just me and my silly little words

minor | she/her |

[linasqueersocks]

About me!

Hi! I’m Lina and my pronouns are she/her. I live in Germany and speak German relatively well (I’m German-American). I have two cats and I would do anything for them. I joined tumblr a while ago, but I haven’t posted anything until recently.

I write snippets, mostly fantasy-ish stuff. I love writing slightly horrifying stuff the most, although it's kinda tied with angst. I want to try to write more lighthearted stories and expand my range. Writing and posting consistently is not one of my talents. My writing tag is #lina writes. If you like my writing, please reblog instead of liking, it's what will actually help it reach more readers.

My favorite genres to read are fantasy and sci-fi, preferably with queer characters. My favorite book is the Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea by Maggie-Tokuda-Hall.

I think it’d be really fun to meet other writers on here, so… I think that’s it! Feel free to message me or interact with this post so I can follow you!

[i-am-a-fish]

I would really like to make cool art but tragically my artistic capabilities are not up to the same standard as the media I consume. in order to remedy this feeling I will continue to create absolutely nothing

[linasqueersocks]

my friend does cartwheels in the square

She was born with a precious, beautiful voice, gold silver diamonds rubies

She hums melodies when she makes herself breakfast, sings snippets of lyrics as she puts on her shoes

Songs burst out of her chest when we walk through the square

She stops and hands her coat to me

And does cartwheels while people stare

My mother says to me while my friend is singing in the other room and my brother plays piano

"I haven't heard you sing in so many years. I wish you would."

i nod and say nothing

How to say that i can't sing? How to say that when i try to make music not even the sound of my breath is released? how to say that i lost my voice when i was told so many times that it was croaking and broken?

How to say that i have never managed so much as a handstand? That any attempt at cartwheels end in mess of graceless limbs?

How to say that i can only dance when i can't see myself? That even then I am watching myself as an ever-present pair of eyes?

That being real must be one of the most difficult things in the world?

I wish i would sing too.

[linasqueersocks]

Snippet #10: heroes and villains

Trying this out, because the dynamic has so many ways it can go and I've been ✨inspired✨

Warnings: a bit of fighting at the beginning, swearing

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The hero swung blindly at the thugs, dealing punches left and right until all but one were unconscious. They charged the hero with a small blade in their grip but the hero was ready for it twisted their arm to an unnatural angle with a loud crack! The hero hit them over the head with the dropped knife. The thug fell with a thud.

All because fucking sidekick decided to pull a disappearing act. They slid to the ground and tipped their head against the wall. Their eyes closed against the exhaustion, and somehow numbers and procedures were still swimming through their mind. Their superiors were planning a takedown of the biggest supervillain in the nation so their tasks had fallen to the hero and then sidekick had disappeared and the hero didn’t know what to think of it. Patrols had increased tenfold since gangs started cropping up helping minor villains, and the hero had to do all their jobs unaccompanied, missing their sidekick more each day.

They heard footsteps approaching the alley and groaned as they struggled to find purchase against the wall.

“That was quite impressive, taking them down on your own. But where’s your sidekick, shouldn’t they be helping you?” The hero squinted at the oncoming silhouette. They gave up standing and scooped their flashlight from the floor and pointed it at the stranger.

Or not so stranger. The villain’s face stared back at them from the darkness of the alley. They stepped closer. “Go 'way."

"You don't really want that." No, they didn't want that. The villain crouched in front of them, held out their gloved hand. "I can help you. I can take it all away."

Their voice was so soft and gentle and soothing, the hero wanted to believe it. But they really shouldn't, their job was at stake. Their side was killing them. They dragged a hand down their face and felt blood slide beneath their fingers.

"No one will know."

Where was their sidekick? Why weren't they here to help? The hero shifted and felt a bolt of pain in their shoulders from the permanent knots there.

The villain's hand reached out and cradled their face. The hero leaned into it. Their voice came out slow and thick, "Please, I can't take it anymore. Just stop it all."

Quick as lighting the villain pulled off their gloves. Just as their fingertips were about to meet skin, the hero grabbed hold of their wrist, just before the end of their sleeve. They tasted blood in their mouth. "Promise me something. Promise me... you won't let Supervillain take over."

The villain smiled ruefully. "I'll try." They brought their hands to the hero's bruised knuckles. Standing up, they kept hold of the hero's hand. "Come with me."

When they started down the alleyway, the hero followed with blank eyes.

[linasqueersocks]

i went on a walk to the hill and looked at the lake. the clouds hid the twilight, but you could still see a little pink. no stars, but i saw an airplane in the distance, blinking and yellow and far away and in that moment it was enough. humans created that. and the thing is, i can't write anything about it because the it writes itself. there's nothing for me to do except experience it in the cold with only a sweater for warmth.

i watched it until it disappeared into the sky.

[dct239394cvvd098dffgggp]

go on get up. leave your room. give the sunlight something thats an ease to fall onto. something itd be overjoyed to outline the shadow of

[charl0ttan]

girl who has only the most normal relationship with time and memory and regret and grief

[reibread]

[vmkhoneyy]

“People are inherently terrible” no!!! Have you ever seen a child wait for their friend while they tie their shoelaces? Have you ever known someone who would bring hurt squirrels and rabbits and mice to the nearest vet just so it doesn’t suffer? Have you seen someone grieve? Have you ever read something that hit your heart like a freight train? Have you looked at the stars and felt an unexplainable joy? Have you ever baked bread? Have you shared a meal with a friend? Have you not seen it? All the love? All the good? I know it’s hard to see sometimes, I know there’s pain everywhere. But look, there’s a child helping another up after a hard fall. Look, there’s someone giving their umbrella to a stranger. Look, there’s someone admiring the spring flowers. Look, there’s good, there’s good, there’s good. Look!!!!

[alphacrone]

writers and artists everywhere all the time

[dappermouth]

On the day when the rain fell and flooded the ground, the sign of the wolf appeared outside of town.

[linasqueersocks]

creation to the point of destruction.

creation to the point that your fingers bleed, you haven't slept in a week. the inspiration blocks out all else and you can think of nothing but the next page, the next brush, the next note, the next step. creation to the point that you can't remember the last time you talked to another person. creation to the point that dust has settled over everything in your home and you don't even notice the gray. creation to the point of exhaustion when you pass out because you've made for too long. 

creation until one day--

you can't.

your heart is still and your skin is clammy and you are cold to the touch.

creation to the point of growth over your body in silence as you begin anew

[thecollectibles]

Eclipse by Artem Chebokha

[gallusrostromegalus]

I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.

It's right-handed

I am right-handed

There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly

I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.

There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.

I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.

A homo erectus made it

Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.

Who were you

A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?

Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?

Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?

Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?

Who were you?

What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?

What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.

Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?

Or has it always been divine?

Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?

Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.

The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.

Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?

I'm not religious.

But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine

I don't know what is.

[ad-wills]

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Was wishing there was a positivity post for original fiction writers since I see so many about how fanfic writers are doing so much for their communities even when they're not actively writing, and then I thought:

Be the change you want to see in the world.

So this is a positivity post for the writers out here who are working very hard on stories with no established community. Who can't talk about their blorbos and plot lines and brainstorming to anyone and expect them to know what any of it means. Who don't have much to share publicly, but are hoping they will one day.

You're doing a lot of hard work, and I recognize and appreciate what you're putting into the world, even when you're resting.

[sam-glade]

My favourite trope has to be:

I sacrificed myself to save you. I didn't plan to survive. I burnt all the bridges. I intended to break your heart with my death, but that would be all right, because I wouldn't be around to see you. I pretended that you'll mourn me for a while and move on. I convinced myself I was going down in the blaze of glory. That my deed was appreciated. That everything was going to be all right afterwards, and I didn't need to be there to see it.

But I survived. And now I have to look you in the eye. I have to pick up the pieces of the life I shattered and figure out how to put it back together. If it can be done at all.