what is up my friends. I'm Elle.
all my writing should be under the tag maybe I don’t know people, headcannons and requests will be under the tag thoughts from elle . shoot me a message if you want to be added to my taglist!
Triple Frontier
do ppl still love unconditionally and endlessly or is that not cool anymore
I think one of the most fun things about people’s writing is revealing the quiet, personal mythology of individuals.
I’m not talking about their spirituality or their religion. I’m talking about the things that evoke immense emotion in us one way or another that we struggle to explain why and- thus- the symbolism in our stories that to one interpretation is really only for us, if I write a scene where a character as a child eats an orange sherbet push pop that maybe to everyone else it will be an irrelevant detail, and I feel alone in the overwhelming nostalgia and softness of sun-soaked childhoods at a very specific park and a routine I used to follow for no particular reason- but I like to think it’s not, only for me.
I think that, while it’s a folly to presume to know the mind of anyone you’ve only read the work of, there is a kind of intimate exchange in storytelling. We talk often about obscure or strange trauma triggers, people whose minds have somehow condensed an abusive experience down to the sight of eggs on a plate or a particular song but only when it’s whistled- but these forms of trauma simply reflect a broader truth in human understanding. We make patterns out of the strangest things.
“Pareidolia” is the proper term often used, and, as I so often like to do with words, I chew it apart into its pieces and look for pretty fragments. Pareidolia is simply the way that we look for, and see things- patterns, faces, hands- where they do not factually exist. The things that are most important to us make soap bubble distortions out of our world. But inside of that word is ‘idol’, like an idol for a deity. I am sure that presence has other meanings, but a part of me imagines it almost as a personal pantheon. The strange gods of the life that only we have lived, and that we share at a thousand small places with others.
The god of my childhood is orange sherbet push pops, eaten in summer, earnest attempts made to lap up all the sweet sticky syrup before it drips too far but never successful, and the plastic ‘umbrella’ (really the pusher, but it was always an umbrella to my eyes) taken to play with and turn in my fingers long after the cardboard tube was gone. Perhaps, somewhere in the world, there are other people that know that particular god.
A curious thing to call divine. Just one memory among many. But whenever I see them again, it’s like turning over a page in an old yearbook and there’s your best friend who you haven’t seen, who you wonder what they’re doing now. The vocabulary of our most intimate and personal experiences are littered with ostensibly meaningless objects that held our hearts once.
If I read a story, and two people eat peaches together, lovingly described, gently rendered, I wonder if the author’s first love tasted like peaches.
Sweet reunions
(I am!!! Soft for Boba Fett!!!!)
pairing: Boba Fett x (f) reader
wordcount: 4.5k
warnings: 18 +, strong language, cannontypical violence, brief piv sex, mentions of other sexual acts, implications of arranged marriage, elle writing a new character i’m so sorry
summary: Boba is possessive, but you can only be his as much as he is yours (loosely based on Cupid and Psyche, ummmm I want to write a part 2 but we’ll see how this goes.)
>>
The first thing he felt when he saw you should have been pity. Threadbare clothes, advantageously torn for maximum appeal at low effort, bare feet collecting the harsh grains of sand on the floor of his throne room. You were beautiful, soft, undeniably out of place. He should have felt pity because you should have felt fear.
Boba Fett knew how he looked. Legs spread, using his broad form to fill the throne like it had always been his, armor newly painted and already scarred with new dangers alongside the old. It was overwhelmingly intimidating, because that’s how he wanted it. He was a legend swallowed whole by hell and spat out again, living and hunting, both avenging and armed to the teeth. He should have felt pity for you, presented before him by the scum of the galaxy, as a welcoming present and feeble peace offering.
Instead when he saw you, lovely eyes watching him carefully, the first thing Boba felt was desire.
Romantic Encounter
Mihály Zichy
just having some fun with interesting fantasy imagery! Give it a reblog, if you play, please? And tell me WHY you picked what you picked if you want?
someone asked me to draw Din in Woody's outfit, so i
you’re going to love again, find a job again, create art again, do what you love again, feel powerful again. you’re going to be back on track. i don’t know when, but you are going to feel like yourself again, eventually. this isn’t the end. hang in there.
- What’s a first kiss to the two of you? What do you consider a first kiss and what does Din consider one? - Imma head canon that you guys have a few “first kisses” - each one feeling like a first kiss, each a new tentative step towards this unknown and vulnerable intimacy you’ve been slowly building.
You have no idea how many people lurk on your work. No idea how many times people go back to revisit your work. How big they smile when they simply think about your work. How fast their heart beats, how excited they get when they see that you posted something.
People are shy with their feedback. Sometimes it’s because they’re simply shy. Other times it’s because they assume you already know how great and talented you are. Could be both.
My point is, even if you barely have any likes or reblogs, don’t get discouraged. You have a lot of silent fans, but they are still your fans. Keep on creating. Because there is always someone out there who will love what you have made.
"this character is my boyfriend but im not a self shipper because self shipping is cringe" BREAK YOUR CHAINS! BREAK YOUR IRONY! BREAK YOUR JUDGEMENT!
why do you think it's so common for writers to insert themselves into their stories?
I don't know.
“no matter how badly you think you’re doing it, someone else has done it a lot worse and been fine” is applicable to a wide, wide range of things and i say it to myself all the time
"bigger idiots than me have done it" is a phrase I live by
“but AI art lets me create my OCs!” YOU WILL USE PICREW AS GOD INTENDED
i want to FLUSTER that man. i want to make him BLUSH. i want to make him feel VULNERABLE AROUND ME. i want to make him WEAK IN THE KNEES. i want to kiss him
