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thepensword

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Everything posted by thepensword

  1. noah

    hey, he says, leans over my shoulder hey. he's soft against my cheek but his chin is boney on my arm it's a weird sort of closeness where close is glue? or maybe a lifeline. we used to fight. like, you are so damn annoying but without the cursing because we were young like shut up you're the worst like don't speak to me at night if you don't want to be yelled at but hey, we're older now and it's different? or maybe it's not, like we were always close but now i finally see it when your sibling is the worst, am i right? ten things only a sibling will know: 1. beating each other up over the last cookie that's just wrong? it's fighting but it's gentler it's i don't want to give you the front seat but i will it's bake me a cake for my birthday or good morning here's a hug or here are my secrets that you already know did you know when i came out he hugged me? he didn't say a word. just, leaned over and hugged me. i like to touch his face ruffle his hair poke fun at his gangly limbs and sharp, sharp bones and high-pitched, low-pitched voice. i'm gonna get a tumblr holy fuck noah i'm filtering out tags for you it's weird to think we're getting older when just a heartbeat ago he was playing with trains on our white-carpet floor thud, thud of the soccer ball against the front door, and at least that hasn't changed but now to look at him i have to look up and now when i hear his voice i think it's our father's and he's fifteen on tuesday and it's such a slow-paced, rapid change whiplash through the years because when did you grow up? (((AN: do you think i should give this to him for his birthday? like i already made him a cake but i don't have an actual present because he's impossible to shop for but the lil bro is gonna be FIFTEEN and i feel like i should do something other than a three-layer cake.)))
  2. untitled

    the more i see it the more i know your tumblr posts full of lonely uncertainty leave me alone! i cried, thirteen and emotional but i am ever glad that they did not that my fears are not greeted with silence
  3. i listened to heathers for the first time and it is very much stuck in my head now please send help

    1. conradbirdie

      conradbirdie

      mood but the weird cafeteria horror movie sounding soundtrack that's in the 1988 movie is just. There, Also

  4. Exquisite Corpse February 2018

    and i think, perhaps, that would be alright— that i would welcome the sunset vibrance and the crashing cyan waves
  5. breathe

    i'm not sure what this is about but i heard it like a song as i read it so um. this is beautiful and i love it.
  6. *21p voice* i-i-i have a migraine

    i hope you feel better soon!
  7. new users can't join the slam for free

    You know, I was thinking about this the other day and @drowntown you reminded me. The main page says "it’s a space where teens can see their truths explored and celebrated." The Slam is, by Cicada's own description, a safe space for LGBTQ+ and other marginalized teenagers, and such spaces are frighteningly lacking. I'm lucky in that my parents are supportive, but I looked at the now-you-have-to-pay announcement and I thought, "what about the kids who aren't so lucky? what about the kids who need that safe space because they don't receive it in their home? what about the kids who can't ask their unsupportive parents to pay for a website that calls itself 'an intersectional, LGBTQAI+ friendly publication' on its front page?" It's not fair for those kids to lose that. It's not fair for those of you who need this the most to be cut off because they can't pay. It's fine to put a price tag on a magazine, but on a forum for us to connect with each other? It's just not right.
  8. ok so how is it that snowboarders aren't constantly dying? cuz i'm watching the olympics and it sure seems like they should be dying all the time.

    1. queenie_flower

      queenie_flower

      i saw some interview with one of the winter olympians this morning and they had blood and bruises on their face from when a gust of wind made them fall while doing a flip and they were like laughing so, i agree

      i think the answer is they're above death because they're olympians

  9. Mist

    oh, i feel this immensely. also, very nicely written.
  10. oh lore?

    Mop frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. This was just unbelievable. She'd held the title of campus cryptid for centuries without a glitch, and now some obscure demon thought they could challenge her? She didn't think so. "The whole building is my dorm," she said curtly, graciously ignoring the jab about her name (she'd chosen it a long time ago, thinking it had a certain air of abnormality to it without being particularly attention grabbing that she'd found rather fitting. She liked her name, thank you very much, and she wasn't going to put in the effort to defend it against someone named after a vegetable.) "This campus is my territory. And I don't appreciate being spoken to in such a matter, Radish, especially not on my own turf. I am well within my rights to defend against intruding entities, and so no, I am not throwing down any metaphorical gauntlets like you seem to think." She turned towards Nik and gave him a dignified sort of nod. "I already agreed to this McDonald's trip, didn't I? Before I was so aggressively interrupted." ((((Jesus Mop is pretentious.)))) @queenie_flower @drowntown @conradbirdie
  11. future dreams

    i want the scritch-scratch of pencil on paper. i want it now. i want it all the time. i want the thin lines by my own hand twisting into a flower, a bird, a face; your face i want music. i want plucked strings beneath calloused fingers. i want freedom to sing as i want when i want i want to sing now i want to sing now, with intermingling voices of someone i love. your voice beside mine i want coffee in the morning. perfume freshness and warm, clean steam. i want the flowers on our kitchen table and click-clack dog feet on the wood. i want to share this with you. i want bird-song in our ears. i want warm hillsides. i want the breeze in our hair. i haven't met you yet, but i want these things with you.
  12. i've hated the 'win the day' thing since i discovered it because i am deeply competitive and now it's not just about the poetry and i can't even help it

  13. oh lore?

    “I hope you realize,” said Mop coolly. “That you’re not fooling anyone.” She took a single step forward, deliberately sizing it so the she would come across as threatening, but not enough so as to spark an attack. “I am not falling for any part of this ridiculous story you three have concocted. That said,” and here she paused for dramatic effect, “I don’t particularly like you here in my dorm, so yes, fine, let’s go to McDonalds.” Her lip curled slightly at the thought of the place, but McDonalds at least served as a worldwide sanctuary, neutral territory for meeting supernatural beings. It was better than Arby’s, anyway; she’d been banned a long time ago and the chain’s wards were surprisingly strong. “But I am watching you, creature. Don’t try any tricks, understand?” @drowntown @queenie_flower @conradbirdie
  14. Prompt: A select team of individuals from around the world has been sent to space to represent humanity. Unfortunately for everyone involved, each one of them lied on their application. Well, now they're a half hour away from making contact with the aliens, and the truth has just come out. Name: Jacqueline Spade but if you call her anything other than Jack she will murder you.Age: 22Gender/Pronouns (if applicable): She/herSpecies: HumanHeight: 5'3"Appearance (plus a visual reference if youve got one): Bright blue hair in that cool style with the shaved sides and the curls on top. You know the one. Brown eyes. Hips for days.Applicable Quirks (accent, biases, languages spoken, phobias, etc): Hella bisexual. Really misses Doritos. Plays multiple instruments.Quick Backstory: Jack has always loved space, but she's too atrocious at math to be an astrophysicist like she wanted so now she's a music major. Her parents (real uptight) wanted her to go into classic violin but Jack is more into the Indie Pop type of music. Her parents found out she wasn't actually studying violin at Juilliard like she claimed she was so she decided to run away. Always the dramatic, she decided to run away to space.Weapons Abilities (if applicable): None. Jack is the clumsiest person you will ever meet. She likes to think she could swing a sword be she can't. She'd probably behead herself.Powers? (if applicable): Don't challenge her to any competition involving the consumption of food. She will win. (Hi there friends. I felt this forum was lacking in space and I make split-second decisions so here. Another RP. In SPACE.) Jack isn't sure what she did to deserve this. It feels like the universe is playing some sort of cosmic joke on her. Like, oh, Jack, you thought it was a good idea to cheat your way into space? Too bad, everyone else thought it was a good idea too, and now you're all stuck on a spaceship heading to an alien planet to represent the human race. This is a bad day. Or night. It's hard to tell, in space. "So," she says, trying to stop her internal screaming from becoming external. "What do we do?"
  15. mirage

    we are a mirage of touches and you? and i? carbon bonds will not break; diamond-gold on your finger like captured starlight and midnight promises. reflections are fragile and false but strangely permanent. whisper into the nighttime that you are my mirage. ((((Ok so there was just a line? In my head? So I had to write it down and I don't even know what it means.))))
  16. "What the fuck," hissed Jack. "What the fuck. Koz what the fuck?!" She turned wildly towards Alexa and pointed out the window at their floating teammate. "Did you give them permission to do that?!" A laser whizzed past close enough to rattle the ship and Jack winced, knuckles going white on the dashboard. "Wait, no, fuck, I don't care. Can you still land the goddamn ship?" Not waiting for an answer, she jammed a finger into the button that would turn on the comm unit to Koz's suit. "What the fuck are you doing?" she snapped. "Get back in here!" God, she was going to die out here in space. Why couldn't she have just sucked it up and studied violin like her parents wanted her to? ((((wow so autocorrect REALLY doesn't like coz's coz Oz Koz's name))))) @Short_comedian @queenie_flower @Rye
  17. oh lore?

    Mop blinked slowly. It was her best, most-intimidating slow blink. She'd learned it from her cat and she'd been informed it was frightening and unnatural enough to send chills down the backs of even the bravest humans. (She'd tested it on viking warriors, a long time ago, and they'd been sent running in fright, but clearly viking warriors had nothing on college students because most of those just ended up looking vaguely uncomfortable.) "Voss Schulz," she said slowly, drawing out the vowels and rolling her tongue on the consonants. "Do you think I'm stupid?" She pointed an aggressive finger at the thing standing between him and Nikolai Helge and lowered her eyebrows deliberately. "What is that and what exactly have you done now?" @conradbirdie @queenie_flower @drowntown
  18. siren

    She awakens half in the surf, craggy rocks digging painfully into her spine. Fluid fills her lungs and she turn to vomit into the water, salt stinging her throat and bleeding through her eyes. She stays that way for a while, fog-eyed and gasping. “Ah, you’re awake,” says a voice, and she turns frantically towards its source. It’s a woman, perched on the rocks, or at least something that vaguely resembles a woman. She is low in a squat, spine curved and elbows resting on her knees. She is naked, and the girl averts her eyes but not before she notices the feathers covering the creature’s body and the curling talons that are her feet. A siren. “Am I dead?” asks the girl, and her voice is scratchy like the rocks against her skin. The siren’s orange eyes light up with amusement, and her laugh is like the waves and the song of a seashell pressed to one’s ear. “No,” she says. “Just a bit drowned. You’ll live.” “Oh,” says the girl, for lack of better words. “Good.” The siren smiles with lips like blood. She’s beautiful, in a strange, monstrous way, stunning in her hideousness and compelling in her inhumanity. The girl finds herself staring and turn back out towards the sea. “Why am I not dead?” she says to the waves. “I thought that’s what your job was. To lure in and kill seafarers who stray too close.” “Ah,” says the siren. “Caught that, did you. Well, tell me. How do we lure you in?” “With your song,” she replies, without hesitation. “You sing into the minds of sailors and fill the imagination with the thing we long for most.” The siren nods, smile still sticking to the corners of her mouth. “And then we twist it at the last moment, and break it upon the rocks. Now tell me, my dear, what is it that you most long for?” The girl frowns into the surf. A fish splashes above the water, silver scales flashing like gems and fins fanning out like wings for just a moment before disappearing once more into the waves. She thinks of a dark, musty hold and wrists rubbed raw. She thinks of jeering laughter and words that cut like knives. “Freedom,” she says. Then she casts her eyes about the spire of rock that she sits on, too small to be an island, and feels her heart sink like the ship had last night. “Then is this—” “An illusion?” says the siren. “Not in the sense you are thinking. But in some ways, yes. You are free now, from that ship and those men. But have you truly gained your freedom?” The girl thinks for a moment. At first glance, yes, she is free; her shackles are gone and her captors dead. She can do whatever she chooses, now, but she has merely departed one prison for another; the island is very small and she is without a boat. She is still caged. “No,” she says, and her voice breaks like seashells beneath heavy boots. “No, I am not free.” The siren’s smile widens. “And so the dream has shattered. That is my goal, yes?” The girl nods. At least she’s not dead. “What do I do?” she wonders aloud. She’s not expecting an answer but she receives one regardless. “Whatever you want,” says the siren, and then departs in a breeze of feathers. The girl pulls her knees tight to her chest and gives herself space to cry. She cries until her eyes are clear of ocean brine and her lungs are empty of cigarette smoke. She cries until her blood runs free of mold. When she is done she takes a deep breath and clambers to her feet. She is unbalanced on the rocks, but she does her best to steady herself. Her clothes are already tattered so she pulls them off and releases them to the sea. Then, bare feet rough against the rocks, she follows the siren to the top of the island. There’s a message to be learned here, she thinks, about how the sirens came to be. At the top of the island the siren is waiting. Her eyes are sparkling like so many stars and her lips are still an upwards crescent. “Have you decided?” she asks. The girl nods, hair lashing at her cheeks and skin prickling in the coolness of the sea wind. There’s a freeness to this, standing naked before the elements, surrounded by blue on all sides. There’s a freeness to this, and isn’t freedom what she’s wanted for so long? “I want you to teach me,” she says to the smiling siren, bare and feathered and old as the rocks below their feet. “I want you to teach me how to sing.”
  19. 'strived' and 'strove' are both correct and that makes me angry

    1. queenie_flower

      queenie_flower

      ooh gotta love the English language

  20. "must be at least 8 sentences" ok yeah but how about my long ass compound sentences, huh? what do those count as?

  21. generalized anxiety disorder

    thank you for your support. hopefully sleeping won't be an issue tonight but usually when it is i just give up and read for a while. my anxiety isn't all that bad, considering, and the breathing thing usually only happens when i'm a fool and decide to have caffeine, but i've had a stressful day and i just sort of needed to vent a little. (although, ok, the thing about the symptoms? i was online looking up anxiety and i was just going down the list like, 'worried about everything? yep. sleep problems? check. irrational phobias? uh huh. jumpy for no reason? yes. trouble focusing? oh boy'. but yeah i am a little worried the poem made everything sound worse than it is because my anxiety is at a pretty manageable level and i know it can be a lot worse for a lot of people.)
  22. generalized anxiety disorder

    the beast inside me is familiar so familiar i don't always notice it's there so familiar that even dormant, it's present so familiar that breathing gets hard and i just accept it the first clue: toes twitching the second clue: teeth grinding the third clue: shoulders rising the indisputable evidence is when i can't breathe when i can't sleep (the latter is common. the former builds on itself.) my parents think i'm overdramatic (it's because i am, but i know this is real) 'there's lots of things you can find to reinforce your assumption', says my mother you don't understand i am intimately acquainted with every symptom it's ok. i accept it. (eyes open at night, brain bleeding with exhaustion, heart pounding with frustration: it's ok that sometimes i don't sleep. it's ok. i'm fine.)
  23. ((Ok wait hold on that was a lot of world building all of a sudden. I'm gonna need you to explain because I'm suddenly very lost. Are the colonies human colonies or alien colonies?))
  24. oh lore?

    (Who's turn is it? @drowntown @queenie_flower @conradbirdie)
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