#read poetry; follow the rhythm

[compacflt]

I have to ask because I'm just too curious! How is your writing so good? Like, holy hell, your prose, the flow from one sentence to another, how you tell Ice and Mav's thoughts and the yearning and pining and angst and everything. You made me cry so many times reading their perspectives, and it's such a unique take and so relatable and sad at the same time.

I'm just wondering if you've taken any courses, what you do to improve your writing, or maybe any references and ideas for when you get stuck on a scene. I'm not much of a reader of western media, so maybe you have some recommendations?

Thanks in advance! You're one of the best writers I've ever had the pleasure of reading!

See here for my regular writing advice :)

yes, i am a double major in journalism & english so I’m taking basically all writing classes at school. but as i said in my previous advice post, i haven’t learned anything in any of my classes that you couldn’t learn just by reading attentively and writing on your own. the benefit of a structured program is Having Deadlines and that’s about it imo

I don’t have a ton of recommendations for precisely this reason—my recommendation is to literally read everything you can get your hands on, AND to treat Everything you read/watch/experience like high literature. Advertisements in the subway have a theme & a message & employ certain literary tactics to deliver that message to you. They’re worth learning from. So are the nature documentaries on tv—which stories are prioritized and why? What story techniques do documentarians, for instance, use to make us, the viewer, relate to animals and experiences that are otherwise unrelatable? Can you find examples of foreshadowing & symbolism in your own real life? Fiction is just a reflection of the dynamics of our own world—if you can find the rhythm of an overheard conversation on the street, you can find the rhythm of fictional dialogue

(Which is why i continue to stress, keep a journal or a diary. one of the most instructive exercises i ever did was when I was in a creative writing class at like 14 and they had us just follow strangers around and write down exactly what they said. So you get a lot of “so he told me, like, he was, like, like, um, ‘I’m not cheating on you,’ or whatever, and I was like, bitch, what?” —But that’s how people talk! It’s a good exercise lol.)

my one actual craft recommendation is basically mandatory assigned reading in many western english/writing classes—for good reason: Thomas c foster’s “how to read literature like a professor.” He summarizes about a hundred classic western texts and explains how they use various english-canonical symbols (“if characters eat together they’re taking communion,” “if a character gets wet and doesn’t drown it’s a metaphorical baptism,” “literally everything you read is somehow related to sex… except sex which is usually about something else”) and it’s written really well for both readers and writers. Basically my bible. a great primer if you don’t know where to start with western literature/if you don’t know where to start with writing symbols and stuff

anyway to summarize, life is literature, living is reading, we all still have so much time to learn, read “how to read literature like a professor,” and keep a diary

I also forgot to mention this in my last advice post but don’t use epithets please 😭 idk if you use epithets or not but this is just general advice, it’s my most snotty literary opinion and it’s very common in fanfic for some reason (it’s like so specific to the fanfic genre it’s insane) but i am extremely convicted about it i feel very strongly so im telling you. epithets make your writing sound very obviously fanficky. “the blond man” “the taller man” etc… just don’t use them it’s so unspecific!! WHICH blond man???? WHICH tall man? why can’t we be specific here?? have we been suddenly struck with amnesia?? just use his name!!

Also you say you don’t read a lot of western literature—I am not sure where you’re from but don’t feel like you HAVE to read/write only western literature to be successful. That’s only true if you want to succeed in the gatekept western lit market—and even then, the gatekept western lit market is literally currently foaming at the mouth to hear other perspectives right now. Who you are & where you come from invariably affects how you see the world & write about it, so lean into that if you can!

unfortunately my advice for getting stuck on a scene is “just write it.” Just sit down and get SOMETHING on the page. Spoiler alert, those tend to be the scenes i (and most of the writers i know) dislike the most, when coming back to reread my/our own writing. like there are many scenes in my fics that i have published where i think the lack of passion is unfortunately pretty obvious. But that’s kind of the way it goes. Some scenes you will like/want to write better than others. Shrug. at least they’re there on the page. as they say: don’t let “perfect” be the enemy of “good enough.”

#not to be snooty or anything but i personally value specificity sooo much when reading #cadence & flow is all poetry #read poetry; follow the rhythm #but like advertisements can be poetry too #does that make sense #like there is so much literature all around us the real advice is to be purposeful in how you’re engaging with it #there is something to be learned from every experience and every little moment #sorry i know you asked this like three months ago. I’m clearing through my drafts in advance of leaving this blog 😎 #writing tips #❤️❤️❤️

[wistful-academia]

i think it’s so beautiful how there are certain language features that we reserve purely for poetry and the like; there’s strict syntactical rules when speaking english day-to-day but if you want to play with them? bend them? break them? in the name of art? sure, go ahead. you can go a long way without impairing communication of your message, and on top of that—it just sounds prettier.

#i thought of this when reading some poem last week or the week before #and then i thought of it again listening to the mechs’ underworld blues #when heracles says ‘i came here your dog to seize’ #and then the very next day i had a spanish linguistics seminar on syntax where we were discussing when to use verb-object or object-verb #and in translating examples noticed when it’s acceptable to switch them in english too #though of course it works differently #but like ‘a castle stood upon the hill’ vs ‘upon the hill there stood a castle’ #that one’s only a mild example of this really though #not just restricted to poetry but common in prose too #of course there’s a lot of crossover and these rules are more lenient when writing prose than when speaking in daily life #but i’m more thinking of the absolute refusal to follow grammatical rules in favour of creating rhythm and rhyme that you find often #in poetry #i just love language #and this is just the standard rule breaking of poetry not even when people make a point of breaking rules as part of their art #poetry #language #dark academia #linguistics #english language

[moinsbienquekaworu]

i am about to sleep but i wanted to ask what your favorite poem is? will you tell me about it? what you love and why it’s your favorite? do you like any of its translations? i love you. i hope you have a good day 🥰

(⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒⁠) beloved thank you for the question!!! As per usual I am incapable of choosing just one of a thing, so I actually have two favourite poems, one in french and one in english (because poetry in french and in english can be pretty different since the codes and models and expectations aren't always the same!) They're the two poems I can recite and know by heart haha.

The english one is Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost. I really like the last stanza (like everyone else) but also just the way when you say it out loud it does feel like a quiet moment watching the snow fall all on your own. I found it recently accompanying a fic (two different fics actually but the second time I knew it) and it entranced me!

The french one is Chanson d'Automne by Paul Verlaine. It's a classic in France, some of its lines were used as a signal for saboteurs during WWII and there's an urban legend it was used to signal the landing in Normandy. I personally had to learn it by heart in primary school (I think in 4th grade?) and it just stuck with me. I like it for the way it feels to me and the images it evokes, but also just because it was the first poem I learnt by heart and being able to recite a poem is an easily overlooked comfort of life (insert those posts and quotes about art being vital and what we need to be able to turn to in dark or light times)

Other poems I like include Remords Posthume and L'Albatros by Baudelaire, Le Dormeur du Val by Rimbaud, Le Déserteur and Je Voudrais Pas Crever by Boris Vian, Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden, and Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath. The french ones I studied in school, and I found the english ones on my own (I feel like I found both in Johnlock fics?? but I might be wrong about Funeral Blues, it's been years) I included english translations where I could for the french ones, and they're not necessarily incredible but they should let you get the vibe. If one of them speaks to you I can try to explain what makes it tick! My personal anecdotes with those because that's half the fun: we had to analyse Remords Posthume for literature class with my best friend K, and what's really cool about it is the last line, "et le ver rongera ta peau comme un remords", because it plays on the homonymy between ver, the worm, and vers, the line of poetry, meaning she will be devoured physically by worms since she'll be dead but also that his verses, his poem, will make her feel remorse; I like the albatross analogy because I was a weird kid who felt comfortable with books but not with my peers; Le Dormeur du Val is extremely extremely sad and beautiful and I think Rimbaud was a very interesting guy; technically Le Déserteur is a song and not a poem but I first saw the text without knowing that so for me it's a poem forever now, and I love talking about the original versus final ending thing; the YouTube channel Le Mock did an excellent reading of Je Voudrais Pas Crever and it's a jewel, I love it so so much; Funeral Blues was the first english poem I ever liked (or maybe read honestly) and I wrote it on the cover of my 10th grade english notebook (because the teacher was great and said that if we forgot to do our homework he wouldn't punish us if we could recite a poem for him, so I wrote it down and tried to learn if by heart in case I forgot my homework); and Mad Girl's Love Song features in a fic I read a few weeks ago and I just think it's neat. I probably forgot some but those are the ones I remember right now (edit: ADA LIMÓN!! I FORGOT ADA LIMÓN!!! Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds (the I can't help it, I love the way men love poem) hit me in the chest the first time I read it and it's so so good)

My favourites (and most of the poems I like actually) are pretty popular because I'm not really into poetry that much on my own. I get attached to poems once I see how they work inside and analyse them, but I don't sit down and decide to analyse some poem from Les Fleurs du Mal at random because it feels like homework, and I don't go looking for poetry because I'm very hit or miss (I get bored at long winded descriptions in those 4-part 7-pages poems and a lot of things trip up my instinctual Pretentiousness Radar™, and while it's not necessarily accurate it does turn me off poems). So I just stay with the basics, but that's fine, because the comfort of carrying poems with you is there whatever the poem is y'know?

Also question, do americans learn poetry in school? I assume you must analyse some in literature class, but I don't know if you learn poems when you're young. I know we also do lots of La Fontaine's Fables, though I personally never did, but learning poems to recite in primary school is a thing almost everyone has done here I think.

#i just like. literature and literary analysis. when it's like poetry and it rhymes. when there's literary devices for a reason. #i'm an english lit major for a reason!!! #thank you for reminding me of what i like in literature my classes are so boring it's hard to remember sometimes #also the sheer joy of explaining poems i like to people who don't know them #like i could not explain le dormeur du val to a french person because they already know it and associate it with boring literature classes #but you don't! because you weren't forced to spend hours of lit classes on it in 8th grade whether you liked it or not! #it's like - yes they're well known poems but they're popular for a reason y'know #oh an honorary poems are some songs. like mistki's songs? that's poetry. that's just poetry! #it's like le déserteur - it's a song but isn't it poetry too? when the text follows the same rules? when you can analyse it the same? #actually all because of you feels like a poem too. if you know what i mean? #and dans ma ville on traîne by orelsan reminds me of a primary school poem - l'école by jacques charpentreau #it's all poetry and it's so cool and i love it #OH and racine's plays. they're not Poetry poetry - they're plays - but they rhyme in their entirety and follow a specific pattern #that's poetry!! that's just poetry!!!! #if you want me to get phèdre out and read you some racine i would be delighted to it's so nice to listen to #there's a rhythm to it and it becomes much easier to understand once you say it out loud - like shakespeare #anyway. LITERATURE. #wow i have a ramble tag now #wow i have an asks tag now #i love the way men love indeed

[rainintheevening]

Professor Digory Kirke is delighted to tutor the Pevensie children for a term, he makes that very clear to their mother.

'Delightful children,' he calls them. 'A pleasure to associate with.' And he means it.

He learns them well in the months following their adventure in the wardrobe.

Peter's handwriting is quick, slanting, rounded, normally legible, unless he is in a true hurry, and then only his siblings can decipher it. His signature is always large and clear, and he does not need to look at the paper as he does it.

He loves history, adventure, languages. He is a delightful debating partner on the merits of battle strategy and treaties, by turns serious and merry. He spends hours with Fiona the driving mare, learns how to harness and hitch and drive, teaches himself to ride her bareback with a few bruises and scrapes. If he is struggling with a Greek translation or looking like he'd rather pitch his mathematics text out the window, the Professor learns to send him out for a run or a ride, to give him something vigorous to do with his hands. He likes to sing.

Susan's writing is smooth, graceful, slow loops, thoughtful. She cares about what it looks like, as much as what she's saying, and it is always readable.

She likes beautiful things, has an interest in paintings and art, gravitates to the romantic poets, and frets often about 'getting it right'. She is cautious, not one to attempt something unless she believes she can do it well. She enjoys helping Lucy when her little sister gets stuck on something, and she and Edmund linger over long deliberate games of chess that drive Peter to distraction.

Edmund writes quickly, but carefully, clear lines, a little squared off, as if he is accustomed to fitting what he wants to say into a precise space, and spelling mistakes are rare for him. He crosses his 't's in bold strokes, dots his 'i's with a little flick. He can write with either hand, but the Professor can't tell if it's natural or learned, and Edmund can't remember either.

He is a quick reader, good at memorization, picks up on the unspoken. Sharp eyed, and sharp tongued, but he's careful about it, or at least he tries to be. To him history is a tapestry to be unraveled, science and engineering are mysteries to be solved. He appreciates the precision of mathematics. He is clever, good at disappearing into the woodwork, good at listening, good at finding weakness and exploiting it. He and Peter tell tall tales of what they would do in the many battles they read about, bicker over games of chess, pass their work back and forth for the other's assessment.

Lucy, ah Lucy, she writes in a hurry, choppy, round, smudgey, hand never quite keeping up with her thoughts. She dots her 'i's with a circle, draws little pictures in the edges of her paper.

She learns swiftly, when it comes in story or song, when she can hear the voices of the ancient kings, or feel the tree bark, or taste the desert air. She loves the rhythm of words, memorizes poetry with a kind of hunger. She learns in spurts, reading about nothing but medicinal herbs for a week, and nothing but the wildlife of Africa the next. She sings hymns like a bird, dances with her brothers, gets annoyed by mathematics lessons. She's fascinated by mythology—Greek, Roman, Norse, Briton—and often begs the Professor to read them aloud; she says he has the best voice for it.

"Oh, yes, they are delightful," the Professor assures Mrs. Pevensie, when she comes for Christmas. "Quite extraordinary." And he smiles gently into her worn and worried face, presses her hand. "I have not had this much fun in years."

#digory kirke #helen pevensie #pevensie siblings #narnia fanfiction #my writing #narnia #ink and paper #this was going to just be an analysis of their handwriting but turned into more

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Phantom Grin

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Bruce Wayne visits his son's grave on the night of his resurrection. Will it change Jason's fate, or is it all simply inevitable?

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd is Disabled, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Resurrected Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

Chapter One: Moonlight Promise

It'd been nearly ten months since the night Jason dug himself out of his own grave. Bruce sat by Jason's bedside, reading to him. Most days, Bruce read to him. When some of Jason's broken bones healed up, Bruce would hold his hand. He tried not to think too hard about the night it happened. The thought of Jason's broken body reaching out to him from the grave made his stomach turn. "I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way," Bruce read in a soft voice. Bruce listened carefully to the rhythm of the machines, making sure Jason's vitals were in order. Jason's heart rate often slowed depending on what Bruce read to him. He could tell that Jason loved poetry, or at least he thought Jason did.

Bruce squeezed Jason's hand gently. "Jason, I have to go earlier today," Bruce whispered, "But we'll finish The Highwayman when I come back. And I'll tell you about Clark's visit... Maybe when I come back, you can—." Bruce's phone rang, and he sighed. "Jason, I promise I'll make things up to you." He stood up and rested a gentle hand on Jason's forehead.

His phone continued to ring, and Jason opened his eyes. Bruce froze. "Jason?" he asked. Jason kept his eyes open for a few breaths before closing them once more. Bruce sat back down and brushed a knuckle against Jason's cheek. "Attaboy," Bruce whispered gently.

Bruce's phone rang again. "I'm not going anywhere... I'm just gonna answer this," Bruce whispered.

He answered the phone, and Dick immediately started apologizing. "I know you asked me not to call—."

"He opened his eyes... Just for a second," Bruce interrupted.

Dick didn't reply immediately. Instead, he made a soft noise. "Do you-. Did it seem like—?" Dick couldn't find the words.

Bruce sat with the phone between his ear and his shoulder. He squeezed Jason's hand. "He's never done it before. He opened his eyes and—. It was like he was trying to wake up," Bruce whispered, "Do you want to speak to him?"

Dick took a deep breath. "Put me on speaker," Dick whispered.

"Jason, I'm putting Dick on speaker," Bruce whispered. He let go of Jason's hand and set the phone on Jason's bedside.

"Good morning, Jason," Dick whispered, "I'm gonna come and see you pretty soon. I might get you something new to listen to. I know your birthday's coming up in August." Jason lay there, his eyes closed, and Bruce moved Jason's bangs out of his face. He didn't want to cut Jason's hair, not yet. In the months since Jason's resurrection, his height and hair were the only things that changed. It was the only way he could cope with the thought of Jason's condition.

Bruce stayed for an hour more and left in time for sundown. He'd be back later that night, but not as Bruce Wayne. Bruce always came at night in the middle of his patrol to make sure Jason didn't suddenly awaken in the night. He even hid motion sensors around Jason's hospital bed so that he'd know the comings and goings of the nurses. Leaving Jason was always hard. In the days following the incident where Jason first opened his eyes, Bruce started to see more and more movement in Jason. Sometimes Jason would open his eyes, other times, Jason would involuntarily grin when Bruce would touch his face. By the end of the year, Jason started responding to simple commands.

One afternoon, Bruce sat in the manor, eating dinner and talking to Dick. "He's gonna wake up any day now," Bruce whispered.

"And what are you gonna do about Tim?" Dick asked.

"Tim can have whatever he wants. He can be whatever he wants... Once Jason's able to come home," Bruce paused for a moment, "Jason'll need my full attention." He picked over his dinner.

Dick looked at him and furrowed his brows. "Gotham needs Batman—."

"And Jason needs me," Bruce raised his voice, "Had I been Bruce more often with Jason, maybe he wouldn't have died in the first place. I need to be there for him. I need to take care of—."

"And I'm not saying you're wrong, but from what I'm hearing in your voice, it sounds like you're calling it quits," Dick interrupted.

"Not permanently. I'm just prioritizing Jason for once," Bruce whispered, "Don't you think he deserves to be put first for once?"

Dick froze. He knew Bruce loved Jason, but he never thought that Bruce would ever set aside his priorities for anything or anyone. "I'm not judging you. I know you love Jason. I love Jason too... I just-. You don't have to do this alone. We're a family, and we're all willing to help in whatever way we can," Dick reassured him, "Maybe it's time you stop thinking you can do all this alone. Don't you think?"

"I can't let him down this time. I can't," Bruce whispered as he took a sip of water. "I should go check on him again soon."

"How many hours would you say you spend at the hospital?" Dick asked.

"Well, since he's gone from comatose to being in a vegetative state... Three hours in the daytime, on and off for two hours at night," Bruce replied. Dick tapped his fingertips on the table. "Yes, I'm thinking about going right now. You should think about coming with me."

Dick nodded. "I'll come along tomorrow before I leave," Dick replied, "No use in asking if you're staying for dessert, huh?" Bruce got up and took his plate to the kitchen.

Bruce's phone beeped, and he checked his phone. "I gotta go to the hospital—."

"What's wrong?" Dick asked.

"He's awake," Bruce replied as he rushed past Dick to the car. Dick followed closely behind.

"Is he okay?" Dick asked. Bruce handed Dick his phone, and when Dick saw what was going on, he pushed his hair back in distress. "Okay, I'm sorry for saying you were crazy for installing the motion sensor cameras."

#fic #batfam #phantom grin fic #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Alfred Pennyworth #Barbara Gordon #Tim Drake #Cassandra Cain #Jason Todd/Original Character #Canon Divergent AU #Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain #Jason Todd is Disabled #Barbara Gordon is Oracle #Resurrected Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating #Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Prologue (Reader and the crew on Halloween's eve)

Pairing: During the Prologue, none. You can pair the reader with anyone you want ;)

Summary: It's finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn't stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or... At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: YEEEEES 'TIS TIME!!!! Ok, a little bit earlier, but I just finished writing the Prologue - if everything goes as planned, I'll write and post Dante's and Vergil's parts on Halloween day/night.

And yes, I know the summary is a little foggy on the theme this year but... I'm really counting on the plot twist at the end, so bear with me please HAHAHAHA

It's based on an ask sent by the amazing @furyeclipse with an awesome idea that I was thinking about for a while and figured it would be a good Halloween theme. I'll answer the ask as soon as I post the two parts on the 31st as not to spoil the fun :3 but thanks so much dear! It sparkled my writing again and I'll be always grateful for that ^^

Happy Halloween, demons, devil hunters and lil' critters!!

Prologue

Contrary to what everyone at the Devil May Cry would believe, it took a lot to get on the Sparda twins’ nerves.

One would never say Dante and Vergil were particularly patient – but, after living with them for a while, they did seem to have an above the average tolerance regarding many matters. Maybe it was because of all the things they had lived, or maybe just because actually sitting and listening to what demons had to say in order to have a smart clap back required an insurmountable amount of patience: no one would ever be able to pinpoint why, but the Sparda twins were able to put up with a lot.

 When the last strands of that patience grew thin and finally torn apart, though, it was usually followed by all hells breaking lose. In that department, Dante and Vergil had very different ways to react: while the red devil burnt in an explosion of controlled fiery anger, the blue devil lost control under his usually carefully measured icy rage.

Two sides of the same coin, as you would say.

That day, it took a lot of time before they started getting annoyed by Nero constantly tapping his feet on the ground at the shop.

Dante was lazily thrown at his desk, sitting on his big chair and trying to enjoy some random magazine from years prior that he never seemed to fully end reading. Vergil was immobile, a little too stiff on the couch, having one of his many obscure poetry books in one hand while the other lightly rested over Yamato – always at arm’s length. Nero sat on the very same couch, with enough distance between him and his father, slouching while looking at different points in the shop and tapping his feet on the ground as if he was the drummer of a metal band.

Incessantly.

That had been going for hours. At first, it wasn’t annoying – both twins thought the kid would eventually calm down and stop. But after a while, Nero didn’t stop… And it only seemed to get worse.

Of course, neither Dante nor Vergil would notice both of them lightly frowning at the same time when the tapping noise started to get on their nerves. Still absorbed by their reads, the Spardas didn’t move their signature blue eyes from the pages, but the annoyed expression was the very same.

Indeed, twins. Even if they would die before admitting they were more similar than they realized.

A good half hour passed before they started getting really annoyed – probably around the same time Nero started using his hands to lightly tap on his thighs, using the same rhythm of his feet.

That exasperation started to bubble inside their chests, like a volcano that would soon explode in harsh feelings – and Dante was the first one to actually do something about it.

“Hey, kid.” He moved his sky-blue eyes towards Nero, making his nephew immediately look back at him. Without halting the tapping. “Everything alright? You’re gonna start a one-man band soon enough.”

“Yeah, yeah. I have restless leg syndrome, ya know?” Nero answered in his nonchalant tone as always – the very same punk Dante met at Fortuna. Years could go by, but that big-mouthed angry kid he met in that stuck-up cult city would never change in his eyes.

Something Dante was very fond of, if he had to be honest.

Not a single second passed before the sheath of the Yamato lightly – but sternly – hit Nero’s thighs; with enough pressure to hold them down, almost with no effort from the man wielding it.

“Enough.” Vergil’s words were crowned by the side look from his frozen silver eyes, moving just the muscles he needed to make his son stop that madness.

“C’mon…” Nero let out a huff, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back at the same time, finally stopping the tapping. It was enough to make Vergil put the Yamato back on its place and go back to his reading. “Am I supposed to just stay here waitin’ with ya the whole day?”

“They’re gonna be alright, kid.” Dante closed his magazine, tossing it on the desk and moving his feet down to the floor. Leaning towards the couch, he rested one of his elbows on his knee. “Y/n is one hell of a hunter and your lil’ angel is more than great at helpin’. They’ll be back in no time.”

“Yeah, but what if somethin’ goes wrong? What if Kyrie gets hurt?” Nero got up and started using his accumulated energy to walk around the shop while tapping on his thighs. He had to move.

“Don’t you trust your own training…?” Vergil once again raised his silvery eyes from the book, staring at his son fumbling around and not knowing what to do with himself – the very opposite of his immovable force.

Nero stared back at his own father, aquamarine eyes burning with anger. Dante had to smile and stifle a laugh: he knew his brother quite well to know Vergil wasn’t saying that just to be insufferable, he was actually playfully teasing his own son. Just like he used to do with Dante whenever their never-ending bantering started.

It was good to see Vergil was finally getting comfortable with his own kid to allow himself that kind of behavior. Dante saw that as a good sign.

“Well, last time Kyrie got caught up in the middle of somethin’, crazy-ass Sanctus and Nico’s dad kidnapped her to be slurped into a huge semi-organic-marble statue of world’s greatest grandpa Sparda while your ass was crumblin’ in Hell.” Now Nero was as red as a bell pepper, making Dante raise his eyebrows and side-eye his twin brother. Sometimes, Vergil deserved the burn. “Had to use Yamato to beat that old creep to pieces to get my girl back, so excuse me if I’m worried about lettin’ her go on a mission without me on Halloween of all days!”

Feeling Dante’s not-at-all discreet stare, Vergil’s eyes turned back to his brother right after.

“Kid’s got a point.” That’s all the red devil would say, crowned by a shrug. He loved to see Vergil being more comfortable around his son to allow more of his personality to show through – but he also had to admit Vergil needed a scolding from time to time after all the things he had done.

And his list of sins was actually huge, so there would be a lot of scolding.

“Kyrie is a very competent healer.” Vergil sighed and decided it was time to close his book and rest it on his legs – it was not like he would be able to go back to read anyway. “And y/n is a remarkable hunter. You taught Kyrie how to handle guns and swords. Even if things turn out not like they are expecting, demons would require a remarkable force to subdue them.” His silvery eyes had nothing but calculated calm, making Nero finally stop on his tracks and actually listen. “When you think about things logically, you realize the chance of them coming back safely is greater than whatever worry stirring in your heart.”

Nero rested his hands on his hips, his mouth pursed in a slit while his aquamarine eyes narrowed in their mission of glaring his father. He didn’t want to admit, but that was one hell of an advice. Vergil’s strength relied on his mind seeing things logically and counting all odds without his heart interfering in the matter – which probably was the reason why he survived so long in Hell.

Nero hated when Vergil was right – and specially when his advices were so sound. It reminded him of the father he never had, of the advices he never got to receive to help his life be a little bit less miserable – and it reminded him that even if he was mad Vergil was never there for him, it was because his father was locked in Hell as a puppet in Mundus’ hands, not even knowing he had a son, suffering innumerous tortures until Dante rid him of all that by killing his own brother… Only to survive somehow and drag himself out of all that shit.

It would be easier for Nero to hate Vergil if he only had left in pursue of power and never cared if he had a child. It would be a lot easier for Nero to deal with his feelings if that was the case.

“Verge’s right, kid. I’m not one to respond logically to things…” Dante raised his hands as if he was being held at gunpoint as soon as those fuming aquamarine eyes stared at him. “But hey, you gotta have some sense sometimes. They’re good at what they do. It wasn’t such a difficult job and your lil’ angel has an opportunity to take care of the people who were injured. It’s gonna be fine.”

Differently from Vergil, Dante wasn’t being held hostage while Nero had to learn to survive on his own – at least not like his twin brother in Hell. Even if Nero wanted to say Dante could have done something, could have been a blood bond he so desperately needed, the man in front of him could hide under so many masks but couldn’t stop his sky-blue eyes of showing all the sadness he carried inside.

Vergil could have been locked down in Hell, but Dante was being held hostage in his own mind. Carrying the grief of being the only survivor on that fateful night, and then the heart-wrenching sorrow of killing his own twin brother in order to rid him of the suffering he had been forced to endure during all that time in Hell. The guilt Dante carried in his soul weighted in his eyes and showed in how much he didn’t care about himself. He didn’t even know Nero existed until he saw him for the first time.

How could any of them care for Nero when all of them were lost in the first place?

“Kyrie’s gonna be so happy being able to help other people…” Nero finally sighed and murmured to himself, closing his eyes as if to remind himself why you both left for a job on your own in the first place. “She can handle herself. Y/n can protect them if they need it. I don’t need to stalk ‘em like a vulture all the time.”

“That’s the spirit, kid.” Dante smiled, resting his heavy boots on his desk once again. “They’ll be back soon and we’ll even have time for a lil’ Halloween party.”

“Hmmm. I refuse to wear those ridiculous clothes.” Vergil left his book on the couch, getting up to warm some water. The day was coming to an end and they could use some tea – specially Nero.

“Ooooh, c’mon, Verge! It’s the twins from The Shining! We have to make that happen someday!” Dante looked so offended Nero couldn’t help himself but to smile – even if a little bit. “It’s perfect!”

“You would never find a dress that fits you.” Vergil’s answer was but a murmur, but all of them could hear it very well.

“Ya know…” Nero sighed, finally giving in his family antics. They would never be much normal… And it made no sense for Nero to cry over the suffering Mundus had doomed all his family to just because his grandfather decided to stand by the side of the ones that needed him. In the end, Sparda did the right thing and his blood was paying for it – could Nero really be mad at him about it…? “Vergil would make a great Wednesday Addams.”

Both men stared at him: Vergil with only frozen death in his silvery eyes, dark aura already starting to loom around him, while Dante had the brightest stars in his sky-blue stare, mouth slightly open.

“You’re a genius, kid.”

Chaos would’ve ensued if Trish and Lady hadn’t opened the doors of the Devil May Cry at that very same moment.

“Hey, what’s up, babes? Nero’s got the best idea for Halloween this year…!”

“Well, those ideas will have to wait. We got a bit of a… Problem.” And something was wrong in Trish’s voice: she usually carried that nonchalant, devilish honey tone in every word she said, always with a ghost of a smile on her perfectly crafted reddish lips – but not this time. Her lilac blue eyes were fidgeting, a tinge of distraught in her voice. Dante immediately furrowed his brows and took his feet of the desk.

“Y/n and Kyrie need our help.” Lady announced with a nervous tremble in her tone, closing the heavy door behind her.

The Devil May Cry fell in silence – the eyes of the blood of Sparda locked on Lady and Trish. They had now their undivided attention.

**

“I’m really impressed we’re not finding any of them stalking us at the corner of our eyes every now and then.” You had your arms crossed, leaning to a building while Kyrie stabilized a man who was caught by a demon earlier – his family waiting anxiously around you, ready to run to safety while you both only promised to go deeper and deeper into the root of all the problem. “I thought they’d be looming around us like vultures.”

“Oh, Nero is probably worried sick.” Kyrie answered in a giggle, carefully wrapping the man’s arm with a clean set of bandages she packed before leaving with you. “But I think they trust us enough to do our job.”

“Hmmm. Nevertheless, I lost the bet.” You smiled in return, slightly sighing. “Guess you got me for an entire day to help you at the orphanage when we’re back.”

“Any help is always welcome.” She was quickly done, smiling at you while the family approached to carry the man to safety. “Go straight to a hospital. We’ll keep on working on this.”

“Thank you! May the gods bless you!”

As the family ran out of the building with the injured man, Kyrie couldn’t help but smile. For years she had unwavering faith in the Order of the Sword, and she thought after all that happened in Fortuna – specially regarding Credo – she would turn bitter towards all religion. But it had the opposite effect: it only made her happier when people blessed her with their faith, knowing it was one of the best things they could offer as a thankful gesture.

Her church might have been destroyed, her beliefs turned to dust – but her faith in something good would never be broken.

“Ok, my dear Cleric, onwards we go.” You got your sword back in your hands, pointing the way so Kyrie could get ready. “It’s quite impressive that a few demons were able to make such a mess in so little time actually. If they hadn’t evacuated the factory as soon as the first bodies appeared, we would probably be here with the whole crew.”

“Hmmm… It’s very interesting really…” Kyrie furrowed her brows, reloading the Blue Rose. Nero wanted her to use it on that hunt – as if having a piece of him with her could ward away any evil. He was always very bitter and rebellious towards any faith, but Kyrie always smiled whenever she saw the little superstitions Nero carried with him. “You said we’re dealing with three demons, right?”

“Could be more.”

“Oh, I believe it’s three. If I’m a Cleric, then you’re a Ranger. And a very good one.” Kyrie let out a quiet laugh alongside yours. “Three demons attacking a factory in town at random, causing so many deaths and such mayhem in less than an hour… It’s really… Hmmm…”

“Weird…?” You tried and she agreed, even if both of you didn’t really agree that was the right word to describe it. Since you first stepped inside that old building, it seemed something wasn’t right – but neither of you could quite point out what it was. “Yeah, I have to agree with you… If it was just a bunch of bloodthirsty demons, they would be spreading out to the city already and there would be so much more than just three.”

“And if there were more, the body count would be higher.” Her answer was somber: Kyrie never enjoyed thinking about human casualties, and that’s why her job was always to heal and help the injured. “So…”

“What gives?” You complimented her phrase, making Kyrie agree with her head – slowly, still thinking about it. “Also, we have many hunters in our party. Dante is one hell of a tracker as well, even if he tries to pretend he’s always winging it.”

“Oh, but Dante would definitely be a hunter Bard.” She laughed in response, making you snort right after. You could see that. Dante was a depressed Bard, hunting demons and going into fire fueled demon rage, but a Bard nonetheless. “And Vergil would be our very own Necromancer.”

“Scaring everyone who came in contact with us, be with his eyes or the spirit of the dead.” You answered as if you were narrating an advertisement of Necromancers on the TV – Kyrie giggled more than she thought she would. “It’s very fitting though. And Nero…”

You both exchanged looks, as if you could read each other’s minds – already laughing upon knowing what the answer would be.

“Rebel Paladin.” As you said in unison, your laughs echoed slightly through the factory. Imagining what each one of you would be in a Dungeons and Dragons game was something you and Kyrie would discuss quite often since you found out she was interested in it, but never really had the chance to play it. You wanted to start a campaign together, but whenever she had time, you were out on a hunt, and whenever you had time, she was busy with the orphanage.

Suddenly, you raised your hand so your laughs would come to a halt. Kyrie paid attention to your surroundings, only to hear what it seemed to be distorted voices coming from the patio outside the factory. Taking one of your fingers to your lips, you signaled her to be silent as you slowly walked towards the noise.

Reaching one of the big windows inside the building, you had a good view of the patio. Three humanoid demons – but still a lot taller than normal people, with leathery skin, distorted proportions, horned heads and sharp teeth – licked the blood from their fingers, tossing dismembered human bodies in the distance. You and Kyrie remained silent, crouching by the window, only the very top of your heads visible: enough so you could see what was going on.

“Master will probably have to wait for another Samhain.” One of them scoffed the words, voice drenching in disdain.

“We have our orders. They will show up.” The tallest demon, a little different and more menacing, had only anger in his tone. That discussion probably had been going for some time. “And when they do, our job is over.”

“Perhaps we didn’t kill enough…” The third demon had a wide smile on its hundred rows of sharp teeth. “Perhaps if we spill more blood, they will be here quicker.”

“You fool.” The leader of the group almost growled in response. “Humans aren’t summoned by spells and blood like us. They are weak little creatures that take forever to do at least one thing.”

“Then why Master needs them so much?! Two even!” The first demon rolled its eerily white eyes, clearly bored with the waiting stage of their mission. “They are meek things, the only thing they are good for is food.”

“Because those are different.” The leader now let a roar tear trough its words. “And they are exactly what Master needs for the ritual. No more, no less.”

“If Mundus wasn’t so stupid, he would have succeeded in it.” The second demon scoffed once again, shaking its head. You and Kyrie exchanged quick looks. “But he always wanted to bite more than he could chew.”

“He thought he could bend the rules.” The leader crossed its deformed arms, spiky skin scratching against each other. “No one can. Not even the strongest of us. He ignored the rituals that could’ve made him stronger before trying to subdue all into his rule.”

“He underestimated the blood of Sparda. That was the reason for his demise.” You walked into the patio, silver sword bright in your hand. You had heard enough – and maybe Dante or probably Vergil would know what kind of Samhain ritual they were talking about. It was time to send them back to Hell; Kyrie could watch it safely from inside the factory.

“Oh… A hunter.” The leader smiled devilishly, receiving an approving look from the other two. That already made your heart a little suspicious: it wasn’t a normal reaction. “And a Sparda defender, nonetheless.”

“I defend the ones who carry his legacy. Your power could never get even close to what they carry.” You raised your head with pride, a ghost of a smile coloring your lips. “And neither did Mundus.”

“My, my, so you know the blood of Sparda…?” The third demon approached with its hundred rows of sharp fangs dripping blood, ready to attack. You tried not to react to its phrase, even if you wanted to furrow your brows in confusion. Why did that matter…? “It’s true, then? That they fell for human whores like that filthy traitor before them?”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind you talking about me like that…” You sighed, crossing your arms, trying to retain a little control over the conversation – even if something inside you screamed the odds were not in your favor. “But no one refers to my Cleric with such dirty words.”

She didn’t want to, but Kyrie had to muffle a little giggle. She would always be impressed how all of you hunters – including Lady and Trish, not only Nero’s family and you – could banter and give demons smart answers, seemingly fearlessly.

“You have someone else with you, then…? A non-hunter…?” The first demon approached slowly, spreading its claws in the same rhythm as its steps.

That was almost like a red light appearing inside your mind. They didn’t know. They saw you – and only you – but they didn’t know about Kyrie. And now, it seemed like they were even more interested on the fact you were there together.

Two humans for their Master. They could have taken anyone in that factory, but they were waiting. At first, you and Kyrie thought they were waiting for anyone in the crew outside Trish, but now… You had your doubts. Many doubts.

Without words, you plunged in a surprise attack that managed to cut the side of the third demon’s mouth, making it even wider while it screeched in pain. That was enough to put an end to that conversation – and, as soon as you could, you would turn around to Kyrie and signal her to run.

As she watched you from inside the building, Kyrie tried to think what to do. She knew you were more than capable of killing those three demons in a moderately quick fight, but that conversation was enough to spark restlessness in her heart.

And before she could do anything and you could tell her to go, Kyrie felt a leathery clawed hand tightly covering her mouth, squeezing her soft skin until it hurt.

“Don’t even try to run, or we will gut you and your friend right here, right now.”

Her hazelnut eyes turned to the patio in despair, trying to find yours while you viciously fought to slay all those demons.

As soon as you saw her being carried towards the patio by another menacing demon, you immediately did what they commanded you to do: stop resisting and drop your weapons or else they would drop Kyrie’s blood.

She closed her eyes in regret as she heard the metallic sound of your silver sword hitting the floor.

**

“When the people in town told us they were there, we figured to drop by and say hello.” Lady had her hands resting on her waist, standing in front of the shop’s desk while the Spardas surrounded her and Trish. “Our job was fast and easy, and it would be nice seeing how Kyrie was holding up… But when we got to the factory, we knew something was wrong.”

“What happened?! Just say it already!” And if Nero was a pile of nerves before, now he was beyond any logic.

“I got up on the roofs, Lady crossed the factory inside. There was nothing.” Trish took over, crossing her arms and having her slim eyebrows furrowed in worry. “I got to the patio where I was hearing some voices. There were four demons: one was a leader of three lesser demons, but they weren’t doing anything. I saw Lady hiding inside the factory and watching things from the windows, but everything was… Weirdly calm.”

“Kyrie and y/n were being held hostages. Kyrie tried to fight and let go, but y/n… Nothing.” Lady noticed how Dante and Vergil immediately frowned upon hearing that. It wasn’t like you to be allowed to be taken by demons without a fight. “Their weapons were on the floor. One of them said if y/n even tried to move, they would cut Kyrie’s throat.”

“Fuck…! I knew I should’ve gone with them!” Nero almost threw his arms up in exasperation, starting to roam around the room once again. This was killing him. He wanted to give Kyrie all the space she needed, but after Fortuna… He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. “What about y/n?!”

“That’s why they didn’t move.” Trish’s cold lilac blue eyes immediately turned to Nero. “Head held high as always, but not a single move.”

“And then? Did ya try to do somethin’?” Dante was on the brink on understanding Nero on a soul level – he himself was almost getting up from his big chair to prance around the room and blow off some steam.

“We tried…” Lady’s voice carried a regret he only heard when they were teens and met for the first time, so many years ago. Back then, she had a lot more bitterness rather than pure rage. “We tried to signal some things and plan something, but…”

“Hell Generals.” Trish cut Lady’s words, making Vergil immediately stiffen up, frozen eyes staring her with a sharp edge. “Two Hell Generals. I don’t know how, but they managed to get to the human world. One of them was their ‘master’ while the other must have had some sort of deal with the first.

“Which Generals…?”

“You think you know them?” Lady had to admit she was a little shocked. Trish was usually the encyclopedia of famous demons in Hell, given the fact she was literally born there. She knew the Generals, but not all of them.

“I spent enough time in Hell to know most of its worst.” And to say his eyes could cut was an understatement. “Everyone wanted the chance to torture the son of the 'filthy traitor Sparda'.”

The Devil May Cry fell in silence for a couple of seconds. Everyone knew Vergil hadn’t had it easy during his time in Hell, but he rarely talked about it – and when he did, it was usually followed by chills down their spines.

“Erlach and Orcus.” Trish finally raised her voice among that silence, making Vergil close his eyes. “Erlach was the lesser demons’ master, Orcus was the one who had an arrangement with him.”

“Indeed… Two of the worst.” Vergil opened his eyes once more, carrying even more rage than before.

“And what did they want?” Dante shook his head, sighing quickly. He thought they would be able to have a peaceful Halloween. “They were holdin’ them, so they must’ve wanted somethin’.”

“Yes, they talked about a ritual. The ‘Samhain ritual’ as far as I could hear, but I have no idea what that is.” Lady turned her bicolored eyes to Trish – after all, she must’ve known what they meant by that.

“The Samhain ritual is written in books in Hell but no one knows if it really is true. No demon ever tried it, apart from the ones of legend.” The demon rested her hands on her waist, sighing right after. “It’s a ritual to gain power, said to elevate a demon’s status. If it was made by a General, they would easily rise to Mundus’ status.”

“Ok, so not good at all, that’s what you mean.” Nero placed his hands on Dante’s desk, leaning on it and finally stopping his roaming around. “Why do they need Kyrie and y/n? Their blood? Their souls? Why didn’t you interrupt them?!”

“Well, when I heard what they said before completely disappearing I took some time to make sure I wasn’t hearing things, kid!” Lady now looked as furious as Nero, trying to get him to respect her again as he always did. “I thought I heard it wrong and then they were gone! It happened too fast!”

“What did they say?!” The three Spardas talked at the very same time; different voice tones, but indeed, a family.

“To get the wedding ready.”

Trish’s words fell among them like a ton of bricks. Nero had disgust and confusion written all over his face, seemingly trying to make sense of it – just like Lady when she heard it for the first time, making sure they didn’t get it wrong. Dante had his eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open, but eyes filled with rage and shock. Vergil looked like he had swallowed an entire book and it was now stuck in his throat, unable to go up or down, while his face tried to maintain some dignity.

Until the three managed to blurt out the exact same phrase.

“What the fuck?!”

That was going to be one hell of a Halloween.

To Be Continued....

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #dante x reader #vergil x reader #dante imagine #vergil imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dmc lady #dmc trish #dmc kyrie #dante sparda #vergil sparda #devil may halloween #I BET YOU DIDN'T SEE THE WEDDING COMING #HAHAHAHAHAHA #beeeet you guys thought this was gonna be an exclusively serious one #but I can't resist over the top dmc shenanigans #again it was Fury's idea #I'm just a vessel to make it happen #and you better buckle up 'cause I have I Need a Hero playing in my mind nonstop while thinking about this :) #also don't worry didn't forget Nico #she'll appear on the next one #because cutting right as they realize the ritual is a wedding was the perfect opportunity for comedic timing <3 #aaah and the dnd part

[lexiandliterature]

let's talk about rupi kaur and why she's everything wrong with online culture.

i've heard many a good review about rupi kaur and her poetry and i will tell you right now that i confidently disagree. in case you don't know who she is, rupi kaur is a "poet" on instagram with over 4.5 million followers known for her short but impactful poems that captivate the hearts of millions of people around the world.

her rise to fame caught the tidal wave of internet virality as she self published her first collection, Milk & Honey, earning critical acclaim. I like to call it milk our money but i'll get to that in another post.

let's first define poetry for what it is. though this definition can depend on who you ask, i like to think of poetry in four main categories: theme, meter, form, and intention. theme is just the general topic of the poem and the way the poet goes about addressing it. meter is the rhythm and rhyme pattern; it's the way it sounds when you read it aloud and the way that sound hits your ear. form is the way it looks, the way it reads, how that affects the way you say it and the way the words are perceived. and finally let's talk about intention. how is she choosing her words, how is she placing them in an order that is interesting, and how is she using literary devices to aid her story?

(if you want to see these categories done well, then it will have to be a whole different post because this could take awhile.)

so let's talk about rupi kaur's poetry in these four categories starting with this 2 LINE POEM that doesn't have a title.

"and here you are living despite it all"

-rupi kaur

wow. inspirational. 2 lines, with no punctuation whatsoever. this isn't even a sentence. we're off to a great start.

so theme. this poem is about overcoming something difficult. what difficulty? i could not tell you. there is no more information. at least she has an idea. the "you" is likely addressing the readers, thus suggesting that the purpose of the line being so general is to appeal to everyone (this is another issue i'll get into some other time).

let's talk about meter now. there's really nothing to say, there is none. there is no rhythm, no rhyme scheme, no nothing. and i'm not saying every poem has to have these things, it's just to say that if she doesn't have this, her poem needs to be interesting in other ways (which spoiler alert it isn't).

now let's talk about form. she breaks this "not sentence" into two lines. this enjambment is random and without thought. there is nothing interesting about separating this sentence other than for aesthetic purposes. nothing about the shape of this poem is interesting and nothing about it has meaning.

and finally, let's talk about intention. she uses "you" to appeal to a wider audience which suggests that this poem is more likely written to be relatable than to be sincere. is the "you" talking about a friend? a lover? a sibling? a friend/lover that's a sibling? (im just kidding) like come one. give us nothing. the ambiguity of "all" has a similar connotation. what is she overcoming? a cold? the death of a loved one? spilled milk? what is it? i shouldn't have to give meaning to the poem FOR HER. THIS IS HER POEM.

so if we're grading this out of 4 points, we'll give her a point for theme (because at least i know what she's talking about), no points for meter, no points for form, and certainly no points for intention.

this poem is a 1/4 or a 25%. congratulations rupi!

if this is the standard at which we are holding one of the most POPULAR poets of our generation because her poetry is accessible, easy to read, and relatable, then we are in a bit of trouble.

taking time to understand why the words are put in a certain order is what makes poetry so beautiful and if we can't even stop to sniff the roses sometime, what are we even doing? nothing in life is easy, and we are slowly diluting everything difficult into something that is meaningless. part of the beauty is in the time you put into understanding its message. rupi kaur is a perfect example of someone marketing off of our short attention spans and our need for instant gratification.

what i'm getting at here is not that a poet i dont like is extremely popular but rather we're letting people profit off of mediocrity while also losing the essence of what that thing really is. we're letting it become easy and accessible and "relatable" when part of the beauty is often what makes it different. it's not that rupi kaur is the problem but rather an example of the ongoing issue.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#writing #books #rant post #personal rant #poetry #rupi kaur #instagram poetry #poem #questions #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writerscommunity #writer #tumblr poetry #ranting #rant #words #poets on tumblr #writers and poets #mine #opinion #ted talks

[talonabraxas]

The Celtic Tree Zodiac: Find Your Tree Sign in the Celtic Tree Calendar

⛤ The Ogham Grove ⛤

The Ogham Grove is a modern way of working with the Ogham, as both a year wheel and as a sacred circle, or grove; for both solitary rituals and group work within a sacred landscape - and as an internal, astral sanctuary, within one's own mind - one's inner grove.

Whilst the Ogham Grove is a modern way of working with the Ogham, it is actually based upon the oldest known tree sequence attributed to the Ogham; that which was recorded in The Scholar's Primer - which was compiled into the Book of Ballymote circa 1390 AD.

Of course the Ogham may have corresponded with specific trees long before 1390 AD

but there is no earlier evidence. The oldest evidence of the Ogham writing system is that of inscribed pillar-stones; the oldest of which appear to date to the 4th century.

Simply, the Ogham Grove is created by placing the trees of the Ogham, evenly spaced (every 18 degrees), around a circle; when one does this, all manner of meaningful patterns begin to emerge - aligning trees (and their mythological lore) with specific stars, deities, and times of the year. This opens up exciting new fields of research into Celtic studies.

knowledge across arts, music and poetry, as well as science, language, and environment. They understood that human life was a small part of a much larger pattern, and that these rhythms could be worked out by careful observation, and strict adherence to an annual cycle – the Celtic Ogham Wheel of the Year.

​The inner wheel represents the Fibonacci sequence: 1,1,3,5,8,13.

​1 – the single point, the centre of all things

2 – the spiral stirring within the cauldron

3 – the Triskellion, the three maidens attending the cauldron

5 – the Rose, the Queen of every hive

8 – the Fire Festivals

13 – the Ogham lunar sequence

The Outer Wheels depict the current calendar months, the signs of the zodiac, and the full grove of the 20 Ogham trees in their natural order, beginning with Birch.

​THE FIRE FESTIVALS

​The eight Fire Festivals take place at the solstices and equinoxes of the solar year, and help to bring a deeper connectedness and understanding of the world around us and the importance of living in harmony with that world.

​The Festivals are as follows:

Winter Solstice (Yule): 20th December

Imbolc: 1st February

Spring Equinox (Ostara): 19th March

Beltane: 1st May

Summer Solstice (Litha): 21st June

Lughnasadh/Lammas: 1st August

Autumn Equinox (Mabon): 21st September

Samhain: 31st October

[mercurysgarden]

trying to find mutuals ❀˖°

so hey, this is a little post for me to find some mutuals. if you read the following and you think we'd like eachother feel free to follow!

first off i just wanted to say i'm primarily active on two blogs, the first one is this one (sort of a life blog, sort of a poetry blog, sort of an everything blog...) and the second one is @pandorlily aka my fandom side blog.

basics: she/they | 18 | autistic | aroace | taurus | isfp

my special interests are music, the walking dead & the marauders. i think you'll see that a lot on my fandom account! one of my fixations that keeps coming back is trick (troy x nick from ftwd) so that is also something i'll post abt :)

media i'm into: stardew valley, percy jackson, chucky the series, dhmis, the owl house, osermanverse, the quarry (slightly), ofmd, some rhythm games (i don't play them regularly but i enjoy pjsk and bandori!), minecraft (not dsmp/qsmp), stranger things, monster high, oh god oh fuck what else am i into i forgot....... i'll probably repost a lot of other fandoms as well.

misc stuff i'm into: reading, photography, art, poetry, music, guitar/bass (i play it VERY badly) (i also forgot the rest of the stuff im into....)

music i'm into: adrianne lenker, big thief, naethan apollo, frank dillane's projects, jeff buckley, twenty one pilots, black box recorder, avatar metal, arctic monkeys, delta rae, daniel johnston, amigo the devil, mother mother, aurora, slipknot, mazzy star, dandelion hands, mook, maya hawke, god help the girl ETC ETC ETC.....

please dni if you're lgbtqphobic in any way, ableist, zionist etc, support jkr. also i'd prefer you to be 15+ and -24 if u want to be my friend and talk! i can make some exceptions though :)

thanks for reading, let's be friends <33

#mutuals #looking for moots #stardew valley #the walking dead #fear the walking dead #percy jackson #dhmis #the owl house #project sekai #bandori #osemanverse #heartstopper #ofmd #monster high #marauders #minecraft #adrianne lenker #dead gay wizards from the 70s #lets be friends #lets be moots #lets be mutuals #aroace #lgbtqia #queer #aromantic #asexual

[convexicalcrow]

There was something to be said about the way Cub was staring at the ground. Not in a bad way, or in a curious way. Sort of like... Almost staring at his feet, but also gazing at nothing in particular. He was in a strange mood, if he was honest. Too much going on as usual.

The city was quiet, which was unusual for the time of day, but the rain was probably keeping a lot of people inside. Except Cub, of course. The pavement was wet and glistening, the rain falling softly around him. He walked slowly, lost in thought.

He'd forever claim he had too many thoughts, but it was a lie. There was only ever one thought: Scar. And not in any kind of bad way either. Cub was just forever thinking about Scar. How his day was going, what he was up to, whether he'd arrive back in time for dinner, whether he'd booked another amazing date for them, the usual. Scar just occupied his thoughts. He was a man obsessed, and he was more than happy to admit it.

He smiled as he saw the park approaching. It was bright lush green today, in spite of the damp, and perhaps he fancied a walk through there today when the park would be far less busy. He crossed the street, umbrella at hand, and headed in through the gates.

It was a different place here. It was like the walls of the park insulated him from the world outside. Cub didn't mind. He felt it's what he needed. There were a couple of very committed dog walkers that he passed, but he mostly had the park to himself.

It was strange to see it empty, as if some apocalypse had happened while he was at work this morning, and now everyone had gone except for him. He stopped under trees, paused near park benches, wandered through the paths with a peaceful heart. All it needed was Scar, and his day would be perfect.

If only, though. Scar worked across town. There was no way he'd get here in time before Cub had to head back to the office. Still, Cub liked to dream. Maybe he'd bring him here on the weekend. The weather was supposed to be warming up by then. Maybe they'd take a picnic and a rug, and a thermos of coffee, and enjoy their time together. It had been a while since they'd just spend a morning together.

Cub stopped by the lake, watching all the ducks swimming by. He followed a small path over to the gazebo in the middle, where he could sit in the dry. He shook his umbrella out and sat down. He slipped out a small notebook and pen, and opened it to a new page.

Words circled through his head. That did tend to happen in a place like this. All the poetry in the world seemed to find him here. He sketched, wrote out words, tried out different phrases. The birds sung their encouragement. Every now and then, he tapped out a beat with his foot.

He took out his phone, called Scar. "Hey, Scar, can you hum a little tune for me? Something to get me inspired?"

"Oh, sure, I can do that. What kind of- oh I know where you are. Here, try this," Scar said as he began to hum.

Cub smiled. Scar always knew what he needed. The tune was bright, but cosy, reminding Cub of their ski trip last year. Not the skiing itself, but of the lodge they stayed at that was forever the warmest place they'd ever found. Big rooms, big roaring fire, and big mugs of hot cocoa. Maybe next year they'd go back again.

Cub made more sketches. Drafted more lines. Somehow, he felt it getting closer. He could see it forming in his mind. A distant roar of thunder rumbled across the sky.

"I sang a song, the thunderer roared, and all went back to hide. I sang a song below the sky, and it becan to cry." Cub paused, quietly reading the words again. "Hmm. I like the rhythm, but not the words."

He put his pen and notebook away and grabbed his umbrella. He needed to look at the flowers. That would help him find his muse.

The beds were large and well-planted with many different kinds of flowers. Not all reminded him of Scar, but some did. Really, he was looking for the right flower, and the right scent, that would give his thoughts form.

There was a beautiful rhododendron, and a big bright spray of chrysanthemums. Cub liked these. He liked how they looked in the rain, too. Maybe he took a couple of photos to share with Scar when he got home. He always loved seeing pictures of the flowers.

"I see thee in thy brightness, I see thee in thy sorrow, my friends, my flowers, shining bright, against a dark grey sky," Cub said, half-singing the words that came to mind as he saw them.

He wandered over to the roses. Traditional, of course. But his eyes were drawn to some sunflowers, whose yellow faces shone more brightly than anything else. Cub went over to them and softly brushed the petals. That was Scar right there. His sunshine. His sunflower.

"One day you'll see, that the light you shine, that you shine just for me, burns brighter and hotter than a thousand stars, giving life to all you touch. Laugh, cry, turn your face to the sun, for all that you are is beautiful," Cub murmured.

#hermitshipping #fanfic #convex #cubscar #cubfan135 #gtwscar #a little soft convex for the soul #bc i was in a Mood tonight when I sat down to do my words #and this is what i came up with

[soracities]

I wanna know how do you read poetry,do you understand all poems when you read them for the first time itself like idk if it makes sense but here are some struggles I go through and I hope you can help me with them -- at times I am unable to understand poems and in those times i feel like I'm just going through the poem just to get over with it 2. probably has to be when i am unable to understand a word,I don't to look it up at that time since it will ruin the flow

oh no i definitely don't understand every poem the first time, not in the least--but i do, however, make sure to read almost all poems more than once--sometimes 3 or 4 times depending on how difficult it is, but i always make sure to look up any words or phrases i don't understand and then i read the poem again once i know what they mean. i understand your worry about interrupting the flow, but in all honesty: absolutely look those words up! if it really makes it hard for you to concentrate on the poem again, then look them up after your first reading, write them down next to the poem where possible, and then read the poem again. you don't only get one chance at a poem--and sometimes you need repeated readings in order to get used to the flow and the structure of a poem first so that, through that familiarity, you can start concentrating more on the words themselves (this is especially true for longer and more complex poems)

sometimes i think it also depends on what your reading background is, what kind of poems you're reading and what kind of poetry (or any literature) you're used to reading, because sometimes you have to adjust your pace accordingly: someone like Sara Teasdale is far more straightforward than Emily Dickinson, and you can't read them both the same way because they do not use their language the same way. for me the main thing is not really focusing on "understanding" a poem, in the way we usually mean it, and more about just letting myself follow the poem's own logic and structure: if it's a rhyming poem, or one with a very strong rhythm then i let myself by taken by that rhythm. if it's a poem with a very strong focus on a particular image, then i try to pay attention to that image as i read and what is being said about it (what words are the poet tying to this image? what kind of verbs, adjectives? what kind of tone or feeling do all of these produce in me?). at the end of the day a poem is not a maths equation with a single answer: it's journey and in that journey you are watching a landscape or a story unfold in front of you. the poet is trying to take you somewhere, not for the sake of getting from a to b, but in order to spend time w you as they share something that has caught their attention. once you give up on "understanding" a poem--by which i mean, wondering what the "correct" answer is, like in an exam, it becomes a lot easier to be receptive to the poem itself because you are no longer so worried about missing what it's trying to say--does this make sense? please feel free to message me again if this doesn't help anon and if you want to tell me what poems in particular are giving you trouble and i can try and help x

#ask #anonymous #book talks

[harmonyhealinghub]

A Step-by-Step Guide to Writing Your Own Poetry Book

Shaina Tranquilino

November 5, 2023

Poetry, an expressive form of literature, has the power to captivate readers with its rhythmic verses and profound emotions. If you've always been fascinated by poetry and wish to compile your own collection into a poetry book, then this guide is for you! In this blog post, we will explore the step-by-step process of creating a poetry book that reflects your unique voice and experiences.

1. Find Your Inspiration: Every poet draws inspiration from different sources. It could be nature, personal experiences, relationships, or societal issues. Take time to reflect on what moves you emotionally and sparks your creativity. Explore various themes that resonate with you deeply and jot down ideas and potential poem titles as they come to mind.

2. Establish a Consistent Tone: Consider the overall tone you want your poetry book to convey - whether it is melancholic, reflective, uplifting, or raw and honest. Maintaining consistency in tone throughout the book will create a cohesive reading experience for your audience. Experiment with different poetic forms such as sonnets, haikus, or free verse to diversify the structure within your collection.

3. Drafting and Editing: Begin writing your poems by putting pen to paper or typing on a computer screen. Don't worry about perfection at this stage; let your thoughts flow freely without judgment. Once you have several drafts ready, revise them thoroughly for clarity, grammar errors, and coherence of ideas. Pay attention to word choice, rhythm, metaphors, and other literary devices that enhance the impact of each poem.

4. Organize Your Collection: Organizing your poems in a logical sequence is essential for creating a well-structured poetry book. Consider grouping poems according to themes or narratives that emerge naturally from your work. This arrangement helps readers connect with your writing on a deeper level while maintaining their interest throughout the book.

5. Seek Feedback: Share your poetry book with a trusted circle of friends, fellow poets, or writing groups. Constructive feedback can play a vital role in refining your work and identifying areas that require further improvement. Consider their suggestions while remaining true to your artistic vision.

6. Create a Compelling Title: A captivating title can attract potential readers instantly. It should reflect the essence of your poetry collection and pique curiosity about what lies within its pages. Experiment with different titles until you find one that encapsulates the mood and themes of your work.

7. Designing Your Book: Give careful thought to the visual presentation of your poetry book. Choose an appealing cover design that complements the style of your poems. Consider fonts, layout, and formatting options to enhance readability and create an aesthetically pleasing experience for readers.

8. Publishing Options: When it comes to publishing your poetry book, you have several options to consider. Traditional publishing involves finding a literary agent or submitting directly to publishers; however, this process may be time-consuming and competitive. Alternatively, self-publishing platforms like Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing or Lulu offer greater control over the publication process.

Writing a poetry book is an incredibly fulfilling creative endeavor that allows you to share your thoughts, feelings, and experiences through verses that touch others' hearts. By following these steps - from finding inspiration to organizing and publishing - you'll be well on your way towards creating a remarkable poetry book that will resonate with readers for years to come. So pick up your pen, let imagination take flight, and embark on this beautiful journey of self-expression!

#poetry #poems #writing poetry #writing tips #poetry books #creative writing #author #publishing journey #writers community #self publishing #inspiration #poetry love #write a book #prose #words

[nyehilismwriting]

helloooo! i've been following your writing/coding journey since the early days of sentinel and it's been so nice watching your story-telling blossom into a masterpiece. i love project hadea a lot and the characters are all so compelling i always have trouble choosing who to romance (rohan refuses to kiss me lmao). forgive me if you've been asked this question a million times already, but i was wondering what are some of your literary inspirations? what sort of writing shaped your style? it's one that i wish i could achieve one day tbh!!

WAH this is so kind of you 🥺

i'm sure i've spoke before about some of my inspirations but i am always happy to do it again:)

my writing style tends to go through phases- i feel like i write hadea slightly differently to some of my other projects, particularly the shorter ones. often, when I'm going for something poetic, i can't maintain that for as long, or i feel like it gets effortful; some authors seem able to maintain a really lovely style for long-form works. i'd say max gladstone (and there's no way you've followed me this long without seeing me talk about him before lmfao), julia armfield (who wrote our wives under the sea), louise erdrich (the painted drum, the antelope wife) are all authors whose prose particularly sticks out to me as something i'd like to emulate.

i'll also have to shout out adrian tchaikovsky and peter watts as scifi authors who manage to maintain a very effortless, easy to read style while writing hard scifi; it's not easy to do, but they pull it off, often with clarity and humour i really admire. and their work is not without poetry! i also really like adrian tchaikovsky's tendency to skew sharply into and out of horror: he's got such a knack for atmosphere and tone, something that really stands out to me whenever i read his work.

i'm trying to read more nonfiction/autobiography type stuff, as well: i recently finished billy-ray belcourt's 'a history of my brief body', and in the summer i read ocean vuong's 'on earth we're briefly gorgeous' (which is fiction, but in a similar vein); I'm hoping to read more joan didion this year, as well. i think reading stuff like this is a good way to develop both empathy and also an interesting study in tackling highly personal emotional stuff, and in a lot of cases i do feel i can learn a lot from the prose of these works.

i also read quite a bit of poetry, in itself, which i think helps; i like my writing to have a rhythm to it, and i tend to find that reading poetry helps a lot with that.

finally, as i think i've mentioned before, i love the magnus archives and the writing in that: i think that writing stuff that's meant to be read out loud/performed is a really interesting exercise, even if that's not the final goal, and it really helps to develop a sense of rhythm for your prose.

#i try to read as widely as i can #obviously i have favourite genres. i'm a scifi bitch at heart #but i do tend to chameleon my writing style after the last thing i read #so it can be quite variable #and i'm not as vigilant as i could be about reading back my own writing #i also wanna get into more surreal fiction. i need to read house of leaves sooooo badly #if u want specific recs i can do that but i've listed a bunch of authors i've read in the last year i find inspiring:) #hope this answers your question a little bit! #therosejamjournal #thank you for asking<33 and for saying nice things to me MWAH

[uwmspeccoll]

A Classical Friday

Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, the study of Classical Greece in England was done mainly through the eyes of the ancient Romans. What I mean by this is that nearly all scholars in the field used Latin translations of Greek writings and Roman histories on the Greeks to construct their understanding of ancient Greece. It is evident that most works done on the Classical Greeks during the Industrial Era apply Roman ideals to Greek culture and refer to Greek historical figures and characters by their Roman names. This is problematic for a plethora of reasons, the least of which is that though the appearances of the two cultures seem similar, the religious practices and cultural values do differ greatly. Despite this, the use of Roman material continued in the place of Greek writings for many centuries.  

Andrew Lang, a Scottish Historian, was one of the rare individuals who avoided this standard, as unlike his colleagues he focused on Greek translations. Being more interested in the folklore rather than the history, Lang established his own direct translation of the Odyssey (1879) and the Iliad (1883) to better understand the stories at play in this culture. Lang gained an understanding of the prose used in epic poetry, inspired by both the rhythm of Epic poetry and  the play Helen by the Athenian playwriter Euripides, he culminated his expertise into Helen of Troy: Her Life and Translation. First published in London by George Bell and Sons in 1882, the publication shown here is the 1910 3rd edition by the American reprint and fine-press publisher Thomas B. Mosher (we also hold Mosher’s 1897 1st edition). Here Lang shows an expert understanding of both Greek prose and culture, most apparent in the book’s first chapter where Paris and Helen first meet. Greek rules around hospitality dictate that a host should not question who their guest is and why they are traveling until they have been fed and bathed. Menelaus, Helen’s husband, follows these rules perfectly in Lang’s writings as he waits to ask Paris for his identity and reasons for visiting Sparta.

Helen of Troy is a short but enjoyable read. It offers a glimpse into the life of the woman who “launched a thousand ships” and brings life to a character we actually see very little of in the Iliad and Odyssey.

View more of my Classics posts.

View more posts on Ancient Greece.

-- LauraJean, Special Collections Classics Intern.

#Classics #Ancient Greece #classical greece #Helen of Troy #Andrew Lang #Classical scholarship #Iliad #Odyssey #Homer #Thomas B. Mosher #Thomas Bird Mosher #fine press books #LauraJean

[monstersinthecosmos]

I was asked in that Fanfic Writer Asks thing 💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing? and I wanted to break it out into its own space.

The No. 1 Most Impactful Lesson is Write What You Want to Read

But I do want to speak about this for a minute because like everything important that I know about writing ALWAYS comes back to this idea, and there's two main points I want to make about it.

Your "VOICE" is about your taste and your ideas more than it is about your technical skill, language, and structure.

People I think stress about "voice" thinking that they need to develop their language and prose and rhythm and all the flowery poetry. I don't think it matters, personally. I think if you have an idea, the idea itself is the thing that drives the story.

Fanfic is awesome to use to learn how to write because it's accessible to everyone, and you get such a wide sampling of skill in one place. And sometimes you can see a really atrocious fic and it kinda teaches you what not to do, and helps you understand what you do or don't like as a reader, but sometimes you also see the good idea peeking through and you can enjoy it anyway. There are fics I ADORE that are so sloppily written, break all the rules, formatted like shit LOL, and I'm still HERE FOR IT because the author had such great ideas.

I'm sure anyone who's learned a second language had learned this, but, I remember when I was studying abroad that the college president welcomed us to the program and gave us this huge pep talk about how like, when you're out in the world speaking a second language, your grammar isn't important. If you can COMMUNICATE, that's what's important. If you can point to the apple you want to buy and say "Apple buy", the person will understand what you're trying to say.

So I think of writing that way, too. Your ideas are more important than your technical skill. Share the ideas. Keep sharing the ideas. The skill will follow when you're putting the time in.

2. Writing for fun is just as valuable as writing for work.

I took a long break from fanfic writing in my 20s because I kinda thought I'd "moved on" and that it had been my teenager hobby. And I had gone to college for photography and becoming a professional photographer really killed a lot of my passion for the art. College really brainwashed me into thinking creativity is a waste of time if it's not monetized, so even though I always enjoyed writing, I spent a few years being hard on myself and thinking it was stupid to waste time on writing fic because I couldn't sell it.

And that's such bullshit?

Because the truth is that, by telling myself "Don't write stuff you can't sell" I just wound up not writing anything at all?

And writing is like, my lil thing that that I do for fun. I can do it for fun. It feels good. It's the space I've made to be creative where I specifically don't have to worry about money, and I value it so fucking much.

I'm sure there are other people who bypassed this life lesson by NOT falling into a capitalist trap LOL but if I can share that, to help others avoid it, I will!

Write what you want to read, because it's fun, because you want to! Because you have good taste and that's your voice! You can be confident and stand up and say "I think this idea is cool so I'm going to share it with you!"

Trust yourself and your taste!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't stress about the technical stuff, it will follow!

(Bonus point #3 is bonus because it's a little more about technical stuff but if you start thinking about write what you want to read WHEN YOU READ it really helps inform how you think about your story structure and pacing. Like when I get stuck on a pacing thing I'm always thinking "Would this bore me if I were reading it? Would I want to be slow burned? Would I want more time spent on this payoff?" etc. I think that shift in mindset really helps when it comes to your story structure!!!!!!!!!!!)

#sdgjkas thank you to my mother anne rice for teaching me this lesson lol #writing advice

[polysprachig]

tell us more about these projects! i’ve struggled to pick up languages again after an extended break and no time and a project-based approach seems very refreshing!

Apologies in advance for the long post. I do plan on making a more detailed post on this at a later point hopefully a video but I make no promises these days.

Important note!! Before you start any short- or long-term learning projects, begin a polyglot journal outlining your objectives and check in every two weeks with an extra detailed summary of what you’ve done, haven’t done, dislike, feel needs changing, etc. either once per quarter or 2x year. Your micro-goals, methods and timeline should shift over time, showing that you can reassess the project and try out new things to suit your needs. If you don't update on time it's nbd, but at least try to write a note in your planner or calendar about what you did when because it can be extremely helpful one year later when you try to revisit where you are now and how you got there. 🧿🤍

The main projects from 2019 to today include the following

Greek - Conversational Speaking, 2019

Goal: meet for casual 30-minute lessons with a teacher, 2 or 3x per week to build up conversational skills and high frequency grammar in use as a passive bilingual (it being the native language which I actively lost growing up for various reasons).

Reflection: The real studies were repetition in speech and looking up key vocabulary I would need to use to tell my teacher about what happened in the last week, and my teacher supplied me with additional vocabulary to help me be more specific. Now I have a record of that vocabulary which I can review whenever by topic/story. Plus my family did notice my drastic improvement and asked if I had been studying.

Irish - The Merlin Project (Quarantine Project), 2020-2022 (+ ongoing, needs new methodology because I met my aims a while back at this point)

Aim: Go from A2 to B1 by learning to write so that you can have the skills to be able to read longer texts

Challenge: Rewatch an episode from the last show that you watched and write down what you see in as much detail as possible, making sure to use a grammar point you’re currently studying in your writing. Look up new words to make the text more specific and add them to the description. Correct your text. Watch the same scene again and add more detail, as in the following:

(Basically: first: do a grammar practice, then: watch 30 seconds, write using that grammar, translate dialogue if you want, consult dictionary, write again incorporating the new words and/or make the sentences more complex, at the end: correct your text yourself or with a teacher, start again and repeat until the scene or full episode is complete or you've exhausted the usefulness of the exercise.)

Alternatively just write or translate fanfiction, but I don't say that here.

By self-correcting you should become very confident on the basic skills at your level, whereas the rewriting itself allows for varied attempts at forming sentences and vocabulary acquisition in a specific context.

FYI I posted the project itself along with the notes to my website (here) and intend to share the presentation on the experience I gave in the Gaeltacht this past August soon enough.

Multilingual, select Romance and Germanic languages - The Diana Project, 2022-present

Challenge: dive deep into the rhythm, melody and sound of certain languages (which relate to a poet I’m analysing) via a slow read of poetry and familiarisation with the poet, poet-translator and poet-actor

Components: read, write, translate and recite poetry on the subject of Greco-Roman tragedy (now its shifting to satire after 1+ year or so of tragic influences) from select eras and in select styles, ex. ottava rima, rhyming verse & simultaneously learn about the rhetoric of poetics that influenced these authors and their poems or translations

These writings I’m still adding to my website as part of a translation, recitation and poetry portfolio.

Most recently, I’ve started what I call the Secret Senecan Project which requires reading certain ancient and mediaevil texts on stories I’m familiar with in the original, identifying key words based on context then extrapolating the grammar from their features (declinations, location in reference to other word forms, etc.). The next step will be to compare these predictions with the bilingual translation and consult my grammar books in those languages to confirm or improve my predictions.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! I hope to polish this up and make the details more learner-friendly sometime before 2024. (:

#8-bitdyke #asks #polyglot things #sorry if this sounds nuts #slow learning #my polyglot studies