visit the marchioness's memorial whenever you want…" they spoke, quickly excusing themselves to fulfill a request from Zen's father, the marquess of Devi.

All of a sudden, Zen hummed softly, deciding to head to his personal gardens to pick some flowers for his mother.

After excusing the servants who were tending to the gardens, Zen began his search for the perfect flowers.

"Mother always liked dandelions, but they weren't her favorite…." He muttered, wandering around the garden while trying to remember what his mother's favorite flower was.

"Hmm…. I wonder…"

"I believe auntie's favorite flowers were the amaryllis, white and pink carnations, and gladiolus."

Zen yelped, about to punch the voice behind him before he stopped when gazing at the woman in front of him. One he cherished as much as his mother.

"Ah- Tori?"

Victoria's smile was pure, almost childlike. One no one in night raven college had ever seen.

Only Zen was able to see such a smile all the time.

In an instant, Victoria found herself in the middle of a tight and almost highly anticipated hug from her best friend. In response, she giggled and quickly hugged him back.

"Good to know you're happy about your birthday."

"Well duh! But I didn't think I was able to spend much time with you because of your busy schedule…"

Noticing the pout on his face, Victoria laughed in amusement, pulling Zen closer into their hug.

"Well, I managed to clear my schedule in time to spend the rest of the day with you."

Zen pulled away and cheered, even going as far as to do a little victory dance after what Victoria told him. It made her snort a bit.

"Pffft-"

"Hehe, anyway, I was looking for mom's favorite flowers…"

Victoria nodded."I see…. Well, I'll help you. Let's just hope your garden has the flowers we're looking for." She crossed her arms and her smile began to appear more playful.

Zen rolled his eyes, feeling equally as playful as his beloved 'sister'.

"Can't guarantee that, but one can only hope once they start looking!" He exclaimed, spinning around and continuing his search. Only this time Victoria was quickly trailing behind him.

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

He groaned."WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT!!?"

Victoria deadpanned at his complaint."Well, it isn't your fault that this garden is unnecessarily large." She walked beside him, looking at the flowers on her side.

He narrowed his eyes, stealing a glance."Says the lady with three different rose mazes in one manor." He grumbled.

Victoria smirked."Sorry, what did you say? I couldn't hear you, so I'd prefer it if you said that in my good ear." She teased.

He stuck his tongue out at her, to which she raised her eyebrows in response."A bit childish, don't you think?"

He crossed his arms, looking away from her direction."Shut up…"

She snickered, "You know I was joking, Zen."

"I know, but I was still hurt to hear it!"

"Did it really?"

"Well- No-"

They continued their conversation, shifting topics left and right, not caring about what they were talking about.

Even if some of the servants returned to tend to the garden and sent them questionable looks about the topics they were discussing, they still managed to find the amaryllis and white and pink carnations they were looking for.

The only flower that was left was the gladiolus.

"I bet I could beat a ghost in a fight."

"I don't think that's how it works. They're a ghost, so why bother fighting it?"

"Hypothetically, I'd still win in a fight with a ghost."

"I think it would be better to just call auntie Yona with any spiritual issues."

"You're missing the point."

Before Victoria could counteract, she finally caught sight of the gladiolus they were looking for.

Zen beamed, running towards it at lightning speed. Victoria groaned and did her best to catch up to him, but it didn't help that she was in heels.

Not that she couldn't run in heels, she just found it repetitive.

After picking up a couple of flowers, they both settled into making two small bouquets. Any excess flowers were put in a couple of flower vases that were placed around the house.

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

When they eventually walked up to the doors that led to the memorial, Victoria noticed the hesitation in Zen's body when he was about to open the door.

She frowned, her expression softening at the sight of hidden fear in his eyes.

As Zen's hand was placed over one of the doorknobs, Victoria placed her hand on his as an act of reassurance.

Few words were exchanged between the two. The looks in each other's eyes were enough to have an hour-long conversation on its own.

The sincerity in Victoria's eyes, and the feeling of reassurance she had. It was enough for Zen to take a deep breath and quickly open the doors to the memorial.

His mother's memorial.

It was the equivalent of a small chapel. Yet it felt minimalistic as well. There was a delicate feeling in the architecture of the area like if you touched something for too long, everything could come crashing down on you.

They walked inside, wandering to look around before gazing upon the altar of the room that held the memorial of his mother.

Ekta Devi

Loving mother, beloved marchioness

Date of birth: ???

Date of death: February 14

"Always have a connection with others, and maybe find your true north."

Zen shut his eyes, feeling tears beginning to form. Mom…. Was what echoed in his mind. She's been gone for so long, yet it still felt so painful to gaze upon her memorial for too long.

It didn't help that his father kept her final resting place a secret. She didn't have a gravestone, and her funeral took place in this very room.

Victoria's heels clicked as she approached the altar. The sound of her heels caught Zen's attention and he slowly opened his eyes.

Now on her knees in front of the altar, Victoria's expression was filled with sadness and contempt when she placed the bouquet next to the memorial.

"Salutations, auntie. You might still find my way of speaking unusual…" she laughed to herself dryly, "You always said that I should strive to make more friends… But I don't know if I followed your advice."

Zen didn't speak, only listening to the words that escaped Victoria's lips before it was his turn to approach the altar and say a few words.

Hesitant, Victoria bit the inside of her lips before deciding to sit more casually in front of the altar. She placed her head on her hand, appearing bored.

Zen inched a little closer, curious as to what she was going to do.

"I wish you were still here… You'd have been more spontaneous with every celebration of me and Zen's birthdays."

Zen walked a little closer and was standing next to Victoria in front of his mother's memorial after a short time.

Feeling a little awkward, he placed his bouquet on the other side of the memorial. And finally sat down next to Victoria.

Victoria closed her mouth, turning to Zen, allowing him to let everything out. To say whatever he wanted to say.

It wasn't surprising that tears were already on the brink of falling down his face. Not in the slightest.

"H-Hi, mom…." Zen murmured, doing his best to hide his tears in front of the memorial.

"U-Um… Uh- It's my birthday today.." he said, hugging his legs.

"You might ask how dad's doing, so… I guess he's doing fine. But I don't think he's moved on from you…. I guess he meant it when he said 'till death do us part', huh?"

A bitter, sad laugh left his tongue. And his expression was that of a sad, little boy who hadn't moved on from his mother's death in fourteen years.

As a form of support, Victoria changed her sitting position so Zen could rest on her shoulder. Or on her lap. He chose to rest his head on her lap while still facing the memorial.

"I've been getting into music more than usual lately… You said I'm gonna make it big in the music industry, but I don't really know yet." Victoria smiled sadly at the memory.

And in due course, Zen finally allowed the tears to fall down his face. To let himself sob.

"I… I miss you so much, mom. I miss you, dad misses you, Tori misses you…" he sniffled, realizing it was becoming more difficult to fight back his tears.

"I…. Everyone misses you mom…" he sobbed, "I just wish you were here…."

Knowing it was best for him to let it all out, Victoria had Zen sit up and hugged him close, letting him cry on her shoulder. Even if she got some snot on her shoulder, that didn't matter.

What mattered, was seeing the comforting smile Zen had after letting it all out.

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

They both continued talking in the memorial, telling Ekta everything they had been doing in the past few years or so. Relationships, friendships, familial drama, etc.

Until Victoria took something out of her pocket as they were about to leave.

Noticing the uncharacteristically cheeky smile on her face after he stood up, Zen squinted his eyes."What…" he questioned suspiciously.

She snorted."Remember when you said we'd get married when we were 5?" She giggled at the memory, whereas Zen pursed his lips and rolled his eyes jokingly.

"Well, clearly THAT didn't age well. You're going to marry Malleus anyway."

Victoria scoffed."Oh, hush now, Zen… Besides…"

Zen gasped loudly when Victoria dramatically went on one knee and revealed a box with a ring with sakura detailing on it with bits of diamonds around it.

"Well then, Zenith Devi, will you 'marry' me? Just like we promised?"

He laughed, no, cackled. Bordering full-on wheezing when the question left her lips. It didn't help that she began laughing alongside him.

Quickly taking the ring from its box, Zen gave Victoria the most dramatic look he could muster up. Something similar to the actors from all those romance dramas they'd watch sometimes.

"Yes, Victoria Regina Amarantha Annabella Shard, I do~"

She snickered, standing up and placing the ring on his left hand. Which was where Zen noticed the ring on her right hand.

"What- Is that the promise ring I gave you?"

She held back laughing again."Pfft- Yes." she replied cheekily, "I wore it for today since it means so much to you."

"Hah, I guess we are married."

Victoria cackled as they both walked out of the chapel."I'd say we're officially 'engaged'."

Zen grinned, acting rather haughty and prideful."I'm gonna brag about this to everyone."

"Sure you will…"

"Well, no one can just get married to someone like you, Tori!"

"Oh hush."

"Nope~"

She giggled, kissing the top of his head with the soft smile he always managed to see every day.

"Happy birthday, Zen."

[ Taglist ]

@starry-night-rose @nem0-nee @authoruio @windbornearchon @sakuramidnight15 @fumikomiyasaki @geminiiviolets @crazyyanderefangirlfan @oseathepebble @twsted-princess

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hi!! It's me again, I hope you're keeping well <33. Many congrats on 600 followers!! Could I please get the option 2 for hotd? I'm a straight female and my pronouns are she/her.

I'm fairly introverted and it takes me a while to warm up to people. I love reading, my room is filled with stacks of books. I especially enjoy true crime, poetry and Russian literature!I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, pulling harmless pranks, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything. I love helping out and people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'd consider myself really smart and I'm very ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I daydream a lot and I'm a hopeless romantic! I enjoy all forms of art and storytelling, and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I'm 5'9 and I have long and curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats and I love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down!

Thank you very much!! I hope you have a lovely day ❤️

hi! thank you for participating :)

i ship you with jacaerys!

while it’s his responsibility to get good at talking to people since he’s going to be the heir, id consider him a rather introverted person. i think he struggles with making connections deeper than surface level. so when he meets you and starts getting to know you, he’d understand why you’re a little apprehensive at first and give you the time to get closer to him yourself. but he’d do his best to make you very comfortable around him too. i think he’d be really attracted to you when he first met you. you look like a person who has their shit together, and he was hoping that it would rub off on him. he’d really love getting to know you because he’d realize how ambitious and witty you are, you’d be a genuinely interesting and likeminded person to be around, someone both him and his mother would approve of. i think he’d really appreciate that you enjoy spending quality time with him, as well as letting him rant about his worries or struggles of the day. i think he feels like he needs to be strong all the time, because that it was a king does, but you’d be there to remind him that he is just a child still, and that he’s allowed to struggle.

i think he’d find comfort in joining in on your hobbies, just so he could spend time with you. i think his love language is quality time. he doesn’t care what you’re doing together, as long as you’re together. he’d sit with you while you read, or ask you to read to him. he’d listen to you rant about the book after you finished it, and argue with you over the plot points and your opinions. half the time, he wouldn’t even disagree with you, he just liked watching you get so passionate and into it. plus, he loves to debate, and he could do that with you. he knows you’d actually value what he has to say, and not dismiss it.

i think jace is also a hopeless romantic. there’s something about love, and the process of courting and falling in love, that he really enjoys and values. he’d bring you new books he thought you would enjoy (or books he knew you’d hate, just so he could listen to you rant about it.) you’d find them on your bed, knowing you’d have to thank him later for it.

he’d find you before dinner, somewhere quiet. “am i to assume you found your gift? have you already started it?”

you’d look up at him, showing him the cover. “i’ve already read this one. i left your gift in my chambers, i didn’t want to start it without thanking you first.”

“no need to thank me, love. you’ll like this one, i promise. i read it myself to make sure.”

you’d smile at his thoughtfulness, standing up and taking his arm. “shall we walk before dinner then? i haven’t seen you much today, i want to catch up.”

jace would fight a blush, keeping your arm secure next to him. he’d wonder how he got so lucky, nodding at your words.

“of course. where to?”

[mo0n-water]

hey!

i forgot to answer you yesterday but better late than never right?

my bookshelf is quite outdated style wise and honestly i think i’m going to change it soon. the top shelf is all the series in rainbow order. the bottom shelf has scrapbooks on the left, some nonfiction books next to that and a safe in the middle (which i can no longer open because i lost the key and took the batteries out, so the code doesn’t work). to the right of that are all my pretty books eg leather or clothbound.

i think one of the books that says a lot about me is the 600+ page collection of poetry in latin because a) i do not understand latin and b) i still try to read it anyway. i think it’s says a lot about my personality in ways that i don’t fully understand. i stole it from my school library and snuck it home and it has sat on the top of my bookcase ever since. but more seriously, i’d have to go with the flower fairy books by cicely mary barker that my godmother gave me as a child, especially the season ones, because they are so beautiful and i really love them with all my heart, even though they are children’s books. don’t know if that’s what you wanted but hey :)

todays question for you is: what is your relationship to loneliness? or alternatively if you are in a more lighthearted mood, how would you spend the perfect day?

to address your question from yesterday, i think i will stay anonymous for a while longer but i will eventually reveal my identity, i promise!

sending you lots of love, have an amazing day <33

as i alluded to before, i think what you’ve said about your bookshelf tells more about you than your tumblr url or your name ever could. not in a “i know who you are” type of way, but in an “i understand how you see the world” type of way. i think both of your answers to the book question - the latin collection & the children’s book - say a lot about you in very contrasting ways. not gonna psychoanalyze perfect strangers on main, but thank you for trusting me with that response! genuinely didn’t expect an answer on that haha.

i’d like very much to say that loneliness is something that doesn’t plague me, but i’ve been wondering lately if maybe loneliness is just something i’m going to live with for the rest of my life. it feels like a stranger to me, & the status quo, all at once. but i don’t know if loneliness is such a bad thing. i’ve come to despise contentment, because the idea of not needing to search for more is a suffocating one. is loneliness the solution to that? i feel it the most profoundly when i’m with other people, but my mind feels like it’s on a parallel & distinctly separate plane. i write a lot about that feeling, in songs & stories, but also apparently tumblr posts vaguely directed at strangers.

but yeah, as far as my relationship to loneliness goes, i would call it a companion but not a friend. i don’t know what void i’m shouting this into, but i hope it understands. good question!

i’ll end this on a lighter note, since that was… heavy, haha. i didn’t mean to bum anyone out, but oh well, it’s my blog i suppose. my friends know me well enough to expect that, & strangers should come to.

but yeah, how would i spend the perfect day? the perfect day has infinite forms, because it’s whatever day i’m living. in my head, the perfect day is a warm one in july, two years ago, spotting my best friend at the top of the hill. i think today i’m going to go to the coffee shop & get some writing done, & hopefully i’ll find a friend to hang out with & stave off some of that loneliness. i’m not sure. friends are weirdly hard to come by in the summer, which i feel like is its own version of being lonely. i want to experience life & sunshine with someone today.

i hope you’re having your own perfect day, whatever that means to you! thanks for the question kind stranger, wishing you all the best <3

[missbumbleb33]

Tag Challenge !!

(Tagged by the lovely @47s-left-tit ; muscular men w boobas are always righteous)

Fave color:

All shades of green; mint green resonates w my childhood self and i love me some dark green on clothes, interior decor, etc. Love chartreuse bc it sounds like shart and it makes me giggle. Did yall know there's a type of green called 'hooker's green'? unrelated to sex workers, unfortunately

(my man william hooker, pimp creator of hooker's green)

Last songs:

Six Days (Remix) by DJ Shadow - Beautiful lyrics, def relevant today with all the mess in global affairs rn. A bit bummed out rn bc I just found out that it's from Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift and I did not expect that

Coconut Mall Jazz Arrangement by insaneintherainmusic - 'ya like jazz~?' yeah i fcking love jazz. as a classical clarinetist (non-professional lol) who's nearest attempt at jazz was w the clarinet introduction in Rhapsody in Blue i have so much respect for jazz musicians. If jazz ever had a human form I'd simp the hell out of them. it's such a beautiful genre of music and modern music def needs to give it more credit bc w/o it we wouldn't have a lot of music we have today. sorry that was a terrible sentence but god i love jazz. it's like eating an awesome 7-layer dip. i fucking love 7-layer dips. I recommend everyone to watch 1959, the Year that Changed Jazz , awesome documentary.

(fuck now i'm hungry)

Last series:

Extraordinary Attorney Woo - Such an adorable kdrama. While I don't think it's the BEST representation of autism for the Korean audience, I do think it's a fairly good step in the right direction! I rlly like how Woo solves each case with a creative way, which is my primary reason as of why I enjoy the show. But I think it's also worth mentioning the impact it has on Korean society. As a Korean person who often spends a lot of time on Korean media, I've read, heard, and watched stories about how EAW actually has increased prejudice against autistic ppl in some ways. The drama promotes the misconception that an autistic person must be good/genius at something, and when such a misconception is corrected by an autistic person or a person who cares for an autistic person, ppl get disappointed. Many Korean primary/secondary school students have also pointed out how their friends have started using 'Woo Young Woo' as a mocking nickname for ppl who may not necessarily fit in with the crowd, autistic or not. The drama has also encouraged young ppl to act like the autistic protagonist, which often turns into a display of mockery against autistic ppl. Although the drama does break the stereotype that autistic ppl are intellectually/emotionally inferior to neurotypical ppl, it also indirectly encourages ppl to exotify and, to a certain extent, fetishize autistic ppl. That being said I think that EAW does have great potential for future kdramas to include more positive, nuanced, and accurate representation of autism.

(edit by u/Dinen1203 on the r/ExtraordinaryAttyWoo subreddit)

Last movie:

Minions: The Rise of Gru - I'm 👱 having a bad bad 🔺🚫 day 🌞⏳ It's 😝 about time that 😐➡ I 😏💯 get 🉐🉐 my ⚖ way 👉➡ Steam ♨💨 rolling 😋😋 whatever I 👀 see, 👀👁 huh ❓ Despicable me 🏻🏽 I'm 😠 having 👉 a 👏 bad 😍😍 bad 😈 day 🙏🏼 If 🤔🎅 you take 💨 it 😏 personal that's okay 👍 Watch 👀 this 👅 is 💦💦 so fun to 🏼 see, 👀👀 huh 🤔❓ Despicable me 😩

(hungry for some filet minion)

Currently reading:

The Mad Farmer Poems by Wendell Berry - I like to annotate my poetry books so it'll take me some time to go thru it lol. Just started the book so I don't really have anything to say about it atm

Waterland by Graham Swift - Recommended by my emotional support English teacher during my senior year in high school. Literally just started so idk what to say about it

(haven't rlly read the books yet so i can't put a relevant image to the books specifically, enjoy the shutterstock photo tho, def paid for it)

Currently working on:

Unforeseen and Unconditional Sacrifices - A Hitman Agent 47 x OC fanfic, I do cross-post on Ao3, Wattpad, and Quotev for this one. Just started posting on tumblr tho bc i like the layout of this site

Yuji's Lobbyverse - for me friend, and her beautiful OCs.

A Pokemon Legends Arceus Adaman x OC fic, finishing up my oc's backstory. God I love fictional men w long hair and sharp eyes.

(edit by me :) )

Tagging:

@yujiispotato , you are my only other tumblr mutual :,)

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary47

10/24-25/2023

tuesday-wednesday

didn't do a lot today.

because i vc'd with friends, which was nice, i got to talk to the new guy my friend added, he's awesome, i'm really glad to be around him and everyone else now. i'm talking so weird. basically i have a new friend who i'm going to be talking to, he said we should make music, i said, of course, of course.

that reminds me, i need to write a response to my friend's poetry thing since he passed it onto me.

okay done, that was fun. i'm awfully obsessed with the word "gigolette" because it means prostitute and also piece of meat. it's a very scary word, it's scary what the slang says, i guess, about how men see anyone like that but also it's something that makes me feel like i could curl up beneath it. it's funny how awful things work that way and i just want to repurpose them as self defense. like all i have is my latent, i dunno, whorishness, and feeling like a piece of meat all the time anyways, maybe that's like, an internal sexism thing. i dunno. if i were at this point of my life and not tethered to someone, i think i would have started doing very self destructive things with my sex life, instead i'm monogamous and safe/happy.

anyways i packed a little for tomorrow, or not a little, i think decently, some stuff might get thrown in tomorrow morning, i have to get my skincare stuff ready tomorrow too, otherwise, we should be chill. we meaning me. my gf is chill too i guess. i'm worried about being in a red state but most people don't really give a shit, right, about whatever i am (androgyne and hopefully pretty / hopelessly hopeful that i am pretty / wannabe / sometimes actually what i want to be), the fact i'm nothing definite might keep people away. mostly i'm scared of public restrooms but i'm likely going to have to. so whatever. i should just make peace with something bad maybe happening.

i am gonna bring my camera, to arizona, it might be fun for photos, and hopefully i'll remember to get them off my gf's comp if i bounce them onto therrrre.

anyways i offloaded the pics, some are of bruises, but some are of that imac, here's one that i think is fun/ny:

freakish riffs on this song, i really love the guitar on the right channel, but i guess i love it for how it plays off the left channel, which is also pretty strange. idk, i just love that, i'd like to get to this level some time. i think i made a sound kinda almost there, it's a bit more fucked up though, it's got these really short delays on it w/ constantly modulating times, all super short and it results in a sound that's too close to itself so it makes something kinda uggy (in the good way) and i want to keep messing with it. the constant feedback is cool too.

anyways i did all my working out today, too, sad i won't be able to do anything but the 60 squats while in arizona, but hopefully there'll be enough walking for that to not matter too much.

thinking about taking my psp for the car ride. it would be the first time i play a video game in a while. i had fun just loading it w/ a bunch of noisy faggy stuff i've been listening to (like the above song) lol.

i'm also now thinking if i should make my own psp theme. it seems like a fun way to spend a day. who knows, maybe i will. my psp is the cute sakura pink one.

the only game i have in here is persona 2, which i like decently. i should get farther into it. if i play it on the ride i will. also, i really wanna get a camera peripheral for my psp to do stuff w/ that, that seems like it could be really crazy for the stuff i'm looking to do.

anywayssssss, i need to sleep soon soooo:

byebye!!!!!!!!

[082112]

A few thoughts from today:

1. I am seriously thinking about leaving Alaska and Outer Coast early. Called Michelle today and told her about all my horrible thoughts: that I am allowed to rest because I got my big tech internship, ergo my gap year is “baseline successful”; if I get a winter big tech internship I’ll let myself drop out because then I will be “doing something with my gap year instead of bumming around”; and my reasons to not drop out right now, which mainly revolve around needing a transcript from this school so I can show grad schools I’m not bumming around and staying long enough that I can farm this experience for application essays and interview answers in the future. “They’re horrible, ugly thoughts,” I said, “if these are the reasons I’m staying, I should not stay. But I keep thinking, what am I gonna tell the Marshall selection committee in two years? It’s a horrible way of thinking.” And I am ashamed of it, I think. The truth is that I’m not having a good time right now. I’m desperately homesick and horribly anxious and don’t feel any level of human warmth from the people here anywhere near the level I need to feel happy and safe, and that’s terrifying, and it makes me fear that the rest of my life any time I go someplace new will be like this, and by my own social inadequacies and follies I will be consigned to a life of aching solitude. Of course logically I know that not to be true. But my mental health has been bad the past few weeks, and fear speaks often to me. Mom and dad are supportive, though, of whatever I do - and have told me many wise things, like “it’s okay to have a bad experience” and “you can’t blame yourself for everything and attribute all your hardships to personal failings” and “you should listen to yourself.” It’s a bit sad, because I had a good few weeks (despite a horrendous first week) when I came here and there are things I have gained and events I have been a part of that have made me feel very happy and fulfilled, in a way. Something about nature and ancestors and movement and culture and song. But I’ve been quite miserable and homesick for the past week and a half, and I seriously just want to go home. It’s not a good use of my time to be miserable alone here when every time I call home the house in everyone’s backgrounds is filled with warmth. And yet I keep on telling myself I’m halfway through and only have 6 real weeks of classes left, I can stick it through, I can spend my free time reading books and watching anime and playing games instead of moping, et cetera… so I’m horribly torn.

2. Language - being here really re-affirms my belief that I want to learn more languages of the world. And also learn more language in English - I have felt so often and so achingly much that there are so many things I have not found language to say, and those unsayable things live with me every day and I feel them constantly. And today I was just thinking of that, and how much I wanted to write poetry again. How much I wanted to find it in me.

3. On brilliant minds: this has two parts. The first is that I realize I seriously idolize my teachers when I admire them, when in reality they are JUST A GUY. So when I don’t get the attention I want from them (this is often) I nope and blame myself and question everything about the world, all the questions that haunt me like if there is subliminal racism or sexism or whateverism, if they see less of my personhood than if I had the precisely same mind in the body of a white person. And endless comparisons to peers. And I want to be recognized as a brilliant and exceptional mind by these teachers so badly. But the moment that thought crossed my mind today I struck it down - first, my teachers are flawed humans too. Great holders of knowledge, sure, but also susceptible to bias and ego and ignorance. Secondly, I do not really want the purpose of my intellect or anything else I cultivate to be in service to gaining recognition from a select few. To be honest, I’m not as invested in having an exceptionally brilliant mind as I was when I was younger. Of course this illusion still stands. But more and more now I really just want a mind that has the facilities I require to know the world in the ways I need for the greater part of myself to feel things like wonder and peace and anger and sadness, all meshed together in that impossible understanding of grief and joy and light.

So - top M.O.s at Outer Coast include:

- scheduling therapy

- reading more books

- watching more shows

- de-idolizing staffulty and recognizing the just-some-guyness of them

- deciding whether or not I want to leave

It’s crazy and unbelievable to me that everything is gonna be okay. But very clearly too I can see that everything is definitely gonna be okay.

[dungeonsdragonstdelinquents]

anderperry fic rec

hi! if youre seeing this, i actually answered this in an ask but i think i accidentally deleted it bc i literally cant find it, so im repost it here. im keeping my intro of my ask just bc i gave some backround about the fics i listed. happy reading!!

Hi thank you for the ask!! Oh goodness my favorite dps fics…I will include in general fics that I liked, but the ones that I have placed an asterisk with are pieces that had me–for lack of a better phrase–crying, screaming, shitting on the floor from how poetic they made me feel. Which really doesn't make much sense, but when i say poetry within me i just mean this strange feeling that is difficult to describe. Also these are all anderperry because i am a basic bitch, so apologies if you were looking for any other pairs! Maybe after finals I will look into some of the other pairs and put together a list for them too :)

(in no particular order)

What We Stay Alive For **** by PiscesVanity on ao3, 18/18 chaps, 66,485 words.

Summary: “Do we get second chances in this life, Todd?” Neil asks him like he expects a negative answer. Todd doesn’t give that to him.

“Yes. we do. I know it.” 

“Do you?” Neil grins, playfully elbowing him. “Did you at least wait to take it? That second chance? Until the world was more peaceful? More kind?” 

Ten years after the death of Neil Perry, Todd Anderson wakes up with a second chance.

My notes: This incredibly crafted piece of art was the first dead poets fic I ever read. It honestly set the bar for me, for future reads. Also i didn’t have the chance to reread this one because this baby is long as FUCK and as much as I love long fics to read, I have to study for finals today so I can’t right now. I’m like 80% sure this is the fic where they confess by the lake and say something along the lines of “if you feel something even similar to what i feel…” but again i can’t be sure. Either way all I remember is that this fic is fricken good. Just for context, this is a time-traveling fic, but the type of time travel that happens in 13-going-on-30. Todd prays for a second chance on the eve of the 10 year anniversary of Neil’s death and he wakes up in his 17 year old body, on the day that he started school at Hell-ton. I think in general I just love the dead poets fandom because it combines some of my favorite tropes in any form of reading–50s/60s time period, boarding schools, and well…being gay. It is a fix-it so there is some angst, but there is a happy ending. But it will hit hard, especially since it comes close in the end so be wary. When I first started it, I was concerned about my own interest dwindling because the fic was going to cover the entirety of the movie, and since I have issues rereading or rewatching pieces of media when I know the end or the majority of it, I didn’t know if I was going to last. But the author of this stunning work (I know it sounds cheesy BUT IT IS) crafted it in a way that didn’t leave me bored. Even though several lines were pulled from the movie due to it being a time travel fic I still felt involved and captured by the story. It was comforting at the beginning to see how Charlie and Todd took care of each other after Neil’s death, and it was also intriguing to see how Todd almost started where he left off with Neil when he went back in time. He was more open than he had been prior, but eventually had settled back into his ‘old’ personality that he had before his first encounters with the poets. 

to be alone with you by wordshakers on ao3, 1/1 chaps, 3,602 words.

Summary: “Thursday evenings were, unequivocally, Neil’s favorite part of the week.

On the surface, the explanation for this was simple enough. It was his opportunity to turn his focus entirely to the topic that made him happiest: Shakespeare. He savored the time he was able to spend sitting out on the dock, overlooking the lake, reading and reciting the words he loved so much.

The other reason–perhaps the more prominent one–Neil wasn’t able to explain quite as easily. In fact, he could hardly admit it to himself. Thursday evenings…they meant being alone with Todd.

An anderperry first kiss fic, set in a near-canon universe of the film (minus the death). Fluffy mutual pining.

My notes: I can’t recall everything about this one because my mind has been scrambled the last few days, but it is fluffy, it is cute, and it has Todd and Neil practicing lines together–what more could you want? 

letters to my dearest beloved ****by UniversalSatan on ao3, 4/4 chaps, 34,162 words.

Summary: 

“My dearest beloved,

It is with great relief that I finally write to you. I think it doubtful for my words to ever reach your ears, but spare me this chance to lend you a piece of my thoughts–and only a piece, for I must write with caution lest I be discovered.

Neil, amidst his own internal emotional conflict, accidentally stumbles upon letters Todd had been writing in secret to an unknown recipient. Neil (an idiot) continues to intrude on Todd’s privacy by reading each new letter in secret, continuously agitating over their purpose.”

My notes: I’m not 100% sure how well this fic is known because as I stated in the post you mentioned I am extremely new to this fandom, I think I only watched the movie the Saturday before last. Let me tell you, my heart was beating all over the place during this. I cannot believe the audacity of Neil! I don’t want to spoil it because it’s literally a masterpiece, like this should be published and printed and given awards to–the letters and the imagery in them were so *shakes author like a squeaky toy* I LOVE YOUUUU RAHHHHH. Anything i have to say just will not convey how fucking amazing this fic is. Please go read it if you haven’t. And also Neil is an oblivious little man in this fic, the best type of Neil.

A Midnight Summer’s Dream: A Story of Hope (chapter 2 specifically) by cc tinselbee (thearchivistonmars)

Summary: (my words) an almost main au that will tear your fucking soul from your body. Beautiful, amazing, life altering, makes me cry in the best way. The bittersweetness of it all is POTENT. It is an Almost Maine au (I am scared to look into almost maine now from how heartbreaking this fic was. I have only read the SECOND chapter, I’m sure the first chapter is magnificent but as of now I am in the midst of finals so I will check it out when I am done.)

My notes: Someone printed out this fic, tied it to a brick, and threw it into the window of my heart, shattering my soul into pieces. How could you do this to be, author? This piece has me able to physically feel my brain putting up barriers to stop thinking about the ending that is implied. Nope, nope, nope. If you are one for incurable angst, please go ahead and enjoy. It’s a wonderful story and it evoked emotions in me that I couldn’t even stand. The author is very talented for this and I’m manifesting that alternative/possible happy ending they mentioned in their notes/comments. I haven’t read the first chapter, so this is specifically about the second one because up until a few moments ago I didn’t realize that there was a first chapter–I clicked on the link to the fic from the author’s tumblr and was sleep deprived and thought it was the beginning of the fic 🙂

Gentle Lover, Remedy ****by violet_sunset on ao3. 1/1 chap, 13,135 words.

Summary: “Todd’s first semester at Welton marks the moment he stops going to church. There are regular Masses offered in the chapel, but whenever Todd thinks about going he’s overwhelmed by nausea and has to hover in the bathrooms until he is sure he won’t vomit. When he was a kid and he thought God was just a pair of arms open in embrace, he would have jumped at the chance to attend, to sing from the hymnal and listen to homily and absorb the sacrament of blood and body. Now, God seems like a distant thing.”

My notes: HOLY FUCK, RELIGIOUS GUILT MY BELOVED. That’s one of my favorite tags to see in a work, and it isn’t often that I have seen it in some of the pairings that I like. Of course, with religious guilt comes internalized homophobia and period typical attitudes–the fic actually made use of words used in that time period that were used to refer to queer folk, so if any of those trigger you please be wary as well. I love, love, LOVE the usage of religious metaphors and words that are littered all around in this piece as well as the descriptions that show Todd’s pathway of his beliefs. As we know Todd has a deeply ingrained inferiority complex and WOW does it shine in this fic. It made me cry feeling the second-hand guilt that Todd feels. Also, the author tackled the controversy of appropriation in the film–meaning Charlie’s preference of the name Nuwanda–and expanded on his ethnic background which was really nice to read. They also touched upon Charlie’s relation to gender and (semi-canonical?) non-binaryness (it's a word because I say so) in a beautiful and delicate way that is very rare in most works that I have seen. In general there are very few fics that I have read that have included Charlie as being anything other than cisgender, so it was wonderful to see it included in this work. As well as this, Todd having a panic attack/sensory overload when a certain ginger starts being homophobic was incredibly well written and it felt like it captured those feelings that you have during an overwhelmingly stressful moment, though that is an understatement. Todd’s inability to realize just what the fuck is going on and being sort of spacey during it all–been there and done that baby. This author is so fucking talented, and this is probably my favorite dps fic of all time. I dont have the words to effectively describe how amazing it is, so if you are able to, I highly suggest reading it to experience it for yourself :)

It’s Rotten Work by cc tinslebee (the archivistonmars) on ao3, 1/1 chap, 2,774 words.

Summary:

 “I was hoping…” Neil peered back up at him with those fervent eyes before he broke his inconspicuous character and cracked a smile, “my favorite scene partner would help me test it out?”

In the midst of Todd’s continual crisis of what exactly Neil’s ‘no’ means, Neil asks him to read from a scene from Orestes. You know, for practice.

My notes: Short and utterly sweet. I love reading pieces that just show how much characters love each other whether it’s platonic, romantic, or somewhere in between. I’ve always been one for a slowburn, and it wasn’t until I realized that I was aromantic that the reason I love that trope is because in between the first ‘hello’ and the inevitable kiss, that love that I read about was similar to how I felt. Just a simple fondness that the characters had for each other that made them feel alive and safe etc. I could go on forever about that, but what I mean to say is that this fic captured that feeling of affection in a fleeting moment between Neil and Todd, and I think it’s lovely.

The Pepper Ghost Effect by Anonymous on ao3, 6/6 chaps, 19,472 words.

Summary: 

“1964. Todd Anderson, now a successful playwright, whisks away an old flame from a horrifying mental asylum. That old flame, Neil Perry, becomes Todd’s new muse.”

Notes: Beware of the tags. It is a very angst ridden fic that addressed Neil’s mental health and the possibilities of what could have happened if he survived his first attempt on his life. Key word, first attempt. There is period-typical homophobia, past abusive partners, and ableism and abuse stemming from the sanitarium that [spoiler] is placed in for some time. There is a happy ending, so it’s not just angst and I feel that this fic is severely underrated. There are like only 24 kudos on it right now and 4 comments which?? What?? It’s an absolute masterpiece, and effectively captures the feeling and emotion of hopelessness and depression of a situation. Neil’s emotional response and numbness to everything around him resonated with me and I felt like it described my own brush with darkness from the lower points in my life. Read at your own risk and don’t push yourself if any of the tags may be triggering, but if you are able to this is a wonderful read that will elicit all sorts of feelings in your heart.

In the Subjunctive by ghostlin on ao3, 1/1 chaps, 5682 words.

Summary:

“The night the play opens, Neil turns left.”

My notes: This is a sort of fix-it fic with Neil coming back to the dorms after his fight with his father. It leaves off sort of ambiguous–and I do adore a good ambiguous ending–leaving the reader to imagine a happy ending. I consider it a happy ending because Neil is alive, but he is less than well mentally as of what he has endured. It also centered some on Charlie and Neil in the aftermath of it all which I enjoyed because I feel that sometimes fics forget that they are all friends. Todd wasn’t the only one mourning Neil–they all were. Also I liked the way the author captured the surprise of Charlie’s acceptance of Neil’s sexuality amongst the blunt hatred of the time. Often I feel like some fics don’t try to keep the edge of fear or vulnerability that that time period called for–which is totally fine! You do you, boo. I just have a preference for it because I feel that it almost adds to an ambiguous read of a situation. I also liked how the author wrote about Todd’s perception of Charlie and how he perceives him–whether or not Todd is supposed to be unreliable (I think it’s made somewhat clear that Charlie likes Todd–he wouldn't be encouraging Neil to spill his feelings if he didn’t) in his narration.

[ekoilemartinwrite]

Journal March 1, 2023

I spoke to Delta outside of the church today. She is one of the clients at the day center. She found out last week her best friend overdosed with the needle drug. I think she asked what I thought about someone asking – or thinking that she needed to go to detox. I asked her what she felt about it. She told me a bit more about her situation, she has some complicated feelings. Him both regarding her situation, and that I think she thinks life is no mostly very mean to her. She drinks alcohol, a lot. But she's told me "I'm not ready to stop drinking."

I give her a lot of credit for that. She's able to identify that maybe she needs to stop, but she isn't ready to do that. Apparently she's been in, and out of detox several times. I don't think she had – feels that she has another way to process, or express, her sadness and emotions beyond alcohol. – Oh, this is why a poetry thing is needed. With the poetry workshop, I can give better tools. That's not to say that they will all use them, or even go regularly. But talking – giving tools for writing poetry, it's another way to express, process, understand and experience our emotions. And the life that we have lived.

My collaboration partner, I don't think he really realizes how gifted he is that artistic expression. He is so artistically driven it is remarkable to me. He doesn't realize how gifted he is.

I hate disobeying. – I feel like my sin puts blinders and earmuffs in my ears. I hate it, and yet it is a comfort. We grow comfortable in our chains. No matter that they restrict, and bind us. No matter that they will lead to our death they are comfortable. They are a curse – I strive for their removal, and want to move in the path that will do so.

There was a training at the church today. I think I'm going to be handling a lot of clothes, or at least the clothing closet.

***

Where did I get the notion that I not sexualize people I know? Something tells me – I have this sense that sexualizing people that I'm not in a relationship with is wrong. And that sexualizing people that I personally know would warp my opinion, or my sense of them. I don't know where that came from.

***

I am now, sitting in the car while my roommate wanders store. I feel conflicted about our difference in schedule. As I've gotten older, I have realized that I like getting up early. I have learned, about myself as I gotten older, I like getting up in the morning. I like getting up with the sun. I think I seem to share that with my mother. At this moment I feel really cranky, because I know I'm not can get to bed on time. And I partially feel upset that I don't get to spend as much time with my roommate as I want to. And I don't know if I'm upset at her, at me, or at the fact that there is a difference and a mismatch there.

***

I sought sex from more than a dozen men. I paid money for most of it. And the one man who actually sought me out that I did not pay money for, sought me out be because of what I could do for him. And that one hurt more than – more than any of the others. Because confirmed the lies. All the others left me cold, but him seeking me when I was not interested, – it hurt more than any of the others. It felt like it confirmed I was only good for the pleasure that I could give. When he wasn't actually interested in me. I don't think he hardly ever really asked about what I liked, or my pleasures, on my pains.

It only occurred to me tonight, while speaking with my roommate, maybe all of those things – all of those times, – really confirmed that I never really liked men the way I thought I did. The way I told myself I will should; the way I thought I was supposed to.

[thepolycarbonateshape]

A thought I wanted to remember

Today a dear friend of mine told me that he was pulling his three self-published novels from storefronts. I had two thoughts when this happened:

What the fuck. What happened

NOW I HAVE THE ONLY PHYSICAL EDITIONS (For those that know me it isn't surprised my brain acts this way)

I was deeply saddened by this news. He told me the reasons and they made sense, but it still left me sad. He had put a piece of himself out there, and now he was pulling it back in. I was sad, because others won't see that piece, and I was blessed with seeing it.

My friend has self-published three novels and one poetry book. He has long since pulled the poetry book, a collection of teenage era self pitying lines, and I happened to be the only person who ever bought a physical version to keep its memory alive.

His three novels were literary evidence and improvement over time. His first book, Walpurgis Hallow, was a "80s horror love story" that had gone from a short story written in Creative Writing class to a full fledged novel.

Was it good? No. Was it interesting to read? Maybe.

Due to the nature of being originally posted to Wattpad, each chapter did not so much flow into each, as feel like individual beginning middles and ends to a story. It was also bogged down by things like: overly long character dialogue, page long speeches about concepts that had already been resolved and a distinct lack of understanding on how to right a climax or fight scene. Ultimately I would compare chapters to a Telltale Adventure game episode.

His second novel, "Shadows over Walpurgis Hallow", was a step in the right direction. It was written with one complete narrative in mind and shows, no longer a collection of smaller stories, Shadow attempted to be one cohesive narrative.

Did it succeed? Mostly. Did I still enjoy it? Yes

It was a tighter story that ultimately showed off the characters and ideas better than the 500 pages of the first novel had done. However it still suffered from some long dialogue sections about repeated conflicts from the first book and a climax that felt more "and then they won" and less "and this is how they won".

Which brings me to the final one: "Walpurgis Hallow III". This book took the longest to write, with the most revisions of any. Originally thought out as a spin-off story about alternate dimensions, it morphed from a days of future past rip off, to a battlestar galatica rip off to the final story that was published. And I helped every step of the way.

For anyone who is a aspiring writer would know, finding people to read your work can be quite difficult. By virtue of being one of five people who had read books one and two, I was strong-armed into helping read through drafts of book three. And it was a journey. The first draft (days of future past) was completely scrapped early on with only a few ideas from it held on. Draft two (as we came to call it) was the first one that had a beginning middle and end, however, around the middle it started to completely unravel. Due to deteriorating mental health of my friend the author, it became a confusing and ultimately scrapped mess. Draft three was the final one and the one that worked the best. We had taken most of the first third of draft two that worked, rearranged event to make more sense and created what was his best work.

Since then he has worked on a handful of fanfiction stories set in the Halloween universe and a couple new novel concepts that for one reason or another didn't work out.

I'm sorry I don't have a link to share with the world about these novels. I would love to tell you to go and read them and support my friend. But I can't, and that was his decision to make and as his friend, I support him.

So I hope everyone will raise a toast with me to Walpurgis Hallow: a series nobody knows, but I hold deep in my heart, written by: A younger....stupider.....brave man.

p.s. The friend I speak of actually spends a lot of time one tumblr and I follow him on here. I doubt he will ever see this and honestly that's good, want to keep those who know me personally as far away from these ramblings. But if this somehow ends up in your hands friend.....know these words come from my heart and I will always be there to help with your next project.

[parkers-gal]

Tom x reader where reader wants to move out & live with Tom only (not with boys). Tom doesn’t want to move out, maybe Nikki has a talk with him

the one T.H.

➢ a / n | went a lil overboard, heh, but enjoy this ! sorry it took a lil while :,(

➢ wc | 2.5k <3

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

There’s too many dishes in the sink, you note. There’s so many, that they won’t all fit for one load in the dishwasher. It’s a pain, and you know nobody in this house has the patience to wait for two full loads to carry through, so you have to hand wash half of them and allow the whirring machine to do the other half.

If this were a romantic comedy, you’d have Tom standing next to you and you’d hold hands under the suds while you wash the dishes together and chat about your future. This isn’t a rom-com, though. In fact, you don’t even know where the boys are right now. You were certain they went into the den to play Call Of Duty — or whatever it is that they play — but then you thought they went into the backyard with Tessa, but now you’ve just given up on figuring their whereabouts.

Not that you’re angry at Tom for not helping, though. He did the laundry with you earlier, so you’re content with his keeping end of the deal. It’s the other four that you’re a bit fed up with. Sam had just recently joined the Holland-Osterfield-Barrett household of mates, and while you’re all the more happy to welcome him in, it also means more work. There’s a chore schedule, but sometimes someone has work in a town or a country away, and the gaps in the schedule are only ever left for you to fill.

It’s tough, considering you have your own job, but you’re content with the situation — for now. You have Tom, the love of your life, and you have the best people of your life - Harry, one of your closest confidants, and Harrison, one of your partners in crime.

There’s a lot of baggage that comes with being the only woman in a household of boys that practically grew up with each other. You love Tessa with all your heart, but it’s not like you can really gossip to her about your day.

You’re not too worried about everything, anyway. The second anniversary of your relationship with Tom is coming up; it’s only a few months away, and though you’ve been pondering the idea for awhile, you’re thinking of getting a place with Tom, on your own, without the nagging and intruding fellow in-laws (to-be, hopefully).

Six weeks, today marks, for how long you’ve been thinking about the idea, debating whether it’s valid enough to bring up to Tom, deciding when the best time to talk to him would be. He’s a hard man to navigate — getting a spot in his busy schedule is like fighting to the front of a One Direction mosh-pit. That makes it practically impossible.

But, you’re Y/N. You’re his sweetheart, his darling, his weakness. You’re the most important person in his life, and when you want to have a serious conversation with him, Tom’s all ears and eyes, attentive and caring, understanding and, hopefully, supportive.

You’re hoping it won’t take much convincing — he’s lived with these people all his life, and if it’s truly hard for him to decide, you’ll know what he really wants then.

Ringing out a few glass cups, you let them dry on a dish rack that sits on the countertop. The buzzing and whirring of the dishwasher alerts you that it’s still happily running, and you walk towards the glass sliding doors that lead to the patio and backyard. Peering out, you see all four housemates and Paddy, playing with a frisbee and wrestling with Tessa and messing around with a rugby ball on the trampoline. They look like kindergarteners on the playground, and you decide then to bring them some lemonade like a mother in summertime.

“Hope you’re all a bit thirsty,” you set the tray down with a warm smile. Sam shuts his book of poetry to smile up at you from his seat. He’s been reading for a good fifteen minutes, but you reckon he’ll hop on the trampoline when Harrison gets off. For now, he watches as the Irregulars star jumps happily with Tuwaine.

“Oh, sick,” Harry runs over with the frisbee still in his hands, reaching for a glass and taking a big gulp. Tessa’s at his feet, awaiting for the frisbee game to resume, and you pet her head for a moment before Tom runs over to you, hair matted to his forehead in sweat.

“You’re the best, love,” his hand finds the small of your back as he kisses your temple. You smile again, eyes shutting in bliss at the feeling of his lips, but his hand maneuvers you so he can reach for a glass without bumping into you.

One by one, they come over for refreshments, before picking up where they left off beforehand. Tom’s last to leave, wanting to talk to you before playing with his brothers again.

“Oh, I have to talk to you later,” you whisper, fingers tracing down his damp (sweaty) shirt with a giggle. Tom raises a brow, and you nod softly, “Just, when you have time. Now have fun,” you push him off, and though he’s still just as curious, he leaves you alone on the patio. Taking one last glance at the rowdy group of boys, you bring the tray of empty cups inside, sliding the door shut and sighing to yourself. More dishes to do.

——

Tom’s drying his hair with a purple bath towel when he comes out of the steamy bathroom. He sighs contentedly, before remembering your words from earlier. He brings it up, “What was it that you needed to talk to me about?”

He walks over to the dresser while you look up from your phone. You hum as Tom puts something away, and you shut the electronic device off, setting it on your nightstand and twisting to face his direction.

“I wanted to talk to you about… us, I guess.”

You see Tom’s movement slow, and he removes the towel from his damp curls, turning around hesitantly. You smile, waving him off, “Nothing bad, I promise.”

He lets out an inaudible “phew,” and nods. “Good.” You agree with a nod of your head, and he furthers on with the questions. “What is it, though? Is it something important?”

“I mean…” Tom places his towel on the rack before walking to the opposite side of the mattress “Sorta?” You offer, and you see the gears turn in his head. He sits down across from you, on the bed, and he smiles encouragingly, still a bit suspicious.

“Well, I’m all ears, darling.”

You smile at the familiar pet name, and with a final breath in, you admit what’s been in your head for the past few months. “I was thinking maybe we could… move out… without the boys.”

It’s dead quiet for a few beats while the words sink into his mind. You’re not sure how he’s going to react, but you watch to gauge his reaction.

His mouth opens, almost as if he’s about to say something, but then he closes it, as if he’d suddenly second guessed himself. For once, you truly can’t read him.

“I thought… I thought you liked living here?” he says softly, almost a bit saddened.

You sigh with your words, “I do! Really, I do, but…”

“But…?” He bites his lip.

“Well, I mean…” you exhale again, “We’ve been together for almost two years,” he’s still listening, “Don’t you think we should be a little more independent?”

“I mean, sure, if we were a normal couple.” He laughs at the joke, and while you do too, it’s not really genuine, but more forced for the awkward tension in the air. “I just thought you… y’know, enjoyed spending time with everyone.”

You nod understandingly. “I do, Tom. Really, I do. But… y’know, we’re not getting any younger. I just thought maybe it was time for us to get a place of our own.” It comes out as more of a suggestion, a question for him to respond to. You quietly bite your lip while Tom nods at the information he’s taking in.

He looks down at his fingers, before locking eyes with you. “Can I think about it?”

You shut your eyes softly while nodding. Tom blinks, before standing from the bed, giving you a kiss on the forehead and bidding farewell, heading downstairs for more quality time with his brothers.

——

It’s been a week since that conversation took place in your room. You didn’t think it’d go so… bad? You’re not sure if you should say that, because he didn’t exactly say “no,” he just didn’t seem enthusiastic about deciding at all.

It’s a quiet Saturday. You’re out bowling with a few of your friends, news of one of them getting engaged spreading like wildfire. She’s having a dinner party later, but for now, you’re keeping the meeting small, inviting your closest circle for the fun day at the bowling lanes.

Tom asked you if you wanted to reschedule the dinner with his family, but you insisted that arriving late would be fine. It’s only four o’clock — the Holland family likes to come for late lunch and spend the night playing games and drinking beer, until the clock strikes midnight and Paddy’s passing out in the backseat on the way back home.

At least now, only one Holland brother stays with the parents.

Somehow, someway, the conversation had shifted to you. Everyone’s gathered in the living room, scattered on sofas, couches, beanbags, armchairs, loveseats. Tom misses you at his side, but the conversation of how your work is going just reminds him of what you’d proposed a few days ago.

“How’re things with her in general, though?” Nikki, Tom’s mom, asks with a smile. The eyes shift towards Tom, and he can feel his face heating up.

“Yeah, how’re things with the lovebirds?” Harry teases.

Tom chuckles, anxiety bubbling in his stomach, twisting his. “Uh- they’re- they’re good, yeah,” he assures them, though shaky.

“You sure, there?” Harrison teases. “Did someone propose or something?”

“No, no,” Tom airily chuckles. “Nothing like that.” “Oh?” His dad picks up, “What, then?”

“She- uh…” he licks his lips out of habit. “She wants to move out. Find a place for us, she said.”

The tone in which Tom tells them lets them know that he’s a little less than enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. It’s something that raises a red flag for Nikki; it’s something that makes her brows furrow in confusion.

“Oh,” Sam breaks the silent. “I’m happy for you, bro,” he pats Tom’s shoulder.

Tom smiles, though it’s forced and a bit spaced out.

“What’re you gonna tell her?” Harry asks. “You want it too, right?”

Tom shrugs weakly. Nobody talks about his responses, his reactions. It’s all a bit unexpected, for Tom to not be on board with the next step of the relationship.

“I mean, I don’t know, really.” He confesses with a nervous laugh, running a hand through his curls. “I’d miss you all so much. I just… I don’t know, I guess I just thought she liked living here too, y’know.”

A collective number of “yeah’s” and “mhm’s” go around the room, and Tom nods nonchalantly before the conversation switches to something more exciting. For now, Nikki lets it go, just until she can get her eldest in a room by himself, and before you get home.

It’s when Tom’s getting snacks for the group that Nikki decides to offer her help in the kitchen. They’re just putting dinner in the oven and preparing appetizers, but still, any opportunity to talk to Tom.

“So,” Nikki smiles, and Tom giggles while she puts another slice of tomato on the dish they’re preparing. “Moving out, huh?”

Though her tone is teasing, Tom can’t help but get shivers. He nods, quieting down a bit. Nikki’s movements remain, but Tom stops working altogether. “I don’t want to move out.”

His mum turns to look at him, and she nods, almost as if anticipating the confession. “Why not?”

Tom clicks his tongue, looking down as if he’s ashamed of feeling this way. “I just like things the way they are right now. I know at some point, someone’s gonna move out and the clan’s gonna go our separate ways, but I don’t want to be the one to go first.”

At this, Nikki fully turns to talk to Tom, no longer making dinner. “Tom…” She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, and Tom does the same. “You were the first to go, you know.”

His eyebrows pull together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she sighs, “Your career was first to take off. You ran out that door so fast, we couldn’t keep up.” Tom laughs, reminiscing to himself. “You’re going to keep growing,” she says softly. “You can’t stop that. You can’t stop everyone from growing apart. Sure, you might not grow apart, but you won’t always be this cute little boy band from your school days.”

“Not a boy band, mum,” Tom grumbles. The two of them share a knowing smile.

“You can’t blame yourself for growing, darling,” she steps closer, grabbing one of his hands just like he had grabbed hers the day he was first born. “You can’t expect to be the glue that holds this- this temporary situation together forever. You’re not a superhero,” the two of them laugh again, but then Tom nods knowingly, and Nikki can see a faint batch of tears spring in his eye sockets.

“No, I know, mum.” He sniffles. “I guess… I don’t know, i’ve just always been afraid of never being there when everything changes. I always come back and everyone’s a different person, just…” he searches for the words, “with the same faces.”

She nods, turning back to her dinner dish. Tom keeps his eyes trained on his hands, which are planted on the countertop.

“She loves you a lot, you know.” Nikki says after a few beats. “She just wants a bit of privacy, a bit of your relationship without your annoying brothers.”

“Annoying is right,” Tom teases. They laugh again. “Yeah, I guess I just never thought of that.” Nikki hums, and the kitchen grows silent for a few moments. “Thank you, mum.”

“For what?”

“Being there.” Tom replies. “You never gave up on me, and now… I don’t know. It means a lot to me that you’re helping me with something so important to me.”

Nikki’s eyes soften, and both of them tear up. She nods, this time breaking the silence again. “I know how much you love her,” She says quietly. “One day, she’ll be yours for forever. She’s the one — I can see it in both of your eyes.”

Tom sucks in a breath and wipes his eyes. “I know she’s the one, too.” He adds in another tomato to the dish. “She’s always been it for me.”