Anonymous - Blog Posts
Hi Finch!
I like your codes <3 Can you make a simple template for a post whose background wouldn't get scroll. It's very cool for me, but I don't know how to.
Thank you! By the way, your codes help a lot <3
damn who did this to you | wallpost hello my sweet summer child, heck yea i can do that for you wall posts are very finicky i must say tryit editor
Hi hi! dude I love your codes so much o.o Like how?!? I can't do a simple CSS for 5 mins straight and you're just 'boom, slapped the frog' o.O Anyway, what I wanted to ask was- What is your inspiration behind those very fantastical code names of yours? They're chef's kiss man ♥ Alright, love ya codes ;P 💖
nothing, no inspiration, i channel the darkest crevices in my mind and then i grab a phrase from whatever comes forth i get a lot of my titles from dank memes yes i love you too have fun at school
If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not. let’s get to know the person behind the blog!!
i’ve ran away from the authorities i shat myself when i was in korea once i have a knife and i want more
What is a relationship deal breaker for you?
His head lulled to the side as he processed what that question really meant. Did he have a deal breaker when he was one himself? He was selfish enough to believe so. Selfish enough to believe he deserved what he wanted. "If they're not honest." He said then began to scratch his beard, in a self-soothing manner. he continuously pushed away the thoughts about just how honest he had been. and he here was, putting it on a pedestal for himself.
what's your favorite kind of cheese?
"Mozzarella," he answered confidently. "If anyone names any other cheese besides cheddar cheese, they're lying or they're a Brown."
Top ten student pet peeves you have?
"Top ten?" He sucked in a breath. "I don't believe I have ten but let's see... one, when they're late. two, when they're not off book. three, when they're not in the right mindset to act. which leads to four, they're not confident in their choices. five, when they're afraid to ask for help. six, when they come to lessons after eating, I hate that. seven, when their ego is in the room for all the wrong reasons. eight, when they're afraid to improv. nine, when they don't practice, that shit's noticeable. and ten, when they cry."
I think your art is inspiring. Especially that last picture you drew. Really awesome job there.
What music taste do you think zoro and sanji would have?
That's a tricky question,
But I think with Sanji he definitely would listen to jazz music. Frank sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, maybe a bit of Elvis Presley, all the kind of olden music, he loves slow dancing with his s/o when the music starts to play, and whenever I do write fanfics of Sanji I always have jazz music playing and I can just able to write him when listening to that kind of music, so yeah I say he likes Jazz
Zoro?....that would be difficult to think of, I say very calming music? Like probably LoFi? I mean probably the man doesn't listen to music much, but if he is with his s/o, he probably just listen to any music you have playing, but he does draw the line with pop music.
Can i get something with an s/o who is usually ditsy and airheaded when awake, but she’s only a genius in her sleep. Like she will talk in her sleep and solve heavy equations or give the crew answers to dilemmas they can’t solve? For Sanji, Zoro and if you do Nami her too? If not then just Sanji and Zoro? Thank you 🫶🏻
I don't know if I can do that one sorry but I see if I can do it for you, but I can't promise anything okay🙏, but I'll try my best
Edit: I have done the headcanon if you want to check it out, here
I always feel so guilty after I ruminate on an intrusive thought. I know the thought itself is intrusive but I feel like a bad person for even thiking about it and trying to disprove it. I feel like I can’t trust what I tell myself.
btw if you wanna see a blind character, the chief engineer on Star Trek: The Next Generation is blind. He has a thing across his eyes that helps him see
I have no idea if this is eugenics-supporting anon so I'll assume you aren't.
Yes, Geordi! Gods, I loved him growing up. He was such great representation, especially for the ti.e period.
Would you hang or would you sink? Flutter like butterfly or moth? Freeze over or return to ash?
These questions were asked at the tail end of September. I was planning to answer them. But then I started to see the same questions cropping up, with beautiful answers, from handfuls of poets. What did you do with all those lovely answers?
Who are you, dear stranger? Is it time now to unmask?
Have you found the answers you were looking for?
And because I have far too much caffeine in my system & I have another cup, I'll be answering other messages that have stagnated in my inbox & I'm sorry it took this long & I don't know how this will go...
All good, dear Anon! I have too many sideblogs for my own good.
I don't use anything fancy. I'm the least "tech"-y person ever. I literally just use any default notes app, or my outdated, but trusty, MS Word app, then take screenshots & use whichever editing app is currently available to me to copy/paste, and move around my screenshots & photos. (Sometimes I edit the colours and all that, but even that gets too complicated for me.)
It quite literally feels like the virtual equivalent of making scrapbooks. Like when you paste/glue/tape down magazine cutouts, cropped newspaper articles, torn pages from your favourite books, and your own personal photos & journal entries on the pages of a notebook your best friend from catholic school gave you a lifetime ago, and you scribble poetry excerpts on the margins for good measure. (Okay, maybe this is too specific but, I hope this answered your question. And PLEASE share with me your art blog, if you're okay with that. And also, don't apologise for the confusion & the slow brain, because—same here.)
SHORT ANSWER: Default notes & editing apps.
I believe these were from the same Anon. This as well.
All I know of you, dear Anon, are these words. And to me, you seem far too kind for this world. I have told you previously that I wanted to keep your first message in my inbox forever. Like it was a precious commodity, like it wasn't meant for me—a love letter that was sent to the wrong address by mistake.
And it feels the same with your recent messages. I, once again, didn't want the world to get its greedy hands on them. I have lost far too many treasured things & people in this way. One way or another, we learn about the opposite of kindness, and of loss, from the world's touch. Perhaps it is loss that teaches people to become selfish and greedy themselves. It seems, to me, dear Anon, that your kindness is streaked with wisdom. And it seems to me that your wisdom is rooted in some kind of pain (but what do I know of kindness or wisdom?). And yet, with mere words, you turn this pain into a blanket of sorts that wards off the cold.
There is warmth here. And it thaws my heart when you say you have gifted these words to others too. They deserve your light. Keep sharing it with them, please. Because your kindness (particularly in that final paragraph) is wasted on someone like me. Because it's far too late for me. But more importantly, I hope you turn all this warmth & light & kindness inward, too.
Anons like these... You take my heart && you throw it into the deep end. Sometimes it floats & the sun feels nice on my face. Most times, my heart sinks. & underneath it all, I could feel the fish's eyes on me.
(But you are far too kind, dear Anons. Just getting lovely messages like these make my account way overrated. Only 2 people were meant to see this. & god, maybe. No one was meant to read my words for this long—for years. My mind is having a hard time fully grasping that. But definitely no offense taken, dear Anon. Your question is very sweet & appreciated. I know the things I post here can be quite dark. Sometimes I need to take the nameless heaviness inside me & turn it into words & nauseating experimental scrapbook-esque edits I concoct thoughtlessly & haphazardly in between trying to live what's left of my life. Because sometimes that's how the light filters in through the waves & reaches me. Maybe we have different definitions of love, dear Anon. But what I'm trying to say is—I hope it's not as dark wherever you are. I hope the sun feels nice on your face. I hope the fishes don't bother you too much. I hope you find a new favourite tumblr account, because this one's a mess & always will be, and unfortunately, there's far too much gravity here.)
I feel drained & deflated. I'll answer other questions/messages again soon. In the meantime, tell me more, dear stranger. Ask your perplexing questions, write me untitled poetry, send your letters to the wrong address, scream into the void.
Hey! So I’ve made a rather new discord server for writers, authors, poets and other types of literature lovers for specifically the romance genre! I was wondering if you’d like to check it out or if you knew anyone who’d like it! I don’t want to self promo in your asks but I’m also too shy to DM you. So just let me know in your answer and I’ll DM you if that’s alright 😅🫶🏻 Love your posts!
Hi, thank you! <3 I don't have a discord, unfortunately (maybe this is what will finally get me to make one). This sounds great, though. DM me, please. I could mention it on my other blog as well—more writers follow that blog.
your page is like going to a museum; each post like a painting. Specifically the ones you weave your poems with classical paintings. i can go over the details for a long while. it feels like taking a magnifying glass to a miniature work of art to fully appreciate the little touches; and when i step back, i see the whole painting -- the bigger picture. thank you for the experience.
This is far too lovely. Thank you, dear stranger. You made my heart feel a little less heavy today.
I can’t do poetry, my words won’t write, if you could help me, that would be quite alright :)
As you can see, my poetry is shit.
"Poetry at its best can do you a lot of harm." —Sylvia Plath
"Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You’ve got to go so far so fast in such a small space; you’ve got to burn away all the peripherals." —Sylvia Plath
Are you certain you still want to write poetry, dear stranger?
I'm so happy to find your page today. I got goosebumps, wow!
<3
You have the most beautifully unique posts. The essence of the word "haunting."
Oh <3
I found you thru your writing prompt side blog. Your pinned post made me laugh - or snort would be more accurate actually. That wasn't what I was expecting to read lmao. Amazing writings btw. Cheers.
Ah yes, welcome, dear Anon.
loving how your posting so actively as of late xo
All thanks to the queue system. I don't know why I never really utilised it for years.
For some reason, the system chose 10am and 10pm "US/Eastern" time zone to post automatically.
I love your 'in my drafts' and 'combing through my old poems' posts because as a non-writer (is that even a thing?) it's interesting to see like it's the behind the scenes of a movie. The drafts are especially intriguing. They feel raw and like I'm not supposed to be seeing it but you're letting us take a peek of your writing process. It feels like a secret.
It's a thing now, haha! Thank you for telling me this. I was very hesitant posting those because they might not be pretty enough or something along those lines. But I adore your description. I call it my "poetic autopsy" of sorts, but I like the behind-the-scenes analogy better. And that's the "feeling" I was aiming for with the drafts. To feel "raw", unedited, the emotions and thoughts allowed to run free, finally untethered—and if any of them come back to me, I'll be here to welcome them with open arms.
what do you know about love
Why does this feel like an attack-
Person 1: "If only love bloomed on trees"
Person 2: "But we still have apples, don't we?"
Person 1: "Yes, but the seeds are poisonous."
Person 2: But isn't love poisonous too?
x
okay i just found THE blog
I don't know what this means. Someone tell me what this means.
EDIT:
Editing this to make it my pinned post. If you're new here, this is basically THE blog (as evidenced above). Welcome. I hope you enjoy picking apart the insides of my mind.
This space contains original writings by L. V. (+some experimental edits in between). Two (sometimes more) queued posts per day at 10am & 10pm US/Eastern time.
My Side Blog: where I post writing prompts & tips, post/reblog image prompts: 1 2 3, and share/reblog other art & literature I love.
This is also mine. (+ other side blogs that I won't mention because they're mostly inactive now)
My Photo: Artwork by Grace Cossington Smith My Header: Quote by Toni Morrison
Your Vincent Van Gogh poem is beautiful. Now I wanna believe in reincarnation too.
Let's believe in reincarnation together, dear stranger.
the poem
You talked about your old poem titled Literary Vein. Can you direct me to the post? I can't find it anywhere on your page. Thank you!!
I don't think I've posted it before. Maybe snippets of it. But here it is:
Literary Vein
I reread my favourite book today. The plot was the same. The characters, unchanged.
They’re the same age, wearing the same clothes I’d left them in years ago.
The words were unaltered; the pages still smell like Sundays alone at home.
The only thing that changed was the emotions. When I reached the climax,
I did not feel the same rushing excitement I once felt, finding out who the murderer was.
On the contrary you still make me feel
like I could tell you anything even after all these years.
Perhaps in that sense, one could say you are my favourite book.