Queer Writings, Adventure & Spirituality

I created this blog to keep inspos for my in-progress queer fantasy novel The Promise within Shadows in one place. I hope you'll consider tipping me on ko-fi! AO3 | Personal blog | FFN

[nayswriting]

Sometimes, you cannot survive and still be who you were.

Nghi Vo, Mammoths at the Gate

[yarimkalansigaram]

[expressions-of-nature]

by Plamen Penov

[nayswriting]

We must forget what we've learned to remember what we know.

Charlie Claire Burgess, Queer Devotion: Spirituality Beyond the Binary in Myth, Story, and Practice

[expressions-of-nature]

Lupins at midnight, Iceland by Nigel Danson

[nayswriting]

Scars are the paler pain of survival, received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury.

Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

[expressions-of-nature]

by Four Plays

[nayswriting]

It took up all my time to remember who I was supposed to be. This character I overlaid on myself to pretend my life was normal.

Isaac Fellman, Dead Collections

[expressions-of-nature]

Something’s Brewing by Sue McGilveray

[expressions-of-nature]

Roxborough State Park, Colorado by Michael Levine-Clark

[talonabraxas]

“To go higher we must go deeper.” ― Krishna Dharma

kei @arrogantkei rebirth

[nayswriting]

At my front door, he kisses me, and I feel his lower lip trembling. My mind is still at Nurses Creek, on Coral and the shimmering dead girls. I feel the river, the trees, the ferns, caught in their grief. Life waterlogged. Heavy as a dripping sheet cold in your arms. How to lift it? Maybe you can't, or shouldn't.

Lynn Hutchinson Lee, Origins of Desire in Orchid Fens

[expressions-of-nature]

“when the light is gone…” by Sandra Bartocha

[nayswriting]

His voice had that light veneer of humor that we all get, because if we don't pretend we're laughing, we might have to admit just how broken we are. It's like telling stories at the bar about the worst pain you've ever been in. You laugh and you brag about it, and it turns the pain into something that will buy you a drink.

T. Kingfisher, What Moves the Dead

[zandraart]

the gateway

[nayswriting]

I should have said no. I should have stamped my foot, or begun to cry, or icily demanded we leave right away. But I didn't. I loved you too much, my lord. I craved you like maidens crave the grave, the way death burns for human touch: inconsolably, unrelentingly, aching for the annihilation in your kiss. I had no practice saying no to you.

S. T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood

[expressions-of-nature]

Lençóis Maranhenses, Brazil by Michael Anderson