MasterList ❤︎
last edited 11/18/22
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
DEAR READER
Claire Keane

Kiana Khansmith
dirt enthusiast
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tumblr dot com
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

izzy's playlists!
h
noise dept.

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occasionally subtle
Show & Tell
sheepfilms
Mike Driver
almost home
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@drabblesofthesoul
MasterList ❤︎
last edited 11/18/22
Write fanfics for your own characters, create fanart for your own characters, make moodboards for your own characters, create fanedits for your own characters, be your own fucking cheerleader and be openly and proudly obsessed with what you created.
why are the best poets on earth low key all my tumblr mutuals
i think what bothers me about a lot of "girl power" narratives is that they function on the implicit idea on the idea that women can become worthy of respect. and i happen to think that really caring about women means believing they already are worthy of respect. that historical seamstresses and soccer moms and forgotten sisters and sweet polite little girls and someone's weird grandma matter just as much as the warriors and politicians, even if they, personally, never accomplish anything "cool."
Concept: Vampire character that represents strengthening ties to humanity and the natural world instead of dividing them
Vampire gets HEAVILY invested in eco conservation because they *can't* just shrug it off as the next generation's problems
A vampire that goes around eating oil tycoons and clear-cut logging CEOs and climate-denying politicians because their childhood village is a dirt pit now and the animals they saw growing up have become endangered
Immortal guys who anonymously donate huge sums of cash to wildlife preserves that oversee forests they used to hunt in
Fellow who, instead of succumbing to the boredom and waste of infinite time, has become feverishly obsessed with making sure this one specific species of snail will still be around in another hundred years
5000 year old woodsman who can still mimic the calls of extinct birds, who still remembers the mating calls of mammoths and wooly rhinos and wild horses
Ancient vampire who can still vaguely recall a cave somewhere with her whole family's hand prints in it, and not sure of it's precise location, keeps the whole area void of human activity so it doesn't become a tourist attraction
Vampire archeologist who digs up their old friend's remains and has the figure out how to prove, with evidence, how they know exactly who they were and what they looked like
Immortal anthropologist who reconstructs a face from a skull only to realize that they'd met them before a long, long time ago
maybe one day i’ll find out why the stars call to me
until then i’ll sit here listening to them sing
The terrible feeling when a whole story arc spawns in your head, and you can’t write fast enough.
Sometimes I feel like a rain cloud
Giving relief to all who need
Pouring, pouring, pouring
Until I am empty
And there is
No one
To help
Me
-Mae, July 27th, 2022-
Antonio Porchia, Voices (trans. W.S. Merwin) [transcript in ALT]
Tony Hoagland, Sweet Ruin
When Summer Loved Autumn
(A song! which I will eventually write music for and sing! also probably some more of the words will change, but these are the bones)
When summer loved autumn
it felt like a fall,
green wood’s dying promise
met bronze-burnished squalls
and both danced like fair folk,
so women recall.
When autumn loved summer
the rains came too soon,
my mother she wondered
at russets in June,
and the moon rose too quickly
and the sun turned too cool.
Winter is mighty while young things are flighty,
And spring calls our minds up above,
But man was forgotten as apples go rotten
When summer and autumn found love
When summer loved autumn
they waltzed without care,
all wrapped up in romance,
their breath like a prayer,
but harvest came early
and we gathered in fear
as winter roared cold on
his skeletal wings
and longer each year reigned
the ghost-gotten king
‘til one maiden cried “Why!”
“We must speak to spring!”
Winter is vicious and always suspicious
and spring tries to soften his blows
but man has no glory, no part in this story,
while seasons’ love steadily grows.
When autumn loved summer,
the girl made her pack,
her father sang deep for
fair winds at her back.
and one day she slipped away
into the black.
Through trials, through trails,
through blistering cold,
our maiden she stumbled
through winter’s abode,
and fell to her knees
as the season grew old.
But strength comes with light as the weeping of night
slips swift away into the past,
and as the day grows, see! the maiden arose,
and stood there was sweet Spring at last.
And pleased was the Springtide
with our maid’s resolve,
and gave her her ear and
her plight she did solve,
so the girl left rejoicing
as the green of home called.
So summer loved autumn
but soon they were torn,
by Springtide’s decree for
their love they must mourn,
and men rejoiced leaving
the lovers forlorn.
Autumn’s torrential and summer is gentle
and sweethearts have emptier hands
but August is sly and to spring she has lied,
for then the two lovers return to their dance.
(and it’s true, for my mother she told when I asked).
it is all love.
sometimes you will see something saying what if it is all worth it or it gets better, doesn't it and in the little heart of you - you feel a darkness.
was it love, the way i was hurt? some things don't have a lesson in them. no silver lining. they were bad things, and they shouldn't have happened. i'm sorry they did. i am sorry they warp the space they hold in you. we tightrope walk around an ever-present grave. we carry that ache for so long it becomes smooth, overworn. i worry that i'll bore my therapist - despite all of my attempts, the pain persists the same, as sharp as it always was.
but it was all love.
every ugly moment after. every bad night. every time you drank too much and cried on the bathroom floor. every time you threw up from anxiety, every time you panicked in the grocery store. everything you ruined, and everything you walked away from.
some small part of you loved you enough. made you get up. made you wash your face and clean your teeth and call home. made you try again, even from the bottom. even when you were so tired of it; of restarting, of having to do-it-all-again. some part of you reached out. some part of you reached up. even there, in the bad spot - you somehow got up.
love will so rarely be big. it will so rarely be a moment like a dawn. love is shy, i think. she keeps her hands in front of her cheeks. she waits to peek out. and if you're not looking, she will look - normal.
but it will all be love. the way you pour yourself a glass of water. the little rabbit outside your window. your friend pushing your hair behind your ear. the way your dog greets you at the door. "put on a seatbelt". "text me when you get home safe". "oh, i started watching that show you love." "have you been okay?" "let's go for a walk" "whatcha doin?" "what should i make for dinner?"
oh, my life is so different these days. i don't have a partner. i call my friends a lot. i keep falling in love with the little tender moments; the glittering ones. you know, the bird in a puddle and the shush of a newly-lit candle. the movie-moments.
i am also learning to love the ugly. every moment i spent belly-flat to the floor, anxious and panting. every hour i stared at nothing, losing time to my adhd. every missed opportunity and bad memory. i am not doing well. i am spiralling.
but somewhere in there, while i am reduced to ashes. some part of me is an ever-burning ember. her little thankless job, her shy and croaking voice. she holds me to my body. she doesn't let me go. stay, she whispers. out of love. my love. wherever it goes.
some of the bad things that happened to me will always be bad. they did not make me a better person. they made me worse. i only learned what i can endure. and i did endure it. and love wasn't just the perfumed moments. love was just ... staying. while it's ugly and hard and horrible. love was just saying:
okay. i will keep trying. keep going. i owe it to the version of myself who brought me here. i owe it to my future. i owe it to the small loves i have found since - the music and the new recipes and the new books and the new hobbies. i owe it to myself to wait for the next best thing. this wall we have hit - love says keep walking. maybe one day we will find a door.
always, always: just one try more.
My last chunk of my work I’ve typed up tonight, Enjoy!!! - Jericho and Millie’s engagement
Nothing bad in this at all, just under the cut for reasons so it doesn’t get too long, enjoy
@perasperaadastrawriting @sofreddie @insidedamienshead @lillianawayne99 @abalonetea @writingingraves @mj-is-writing @evethenovicewriter @violetcancerian @bardic-tales @impaledlotus @quill-spills-ink @liusaidh-writing @tate-lin @verba-writing @midnight-and-his-melodiverse
Keep reading
perhaps we get writer's block because it hasn’t happened yet
perhaps writers are historians for alternate realities
Raven Steals the Sun by Preston Singletary (Tlingit), Raven Steals the Light by Bill Reid (Haida), Raven Stealing the Sun by Ken Mowatt (Gitksan), webb and hubble images of the pilars if creation
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