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You really want 
to know me?
To love me?
Then you must 
read my words.
The words I pull
from deep within,
the words born
from the darkness
and the light
in my soul.
For me,
the truth comes out
in writing.
I feel
in letters
and ink.
I have a voice
that only exists 
on the page.
Only few 
have ever 
experienced it.
But I love you. 
I love you truly.
So I have given you 
the key.
Read me.
Understand me.
This is who I am.

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Sometimes when warmth is filled between my ribs

I can’t help but ponder when the rain is due.

Sometimes my soul fears light more than darkness

and sometimes my heart shies away from the warmth

as it rather sleep in the cold.

Maybe it’s because all these lessons have taught me

that all good things always come to an end.

-themindscalligraphy

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Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader
Genre: Fluff/comfort
Summary: Gerard and reader barely have time to spend together, but that doesn’t really prevent them from having dates in the middle of the night
Word count: 1 876

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Difficult. That’s how it has been. I mean, not like most of the people expect to have an easy relationship with someone who they’re barely able to see. While a great part of my work can be done either from my place or quickly, Gerard is so busy that we’re rarely see each other. Of course we’re always exchanging messages and occasionally meeting each other, but it’s barely nothing considering sending messages are useless when it comes to wanting to kiss the other and when we see each other personally, it’s not for long even if the times are relatively many. All of that induces us to being extremely needy when meeting up, not to mention the cheesy texts.

Lately, I’m starting to believe Gerard somehow affects on my creativity. A breathy chuckle leaves my lips as I gaze at the half done sketch over the white sheet; I just can’t find how to complete it without making it worse or coming to nothing at all and whenever I try to think about a solution, my need of Gerard is everything ends up filling my mind.

It doesn’t take me much to notice I’ve used all my daily creativity quota by now, so I let go of all my art materials, stretching myself with a groan before standing up. My eyes rest once again over the wide sheet of paper, expecting a random idea to show up in my mind - unfortunately, it never happens and I’m left frustrated as going to bed, rather early than usual. Maybe I’ll have some kind of inspirational dream? Sure as hell I hope.

Well, perhaps there would have been any chances of getting an inspo dream if I was able to get some sleep in first place, but all I have been doing on my bed is rolling around for the past hours in long pauses between naps and Gerard thoughts. Immediately recognizing it’s my escape from another long hour of staring at the darkness of my room, my hand flies to my phone at the moment it vibrates at the arrival of a new notification. Seeing it’s a message from Gerard makes my heart flutter.

Gee❤⛓🌹🖤: 
Miss u

Me:
Miss u too
Can I come over?

Gee❤⛓🌹🖤:
I was gonna complain it’s almost midnight, but I want you too much

Chuckling to myself, I place the phone aside before getting up to my feet; I just bother changing my clothes - into others that are also comfortable, but don’t look like they were incessantly used for a certain period of time five years ago - then grab my things to leave. It’s not like his place is too far from mine, so a small jog towards there will do. As soon as I reach his place, the cold night air is pleasantly substituted by Gerard’s warmth when he throws his arms around me.

“I’m considering kidnapping you and not letting you go for a whole week.” I mutter through a chuckle, tightening my arms around him as much as I can, causing him to do the same.

“Sadly, my job would be compromised and I unfortunately need to work if I want to eat something or maintain everything I need.” He replies in the same joking tone, placing kisses on my cheek right after. Finally we pull away, but it’s just for time enough for me to lean in and lock our lips in a kiss that mixes neediness and relief. We pull away with a last peck placed over my lips before he looks at me with a bright smile, taking my hand in his. “C'mon, it’s kinda cold out here.” He mutters as pulling me with him, closing the door once we’re inside.

“I’m not bothering you, right?” I ask him with a small smile as letting my shoes by the door. “I know I should’ve asked before and all-”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in certain disbelief - I know the exact thought that crosses his mind, don’t you know me enough? "I would’ve let you know.“ Just one side of his mouth moves when he speaks - the exact way like it does whenever he’s being sassy, sarcastic or impatient - while a hand rests over his hip.

"Yeah, but that I want you too much was a reason to get suspicious.” Humming, I narrow my eyes at him in a playful manner, watching his defeated face. Muttering for me to come along once more, he takes my hand in his once again and just lets go of it when we’re on the couch, so we’re able to cuddle. “Being away from you for too long gives me art block.” I start, suddenly remembering about today’s earlier events while adjusting myself next to him, under the blankets. “I sat for six hours in front of a white sheet and all I could do was nothing.”

“I can’t say it’s easy without you either.” Gerard breathes a chuckle mixed with a whine, glancing at me before returning his attention to the TV, setting something for us to watch. “If I didn’t see you today, I’d probably go crazy.” He furrows his eyebrows while smiling lightly; I slowly shake my head at him, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I’m not joking!” A grin cracks his lips as he turns to look at me, letting the remote control on the other side of the couch. “I wasn’t even able to sleep properly!”

“I know you’re serious!” I laugh at his reaction. “The same happened to me. Good thing you decided to text me.” Because I definitely wouldn’t do it, afraid I would disturb him or something.

“Indeed.” His sweet tone makes me internally melt, even more when he places his lips over mine once again. Ugh, he better kiss me a lot to make it up for the time he’s away. He just pulls away enough to disconnect our lips, still gazing at me with a need that equals itself to mine. “A question.” Gerard says rather hesitantly, now with his hazel eyes flickering over my face, hidden twice due to a couple of quick blinks; he continues after I hum questioningly. “Can I… paint you?” A red color makes itself present over his cheeks, intensifying once I smile.

“Can I?” I ask in return, excited about the idea. Honestly, it feels like all the creativity just flows back in my head after his request. In response, I earn from him a shy yes, to what I answer with “Then of course you can.”

Seeming happier, Gerard pecks my lips once again before standing up and disappearing in the hall, leaving me watching the TV until he’s back with his art supplies - all of them neatly organized inside a paint stained briefcase. He leaves again, to the kitchen this time, but returns quickly with a glass of water. There’s a big grin over his face as he sits down next to me with the palette in hands. No words are exchanged to decide where he’ll start painting - we simply look at each other and his eyes move briefly to my arm then meet mine with a raise of eyebrows, earning from me a light shrug in response as I move closer, extending my arm towards him.

“So,” Gerard starts, dipping the paintbrush in the black paint; it touches my skin and makes me shiver at the cold pleasant sensation. “how was your week?” With the brush gaining a rhythm of taps against my skin, I quickly get used to it.

“Oh,” I breathe out, taking a moment to think while half of my attention is still taken by the TV. “it was mostly boring, but had some nice moments.” And I start a ramble about how my week was full of suffering for inspiration, boring talks with costumers and a nice art exposition I got the opportunity of  going to, mentioning how he’d love it. He makes some comments now and then and it may sound stupid, but it makes me soft how he cares. By the time I finish talking, his job on my arm is done and dry. “That’s beautiful!” I widen my eyes at the roses painted on my forearm, carefully moving my arm so I’m able to take a good look at it.

“I need to do my best, anyways, my canvas is you.” His hazel eyes gaze at me from under his eyelashes as he cleans the paintbrush, shyly smiling. I scoff at it, silently asking for the supplies this time. He gives them to me and adjust his position on the couch so his arm can comfortably rest over my lap for me to paint it.

“What about you, hm?” I mix some of the paints on the palette until reaching the tone I’ve got in mind. “You were over to New York this week, right?” He’s midway through his answer when the paintbrush touches his skin, making him flinch lightly and move away. That results in me chuckling while he mutters embarrassed apologies.

His week sounds far more interesting than mine and I don’t hesitate in showing that, groaning about how boring my life is when he’s done. “Of course not.” He answers with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to my lips before finally admiring my work. I tried to do something similar to his drawings, copying all the goth punk style. Gerard playfully pulls on a judging face as scanning my painting, raising and lowering his arm to have different angles of it. “I guess it’s good.” His dramatic tone makes me roll my eyes, containing a grin that ends up cracking my lips when he admits finding it perfect and places a kiss on my cheek.

While the paint on Gerard’s arm dries, we get immersed in another talk and, noticing my sleepy state, Gerard pulls me to lay with my head on his lap. Having him playing with my hair gets me to the edge of sleepiness and I’m able to hear him chuckling softly while caressing my cheek with his thumb. “Hey,” He asks quietly, continuing once I hum in response. “can I paint your back?”

“Sounds awesome.” I grin, thinking about how wonderful it may feel. As soon as I’ve got my top bare, I lay over his lap, facing down, with my head over a pillow and in a way my stomach is right over his lap so he can easily reach my whole back and I’m comfortable. Wow, fuck, having my back painted almost feels better than having a massage on it. He chuckles lightly at the pleased hum I release, making me smile.

It’s simply amazing how he paints precisely, with a light hand and is extremely careful at what feels like the details. Even if the brush tickles lightly, it just happens when there isn’t much paint on it, but feels extremely pleasant when he passes the brush over the skin after dipping it in paint once more. I wouldn’t complain about having more nights like this. Soon, the moment’s comfort pulls me at once to fall asleep.

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HOW A 17-YEAR OLD TEACHES A 20-YEAR OLD ABOUT LIFE.


Settings - a late evening. A room with a study, a window and 2 beds.

A boy, 17, messy dark hair, calloused palms, square shoulders leaning on the desk.

A girl, 20, invading space, brown eyes and painted chipped nails.



Her: Do you like it here?

Him: No, I’m going to get out and take mum and dad with me.

Her: Dad doesn’t enjoy enjoying things in general, I think they have lost their souls to something. I just feel everything here is dead.

Him:You are too rude. You are eating right out of their bank accounts. Pay me when you start earning shit and we’ll move out. It’s dog eat dog here. And for once respect your parents.

Her: Right. Dude, I feel like shit all the time. No matter I make others feel like shit too. I’m really worthless right. Fuck it, how do “you” live? It must be easy being good and smart and fucking genius.

Him: You are lazy. We got our intelligence from mum. She would have been something more if it hadn’t been her marriage. I think dad’s coming to check on us. Let’s pretend we are sleeping and then talk.

Her: what about your homework?

Him: the class’s at 12 tomorrow, still got time.


They slide the windows open, the night is cool outside. They slip into their beds. The brother is flat on his back, his head towards his sister. The sister is proped up on one elbow and half anchored on her side. They dim the lights.


Her: How are you so confident? What did I do wrong?

Him:Last week in my class, I told the teacher I didn’t understand this particular stuff, he told me that it was easy, I replied - well none of the class has understood and none had. This kinda confidence comes when you are prepared with everything else. Life is just 40% hardworking and 60% Self confidence. Self-confidence comes when you have something you have done in your life to this point.

Her: Aha, right. Wow. I’m always have been kinda the loser sibling and even a worse role model to you. I have nothing in my self confidence basket.

Him: it’s all about what is important to you. You have always been afraid of everything. I’m never afraid, I know I’ll make it through.

Her:what was that movement for you? How do I create that for myself?

Him: Small things all the time, the things I have put my mind to I have achieved them. You won’t believe it - I just decided I was sick of it and ran for 45 mins nonstop. That moment I decided, I could do. Anything.

Her: Shit that’s something.

Him: anything can be something.

Her: Do you think I’m fat? Do you think I’m lazy? Do you think I can improve?

Him: Um, you aren’t fat maybe a little bit but you are lazy as hell. You are so afraid to stick to something. Mom and dad never had high expectations from you because you never had them for yourself. You are 20!now, I think people can change till they are 22. You have two years. Otherwise you remain a loser. Forever.

Her: What should I do?

Him: Can’t tell you that, you make your own thinking, you create your own goals. Stop thinking about others as too great. Stop bowing down. Stop idolizing people. Stop apologizing. Just start with your mind. Spent that time on you and work on what you are. That’s as far as I can go.

Her: You are different from the time I last saw you. I’m grateful.


Silence.



Her: did you fall asleep?

Him:No.

Her: Did you set an alarm.

Him: No.

Her: We are getting out of here.

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Reality

A touch can hurt so much more than

A goodbye

An empty promise.

A touch is undescribably painful

For it reminds us that mortality is not long.

We are flesh and flesh is just borrowed.

A touch makes reality fall.

Hard.

Fast.

Upon the shoulders of the world’s beings.

Young, old, well, ill, loved, unloved…

Reality falls with a touch.

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One of the tricky things about shopping during this pandemic is adjusting your shopping list to deal with what you find when you get to the store. I hearing large numbers of people are baking bread so yeast is at a premium. I don’t intend to bake bread or much else at the moment so that’s not an issue for me but periodically you see a bare shelf just where you expect something to be and then you wonder - why that?

You can use the above concept in a story. Consider your plot and then ask yourself what might happen if one key ingredient was no longer available such as a dead body or a murder weapon or even a clue. Of all the things that could go missing from a scene, why that?

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The setting or environment in which our stories take place can have a huge effect on how our readers view characters or scenes. Young Writers Program participant Asher M. is here with us today to share how to make the most out of this often overlooked aspect of storytelling:

Something I’ve seen many writers struggle with is unique plots. It seems like every story has already been written. As a writer, you may see a three-act novel with the same subsections every single book seems to follow. As a reader, do you see it the same way? I doubt it. 

For this explanation, we’ll be using a simple example plot:

Act 1: Ellie is a normal kid in middle school. One day, her principal (who’s secretly a wizard) tells her she has to go defeat the evil wizard Wright Erz Blok. After some deliberation, Ellie goes with her two closest friends on an adventure to fight Wright Erz Blok.

Act 2: The group set off on their trip with the help of a magical map. They gain tools from various mentors as they leave, and gain skills by defeating lesser villains as they get closer to Wright Erz Blok.

Act 3: The heroes almost fail, but manage to defeat Wright Erz Blok for good. They come back to school and receive a hero’s welcome.

So, how would your environment influence this story? I’ll break it down. Your environment has three main influences on your writing: character, pacing, and story.

Keep reading

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