stories whispered fairytales told

wren, 29, overwhelmed writer ☕ buy me a coffee? all my writings here are okay to reblog, NOT okay to repost.

[wrenonthepaper]

funny how you don't realize how much you care about someone until the very moment you lose them as if it's nature's cruel way to warn you of doing the same mistake ever again cherish them or i will perish them to adore or just no more so hey, unrelated but has anyone discovered a time machine lately?

_ i fear i might have made a grave mistake

[codacontainmentbreach]

[wrenonthepaper]

aaanybody knows how to log in to your tumblr account if you can't remember the password to its email? eyyy i'm locked out of my other account D:

[str8aura-no-not-that-one]

What

[thesacredlocnar]

yeah this checks out

[helloitsbees]

tags via @thyrell

[wrenonthepaper]

and you call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest

i mean, you can dislike her all you want but she sure can write damn

[enjoloras-deactivated20220821]

This man is trapped in his house with what's going to be like 1000 giant moths and it is somehow the funniest thing I have seen in days.

[writing-prompt-s]

I rarely reblog things but this is an old classmate of mine! I haven’t seen him in years but he always took moths and other insects to school to look after them.  Hang in there, Bart!

[baekphia]

romanticize me being ugly

[wrenonthepaper]

your eyes are not almond-shaped and bright nor are they doe-like and soft, they are not piercing in green or bottomless blue or unpredictable as hazel. no poems will be made of your long eyelashes sweeping to your cheeks (let’s be real for a second, that is wildly impossible anyway) because they aren’t.. but i can imagine the softest of snowflakes hanging on to those lashes, and the way you laugh as you blink those eyes to get rid of the snow. i can imagine the fire in those eyes as you speak up your mind refusing to be talked over no not again, or the times when it looks like a shutter fall over them, because you’re afraid someone might look too closely and find out what it is you’re feeling deep inside.

your nose is not cute, no, it’s not like those carved into statues, nor is it going to be modeled into those perfect princesses in the children movies. but all i can think of is how it flushes red in the cold wind, and your trying to hide it under your scarf. or perhaps when a dollop of whipped cream is on it as you sip your hot cocoa, unaware. or the time when dirt is smeared over your nose because you just have no time the plants cannot wait, or when paint splatters like colorful freckles as you translate your heart into art.

your lips are no where near the cupid-bow ideal, nor are they soft and smooth and they don’t always curve at all the right edges. but remember that they have been pressed upon cheeks of friends and elicit laughter, or against another pair of a most fortunate lover as a solemn promise. those lips have been pursed in disapproval, chewed upon in times of distress and yet the smile upon them invite another to smile back, a bit of happiness shared unconditionally.

you’re not traditionally beautiful. you are beautiful nonetheless.

[sphiggs]

Damn no one told you to write a god damn sonnet, making my dumb ass cry sappy tears at 11pm

[gabytaangeles]

Cute …

[folklorecore]

[image description: an orange and white cat sitting on a colorful quilt]

[wrenonthepaper]

Dancing never had consequences before. Our own music was not inferior, but to move meant to gracefully spin or to let the waves decide.

I looked up at him, and for the hundredth times that day my breath got caught. That was another thing I noticed: you could feel the warmth of your breath. Isn’t it amazing? One time we were standing too close and he laughed--in that wonderful way of his--and I could feel his breath on my cheek. I never knew warmth could send shivers down your spine.

Skin upon skin felt like a private message now, I tried to decipher the meaning of every touch. My hand upon his, arms brushing, it was never this real when you have the waves all around you. I loved the water but it separated, interrupting through the tiniest space.

Then gravity. I kept tumbling yesterday, and it took so much more strength to simply move, I ended up exhausted at the end of the day. Today it was better though, I felt the pull a tad weaker toward the ground, but a lot stronger toward the people. When we danced, there were consequences. Unlike under the surface, a different rhythym meant an awkward bump, a wrong step meant a missed spin. You could trip and fall and hurt yourself, imagine that!

But the wonderful part is this. He placed his hands around my waist and lifted me up and for a second I was flying, weightless even more than salt water capable of buoying me. Then a dip, as it was called, and I truly thought I was going to collide to the earth, except he held me safely, my hair almost touching the ground. He held me there, lips slightly apart, heart drumming hard, and tugged me back up, and I was this close to wrapping my arms around him, pulling him flush against me, except touches meant a thousand meanings now and i held myself back.

I had thought of how easy it would be to love him completely. I had not expected how inevitable it would be to fall in love with this unfamiliar world.

[jamesbleach]

[thesesummersonspoet]

THINGS WHICH MAKE WRITERS ANXIOUS:

not writing

writing

people reading their stories

people not reading their stories

[wheresmybubble]

Journal comic. Inktober day 10.

[eila-the-reader]

“A book, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.” @literatibookstore

[wrenonthepaper]

This made me think of you. Have you had lunch? I miss you today. Stay for a while. I'm here for you. What are you thinking about? Take the umbrella. You had me worried sick! It's going to be okay. Can't wait to see you. . 1000 different ways. 1 meaning. . I'm so glad I listened closely.

I love you too. // ~ wren oliva

[writeontheedge]

Reminder for writers

Do not compare yourself to other writers. 

You don’t have to write more than they do.

You don’t have to write faster than they do.

You will finish in your own time. Everyone has their own set of skills, their own routine, and their own pace.

[mercurieux]

my two little treasures ~

[mostlyfate]

mythology. eros and psyche

“Have you any doubt of my love? Have you any wish ungratified? If you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I ask of you is to love me. I would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god.” (requested)