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danielcooperrp · 3 years

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We Two Boys Together Clinging

Halfway through 19th Century American Poetry and Drew has a sensation with which he is all too familiar: eyes boring into the back of head. It doesn't matter how many times he's been gawked at in a restaurant or in the allergy aisle of CVS (hay fever is a bitch), the feeling of the little hairs on the back of his neck standing up never fails to make him want to slink into a hole and die. He tries to ignore it, tries to focus all of his attention on the professor, who is droning on about the difference between various editions of Leaves of Grass, but that only lasts so long. Eventually, he caves, and he turns to look.

He's not shocked when the dark eyes watching him quickly dart away—people are often abashed when they get caught staring—but it is a surprise when, a few moments later, they return to meet his. The face they belong to is handsome, warm, dark skin, a strong jaw, a slightly crooked nose that suggests some kind of trouble, and—oh. Two rows of perfect white teeth that he sees now because the face is grinning at him, an inviting, dangerous grin, and now Drew's the one looking away, his own cheeks glowing red. His eyes burn holes in his notebook—he hasn't written a word in so long, he'll have to research this edition issue on his own later—and the other guy's eyes burn holes in his skull.

Why is he looking at him like that? Drew hasn't said a thing all class, not that any of them would be able to get a word in edgewise. His eyes dart down to check his outfit; a little schnerdy, sure, but nothing that stands out in a Harvard classroom. He risks it again; a quick look back, and that smile is still waiting for him, this time a little softer, like he's happy he keeps getting caught.

By the time class ends, Drew is a sweaty mess. He has no idea what the professor said for the last half of that lecture, but he's not going to stick around to ask. He tosses his notebook and his copy of Whitman into his satchel and slides into the mass exodus from the room. He lets himself be carried toward the building exit by the river of hungry undergrads, hoping that he avoids whatever situation was brewing behind him in class, but the river comes to a screeching halt when everyone notices that it's pouring buckets outside. Those smart enough to plan ahead whip out their umbrellas and leave, and some who don't have any other choice lower their heads and shoulders as though preparing to take a charging bull head on and foray bravely into the downpour.

Drew doesn't have another class for forty-five minutes, and even though he was planning on getting lunch in the interim, he really doesn't want to get this sweater wet, so he decides to duck into an alcove and wait it out. He pulls out his phone, Googles the information he thinks he missed in class, and is halfway through an Encyclopedia Britannica article when someone clears their throat. He looks up and blinks owlishly. It's the teeth.

"Hi," the teeth say. "I'm Xander."

Drew stares. He doesn't know what to do with this information. During the rare instances someone deigns to talk to him, an introduction like "I'm Xander" is almost always followed by a request like "Can I get an picture?" or "Do you know where the bathroom is?", depending on if he's been recognized or not. But this...this is just warm brown eyes and a big shiny smile that he doesn't know what to with.

"Drew Cooper," he eventually blurts out, remembering that he is in fact a human person with a name. "Um. Hi."

Xander leans casually against the wall adjacent to Drew, the fabric of his shirt pulling tight over the bulk of his arms as he crosses them over his very muscular chest. "You know, I really liked what you had to say last week about the em dashes in Emily Dickinson's poems. How they're meant to give you space to breath but really end up making you feel breathless. Professor didn't know what do with that, but...I liked it."

What is happening what is happening what is hap— Drew swallows thickly. "Oh. Thanks. I, uh, visited the house in Amherst a lot growing up. School field trips, family weekends...I'm...familiar with her work."

Xander nods toward the corner of Leaves of Grass sticking out of Drew's satchel. "What about Whitman? He a favorite too?"

Drew shrugs. "Sure. Mostly 'Song of Myself' and 'Drum-Taps,' but generally...yeah, his language is...unparalleled." Drew pauses, unsure, and then continues. "Reading Whitman always reminds me that I need to look around more. That everything is beautiful if I let it be."

The smile grows bigger. "I really like the way you talk about poetry, Drew Cooper." Xander reaches into the JanSport he's got slung over one shoulder and pulls out an umbrella. "Want to talk about it over lunch?"

—————

It’s not until their third post-poetry class lunch that Drew finds out something interesting about his new friend. “Wait...you’re on the football team?”

Xander laughs, a loud, warm sound that makes Drew feel like he’s part of the joke instead of the butt of it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on the football team.” Drew makes a face. “What?”

“Well...don’t take this the wrong way, but...” Drew swirls his spoon in his cup of clam chowder. “...is Harvard’s team any good?”

This earns a longer, louder laugh from Xander, who takes a bite of his grilled chicken when he’s done. “In the grand scheme of things? No. We go up against Auburn or Clemson and we’re getting our asses kicked, no questions asked. But against the teams we actually play? We’re not half-bad.”

“So what position do you play?”

“Tight end.”

“Oh, I know that one. That’s...an important one.”

Xander suppresses the laugh this time. “It’s okay, Cooper. You don’t have to pretend to like football.”

Drew scrunches his nose. “I’m sorry. I come from a sports family. My dad and my older sister, in particular, they’ll talk for hours about football or baseball or hockey...it all goes over my head.”

With a shrug, Xander says, “Well, you’ve got enough good stuff going on in that head. No need to waste brain space on stuff that doesn’t matter.”

Drew feels himself starting to flush, so he quickly tries to shift the focus. “Well what about you? If football doesn’t matter, why risk CTE for it?”

“Scholarships, Cooper! You think Harvard pays for itself? I got in on test scores, but test scores don’t get you out of loans. Football does.”

And doesn’t that make Drew feel so silly. He knows how unbelievably lucky he is, that he had every semester of higher education he could ever want at whatever university would take him paid for before he was even born. If he had the mind to, he could keep taking classes at Harvard or Yale or Oxford until he died and he’d never have to think about the cost. Xander actually has to work for his education, and Drew feels like a little kid in comparison.

—————

They’ve been in a little back corner of Lamont Library for a few hours now, bent over their respective texts as they work on assignments for different classes. Drew’s nose-deep in an anthology of Helen Hunt Jackson, while Xander’s scribbling away at equations for one of his insanely complicated math classes. They work in comfortable silence, and every once in a while Drew wonder how strange it is, the easy way they spend their days together.

At one point, Xander throws down his pencil in disgust. “That’s it. Cooper, I’m dropping out.”

Drew makes a face. “You’re not dropping out, Xander.”

“I am. No economics degree is worth this.” He gestures vaguely to his chicken-scratch math homework.

“I mean, you’re not going to hear an argument from me, the guy studying History and Literature.” Drew peeks at the equations. “Would it help if you explained it to me?”

Xander furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...my sisters always head more of a head for the STEM subjects, while I’ve always been better at...” He waves a hand over his poetry book. “...softer stuff. But when I was a kid, my dad, who’s, like, an insane science nerd to the max, would tell me to pretend that I was the science teacher and I had to teach him the homework. It really helped. Explaining out loud, going over each problem piece by piece, helped me understand it better.” He flushes. “It’s just a thought, though. You don’t have to...”

“On one condition.” Xander smirks. “You have to tell me all of your thoughts on Thoreau afterward.”

Drew can’t fight his grin. “Deal.”

—————

Drew’s schedule is light on Tuesdays, so he’s back in the apartment he shares with Aidan, about halfway between Harvard and MIT’s campuses. She’s here, too, ditching a class she claims is “beneath the mathematical sensibilities of a first-grader.” She and some friend Drew is sure he should know the name of are on their little balcony, sipping wine coolers and people-watching while Drew reads for his early Wednesday class. Mostly, really, he’s listening to them gossip.

“See her?”

“Blond ponytail?”

“No, by the crosswalk, with the dog. Don’t tell her you have a fake ID, she’ll narc on you in a heartbeat.”

“Get out!”

“Dead serious. Freshman down the hall got busted because of her.”

“What a bitch. Over there, those two: dating or siblings?”

“They’re practically identical, so I’m hoping siblings....Oh god, please let me be wrong...”

“Who’s that?”

“Where?”

“Coming down the sidewalk here.”

“He’s hot, whoever he is.”

“I’ll say.”

“Wait...why does he look familiar....”

“Wasn’t he at that party two weekends ago? The one on Banks Street?”

“Oh my god, that’s it, he’s on the Harvard football team!”

Drew’s head snaps up.

“Tell you what, he could score a touchdown any day. Look at those arms...Drew?”

Drew scrambles off of the couch and flings himself onto the balcony. Aidan gives him a wild look. “What the hell?”

Peering over the edge, Drew spies Xander just as he gets to the front door of their building. He doesn’t need to use the buzzer, because someone’s coming out. “Oh.”

“Drew?”

Ignoring his sister, Drew rushes back to the couch, where he grabs all of his books and notebooks and tosses them into his backpack. Then he races into his bedroom to grab shoes. “I, uh, have to go! Study thing!”

Aidan looks down to the street and back to her panicked twin. “Drew...are you friends with a football player?”

“No!” Drew squeaks. “Yes! I mean, yes, we are friends. We have a class together. I have to go!”

Aidan squints in suspicion as Drew charges out the door. When it slams shut behind him, her friend says, “Does he know his sweater is on backward?”

Aidan shrugs. “Not my business.”

—————

“Why do you hang out with me?”

It’s a hazy October afternoon, and Drew and Xander are hanging out in Flagstaff Park, studying. People call out to Xander as they walk by, and Xander gives them a friendly wave or a “Hey man!” but makes no move to get up and socialize. Drew knows he’s quiet, not the best conversationalist in the world, so he wonders.

“What do you mean?” Xander looks at him like he always does, like Drew is about to say something absolutely revelatory.

“I mean...shouldn’t you be hanging out with the rest of the football team? Is that what you’re supposed to do?”

Xander seems amused. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“No,” Drew answers too quickly. “I just...I don’t know. I’ve never had someone spend so much time with me who wasn’t a blood relative, that’s all. And it seems like you have a lot of friends so...I don’t know...forget it...” Embarrassed, he turns back to his history textbook.

A wide hand, fingers splayed, plops down over the pages, and Drew looks up to see Xander rolling his eyes. “I hang out with you so much, Cooper, because I like spending time with you, and also, I’m hoping that if I earn enough goodwill you’ll let me take you out to dinner at some point.”

Drew freezes. “I—what?”

“I mean, if you’re not into me, that’s fine. I’m a big boy, I can handle it. But the thing is, I think you are into me, which is great, because I’m into you too, but I don’t mind biding my time until you’re ready.”

Every single neuron in Drew’s brain is misfiring. “You’re—into me?”

“Man got himself into Harvard just to outshine the professors and he still can’t read what’s right in front of him.” Xander sighs. “Yes, Cooper, I am into you, and would like to start seeing you socially in a romantic capacity.”

“But...you’re on the football team!”

“I—what?” Drew just gapes at him. “Cooper...” Xander starts to laugh, slow at first, and then harder.

“Wait, why are you laughing at me?”

“It’s just...really refreshing to talk to someone as woefully out of touch as you are.”

“Hey!”

“Cooper, I dated a guy on the swim team for like two months last year. My being gay is...not news. To anyone.”

“Apparently not my sister,” Drew grumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Drew shakes his head. Nothing is making sense. “Do you know...who I am?”

“...We’ve met, yeah.”

“No, I mean...my family.”

“Oh.” Xander shrugs. “Yeah. Did some light Googling. I mean, c’mon, a white boy as quiet and smart as you? I had to be sure you weren’t secretly a neo-Nazi or some shit.”

“I’m Jewish,” Drew mumbles, “but that’s not the point. You know...who I’m related to.”

“Yeah. Am I supposed to care?” Xander reaches out and takes Drew’s hand, interlaces their fingers together. Drew’s heart is pounding so hard in his ears he can barely hear Xander speak. “Cooper, I am an economics major. I don’t want to date you because your grandpa was a billionaire. I want to date you in spite of the fact that your grandpa was a billionaire.”

Drew chokes out a laugh. “Fair enough.”

“I mean, you’re cute and all, but don’t think I won’t eat you for sustenance when the class war starts.”

His laugh is louder this time. “Stop.”

“So what do you say?” A squeeze of the fingers, and a squeeze to his heart. “Drew Cooper, will you go on a date with me?”

Drew chews on his lip, and then he nods. “Yeah. Yeah I will.”

Then Xander grins his perfect white grin, and Drew knows he’s a goner.

#drabble #v1 #drew #xander #thenamesallison #i................spent hours on this #i did nothing today #where did this even come from wtf

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tentastic-yu-ki · 5 years

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just pentagon things

(with links to stuff !!)

this took me so long to make heheh but i hope you like it !! <3

jinho

v o c a l s from the gods

god herself cast her hands upon him and now he has the voice of a million angels

doing ALL the parts in bohemian rhapsody bc of course

HIGH NOTES

grandpa #1

a lil bean :’)

fake maknae

his fluffy bangs during naughty boy era are on the list of my favorite things ever

his cheeks y’all

ok but he looks eerily similar to jiheon from fromis_9 when they smile idk if i’m the only one who sees it but

whenever he does the little wave thingy you know what i’m talking about

he sings in fluent english and it makes my heart flutter every. single. time.

lowkey done with the rest of the members but loves them so much

yuto lifting him up at the end of naughty boy relay dance is basically that one scene from the lion king

tbh the members are always lifting him up and it’s precious

his lil cape during shine

hui

hwitaek in general is just bsidjsbdhdb

such a good leader :’)

i have no talent

mr hwitaek has all the talent

if i’m lucky some of mr hwitaeks talent may rub off on me

i just ?? love him ??!

his piano playing in the gorilla acoustic video makes me weak in the knees

pentagon of leader

y’all remember his twin brother manuel

i play jazz piano and holy shit i could only hope to gain half the talent he has in his hands alone let alone his vOICE

grandpa #2

i have so much appreciation for him and i look up to him a whole lot as a musician i just don’t know how to express my love

critical beauty was his era bitches

constantly being corrected by hongseok

such a groovy ass mf

lee hwitaek vs the english language

he is gorgeous !??!? kills me with his gaze

smile needs more appreciation

he killed it in triple h especially his vocals in 365 fresh

jangjigi jangjigi jang jang jang

hongseok

muscles

ABS :0

‘can i have a bite’ lmao

the group mom

but he’s a cool mom

his eyes are so frickin adorable :’)

absolutely hilarious oh my god

good ass storyteller

two words: his. lips.

his laugh is precious guys like i can’t

this video from the real man

when he shaved his hair off before the real man 300

hongseok x jinho ?? cute as hell

just lovely

such an underappreciated member

i stg whenever he speaks english it’s either to correct somebody, say hi to international fans, or its something completely ridiculous and i love it

e’dawn

y e l l i n g

he and hyuna being a power couple

Y E L L I N G

popping dancing

owned the gorilla era imo

Y E L L I N G

!! tattoos !!

a whole plant dad

his hairstyle suits him so well omg

did i mention yelling

i wish the best for him (and hyuna) and he’ll always be a part of pentagon in our hearts <3

his eyes when he smiles :’))))

video of him yelling in case you don’t know what i’m talking about

also this

I MISS HIM

S U P P O R T H I M or i’m coming for u

also support p nation !!

shinwon

hot shinwon yeah u want ?!

the visual

like the man is a whole model

i kinda just want to sit and have tea with him he seems like that kind of friend

his legs are so underrated

his breathy laugh is amazing

probably slowly losing his patience with the members

when i first got into pentagon i was like hm he seems like the mature one

but none of them are the mature one

booger

VOICE CRACK OF THE CENTURY

we will never forget

it seems like in fanfics he’s always some sort of ceo or manager or fashion designer and i’m here for it

always providing quality content whether he realizes it or not

always providing quality content whether we realize it or not

trying to make food while hui was asleep and then realizing he didn’t have chopsticks

his name is actually shinpon excuse you

absolutely losing his shit during the sha la la don’t smile challenge (13:11)

can you really blame him tho it was funny as hell

screaming + running in fear? shinwon invented that.

yeo one

he cares so much about universe :’)

compilation of him asking universe if we’ve eaten today because he cares

him almost kicking himself in the face that one time i can’t find the video agh

super lovable and wholesome

ok but his teeth

his smile is just so pretty ???

boi is drop dead gorgeous

so pure and just HKSNSBSJS

his asmr videos? yes king

he really expected me to sit there for almost an hour listening to him whisper the members names over and over?

and he was right because i did

yeo one makes me feel the same things i did when i saw bubbles in the air at disney world for the first time

he’s just like that

boyfriend material

HOW DARE I ALMOST FORGET THE SPONGEBOB IMPRESSIONS

saRANGhaeYOoOoo~

the boy is hilarious

yanan

aNNYEONG CHINGUDEUL

he just reminds me of a whole bottle of sprinkles yknow

like if rainbow sprinkles were a person

it’s yanan and yanan only

high note battle with jinho

he’s tol but his voice is smol

“don’t talk with me”

earrings lmao

probably smells like vanilla tbh

‘can you please edit this out?’

he’s literally gonna give me cavities with his sweetness

just from looking at pics of him

i like don’t even know what to say he’s just a ball of sunshine :’)))

so sweet i could put him in my coffee

he deserves so much more that he gets

sUCH A SWEET SOUL UGH~!

i’m running out of ways to reiterate that yanan deserves all the love in the world

y’all better appreciate him or i’m coming for u and ur whole family

he’s just out here chillin, his smile making the world a better place

my uwus? gone. snatched if you will

yuto

it’s ya boy toto

Y U T O D A

him being spooked by ghost stories

cLINGY !!!!!

two words: back. hugs.

i want a yuto hug hmph :((

his laugh is so cute i just-

him being spooked by the dark

NICO NICO NIIII~

his guy-fieri-reminiscent shirt

(you know the one)

him being spooked in general

i will protect this boy with my LIFE

we need more yuto aegyo

but also his visuals make me spontaneously combust

somebody call the fire brigade yknow

when he had the eyebrow slit i cried

im at a loss for how to express my love for adachi yuto

can i have his dangly earrings pls thanks

he’s always feeding everybody it’s so cute

our nagano boy :’)

cough excuse me i had something in my throat i meant our nagano pRINCE

this video of his ‘high note’ and wink never fails to make me laugh

he reminds me of this guy ive had a crush on for a long while ?? like personalitywise they’re oddly similar,, he’s cute n shy but also tall and vv clingy ??? and he recently started doing his hair differently and it’s literally yutos hairstyle i almost stopped breathing ok

also his hugs feel like what i imagine a yuto hug would feel like and i only realized it just now as i’m writing this

kino

he’s my little honeybunch cinnamon apple sugarplum gumdrop babyboy

i just love kang hyunggu a whole lot if you can’t tell by um

the rest of my blog

my profile image

my lockscreen ffs

do i even need to say that he’s my bias

duality? he invented that.

hyunggu being a cutie patootie vs kino being rUDE AS HELL

like he’s a grape juice box and a whole ass bottle of fine wine yknow what i mean

the lace blindfold ?? somebody pinch me

knnovation

i mean have y’all heard voicegasm ??

he did that shit

he’s under arrest for stealing my heart~

(and my uwus)

i don’t even need to say it bc y’all already know but he’s the dance KING

the violet bby

“he’s sensitive”

when hyojong changed the number song lyrics to joke about him being sensitive (2:25)

when he wears big sweaters :’)

i miss his lil ponytail during naughty boy

ppl never talk about this but he’s surprisingly good at languages ?!?

his laugh is one of my favorite sounds on the planet

that one move in can you feel it (01:55 in the mv) gets me every. single. time.

the kino list is long but i just have so much love for this boy

wooseok

he a long boi

HIS DIMPLE

i cant find the vid but there’s this one moment at a fansign or something where he just stepped over the table like it was a completely normal thing to do ?!???!?

HIS FACE IS SO VISUALLY PLEASING

i keep getting shocked over and over about how generally handsome he is

any hair works on him like ??? magic ?!?

screaming during lost paradise

and most songs

and most of the time anyway

i love him lots and lots tho

can pull off the goth look

can pull off the emo look

can pull off any look

he belongs in an opera lmfaooo

E X T R A

BUNNY BUNNY WOOSEOK WOOSEOK

his acrostic poems

i’m a star ? that shit sLAPS

this boy is carrying the entire rap industry on his bACK

i’m sad that i cant think of more stuff for wooseokie

#to make a long story short I love my 10 baby boys a whole lot #nova speaks #pentagon #jinho #hui #hongseok #e'dawn #shinwon #yeo one #yanan #yuto #kino #wooseok #ot10 #ptg #long post

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shadows-echoes · 5 years

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Writer’s Questionnaire

tagged by: @negotiator-on-site and @deviantramblings . Thank you guys for the tag! I spent way too long thinking about these tbh.

Short stories, novels, or poems?

For reading? Novels. I love absolutely delving into a world and completely immersing myself in it. In my experience, poems/short stories are like looking through a window: the more you look, the more you’ll probably see. Reading a novel, or an entire series, is more like walking through a door into another world, and that’s exactly what I want from a story. I want it to completely consume me.

With all of that being said, what’s the exact word count that draws the line between a short story and a novel? 10,000 words might be a short story, but is 25,000 still considered a short story? 100,000? 300,000? Where is the line drawn? Tbh, I’m 100% down with any long-ish story that draws me in.

As for writing… Imma keep it real with you chiefs, the shortest stories I’ve ever written are for D:BH. Pretty much every other fic of mine is 25+ pages, and a couple of the longer ones are closer to, or exceed, 180 pages. I haven’t finished those. They’re all drafts, so to speak, and the amount of editing needed makes me balk whenever I think about it, but they’re there. The stories that I’ve actually finished are all short-ish stories lol (at least in comparison to some of the other stuff I’ve written).

What genre do you prefer reading?

FANTASY!!!! We live in a non-fiction world that can be quite depressing at times. If I’m going to fling myself into a story, I want it to be magical. I want it to have something that this world doesn’t. I want magic and dragons and mystery and soulmates and forbidden love and all the crazy shit.

What genre do you prefer writing?

Fantasy/fiction.

Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?

It depends on the story. Most times, I’ll write one scene and it develops into an entire plotline as I write it. Other times, like with Of Blood and Biocomponents for example, I’ll spend a lot of time planning everything out before I write it so I can work in a number of clues and Chekov’s guns’, etc.

What music do you listen to while writing?

When I really need to focus, I’ll listen to anything instrumental. That can range from soundtracks (e.g. from The Last of Us, LotR, Hans Zimmer’s stuff), to more individualized and upbeat songs (e.g. Lindsey Stirling, Peter Gundry, Max Richter, Hidden Citizens) to classical (e.g. Chopin, Wieniawski, Mozart), or even just ambiance rain sounds on youtube etc. Otherwise, when I need to get in the mood for a certain scene I have entire playlists dedicated to evoking a certain emotion (e.g angst -obviously-, sadness, love, adrenaline rushes).

Fave books/movies?

I don’t really have any favorite movies so I’m just going to list a whole bunch of books/series I love:

ACoTaR by Saraj Maas

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

Learning Not to Drown by Anna Shinoda

Feminist Fight Club by Jessica Bennett

ASoIaF by George Rmartin Rmartingeorge Martin

The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson (a classic that breaks my heart)

Night by Elie Wiesel (a classic that breaks my soul)

1984 by George Orwell (a classic we practically live in rn and it terrifies me)

Some Quiet Place by Kelsey Sutton

The Hunt by Andrew Fukuda (the plot twist at the end of this series blew me the fuck away. It’s been years and I still haven’t found my wig)

Any current WIPs?

Only around like… 16? (Excluding all of the half-formed ideas and prompts in my “Graveyard” folder, that is). Which is incredibly surprising to me? I thought it’d be way more. However, most of those WIPs are all… heartbreakingly long and only half-finished, so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Lace-up combat boots, black jeans, and a random, probably blank, t-shirt.

Create a character description for yourself:

Hi, I’m Jayde, an average human person who thinks obsessively writing and learning new stuff are fun activities. I look like Idc but I actually care too much; I’m a ride-or-die bitch. Intovert™ (I would much rather have a first conversation w/ someone be about the trolly problem or systems theory instead of the weather). Often low-key enraged by society.

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

Aspects of them? Of course. Actually writing them into a story? Nope. I totally draw on my experiences with certain people to help me write. That’s a given with any writer. However, unless I’m writing a biography on them with a full Chicago-style bibliography then I leave real people the heck alone.

Are you kill-happy with characters?

Depends on the characters. I have killed off a couple, but my soul is fueled on angst and there’s only so much of that a single death can provide. Nah, it’s usually better if people are alive and just… injured or... problematic.

Coffee or tea while writing?

I’m usually most productive writing-wise at night, so it’s either decaffeinated green tea or hot chocolate for me (bc I do try to have some kind of sleep schedule even if I fail with that goal).

Slow or fast writer?

So, so slow.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

Anything, really. Sometimes an idea will just pop into my head and I’ll have to write it. Other times, it’ll start with a feeling, a situation, or an experience that slowly morphs into a fic the more I think about it.

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

Idk what I would be, but I’d love to be literally anything/anyone with some kind of magic or special ability. Like, bruh, I’m already human, gimme something else. Gimme some of the good shit.

Most fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche?

(Well-written) LOVE TRIANGLES AND MUTUAL PINING!!!!

I’m so fuckn horny on main for a good love triangle. When they’re done badly, they’re atrocious. That’s a given. But when they’re done well??? Hot damn. Like the kind of love triangles in ACoTaR, the Shatter Me series, or even the Trylle series (which first got me into it all). The kind where problems develop naturally between the MC and the first love interest, where the MC has to work with the “bad guy” for some reason or other and it turns out he’s actually super fuckn dope (*cough* Rhysand *Cough*). The kind where the more MC learns about the people she’s/he’s/they’re around, the more their feelings start to shift based on that knowledge.

I do not mean the kind where the MC just can’t make up her/his/their mind bc omg Hot Person #1 is so hot and looks to be carved from marble, but omg Hot Person #2 is also so hot, looks to be carved from marble, and is also mysterious.

As for a cliché I hate (if the poorly written love triangle doesn’t count in and of itself), I seriously dislike the damsel-in-distress thing. Don’t get me wrong, that card can be very well played in some cases, but when it’s the only card in the whole damn deck for 200, 300, 400+ pages? Nah, brah. I’m out. I’m certainly not asking for BAMF MC every time, but like,,, at least give the MC a goddamn spine you absolute cowards.

Fave scenes to write?

Pining and angst, baby.

Most productive time of day for writing?

The ungodly hours between night and day, when the outside world falls quietly into slumber and one’s imagination runs wild in the dark.

Reason for writing?

I started writing because I had some ideas and realized that nobody could/would write them in the exact way I imagined them except for me? I’ve continued writing because it has almost become a coping mechanism to explore and organize my thoughts and feelings and daydreams in some kind of coherent way. Plus it’s fun.

Tagging: @deviantsupporter @deviancy-wasteland @sunstrain @writerscavity @aerynwrites

#tag game #writing

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cherry-o-piggy · 3 years

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And old slew

posted 3/7/2021

I think my number one requirement is that you keep up, which only the mentally ill do.

What does it say about me that all my friends are ADHD?

The black boys, they pass and bob and chat to rap like it’s beat poetry in the 1960s. Here with them I am in a modern historical moment of art discovering my aesthetic and true calling. I see this after a bias worry on repeat, looking back it was not a real fear, just a humorous societal conception, and who have I ever been to subscribe to society. Me and my white girl friend out smoked them in their own home and my friend, I hugged him in front of his friends, and he walked us out of his house like a true gentleman. It was truly the part of my soul that I wanted to share in a social setting.

“You’re not in charge of me, T[redacted] is.”

It’s 10 degrees in the dark and it’s just me and my skin wrapped in tight black fabric flying up the powdered hill like I was never meant to touch the ground in the first place. It is still 10 degrees and I’m replaying everything that has ever happened like maybe I’ll get a second chance that I don’t need, but want still. The 10 degrees rummage around in my bones and all the pain this new year brought, the pain of becoming women, intertwines itself with my heart so there is no difference. The 10 degrees keep me warm, from the pit of my stomach to my chest and red cheeks. It’s enough right now.

The concept of solidarity flowed from Budimir’s lips along with sweeties and engagement, and I truly think it is the first concept I ever truly understood. I do not know respect or love or good. But I know solidarity, I know solidarity deep down in my bones and my blood and my soul. And it just goes to show, it was never me, I just never met a good teacher.

My lust still rides with you, for safe keeping.

I don’t remember what your voice sounds like anymore, I used to be able to hear it in my head.

Every man both looks like you and the man who wanted me dead.

Sometimes I am hollowed out enough that the only feeling I have is my hands and they don’t seem to bare my heart’s intentions. But it is a much deeper part of my being they represent, one I wish someone worse would fulfill for me. Pity I am the only beautiful thing.

Part of my soul is an iris in the wind.

A wealthy woman in the glass, a thesis sustaining the validity of age regression in design and mini-practice, and collections combatting change in order to hold on to something.

There was a few moments of my life where I was obsessed with the devil in the woods by the ocean and the magic I would be allowed if I could just exist somewhere beautiful to be a little odd in peace with equally passionate companionship. While the other burn outs dream of fantasy I dream of psudeo-realistic peace because I could never get there by myself, let alone with the chaos of another sentiment being.

You wouldn’t like me anymore. I’m an existentialist bc I am completely and totally unsure of myself as a concept. And it makes it immensely easier to flow along with the process of getting what I want.

In the dark the voice pokes at suicide in the highest of highest and I drown out the noise with the hope that in that grainy moment 5 guys ago you flicked away my perfect tears with your tongue and I was too intimate and vulnerable to fully feel it.

With a face this expressively cute and a brain this overwhelmingly neat I deserve a man to compliment my abundance completely.

I bet no one thinks about me at all. But that would be naive and hopeful.

If he is only supplying money as his position in your life, as soon as the money stops he no longer needs to be taken into consideration when making decisions because he is no longer a part of your life. If the only value you have is the provision of the bare necessities and no emotional connection you have no purpose after you no longer supply the means of survival because you made the decision and only did a quarter of the work needed to take responsibility for that decision.

Time isn’t who she used to be. Time used to drag and suffocate and strangle. Now Time is broad watercolor strokes to blurry, cotton eyes. I live the same day over and over with the same amount of nothing but I still do not feel the suffocation of monotonous repetition, not like I used to when I was young. I feel unfulfilled still, empty still. But it is not overwhelming. And this nothing that happens, the absolute repetition of activity happens so quickly now. Not like it used to. I feel like I’m always playing catch up. There’s never enough time, or maybe I am newly blind to her movement? Whatever the case, Time and I are strangers now, which is such a shame because I used to know her intricately, anxiously so.

Sometimes I dissolve into words, I think that’s why everything moves so fast.

I’m going to force my oddity on man and disregard everyone that has anything at all to say. I always said I was crazy, which drew extensive attention, but I no longer think that is fitting for me and who I aspire to become. I think I desire much more to be odd than to be mad. Eccentric.

A man bought me six and a half hours (after tax) worth of stuffed animals. And I haven’t even had sex with him. Fuck, that kind of feels like debt. Can I like hang out w him and like “drop” $50 somewhere he’ll eventually notice. I’ve never had to do that before, but I am willing to go that far. Actually, I did that to my GM last break (and I shouldn’t have, I deserve better compensation for my labor, but I refuse to be rude ever).

Why would I want a man that smells like wood?

Hanging out w me is like just me saying “no babies” over and over in different voices.

The feeling drips like sunflower blue syrup down my back. It feels too sharp to be harmless, but too quick to enjoy. And it leaves my chest hollow after it’s appearance. My limbs are heavy and my head is worried about the fluttering around that happened inside my chest last night, I wasn’t sure if it was death or symptoms of suffocation. My lungs just filled and I grasped my body from within my soul and when it was sufficient and neat, I dove back into the harmful thoughts of lust and the gripping behavior caused by being lonesome. This feeling doesn’t flow, it’s too stuck, it remains mine. So instead it drips.

I want to scream that I am good at what I do because a piece of me always felt that you doubted me. I am good enough that I read a love poem out loud to my high school class with the girl in the class and I didn’t get bullied for it, it didn’t scare her away, and my teacher complimented me about it. I was known by the whole high school as a writer and it wasn’t in a bad way. I used to write and edit peoples papers and I was an English tutor for middle school. My English 101 professor told me I should Publish my paper based on the three paragraphs that I wrote in twenty minutes right in front of him. I have not read a full book since sophomore year of high school and I am able to break down structures and themes of books by picking through about 30 pages, and from that I can developed a thesis, a five paragraph outline, research questions, and eventually a 6 page paper from 30 pages of a novel. I hung out with someone, read then my poetry and they were surprised that it was not cringe. Every English teacher I’ve ever had has loved me. I was already so familiar with the English language and the concept of grammar rules and their functions that I could speak in limited vocabulary sentences in Spanish when I was taking Spanish 2 (did I cry every single day, yes, but did I get an A, also yes). When I tell you I am a writer, I mean that it is my soul. It is the only reason I am alive. When I tell you I am good at what I do I mean I’m already published. Twice. I am good at what I do. So yeah, I know what a fucking genre is, bitch.

Even my abusers will tell you I’m good at what I do.

I need someone to press their soul into mine so that I am sure I have one.

Good morning honey bun 💛 I hope you have a wonderful day today and I’ll be sending good thoughts your way all day :) love you ❤️❤️

8 year old me would think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. I remember how critical I was of other women, I remember the way I used to pick them apart in my head about all their imperfects. It’s bc I only heard those things about myself. And I’m not proud, but I was a child and I am completely different now. I remember my favorite parts about women too. I remember how I used to melt for long hair and belly button piercings and being unashamed. I am tall and wealthy and have a million expressions. 8 year old me would stare at me in the store and hope to be her, 8 year old me would love to be 17 year old me. It’s all she ever wanted. I am everything I ever wanted. I am gorgeous.

Sometimes it’s claymation filter and my body is yellow and I am ugly and when I laugh my teeth are bucked. I get so clear that I am ugly. I get so outside of my own perspective that I have never uttered my own name.

I am so self aware and violently gone and ridiculous. And I’ve been wanting this. That I thank god for planning and hard work.

I’m a slut. :) beep

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flirting-with-psychology · 7 years

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Would you convert to a different religion if your fiancé/fiancée was of a different faith? No

The world is ending, and you can save one group of five people: who would be the five people that you save? Mom, dad, best friend, SO if I had one, myself. I wonder if any of them would resent me though for getting 4 people I care about while they only get me

Is happiness a delusion? Is happiness only real when shared? Why or why not? No, it’s as delusional/real as any other emotion caused by chemicals in the brain

What would the cover of your biography (presumably written by somebody else who never knew you, postmortem) look like? Probably a picture of me. Or maybe of me with like 50 guys I like

Write about a really good or creative Tumblr URL that you see frequently on your dashboard. I-run-with-scissors-to-feel-dangerous. I’ve just always thought it was funny

If swear words were not things like “shit” and “fuck” what would they be otherwise? Whatever else society thinks is taboo

Write a very vivid description of what is/would have been your most perfect way to lose your virginity. What is your exact definition of ‘losing your virginity’? Also: will you/would you have liked to save your virginity for marriage? Why or why not? It would have been more perfect I guess to lose it with someone who was also a virgin, and we both cared about each other. My definition is the first time you have penetrative sex (unless you are a lesbian in which case I don’t really know because I don’t know enough about lesbian sex). I would not want to save it for marriage because sexual compatibility is an important part of a relationship that I would not want to leave up to chance

Write a six-word fortune cookie. You will buy another fortune cookie

Why do you think eyebrows exist? Aren’t they supposed to help prevent stuff from getting down into our eyes? Just like eyelashes, even though majority of the time if I have something in my eye it’s an eyelash… but yeah. Also, eyebrows are way of like communicating or expression. Like when you raise your eyebrows out of concern or surprise, or when you scrunch them out of confusion or anger. < What that person said

If you could only have one contact on your phone, who would it be? Crap idk

Your bucket list is limited to three items. Marry someone amazing, sing a duet, win an oscar

Do you wake up first or do you open your eyes first? Uhh wake up probably?

Write a love/thank you/appreciation letter to someone you take for granted. Thank you mom and dad for everything you do which I definitely don’t reciprocate

What makes you feel infinitely sexy? Good eye makeup

Make a video and talk about something for two minutes. Anything. And don’t edit out any parts of it. Lol nah.

Write a poem you’d stick on a refrigerator. Nah. You can look at my poetry tag

Are you afraid of aging? Why? Yes because I feel like I’m not taking full advantage of my youth and it’ll only be harder as I get older. And I’m afraid of getting too old to explore things romantically and just be expected to know what I’m doing

Describe one time you basically thought you were the shit, when your self-confidence was soaring through the roof. This is meant to be a positive thing. It was pretty high the summer before junior year when I was working out more. And it was also high sometimes in grade school when I always got top grades

If there was one person you could get drunk with and kiss and then later blame it on alcohol, who would it be? My friend who I work with on film projects. I don’t like him romantically enough to risk ruining how well we work together, so I’ve never pursued anything. But this scenario would actually be kind of great

Does perfection exist? If the word perfection did not exist, what word would be in its place? What would perfection mean instead? I don’t think perfection exists. Mathematically it could but in actual physics there is always error. And other types of “perfection” are matters of opinion which are not the same for everyone. I don’t know what word would replace it

The next book you see that has over 300 pages, open up to page 136. Find a sentence you like, copy it down, and then write about it. Na I’m sitting

Who makes you laugh the most? Captain

What is one thing that you are proud of, that you think lacks praise/lacks appreciation from the people around you? It could be a simple thing; it could be a secret thing. Most things I’m proud of get adequately praised

If you could accuse somebody of being fake/a bitch and not suffer any repercussions, who would you accuse, and how would you do it? I’d tell one of my friends that their SO is awful and that the relationship is toxic

What is the funniest one-liner Tumblr text post you’ve ever read? Idk bruh

Rewrite a verse of lyrics from your favorite song. They have to sound good when you sing it out loud along to tune of the song. I wrote an entire Let It Go parody about essay writing. I’m not gonna copy it all here though, you can find it at tagged/frozen parody

If the SATs/grades did not exist, in what way should colleges/teachers evaluate applicants? maybe through actual work? <<<<

Do you feel at home in your home? Is home a place for you? A book? A thing? A person? What would you want your home to be? Not yet. I just moved in a couple weeks ago so it doesn’t feel like home yet. My room is getting there other than when there are spiders and I get all anxious, but the common areas still feel like their space since they’ve all lived there for a year. Home is generally a place. I also have a stuffed dog that makes things feel more like a home

Write your own eulogy. She was cool

What is something you felt like you deserved or should have belonged to you, but you never got? A relationship. It’s 2017. It’s time.

Do you feel ‘connected to nature’? Do you frequent outside? Do you believe that a connection with the earth we live on is necessary in the first place? Nope. Nope. I think that we should respect it but don’t need to feel connected

Your opinion on oral sex? It’s ok. There has only been one guy who really made me enjoy receiving, and giving is ok but I kind of avoid it when I can because I kind of gag on it and if they last too long which they usually do it kills the mood for me

If one TV show could be real, which one would you want it to be? Which one would screw our world over? Not sure. I’d want Harry Potter to be real but that’s not really a show. Something like The Walking Dead would screw us over

How many kinds of love are there? “There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.” -F. Scott Fitzgerald

Which word needs to exist (or be used again)? If it doesn’t exist how would I know about it?

What is the absolute hardest thing about staying alive? You need food, and for food you need money, and for money you need a job

What is a book that has been recognized as ‘great literature’ that you dislike? Why? Most of the books we read in school because a lot of them are slow and boring and anything interesting about them gets ruined by having to write stupid analysis papers

What is one change that you would make/have made to your life that will make/has made it better? Exercising more

Is everything you do for yourself? Can you truly be selfless? I’m not good at being selfless

Are you the same person you were two and a half years ago? No, but similar

Can you possibly conquer the labyrinth? If that’s that shit with the dude with the eyes on his hands then nope

As a hyper intelligent pan-dimensional being, what is the answer to the ultimate question, the life, the universe and everything? What is the ultimate question? The pretension in this question just knocked like a week off my lifespan

#survey

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