#midnight writing

[flowersforfrancis]

The sun watches what I do but the moon knows all my secrets. - J.M. Wonderland

#chaotic academia #dark academia #romanticism #books and literature #classic academia #academia #dark romantica #aesthetic #ramblings #the secret history #donna tartt #darkest academia #darkest hour #red aesthetic #books #books and reading #Midnight Writing #night aesthetic #late night aesthetic #late night writing #late night ramblings

[ceruleansol]

So I’m workin on a lil (Vash x reader) somethin….

Nsfw to come once I finish and make this a whole other post

—

The routine noises are comforting. It starts the same every evening from where you sit resting against the armrest of the couch, reading the book he bought for you that month. Over the course of your five-year-long relationship, you learned the various ways Vash expresses and needs to receive love.

One of the ways he gives love is by gift giving, in which he studies you in detail and makes sure he enables every one of your passions. Every month he either buys you a book based on your preferences or picked out by himself for you to try. If he sees a pretty rock on the ground or has time to stop by the local crystal shop, he brings you crystals to add to your ever-growing collection. By the time you've added another passion or hobby to your repertoire, he's already created another mental list of ideas of what to gift you.

The set of different sketching pencils will arrive in the mail next week—with the specifications that it is a gift, so the price isn't showing.

What is more notable, however, is his need for quality time and physical touch. He will insist it's for you. He is hellbent on serving you and making sure you're comfortable, secure, and protected. It is innate and in his nature. Many a late and stressful night for the both of you has he chosen, unprompted and without complaint, to do the cooking or the cleaning or the laundry. But he'll also ask in that soft and sweet voice if you want to join him. He needs to take care of you and have you with him, but you know the real reason.

The noises continue in the bathroom down the hall that stretches straight ahead of you, the light bleeding sideways out of the cracked door. And it's by such repetitive routine that each tell paints a clear picture in your mind of him methodically undoing his prosthetic and placing it onto the countertop, a relieved breath following suit before he begins to tug his shirt over his head.

The door then opens like it does every evening where he steps out with only his pants remaining. It is this sight of him in particular that especially warms your heart and increases your fondness for your lover. No one else gets to see him in such a vulnerable state. Only you get to hold the weight of his trust and witness him and all his scars.

His eyes soften when he sees you with the book and he smiles. "Hey," he says as soft as his gaze and raises a hand to get your attention, though he's never lost it. "Wanna shower with me?"

He's met with only a growing smile on you at the familiar question, and so he pushes himself past the doorframe.

You watch him in adoration of his lean stature, the marred skin across his chest that reaches his back, the angle of his shoulders, and the gentle yet playful manner in which he steps toward you.

When he stops, his shins are against the couch between your legs, and he grins down at you. He nudges your leg with his to coax you out of the stupor he's surely noticed you in.

Blinking back into reality, you're met with the realization of how your head reaches the height of his abdomen when you sit down like this.

You know it well, just as well as he knows you; Vash gives what he needs to receive, and you intend to make sure he always gets as much as he gives.

#midnight writing #equivalent to drunk writing #gonna edit the heck out of it later #even more* should I add #the way I can only write in 500 word intervals #well this time it’s 600 #progress #also hi I’m embarrassed by how much feels I have for this humanoid #can you tell how self indulgent this is #vash x you #vash x reader #trigun x reader #hopefully more awake me won’t delete this #vash fluff #vash smut #to come at least #fic: taking care of you taking care of us

[laurahepworth-author]

The need for sleep has a terrible habit of interrupting my writing 😭 . Words are flowing now and I'm still awake and yet it's late and I really should probably get to bed at some point. What about you? When do you find you do your most writing? For me, the words usually trickle during the day, but come evening they're flowing pretty well and it can be hard to make myself stop and remember to go to bed. (Hence my still being awake at 1:43 am 😂.)

#indieauthor #amwriting #writerscommunity #writers #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writers life #writing community #writers poll #night owl #midnight writing #I should probably go to sleep now

[skelezen]

“Hold still, Alex.” Hephaestion called out to the pouting man with a chuckle as he shuffled closer to his sat up body and glided his fingers over to a deep gnash in his leg covered in deliciously red velvet blood that glistened reflecting the sun. A quick wince was let out as the blonde male snarled - the sensation of pain coursing through his body with every slight touch until Hephaestion grabbed his cheek with utmost carefulness and delicacy. “Alex, look at me…there you go, good boy.” He muttered his tone deeper. Alexander felt his cheeks grow a bright red resembling that of a tomato as he looked into the oceanic green pools of light staring right at him.

Gently, Hephaestion placed his lips quickly onto the wound with a smile before looking up once again to see Alexander’s flustered state making him grin. He gripped onto a piece of tissue and dabbed his wound with it, softly but surely removing the crystallized copper blood from around his leg where an arrow once seized.

Moments passed with a peaceful lulling silence before the lover let go and placed his tools beside him, “You’re looking much better Alex, next time please stay away from arrows?” He pleaded his tone hiding his desperate desire for Alexander to be more careful as he smiled up at the sun-like Demi god. Alexander muttered a short curse before whining his usual song, “Heph, you care too much for I will never die as long as Zeus is around us.” He smirked feeling prideful on his ‘father’ as he looked at the great dark sky that shone across the quiet and dim lit tents; neighbour’s silhouettes present as he stroked Hephaestion’s curly brown hair with a slight sigh of relief. “However will you live without me?” He muttered his heart aching at the thought as he remembered the importance of Achille’s revenge and held onto Hephaestion tighter.

#ancient greek #gay men #alexander x hephaestion #alexander the great #midnight writing #meow

[coffee-and-nocturnal-thoughts]

I fantasize about breaking this generational curse. Where I show more compassion than my parents ever did. Where my kids won't cower like I did. Where they'll feel safe than I did.

But when I looked at my parents. I see fragments of me. My dad paced the floors out of anxiousness. My mom hold her breath when she's about to cry. My dad picked his nails to calm him down. And my mom has urges to runaway from home. Just like me.

Maybe they were hurt and trying. And maybe it hurt me too. We were all hurt and trying. Breaking a curse that plagues but never winning

I fantasize about breaking this generational curse. Where I show more compassion than my parents ever did. Where my kids won't cower like I did. Where they'll feel safe than I did.

But maybe I should be doing it now.

#noc's midnight writes #asia academia #chaotic academia #chaotic academia aesthetic #asian academia #dark acadamia #light academia #writer aesthetic #academia #art academia #poetry #writers and poets #midnight writing

[unexaggerateddumbass]

I am once again going to commit a carnal sin and compare balance with the rest of the campaigns in The Adventure Zone. I know that it’s in poor taste–and, to be clear, I love the other campaigns–but their relationship to one another fascinates me.

The McElroy brothers really just haven’t done a lot of creative writing, especially not dramatic writing. What makes balance so compelling is the way that it leaned on fun tropes. It was a fantastic starting point, and since then they have been experimenting with new and more original ideas for stories. They come off as somewhat stunted and amateurish because the McElroys are amateur writers.

At its very core, balance is a very compelling execution of very compelling tropes. Anytime I try to articulate what it is that I like about balance, I find it impossible not to just sort of describe the story in terms of its tropes. “well you see, the group of oddballs is being pursued by an army of shadow monsters who destroy worlds. And their ship is propelled by the power of friendship. And the longer they get to know one another the stronger they become. And they were very good friends, practically brothers, but they lost their memories and forged their bonds all over again.” Not to mention every arc in the campaign is explicitly recycled from a movie that Griffin had watched recently, with the exception of Gerblins, which is built off a pre-built adventure book. The whole campaign bleeds tropes.

And I don’t say this to disparage balance! Every good story in this age is built on tropes. The tropes do a lot of work in balancing the fact that the McElroys were very out of their element in trying to write dramatic stories. Part of the reason that balance is 70+ hours long, double the following campaigns, is that they spent a lot of time retreating into comedy improv(their safe space). The trope that balance bleeds the most is bathos. Nearly every sincere moment, without exaggeration, is undercut by a joke. And, just to be absolutely clear, this is a strength. It was good for the McElroys to have that as a readily available crutch. Especially in this particular story, where so many characters were hiding immense pain behind carefully crafted facades. It makes the story all the more compelling, especially on second, third, and hundredth tellings. It was good for the McElroys, in their first major dramatic creative writing project, to be able to lean into comedy at all times.

And then, balance Concluded. The Mcelroys wanted to tell new stories, and, looking back, all their favorite parts of balance were the dramatic parts, not all the jokes that they had sandwiched in between. Moving forward, they abandoned their old crutch and tried to write mostly dramatic characters and scenes from the get-go. Aubrey the fire-bender who accidentally burned her own parents alive, the world of Ethersea that was cursed by the Gods and strangled itself to death, Fitzroy the ragged boy who only ever dreamed of being a knight and had the dream plucked away at the last moment. I adore these stories, but I would be lying if I tried to argue that it isn’t apparent that they were written by amateur writers. The McElroys thrust themselves into the world of dramatic writing all at once, but they only ever wrote a little bit, less than one week at a time. And, unlike most amateur writers, they didn’t have the luxury of holding off on publication or revising. The post-balance campaigns are a living record of their writing and learning process. Naturally, a lot of the work they would produce in such a project is not strictly of publishing quality.

And, to look at things from a meta-perspective, it is also natural that a significant portion of the audience would step back at this point. pre and post-balance are two very different kinds of stories. So much of the response and–to be frank– backlash to the these newest seasons stems from high expectations. The Mcelroy brothers have this huge brand and one very compelling writing project behind them already. The audience was expecting professional quality work, but that expectation is a little unearned. They were amateurs. The Adventure Zone is, and always has been, from the moment of its inception, an experiment. After completing balance and taking a massive shift of focus towards dramatic storytelling(because that was what the results of their first experiment demanded) the published product demanded a shift in audience.

Balance was a fun and tropey story spliced with very compelling moments of drama and written by amateur writers. The McElroy brothers created balance because they wanted to sit together and play dnd every other week. When they finished balance, they decided that those dramatic moments were their favorite parts. So, for their bi-monthly game of dnd, they chose to focus on writing those dramatic moments. Even though it was new to them. Even though it was uncomfortable and often cringey. Even though they had a huge audience with high expectations. Because it was fun.

#taz #the adventure zone #my essays #midnight writing #I guess maybe it is a little unfair to consistently call them amateur writers when it has been like nine years since the beginning of balanc #but like #when you consider just how infrequently they have practiced writing in all that time #and how they still leaned on the crutch of improv comedy so heavily for the first four of those years #and that literally every word out their mouth has been published immediately without a chance for revision #makes sense to me

[thejournaluser]

A Reader's Perspective

Pray tell, what can you say about... this? Do you see it? No? What do you mean? Can't you see it? What!? You don't see a thing? Blind thing, aren't you? Well, I'm not much of a helper myself but I am happy to assist you in today's... encounter. Answer this, do you even feel it? No? Can you smell it? Truth to be told though, this doesn't even have a smell - but can you?

Figures as much, I should have expected that. Hear anything? Here! Taste it! You might even taste it- wait, where is your mouth? Hello? Are you even there? W- What..? What am I talking to right now? Do you even exist?

What are you...? A reader? Someone who... reads? Seriously? I thought you can't see? How are you- Oh. I understand now. Simply put, it's words turned into a tangible mess that you can understand, correct? Interesting. How marvelous. Now, tell me. Ever since I tried to talk to you, you've only been observing me, correct? Reading about me? Strange... it was as if... you're really answering to me.

Absolutely interesting to see this kind of things. I certainly don't see this everyday. Not even in my lifetime as well! I don't even think you're supposed to exist! But not to tackle on that - now, let's go back to this item I hold in my hands.

I understand that you don't even know what I'm holding or what I'm even doing right now in front of you- er... beside you? I mean, I am in front of you but a bit to the side; I can move a bit to- Yep. There we go.

You may not notice it but I'm right here in front of you. Holding a diamond. Something tells me that you're thinking of a diamond shape with nice clean edges with a rounded crown and a lined bottom with each side and corner, right? Well, you are not wrong about that image but let me assure you, it's not that shape.

It's a formless blob, it really is. Raw material. White and foggy. It's hard, as you may expect from the material but it draws no value to you. Even if you think that it does if you were to hold it into your hands, but no. It's in mine.Can I take a guess real quick?

What am I to you? I mean, to me, you are just a presence who answers to my very being. I almost mistook you as a customer! I'm... just a shopkeeper, really. I like selling expensive looking items. But, what am I to you? Are my words playing out of a recorder? Is it light shining on a projector and seeing me? Or is it merely just words on a piece of paper?

So mysterious, you are. How completely mysterious. It seems that this encounter is about to end. How do I know that? Well, I can feel your presence weakening. Almost like an hourglass running out of sand.

Like... a book running out of pages... see you again... reader.

#writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #creative writing #deep thoughts #writerscommunity #writers and poets #writeblr #midnight writing #perspective

[lovelypink2005]

Today has been such a long day.

From solving two cases at once and solving them on this exact same day, to finding more about where he could have gone to.

Melvin swore he could feel his robotic head up. Being a cop is one thing, but being a detective that the team needed the most for his multiple ability with half of his cybernetic body to track stuff more easily or scan objects immediately. Sure he could refuse, SURE he could REJECT, but today hasn't been a normal day for him, or at least starting from the day before, when he accidentally had an idea to leave some of his team behind in a trap just to chase the culprit of their case.

It terrified him.

For the first time in years, he goes way way back, back before the first time he found out about their current main case, before the incident that turned him into this, back before he tried his best to be different.

He opened the door that led him to the bathroom in his office, entering and closing the door rather violently, making his way to the sink. His legs feel incredibly heavy for him to move one step and another, he can't rest just yet, he won't let himself rest until he can find Krupp. Upon reaching the sink, Melvin turned on the water to wash part of his face, at least that would keep him awake a little bit longer, and lucky for him, half of his robot face would now be waterproof thanks to the new upgrade he did to himself years ago. He couldn't lie because he would need help from familiar faces for this. They're the ones who know him better than he is, especially back in elementary school.

Elementary school.

He doesn't remember everything from his elementary years, but there are still some highlights, like George and Harold, the Summer Camp, his first Trick or treating, the whole crazy Captain Underpants...

And Melvinborg.

The thought of him made him flinch. He took his face up to look into the mirror, seeing himself. Whenever he looked at himself, it always reminded him of his past and future self. He remembered vividly what happened when he was around, and what happened to him. He swore to himself that he'd never grow up to become like him, but alas, he tried his best to be as different as that guy. He still ended up getting this weird fate, forced to have these changes for emergency matters. Whenever he looked into the mirror he always saw a flash of him, as if he wasn't looking at himself. He tried his best to make himself look different by "upgrading" half of his robot body without damaging himself in a way, but also never wanted to overdo it.

Knowing the fact that he looks similar enough to his past future-self already annoyed him, wait until you find out that some of his teammates also called him by Melvinborg as a nickname just because he's half cyborg... It makes sense, it always does, and it sucks.

#Copborg AU #? #Still doesn't have a name for this AU yet #a little thing I am working on for an AUe and my friend has been developing for the past few weeks👀 #I hope this could be a good introduction to this AU without any visual yet #I am still working on them! #Melvin(borg) but make him have double the trauma #captain underpants #Melvin Sneedly #Melvinborg #harold hutchins #George Beard #cu #tetocu #cu au #apologize for my lack of quality writing skills #still is learning how to write stories :] #Midnight writing

[writingmadly]

lost artist

i wish you could have been given the chance to know me before i was this before i had panic attacks while folding laundry and forced a smile through phone calls with my parents back when my heart felt full and i chased my future barefoot i wish you’d had the chance to get to know me before i was this before i broke into tears if held a second too long in your arms before the process was…

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#art #artist #blog #blogging #colors #love #love poems #midnight #midnight writing #nostalgia #paint #poems #poetic #poetry #story #write #writer #writers block #writing #writing blog

[lolathestoryteller]

star crossed thoughts

Might there be somebody else, who is gazing at the stars with the same fascination as I?

Maybe they too are lost in thought, or maybe they don’t think of anything at all and simply watch.

How those magical suns millions of miles away never fail to shine.

How they brighten even the blackest of nights.

I’m sure there is somebody, gazing up like I do, wondering like I do.

I think of unknown realms, of adventures and stories. My eyes set on the stars, for they always comfort my racing mind.

May they forever gleam and glow, to bring to all those light, who too gaze up in wonder.

The stars will guide us through.

- lolathestoryteller

#poetry #midnight writing #starcrossed #thoughts #amateur poetry #lost in my head #night sky #words are magic #thinking

[lavenderilium]

somewhere at midnight

Somewhere, at midnight,

my best friend forgets me

as she kisses her new paramour

she won't ask if i'm okay.

Somewhere, at midnight,

my ex-chosen family celebrates

they left me behind years ago

stopped inviting me to their mocktail party.

Somewhere, at midnight,

my peers kiss their spouses

they found love at Bible study

effortlessly fitting in.

Somewhere, at midnight,

my friends found other friends

my family found other family

I remain hidden and regrettable

fatally familiar footfalls encircle new beginnings -

repainted barbed wire, twice burnt potatoes

who else is alone again?

somewhere at midnight

#happy new year #my poem #original poem #poetry #poem #creative writing #new year's 2022/23 #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #midnight writing #midnight writings #spilled feelings

[coffee-loving-introvert]

Here with an unnecessary personal fact that no one asked for but you are gonna know about anyways but over the years I have enjoyed a habit of keeping diaries. Now this is not a personal experience diary but instead just acts as a notebook in which I jot down any and everything. Poems I found interesting, quotes from a book I really liked, posts on Tumblr that resonated with me, tweets that made me feel something, Tumblr posts and tweets that were reposted on Instagram etc etc. it just became a collection of things that I just want to remember as time goes by. It's been that way for years with a goal that I will write it down and flip through the diaries when I'm feeling down or just feeling bored, didn't do it once till now but we'll see.

Every notebook or diary that I bought with the only basis being that it looked too pretty or beautiful to pass up and remained in a corner with no exact purpose to fulfill is used to house this odd collection of things sourced from almost anywhere one can imagine. Now this has been the norm for years and never once have I actually gone back to read the stuff I have copied in there because I'm already busy filling in the new stuff. And that means unknowingly or maybe even knowingly I have repeated and written down various stuff that multiple times in the expanse of the various diaries, like the Richard Siken quote about how someone has to leave first and it is the only story that exists, or like the post by @acutelesbian (whose new username I do not know) about the class they took named Relations for Life. And these are the only ones I remember over the top of the head and I'm sure there are loads more like these that I have written multiple times.

The whole situation seems poetic to me in a sense itself because it's not like all the multiple versions were written at the same time right, they were written by me only during various times of my life. Every time they came in front of me I chose to write them again because they meant something to me and each time they might mean something different to me but I still chose to make a note of it even though I did not remember it before.

There's just something about the fact that even as I grow up or go through different things the lines that hit something in me before still end up doing the same, and I fall in love with the same thing again that I once loved but had forgotten about

#midnight ramblings #that is because i write during this time only #quotes #lines #books and reading #writings #diaries #richard siken #midnight writing #lovely #beautiful writing #spitting some hard hitting truths here #i see

[weirdlyinsanelyme]

Unsaid

It remained unsaid

And he could feel the dread

As the tears began to shed

With the wine still red

There was nothing to be said

Yet there was so much

And he could feel the touch

The touch of the wind

On his soul pinned

With the tears that wanted to be shed

As he stood there with it all unsaid

#my writing #writers #booklover #bookworm #writers on tumblr #books & libraries #poetry #love #poems and poetry #unsaid feelings #heartbreak #inspired by champagne problems by taylor swift #idk #idk man #midnight writing

[snakeinabag]

So I got bored at midnight and did some writing.

I think it's ok for something that was done with no real reason behind it

This is about Onix but in a third person prospective..(I think)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How long has it been?

Minutes, hours?

They didn't know.

For they could only remain in the grassy field that they were left to rot in. As they had no strength to get up and get back at the one's responsible for their injuries. All they could to was remain on their back as they felt agonizing pain all over their body.

They did not have a name as they were deemed unworthy of one by their parents, seeing nothing but a monster in front of them. A thing that only the aftermath of a cursed moon. A moon drenched in blood itself. A symbol of death for any creature it comes across.

A vampire

At least that's what others called them. They didn't really know what one was as they spend their life so far inside of a cold hard celler. But at least it was dark. They didn't understand why it gave them a feeling of safety. Maybe it was because no one really bothered them down there?

If no one came down there then they wouldn't be harmed. Although they do admit that whenever one of their siblings were sent down there as a punishment by their parents. They couldn't help that the hunger that normally plagues them grow even harder to ignore. Maybe that also explains the leather wings they have. Albeit one of them was broken in half do to others in their clans plan to get rid of them once and for all.

But they could not think about that now. In fact they couldn't think much at all given their poor physical state.

But they do wonder if they make it through the night.

#oc #onix the lemming #oc lore #midnight writing

[strawbeemilk246]

Mirrors: ramblings by Mel

4/2/23, 12:32 am

I spend my time looking at segments of my reflection, wondering what people see. I try to glue the shards together to mirror what people might want to love, but have failed tremendously at the task of being everyone’s preference because i am inherently not perfection, or picturesque. I shatter for everyone to see because while I don’t believe I deserve it, I crave the prospect that someone may know the real me fully and decide to love me anyway. Some people get tired of trying when I get down. I don’t know why I crack into my state so often, as I generally have alright circumstances. No, i think I do understand why, it’s just shameful to say it. I think too deeply, i may spend just a little too long staring into the mirror, and no matter how much glue is put on my pieces I never feel whole until I feel loved by an external source. Why is it not enough to be loved by one? Why must i feel loved by everyone? Well, truly, maybe i don’t believe a singular thing anyone has ever told me except the bad things. In this, most who have decided to cut their hands on my broken pieces have always done so with hope for the future, or at least a goal to share a smile with me for a bit. Why do they continue? Maybe what I crave isn’t the validation, but instead the reasoning for why someone could see any good in me. Isn’t that what I’ve wanted, so they see all that i am, and still let themselves bleed for my sake? Is my only merit in trying to find other broken mirrors, and hoping that our pieces will fit when neither of us have ever been successful with the glue before in trying to heal ourselves? The root of it is, I crave to be known and accepted, but i tend to believe that the ones who accept me don’t know me, and the ones who know me don’t accept me. What a curse.

to be loved more than I love myself is truly a gift, because in my eyes, who could love something so shattered?

#poetry #original writing #depressing quotes #deep poems #midnight writing #ramblings #original poems #poems and quotes

[asteriasgarden]

writers be like: there’s a little man that lives in this page and i love to torture him

dance, monkey, dance

#writing #writeblr #writing things #writers #writerscommunity #writer’s corner #midnight writing #writing page #writingcore #is that a thing #books #bookish #bookcore #? #anyway #ehehehehe #suffer little man #suffer #writing aesthetic