yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."
i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.
the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.
mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.
later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.
sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.
but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.
i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.
every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.
wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?
the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:
he wants to say i love you
but keeps it to goodnight
because love will take some falling
and she's afraid of heights.
every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.
mahler's fifth still makes me sick.
give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.
give me back what you took from me.
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im so crazy over the tragedy of everything q!bbh does being under a demon pretense even though he's a fallen angel.
do u think he just accepts the demon label because it's easier. do u think he believes it too, and catches himself in his thoughts with "oh, right. im not exactly that". and maybe he believes that he did this to himself? do u think what he did was to protect himself or someone? no matter the fall, he still has so much kindness to give and his brain just isn't wired the way a natural-born demon would be, he can't hold back instincts when time demands it, maybe that's why he fell in the first place.
and when he's finally bad, not good, it's treated like the end of the world, without empathy on why he would act out. do you think this keeps happening? the same scenario, multiple times, every timeline? he has to be used to it. so he has to take it in stride. he's good until he lashes out under extreme pressure, and suddenly he's called demon. and once again he's what heaven made him out to be. what he made himself to be, his brain would ruthlessly provide...
i don't think he wants to be that, though he hides secrets behind secrets of which neither identity is a home... but i don't think he wants to have to change, either. and i don't think that's wrong of him.
...you collapse atlantis ONE TIME and all of a sudden YOU'RE the bad guy and SURE it was FUN but REALLY now,--
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special | venti/reader
what makes you, a mere mortal, special in the eyes of barbatos, the god of freedom and wind?
drabble, 100% pure fluff, gn reader (if i let a gendered pronoun slip, pls lmk)
if you know of lunasmr, this was written with her venti and that format in mind. (highly recommend you check out luna's audios if you haven't yet, especially if you're a venti liker! she characterizes all characters she does content for really well!)
likes and reblogs appreciated, enjoy! <3
you and venti lie in bed together one slow afternoon, just enjoying each other's presence. snuggling into each other's embrace, pressing kisses here and there, bathing in the serenity of your room when he starts telling you how much he appreciates you and the love you give him.
"......no one has ever loved me like this, as much as you do, and it feels... so nice. to be loved by you."
you lie next to him, smiling over his sweet words when the thought occurs to you, "wait... am i to take it that i'm your first lover too?"
"hm? yes, you are...?" he sees your eyebrows furrowing and a pout forming on your lips, "what's wrong, windblume?"
you turn to face him fully.
"as happy as i am to hear that i'm your first and only... it makes me a little sad, somehow. to think that no one has shown you the love that you rightfully deserve in all those years..."
"..."
"i like the idea of being special to you in this way but i think... i would have loved it more if there were people before me who appreciated you as much as i do. i think you deserve so much more than i am able to give and if it comes from others too, so be it. i just want you to be the happiest you could ever be."
he lies there silently, taking in your earnest gaze and your sincere words. he is once again stunned by how good you truly are. who else would wish for him to have had past lovers, just so he could have also been as happy as he is now in the many long years before he's met you?
"oh windblume... you're too good to me sometimes, you know that? seems i haven't made the mistake to wait for you to come after all."
he laughs softly at the confusion written all over your face.
"i may have fancied others before and have had others fancy me in return, but none have ever been fortunate enough to be in your position right now. my lover, the one who truly sees, accepts and loves all of me, the way i do for you.
and sure, i've met and befriended plenty outstanding individuals in my life, and i'm glad to have had the opportunity to see them bloom into such wonderful people.
but none of them were you."
ha takes your hand and places it on his chest, right over his heart. he rests his own hand on top of yours. the steady ba-bump of his heart quickly speeding up the longer you press your hand onto it.
"you're the only one that makes me feel this way, my dear. the only one i want to see lying next to me when i wake up in the mornings... the only one i want to hold in my arms as i fall asleep at night. the only one i want to spend the rest of my days with."
his free hand cups your cheek and strokes it, delighting in the way it heats up under his touch.
"such a beautiful heart and soul..." he giggles as he taps on your nose with his finger, "and a pretty face too!"
"i know that i can trust you completely. i'm yours. i love you, and only you. that is what makes you special, and the reason i'll choose no one else but you to be my lover."
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Ford pines for headcanons?
YES FUCKCING YES GIRL!!!!!!!! LETS A GO !
A (Realisitic): lovessssss doodling on paper. has an affinity for eyes (;]), swirlies, scribbles, and creatures. whatever he can get his damned hands on he will doodle on it and he will do it happily. my boy's an artist ❤️❤️
B (Not Realistic But Funny): honestly in canon ford's probably into music too much but i can see him being an period music fan. abba, queen (teehee), freetwood mac, david bowie, etc. that's just his VIBE to me, not in the crowley way but in his own strong inks and cigarette smoke way. i associate thoss things with him as well as anythinf existing before 1982 with him alot if u didnt know. i still see something and go "ford missed this 😔" or "ford didn't miss this! 😁" in a sad or happy tone at least once a day /srs. oh i love this guy
C (Heart-Crushing): this kinda collides with D but im keeping it in that category. soul crushing? ford never knowing what to hope for in regards to stan on the other side. whenever he has time to think about it, he isnt sure whether to imagine him in his house or dead in a ditch, and the mystyer honestly scares him more than he'd like to admit. ford kinda treats it like schrodinger's cat in a way--as long as he never confirms, it could really be anything, and that absolves him of any potential guilt. so. (also: that he celebrates holidays out in the multiverse too, when possible. makeshift menoras, pastries in substitute of bday cakes, lighting sticks during new years. just for the sense of grounding. ALSO alsohe's spent at least 3 birthdays in a prison cell or very hurt. so. yeah)
D (Unrealistic but FUCK CANON): has always stuggled with addiction, especially with antidepressants or alcohol. thus sort of snowballs into a whole "if this makes me feel good i cannot have for more than needed" but still ends upgrappling with it anyway. he suffered MAJORRRR withdrawlel when portal stranded and since then swore off it bc he drank the most under bill's influence. it's very important to me and i need more fics about it sooooooo bad, bc while i HAVE written my own, i think someone else is needed to do it justice. now that im remembering this i HAVE read some with this hc and they were beautiful and i need to reread them again and i need to REWATCH THIS DAMN SHOW SO I CAN READ AND WRITE SOME FIC AGAI .... also there IS some evidence as extracted by @/callipraxia (need to find that meta again) but i DOUBT that would ever be canon bc of the kid show rating. (watch the book of bill canonize this seven fucking months from now. i swear to god..../j)
TY FOR THE ASK!!!!!! 💖💖
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