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“The secret is not to write about what you love best, but about what you, alone, love at all.” — Annie Dillard

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like you by Roque Dalton tr. Jack Hirschman

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Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?

- Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

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Like Water for Chocolate, 1992

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Hello hello!

This is just a random follower here to remind you to eat well and stay hydrated!

And don't forget to take breaks! Life can be tough but hey you've made it so far! So you can make it further as well :)

That's all have a fantastic day!

hi hi ! <3 thank you so much !!! this is such a nice reminder and definitely much needed ! you have a beautiful day as well darling !

#🌧 raindrops

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the iliad//the song of achilles

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i havent been writing a lot lately but ive been reading a ton of books! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ and ive been trying to think about it as "filling up the gas tank" for my writing engine.

#🌧 raindrops #❌to delete #this is an ongoing internal project of mine to like... be kinder to myself about 'taking breaks' from trying to write super consistently #its been a while since i've read this consistently either so im pretty happy about that ! #i just got the new leigh bardugo book today and im hYPE #i've also been super into short story collections - after i realized that the specific genre of short fiction i like #is basically eerie fantasy aka modern fairy tales #to no ones surprise lol. #anyways -- i've been working on a few fics on and off and am hoping to finish one of them soon :)

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Can u do a sanji's long lost sister reader × zoro slowburn where reader is an ex vice admiral who joins the crew after romance dawn? Also plz make the reader a sarcastic bad bitch kinda charecter who annoys zoro with her grins and witty remarks. (Zoro at beginning thinks sanji & reader are into each other and gets jelly but later the crew finds out their just siblings)

Ps. I luv ur zoro x reader content. Lots of love♡

Hi love ! Thanks so much for sending this in !! But my requests are closed currently ♡ when I reopen them I'll be sure to make an update post and change the status on my pinned ! If you'd still like me to take a stab at this then you're super welcome to resend !! ♡♡

#🌧 raindrops

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“Maybe we pray on our knees because god only listens when we’re this close to the devil.”

— Night Sky with Exit Wounds, Ocean Vuong

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-William Wordsworth

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Moonlight

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what shaft, tearing my heart? what scar, what light, what fire searing my eye-balls and my eyes with flame?

—H. D., excerpt of "Cassandra", in Collected Poems 1912-1944

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a rumination on falling in love; aka the terrifying and strange reality of "dream girl" becoming "real girl"

or, what happens when an only child who has only ever loved in fiction falls in love in real life instead

this is not for you. unless, of course. you, like me, have felt like this before. which is to say, this might be for you. but it most definitely is, 100%, for me. so read on if you'd like. or, close out and move right along.

i am very lucky, i think, to have had the childhood that i had -- only child, two loving parents. but not only that, two loving parents who were good at loving and also good at parenting (which are two very distinct and different things and somehow, at least in my semi-limited exposure to people around my age, is becoming rarer and rarer these days). i am lucky to have been allowed to grow as i have -- to never question that i am loved, unconditionally and endlessly, to never question whether or not i have something -- because of course it's mine -- i've got no siblings to have to share anything with.

now, to some, that might be a sad, lonely thing, but i never thought about it that way. because i was never taught to think about it that way. and contrary to popular belief, it hasn't made me (or at least so i think) stingy or "bad at sharing" -- it's actually made me rather an over-sharer. i always have snacks at the office, i try to offer advice freely, i spot dinners/outings when i can, i like the joy it brings to share things not only to the people being shared with, but also to me -- the person doing the sharing.

but the double-edged sword of only-child-dom in upper-middle class america is time -- the huge, gaping excess of it, giant swaths of it after school, great big chunks of it on the weekends, the seemingly unbridgeable chasm between turning off the light and falling asleep. later, i'd learn that undiagnosed adhd and very high performing manic depression are to blame for most of my vibrating sense of need to fill every hour of every day with some kind of productivity (this, unironically, is why i love new york city -- the frenetic energy of it matches my mental wavelength so that i can feel "productive" even when i'm just walking down the street or sitting in a bar).

but back then, i -- and by extension my lovely parents -- tried to fill it with stuff -- 2 different art classes, ballet, swimming, piano, debate club, singing, chinese school, and of course, with my still yet unfilled hours -- reading and writing. to say i was raised by the books i read would be an understatement. to say i am nothing more than a massive conglomerate of those characters that resonated most with me in those books would be parenthetical to the fact that i'm also built by all those characters i've ever admired or wanted to be. i am, in the most cliche, literal, non-lampshaded sense "that nerdy book girl" who made it her entire fucking personality to be... that nerdy book girl. and this, amidst the stratospheric rise of "not like other girls" media and rhetoric -- it was not healthy (it still isn't), but it was a large part of who i was. and a lingering part of who i am today.

my overactive, adhd-driven imagination served me well, then. into the stories i delved, and what i couldn't find in my normal every day life, i found in narrative. long before the tiktok-ification of "book boyfriends" came the voices in my head that sounded like all the would-be book boyfriends i'd ever have -- everyone from edward cullen to kakashi to four (that one guy from divergent who only has like 4 fears, which in retrospect is so, so cringe, but alas) to fictionalized versions of one direction members. the list goes on. i used to be able to hold entire conversations, play out entire scenes with these mental constructs with impudent ease. spend hours in my room by myself just imagining.

it was like astral projection -- my body, here, my mind and my soul, somewhere else entirely. and this i believe (to this day) is the core of a lot of my writing and creativity. and also the core of a lot of my philosophies and beliefs. the ability to sink into a dream, a scene, a story.

and then. i fell in love.

and sure, it would be much too cliche to say that misery breeds good art so a happy artist would (at best) produce mediocre art/writing/whatever. because i've also seen fantastic art produced by very, very happy artists. the sad truth is only that it's much rarer than the alternative of the painfully mainstream tortured artist.

but to some degree, i think there's an inkling of truth in that saying. because having a real-life boyfriend, with all the real-life machinations and strings of having said real-life boyfriend has made it, somehow, much harder to access that old imaginary part of me. like a child growing up and losing the ability to "make believe" the way they used to. except, i know it's still there. there are still moments where i touch it, where i dip my toes in and it always feels like coming home.

and it's more than just the normal adult-ish responsibilities of going to work and paying bills, making dinner and shopping for groceries. doing laundry and investing in your roth ira. because before real-life boyfriend, i still did those things and i was still able to seamlessly get to that "elsewhere place". somehow, it is the physical presence of real-life boyfriend that seems to act as a "grounding agent". he is home, so i can't go to that other place. or, i can kind of get there, but i've always still got one foot steeped in reality.

it is not a necessarily good or bad thing, just an observation at most. but it does create this new "space" for the "want" of that elsewhere. for the want to being able to slip into that creative asphodel like i used to -- blink and i'm there. so i find myself often sitting at my desk, wishing, and then wondering what it means that i can't. that it isn't always and immediately accessible to me anymore.

perhaps absolute solitude was the unquestioned prerequisite for so long that i'd never noticed it until the solitude was no longer available to me. or perhaps the book-boyfriends are just shy creatures, afraid of the blaring daylight that real-life boyfriend might shed on their ultimate two-dimensional beings.

or perhaps that was always a "safe space" that i'd created for myself, and now real-life boyfriend has created a safe space for me too, and the venne-diagram of the two space spaces overlap just so, making a less singular space of each of them in turn. i don't know, but it's an interesting thought.

it's always struck me, now thinking back, that i've never been even remotely interested in having a real-life relationship before now. but that i've also never questioned if i wanted the current one that i'm in, if this was "the one" or if it was "good for me". and in that too, i know i am very lucky. few people can say that they struck gold the first time they've ever tried.

i know for a fact i wouldn't be this happy, have this good of a life if real-life boyfriend weren't here. he has made me better in ways that i do not have words to describe. but i'm also terrified of the earthen grounding-ness of him. i've spent my entire childhood and most of my adult life with my head in the clouds, taking the necessary trips back down to earth when i had to but... it feels strange to be "here" more and more. there's a hole inside of me where "that" heaven should be.

but two things can be true -- i am happy here; i still yearn for that elsewhere.

#🌧 raindrops #i rarely get this personal on this blog but #i wanted to write this out; for myself if for no one else #mostly a rumination on how my relationship has changed me and my creative process

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how many times have people used a pen or a paintbrush because they couldn't pull a trigger?

// Virginia Woolf

#haiqueue!!

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I have a question lol I'm writing a fic and the characters go to sleep cuddling platonically. Character wakes up with a hard on and the cuddling has turned not so platonic. Do you think that's like, room for being tagged? I want it to just come off as an awkward situation

room for being tagged as in tagging the ship? or a specific trigger? i would tag "cuddling" if anything, and it's up to you whether or not you want to specify it's romantic or platonic, but yeah! :)

#🌧 raindrops #i hope that helps? not entirely sure if that's what you were asking but !!!

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wanting to see by Victoria Chang

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