@kmorecoffee / kmorecoffee.tumblr.com
Don’t ever let anyone tell you there is only one right path for a writer to take.
Traditional publishing, self-publishing, or not publishing at all are all perfectly acceptable choices, and none of those choices makes you more or less of a writer.
Good luck Campers!
so i binge watched vox machina in 2 days and here we are.
Keyleth sits outside, stares at the sky. It’s dark out; the sky an inky black, the only light coming from the stars.
She’s been sitting out here for hours, turning the words over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of them. I meant what I said yesterday.
I love you. That’s what he means.
Keyleth lets out a shaky breath, hugging her knees to her chest. It’s not as though she hasn’t noticed. Things have been different in a way she can’t explain.
Not that she’s ever been good at this sort of thing. Feelings have never really been her strong suit. Healing, fixing things, has always been the language of her soul. I don’t know how to fix this. How can I fix this when I don't even know it happened?
That doesn’t stop the look on Vax’s face when she said no from flashing in her mind. Keyleth groans, rests her face in her hands. “I'm a fool.” She stands, starts back towards the house.
Even though it's late out, the streets are full of people. Full of life.
Slipping inside, she starts down the hall, keeping her footsteps light. It doesn’t take long for her to reach Vax’s room. Keyleth hesitates before knocking.
The sound seems to echo in the quiet. Too loud. Too much.
Finally the door opens. Vax leans against the frame, sleep written all over his expression, hair sticking out in every which direction.
“I’m sorry.”
The words come out before she can stop them.
He doesn’t say anything. The silence is uncomfortable and awkward. “Come in, I guess.”
Keyleth nods, slipping inside. She tries to ignore the way his voice makes a jolt run through her. “I guess you know why I’m here.” More silence. Instead, he crosses the room in a few quick steps, curling up in the alcove. Keyleth follows silently, not bothering to try and catch up to him.
She doesn’t move to sit down next to him. Instead, she lets her gaze wander towards the stars that dot the sky, seeming to stretch endlessly as far as she can see.
“I didn’t think it was to stargaze.” Keyleth laughs, elbows him teasingly. She hesitates before sitting across from him, leaving a few inches of space between them.
Neither of them says anything. Keyleth drums her fingers against the wood. It’s rough beneath her fingers, grooves worn by time. “I wasn't expecting you to say that. No one’s ever said that to me before.”
Once again, the word seems to spill out seemingly of their own accord.
Vax chuckles, “I didn’t mean to scare you with that.”
“You didn’t scare me.” Keyleth’s words come out quiet, barely audible. “It just surprised me.”
Silence falls over them once again, a comforting blanket of familiarity. “I feel the same way.” Her words come out as a whisper, so soft the smallest gust of wind could carry them away.
“I just, I’m not good at this sort of thing.” Sighing, Keyleth shifts her gaze back towards the window. The inky black draws her in, seemingly making everything disappear.
“I’ll wait. I care about you, you know.” Keyleth meets his gaze as he says this. Her lips curve upwards slightly, smile growing wider.
She’s acutely aware of him leaning in, the space between them shrinking rapidly. They’re close enough now that barely a few inches separate them. “I know. I care about you too, Vax.”
Keyleth hesitates before leaning in, pressing her lips against his, world falling away as everything comes together.
The darkness fades to light. Patroclus blinks.
All he sees is light.
“Patroclus.”
Achilles. His name sits on his tongue.
“Are you there?” His voice is warm and comforting, honey laced words sending a
Patroclus stretches his hand out. Only darkness meets him at first.
Something reaches out. Someone.
Achilles.
Illuminated by the golden rays of Apollo, he seems otherworldly.
The space between them closes in an instant.
Patroclus tilts his head up, meeting Achilles’ gaze. “I’m right here.” It’s whisper soft, but here in the quiet stillness, it seems to echo all around.
The only thing louder is the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. Achilles smiles and it only makes his heart beat faster.
He leans in, presses his lips against Achilles’. His lips taste of almond and honey.
Achilles threads his fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. A sigh slips past his lips.
They are one again. Two halves of the same soul pieced back together, though not quite a perfect fit.
War has shaped them, molded them into different people than they were.
Achilles, battle hardened and weary from years of fighting.
But there’s still the same softness, still the same delicacy to his features. Most alluring though was the softness in his eyes, golden flecks shining like constellations.
And he, too, is battle hardened, though not as much as Achilles. The scar on his wrist aches, a reminder of everything. Perhaps the worst reminder, are the memories.
Ghosts that never leave.
For now, none of that matters. Now is for the lost moments, for everything that War stole away.
Reluctantly, Patroclus pulls away. He meets Achilles’ gaze, eyes bright and irresistible. “Let’s go home,” he whispers.
Achilles nods, laces his fingers through his. Hesitantly, they step forwards. Hand in hand, they find their way back; shadows falling away as they bask in the light.
There’s one of these in Boston, the Vilna Shul (https://vilnashul.org/about/our_history). The interior painting was primarily a Lithuanian thing, hence why most of them have been destroyed. The Vilna is one of few surviving examples and the murals are perpetually in need of preservation funding.
@kmorecoffee check this out
awwwwww @how-are-those-nuts-sarge lynn thank you sm for the tag 🥺🥺💜💜
♡♡♡ You are made of stardust and galaxies and I love you. Send this to your favorite people on this website ♡♡♡
awwwwww 🥺🥺😭😭💜💜 omg nonnie you're so sweet.
A little drabble I wrote during my re-read of Lovely War. If you haven't read Lovely War by Julie Berry, do it. It's amazing. Side note: this isn't my OC Hazel.
Hazel wakes up, her nerves already high. Today James leaves for the front. She doesn’t want him to go. It’s a selfish thought and she knows it. How can she watch as he marches toward what could very well lead to his death? No. She can’t think like that. James will make it back. He has to.
Hazel gets dressed in a daze, barely noticing the world around her. She starts down the street towards the train station, pulling her coat tight around her to block out the cold. Has it only been a week since they met? It seems impossible. So much has happened in such a short time.
Hazel slips into the station a few moments later, a reprieve from the damp cold. It doesn’t take her long to spot James. The sight of him standing there in his uniform clutching his bags suddenly hits her. This it. He’s going off to war.
“Hi,” James says, lacing his fingers through hers. “I didn’t think you were going to come.” Hazel squeezes his hand lightly, trying to memorize how her hand feels in his. Who knows how long he'll be gone. If he’ll make it back.
Hazel forces a smile on her face, hoping James can't see past her façade. “Of course I came.” I love you. Please don't go. How badly she wants to say those words. She can't, though. It's not fair to him. Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. “I'll miss you,” she finally says.
“I'll be back soon. Promise me one thing, though?” James says, a small smile tugging at his lips. Oh, that smile. What she would do to see that smile every day. “Keep my heart safe while I'm gone,” he says, moving her hand over his heart.
The tears Hazel’s been fighting back finally spill over, blurring her vision. Her hands cradle his cheeks, pulling him close, as she kisses him softly. She shouldn’t be doing this. Falling in love with the soldier boy going off to war. “Always,” she whispers, resting her head against his shoulder as he hugs her tight.
The train whistle sounds, cutting through the air like a siren. “I guess I better get going,” James says. Hazel hugs him tight one more time, wishing they could stay like this forever as she watches him go, taking a little piece of her heart with him.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA KELSEY I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS SM 🥺🥺🥺😍😍😍💜💜💜
I hope I’m not too late for WIP Wednesday!!
So today’s is actually a deleted scene from Dear Heart. Juliet gives Melanie an…education of sorts. ;)
Warning: there is no explicit NSFW content here, but the subject matter gets a bit NSFW. It’s also a tad long (~1600 words), so, the naughty stuff is obviously under the cut
Their shoes scraped against the loose dirt on the path as the two women went for their morning walk. The bright Austrian sun warmed their faces where it peeked through the shade of the trees. Birds chirped merry tunes to each other which echoed through the woods. Spring had fully melted the winter away. Unfortunately, Melanie could not enjoy any of the pleasantness of the morning. She was reading the latest letter from her mother aloud to Juliet in utter disbelief. There was no relief at the German’s surrender, no questions about when Melanie would be coming home, no asking whether she was going to the Pacific or not - it was all about Dick.
“It’s ridiculous!” Melanie cried, exasperated. “Not one concern about me or my well-being. Just, ‘Darling, when is this Dick fellow going to propose? It had better be soon because you aren’t getting any younger, you know. Even if you became a widow, at least you could say you had been married. Maybe put a little pressure on, but not too much. You never want to seem too eager.’ It’s like I haven’t done anything at all!”
“She sounds like a right pain in the arse,” Juliet replied, lips drawn into a frown. “At least you could say you had been married, what the fuck is that?”
“I know!” Melanie agreed. “How can she even say such a thing?! Nothing matters to her except getting a ring on my finger.”
“By the way, I’ve got several years on you, and can confirm, you don’t die if you’re single after the age of thirty,” Juliet said.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH KELSEY KELSEY KELSEY KELSEY THIS SCENE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
JULIET YELLING GOOD MORNING GENTS OMG I CAN'T EVEN slkjflaskdfj 😂😂😂 WHAT A QUEEN i absolutely adore her so so much 💜💜💜
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh hello friends!!!
I've literally been counting down the days until I could post this alfjsldgjksd which is:
BLEEDING HEARTS IS ONE YEAR TODAY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
I cannot believe it's been a year already. So much has happened in the past year holy heck 😂😂😂😂.
I didn't think I would still be writing this a year later. I don't know what I thought would happen but I did not think I would get so attached to Lina Grace and her story (she totally owns my heart alfkjsldgk). Now it's an entire universe hahaah. I'm not really kidding lol. If you know, y'know :)
Bleeding Hearts is the longest story I've ever written. As of right now, it's 130k+ words and still a long way to go before being done. And then there's postwar haha :)
Writing this story has been such an insane ride. I started writing Lina Grace's story when I wasn't in the best place. I desperately needed an escape so I did what I always do: get lost in my head :)
In all seriousness though I've learned so much writing this fic and made so many amazing friends 🥺🥺.
@wexhappyxfew @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @iilovemusic12us @pxpeyewynn@incorrectbandofbrothersquotes and @liebegott y'all are the best and put up with my very incoherent, nearly constant screaming over this story 😂😂💜💜💜. i love you all and i don't know what i'd do without you 🥺🥺💜💜💜
and to anyone who has ever lurked or said anything nice about this fic: i love and adore you 💜💜
Anyways, Happy birthday to Lina Grace my fave chaotic disaster and all my other oc's that I absolutely adore 🥺🥺💜💜. Here's to another year 🥳🥳🥳
Can't have a celebration without cupcakes and ice cream (okay yogurt lol) ☺️☺️💜💜
HI HUZZAH IT'S TODAY THE BIRTHDAYYYYY
unsurprisingly here's my request
🖋🎵 ✨💜❓ 📝
LOVE YOUUUU (and emskiiiii) 😘💕
AHHHHH CHLOE HELLO AND THANK YOU SM FOR THE ASK :) YAAASSS IT'S THE BIRTHDAY AHHHHH I can't believe it still aflksjdflks.
I LOVE YOU MORE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 💜💜💜💜
okay I can't not do a Ruta Sepetys quote lol because it's Ruta Sepetys :) “I became good at pretending. I became so good that after a while the lines blurred between my truth and fiction. And sometimes, when I did a really good job of pretending, I even fooled myself.” ― Ruta Sepetys, Salt to the Sea
🎵: Krentu žemyn by Monika Linkytė. Tis' definitely one of my new fave songs lol
✨: this is absolutely positutely one of my fave moodboards for Lina Grace alfsjdlkfskld.
💜: EMSKIIII
GUARNET
OKAY THIS ISN'T THE ONE I WANTED BUT I CAN'T FIND IT ALKFSJKLDSJ :(
Edit: I FOUND IT AHHHHH YAYAYAYAYAYA
❓: moodboard for eventual part 2 alkfjskldgjsd
so this is a little ways off but the always lovely @wexhappyxfew let me use natia for this chapter and i'm so HYPED AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
📝: Everything is different under the cover of darkness. “Who are you?” Lina’s heart pounds in her chest. A lump forms in her throat as she glances towards the shadowy figure. “You can trust me. We’re all fighting the same war here.”
Anatolijus puts a hand up to silence her. When he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “Resistance members. We’re going to France.”
“Follow me.” They follow her through the door.
“You never said what your name was. I’m Lina Grace.”
There's a brief pause before she speaks, “Agent Fidel. You can call me Natia, though.”
💜 for the bleeding hearts bday game please!
ahhhhh KELSEY THANK YOU SM FOR THE ASK 💜💜💜
so anatolijus and marie is not a very featured ship in the story but i absolutely adore them :)
and bill and vera ugh, i love them so much 💜💜💜
@how-are-those-nuts-sarge tis' done finally lol 💜💜💜
Send me 🖋 for a chapter quote
Send me 🎵 for a song off one of my playlists for Bleeding Hearts (fun fact: there's like 285 songs on the main one)
Send me ✨ for a Lina Grace moodboard
Send me 💜 for a ship moodboard
Send me ❓ for a random moodboard
Send me 📝 for a little snippet from one of my chapters
Send me 🤓 for dealer's choice, anything you'd like :)
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh hello friends!!!
I've literally been counting down the days until I could post this alfjsldgjksd which is:
BLEEDING HEARTS IS ONE YEAR TODAY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
I cannot believe it's been a year already. So much has happened in the past year holy heck 😂😂😂😂.
I didn't think I would still be writing this a year later. I don't know what I thought would happen but I did not think I would get so attached to Lina Grace and her story (she totally owns my heart alfkjsldgk). Now it's an entire universe hahaah. I'm not really kidding lol. If you know, y'know :)
Bleeding Hearts is the longest story I've ever written. As of right now, it's 130k+ words and still a long way to go before being done. And then there's postwar haha :)
Writing this story has been such an insane ride. I started writing Lina Grace's story when I wasn't in the best place. I desperately needed an escape so I did what I always do: get lost in my head :)
In all seriousness though I've learned so much writing this fic and made so many amazing friends 🥺🥺.
@wexhappyxfew @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @iilovemusic12us @pxpeyewynn@incorrectbandofbrothersquotes and @liebegott y'all are the best and put up with my very incoherent, nearly constant screaming over this story 😂😂💜💜💜. i love you all and i don't know what i'd do without you 🥺🥺💜💜💜
and to anyone who has ever lurked or said anything nice about this fic: i love and adore you 💜💜
Anyways, Happy birthday to Lina Grace my fave chaotic disaster and all my other oc's that I absolutely adore 🥺🥺💜💜. Here's to another year 🥳🥳🥳
Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.
Word Count: 4.5k
Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @iilovemusic12us If you’d like to be added, let me know!
A/N: Dear Heart is still in the works, but Juliet has been demanding her story get told, so I’m gonna write both. I hope you guys enjoy it :) Sorry no BoB characters appear in this chapter, but Speirs is coming!
Warning(s): excessive alcohol use, discussions of murder, and a character with suicidal thoughts. it’s not as heavy as this makes it seem, i promise.
Chapter 1 here we go!
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Juliet watched the hand on the grandfather clock inch its way around the face, counting seconds that passed like years. The clock was the nicest thing in the dingy sitting room of the rowhouse of her childhood. The sofa she perched on had a broken frame, but she knew where to sit on it so that it wouldn’t slide out of place and cave in the middle. The carpet was stained with years of turmoil. From her spot, Juliet could see the familiar stains of her own blood droplets that trailed into the bathroom. They were faded now, but the memories were fresh. The rest of the furniture pieces were hand-me-downs from family and neighbors, who were kind enough to donate after Juliet’s father had broken something. Which was usually about once a month. Thankfully, he was gone before the war came and people were out of spares and generosity.
She glanced at her watch, unsure why she thought she would get a different answer from it on the amount of time that had passed. No matter which instrument she referenced, her mother still lay dying just one floor above her. Juliet snatched her glass of whiskey off the coffee table with the chipped off corner and downed the remainder of that amber liquid. To take the edge off, she kept telling herself. But she was about five drinks in now and it had only been two hours.
KELSEY KELSEY KELSEY KELSEY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS CHAPTER ALKFSJDLKFSDJFL OMG OMG MY HEART 😩😩😭😭😭
AND THE ENDING ALKFJSDLKFJSD 😭😭. I LOVE JULIET SO SO MUCH ALREADY 🥺🥺💜💜. I'm sending her all the hugsa lkfjsdlfkj
Happy WIP Wednesday y’all! I’m gonna start doing this more often to keep myself motivated and accountable.
I announced my new OC, Juliet Fletcher a few weeks ago, and did a backdoor intro to her in Dear Heart. But the first chapter is almost ready for publication, and I’d like to maybe get a tag list going (so hmu if you’re interested)
Here’s a little snippet and moodboard:
Two hours of agonizing ignorance. How long did the doctor really need? Why hadn’t he come back down yet? Her mind was awhirl with questions - though they got fuzzier the more whiskey she added to the equation. She stood up and padded into the kitchen to pour herself another in the hopes that this one would silence them all.
She didn’t bother sipping drink number six. Down the hatch it went, knocked straight back. She wondered why she even bothered with a glass at this point. It was likely to maintain a sense that she hadn’t sunk as low as her father. She still had some civility, and refusing to guzzle straight from the bottle was somehow proof of that.
“Not one hundred proof, though,” she mumbled to herself, trying - as usual - to make a joke out of it. But she couldn’t laugh once she heard her mother’s rattling cough from upstairs.
Drink number seven went down.
Finally, she heard the steady rhythm of the doctor coming down the stairs. She had perfected recognizing the sound of footsteps and their location in the house. It was something she and Billy had quickly learned for self preservation.
“Juliet?” Dr. May called.
“In here,” she returned from the kitchen.
He came in, his tall frame occupying the doorway almost entirely before he emerged through. The doctor was an old-fashioned man, the kind who still made house calls, wore a three piece suit, and donned a handlebar mustache. He even had a monocle on the breast pocket of his vest. Juliet had always thought he looked like something out of a picture. His eyes quickly observed the empty glass and the lower level of liquor in the whiskey bottle. He sighed, but made no remark.
“Has your mother visited her lawyer recently?” he asked, getting straight to the point.
That was an odd way to start a report on a check-up. Juliet frowned.
“Not that I’m aware of, no,” she said. “Why?”
“It’s not…going well for Mrs. Fletcher, I’m afraid,” he said. “She may not have much longer. Possibly not even until morning.”
Nothing sobers one up like horrific news.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH JULIET JULIET JULIET!!!! SHE'S HERE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 🥺🥺🥺💜💜💜
I'M SO EXCITED AFLKSJDGLKSJDGFLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
water writer
just like water, you carry your readers in a new world, and they just can’t do anything but follow. your poetic writing allures the readers in with beautiful words, just for them to find themselves on the deepest oceans floors, where you make them taste pain in its sweetest form. water writers are the gentlest liars, they show the readers a small stream, and no one can see the waterfall at the end. if you were a tag, you would definitely be ‘Everything is Beautiful But Everything Hurts’. cliffhangers are one of your strong points that, mixed with your incredible versatility, make you a great writer. your stories have a deep meaning, and never miss to leave traces on your readers hearts. you don’t limit yourself, you like to explore the deepest parts in the human soul, and that’s why readers can sometimes find MCD in your stories. your endings tend to be sad or open, and your stories have the power to drag your readers with you, from the highest waves of a storm, and to the darkest secrets of the ocean.
this feels like the highest compliment i ever received when i honestly feel like a 4-6/10 writer :’)
tagging: @kitastowel @haikyuutothetop @amjustagirl @forgetou @luvnami @kohi-zeri @violetsoju @throughtheinterstices @moondaius @yacoka + anyone else who wants to try it !!
Air Writer
Exploring the darkness and light in the human soul is a delight, to you. You don’t fear writing about MCD, Hanahaki or that suffocating angst. You are a master in flexibility, creating stories that can go from slice of life to mystery. You’re the horror story that starts lightly, and the reader just can’t stop reading. Before you know it, the air in the room has disappeared and the reader is choking on their tears, while an invisible hand dries them. Your style is simple, and really nice to read, a word takes you to the other, and then the other, and it’s 3 in the morning and sleep is clinging on you, but you just can’t stop. Your prompts are *chef’s kiss*, the absolute perfection. You mix every emotion like colors on a palette, and paint the whole world with the bluest smiles, and the prettiest golden eyes. Your readers can’t be other than allured in by you, and once in, they have no escape.
Ohhhh, I love this. This suddenly makes me feel so much better about my writings. ❤❤❤
Smoke Writer
And he took the cigarette from his lips, placing it between his own. He took just one drag, long and slow, and then, he breathed it out in the other’s face.’ You smile in front of your enemies, and puff in their faces the smoke. You like to see them cry, like to see them suffer. You write pain in the most elegant way, making it a candy that slowly melts on the reader’s tongue. You may have limits, but you push yourself always past them. Love the challenge your comfort zone can’t give you. You are the mysterious person everyone has a crush on, the one that smiles in front of the storm and kneels in front of weak ones. And your writing reflects it. It charms everyone and, even if the exit door is there, your reader will never take it. You’re the one who can take a trope, one so used that it’s a clique, and create something completely new. Your work is breathtaking, emotions described so well they feel real, and characterization that makes your stories pop out between all the others.
Oh this is interesting. I definitely don’t think of myself and my writing like this, but this is put so beautifully. I’m so flattered!
@alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @doctorwhoandfairytaillover @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie Tag me when you do yours, I wanna see your answers!!!!!
Thanks for the tags @quantumlocked310 and @vikingstrash!
Magma Writer
Molten rock that still has to surface. You’re the perfect mix of fire and earth, and your story shows it, having the best of both worlds. You’re the writer that holds fire on their fingertips and kisses their lovers goodbye in the most painful way. You’re able to build long stories that burn on the inside. You break the human soul, touching with infinite grace the right cords. You are an artist of the elaborate pain and heavy angst only a constructed and long story can give. If i could see in your eyes, i would be looking at your soul dancing on an unstable floor, flames all around it, to protect it and to forge it. Your love burns hot and infinite inside of you, and sometimes, when it slips out, you’re afraid that it could burn too much. But the right people will know how to love you, and every bright tongue of fire your soul is made of. Your stories are the ones that make the world change.
Euh. Really? *surprised Pikachu face* I don’t know if I agree with this, but okay…
Ooh thanks for the tag @serasvictoria!
Storm Writer
Writers of the storm, the rain, and the snow. Angst is your element. You mastered the art of making it hurt, in every way. That quiet hurt of a smile on a crying face. Your words whisper to the lonely ones that they’re not alone. You are able to show your readers a universe where everything’s okay, and even if it hurts it’s okay, because being sad is a feeling that deserves to be felt. Yells against the dark of the night. Screams of rage and hurt, tears running down soft cheeks and white knuckles. You are there, screaming with them. Angry at the unfairness, and fighting it, in the first place it attacks you. In the heart. And you’re the hand, offered to the hopeless. With a delicate smile on your lips, you help people stand up again. The storm writer, the one who knows how it feels, to be screaming in the void, and doesn’t want anyone else to live it too. You are the storm writer, but you’re able to build beautiful reigns of ice and snow, and offer comfort to the ones who seek it.
Interesting… and surprising! In a good way, though- I totally get this.
ahhhh chloe my beloved thank you sm for the tag 🥺🥺💜💜
Fire Writer
You burn. In the night, under the hot sun, you burn. You shine in the darkest nights, bringing to your readers an immortal fire. No one is able to portray feelings better than you. Emotions burn your characters, making them matches in dark rooms, lighting up everything, and burning from their own hands. Your best is shown in short stories, where the flames of your character’s souls can burn brighter than ever, and become ashes. Your stories hold the most passionate love, soft sighs whispered against a lover’s skin, and the neon lights of a night club. Pain is your second name, and you don’t mind it. Wars, betrayal, yearning, a/b/o and enemy to lovers are your favorite tropes. But when you decide to comfort, the fierce fire that burns in your soul becomes the warm hug of a blanket in a cold day. Established relationships, per-relationship fluff and medical fics are great at showing this softer side of you. Keep burning, and show everyone how hard a fire can burn, even in the coldest of the nights.
tagging: anyone who wants to do this :)
