giana

The Tumblr Poetry Aesthetic, or: the stars, the sea, Icarus, dark suburbia, and the (un)intentional pandering and ungrowth of the well-established

this conversation was initiated for me (madina) personally by giana @syrupbrat and stefan @travelingsalesman. epoch discussed this extensively in our discord chat, and the content of this post is mostly pulled out of that discussion.

When browsing through the usual tags used to promote one’s own writing on Tumblr, such as #inkstay, #spilled ink, #poets on tumblr, etc, we seem to drown in the sameness of everyone’s writing styles that it all is indistinct. It boils down to a haze of blah blah blah stars, blah blah blah yet another comparison to a Greek mythology figure, more love poetry, girl as dangerous, boy as god, alcohol is the only way we’ll survive.

These themes originated in what one might call the heydays of Peak™ tumblr poetry (this is starting to sound like a school essay & smh I can’t let this post go that direction), circa 2013(?)-2015. Most of it was documented in @nosebleedclub‘s “Memories of a Certain Spring: A Workbook” – Nosebleed Club was, in fact, what you would point at if you were asked in 2014 what “Tumblr writing” is (cue the emphasis on was, the evolution of NBC continues until now & I feel like a proud daughter about it). Multiple networks and groups have then spanned from that model, some which are still going until now, some abandoned and left to the dust – just so that you could be part of that “elite cool kids club”, whether the original one or not. the writers in the original collective also had their writing styles copied and/or plagiarized to capitalize off how prevalent and popular this aesthetic is but nvm that’s not my place to extensively rant about

I do love the stars. The sea, mythology, dangerous teenage gods, I love them all and I honestly would die for them (yes, the planets, ocean, and those tragic myths included) – but when people write about them just because they think it’ll be popular, just because it fits into the predefined box of what is proven to be well liked – an aesthetic that has since consumed us – exploration and experimentation dies, and that’s when it becomes dangerous. Everything posted will only be the product of rehashing and emulating what has been written and consumed before – shallow imageries without anything to say, without anything to make it yours. It got over-commercialized fast and crumbled. Let’s not even mention those who made a fake persona to make their poetry feel more “real” and authentic, those who write about drugs and alcohol w/o experiences backing them up and only stereotypes & what other people have written about it.

This phenomenon is further supported by Tumblr itself being a bad site in general bad platform for writing on its own – those notes, those likes and reblogs, really do shape up to define you, whether you’re conscious of it happening or not. We all crave for that feeling of being noticed because that’s just how it is. I myself can’t even say I never wrote something just for those notes, and I’m sure others that started out writing in Tumblr can say the same. If you don’t realize it yourself; if you don’t become self-conscious of the fact that really, Tumblr is a bubble, and do not actively seek out for anything new because you don’t see the need for it – you get stuck in it. Even if you wrote with the aesthetic that we all fell in love with, there’s a chance that you won’t get the recognition you think it deserved – it crushes you, and the cycle repeats again.

(this aesthetic, in turn, bled and drenched almost every tumblr roleplay until they all became the same and unrecognizable individually, whether with the usual tropes of characters: Sad Rich Girl With A Heart Of Gold. Bad Rich Boy With A Heart Of Gold. Gay Guy With A Bad Past So He’s Hypersexual Now – or situational: your edgy Welcome To This Small Suburban Town Where Everyone is a Supernatural Creature, or perhaps your This Is A Simulation of a Real Life Town for People Who Have No Lives)

Personally, I do believe in the existence of Bad Poetry – though “underdeveloped” is the word I prefer to use (maybe it’s just because I’m a softie and I can’t say outright that it’s bad, but let’s be real, bad poetry is bad poetry). No soul and nothing else to offer than just a few pretty words and fleeting concepts. Pseudo-profound bullshittery. u wanna get off it?

  • internalize the fact that we unconsciously seek for approval
  • get off tumblr for a while and write in your solitude 
  • consume more than u write.
  • explore & experiment upon different themes and structure. get out of your comfort zone in writing
  • write about your own memories and experiences, whether good or bad or interesting or not interesting, not what is deemed is consumable
  • turn to your culture and read up those local myths

– Honestly, I don’t know how because it cannot be forced. But recognizing that this exists will in turn make you think even more critically about your writing.

oh, that’s it – be critical. To the words that surround you & the words that come out of you.

To close this off: “its Everywhere like i get it . u wanna be a vampire cheerleader with a smile too big. i Get it . lets do something else” - @arckhaic

The cartoon hearts are hospitalized. She pulls her parachute & fractures gently into darkness. The girl I loved is a graveyard.

Nobody laughed when I got out the gun. Nobody paid me any mind. Even then, my baby was running out of me like yolk. It


puddled, a prostituted mess of hemorrhage. I cradled the viscous child in my hands to the clinic & dumped


it in the trash: lifeless at last.


Cops don’t look at me. I am a cockroach made for squishing. Let time change her face; make her mine. Without God,


angels are criminals of the medical kind. Glory holes for eyes, lazy idolatry featuring a parasite at your party:


two pixel-slick girls ease into blackout.


Burnt breakfast, black thread of child death, I shot heroin to locate the part of me that didn’t want to kill.


As it turns out, heartmeat cannot be auctioned off & bought by suits. The meat is whole, yes, & full of maggots.


Chronically a killer. I leave the filthy fucks & the filth follows me out, powdering my teeth pink.


I walk into a room full of men — I think, How many rape women, hate women, would love to make an example outta me—


No. Was made to be ruined, to be bored & bent by boys in a blue firefly glass. Girl love is dark with god.


Girl love eats my ovaries dry & wide, a tongue mutilated with want. We were


glamorous, then: naked, early morning’s plastic, church breath left at the edge of my cruel & nasty fits,


the ones where I debased my body to become hollow & anger, tender opiate, immolated us both in her


forsythia-caked crypt. Desiccated,-


smoking cowboy killers, though not a killer yet (like I was), you locked me in your lash while I shot up in


the kitchen, away from you. We were victims of self- repulsion. The lengths we went to


to be dead — the choices you left me with, when you thought a kiss was a contract.


What we are now is foul: paralyzed by pairs of pantyhose, takeout cartons


stacked, head to head, like when she haloed over my disgust- ing body, breasts smashed, creeps & their wildflowers.


Our love was left to rot. Now I am a maladaptive morgue, strange holes in the ceiling for centipedes to settle down.


The last night you dreamt of me was in May. It rained as it does in Paris — fickle, cubed ices. Finally,


buried, our sex swathed with crystal mdma & endless, endless questions — face-fucking could not redeem me.


Neglect, cold milk in your cords, shaped my suicide: no longer a hand but a mouth. Easier to understand. You deserve


a man — after all, loving me will not land you in heaven. & I so bad, so gutting, purged of fat — having had none of the sad, holy warts to scream & stomp about — need you there,


even if I’m still shooting heroin in a cool, cream womb. Even if I become some late-night news criminal, a violet corpse to coat


your television. Even if all I’ve ever been (not dogheart,


not parasitic possession, not a angel, no, that you ever prayed would visit) If all I’ve ever been to you


is a carcass with which to cut your love,


brick some dark sugar that I mainline & make a mother of,


I need you to be in heaven. Even if I’m not there to see you off.


Especially then.

—  “Girl Love,” Giana Angelillo

So I am experimenting with a podcast about video game music. I’ve decided to call it Singing Mountain, and I’d imagine a few of you can guess why.

This is actually the third episode, and I wanted to get three up before I started promoting it. Please give it a listen if you are also unabashedly nerdy about video games and don’t mind listening to my gay voice. This third episode is all about the Great Giana Sisters, a video game that is a complete ripoff of Super Mario Bros. but also happens to have fantastic music.

You can listen to the first two episodes on on SoundCloud. I’ve just today requested to add it to iTunes, so that’s not quite available yet, but I’ll tell you when it is. 

Enjoy! And please – tell me what you think.

Made with SoundCloud
Surprise (1/?)

Summary :  You die while being on a mission with the team. At least , that’s what you thought. What happens when you suddenly wake up alive ? What do you do now? & how will the team handle the news after thinking you’ve been dead for months?

Warnings : swearing, angst, violence , fluff( tiny, tiny bit for now).

Pairing, (so far) : Avengers x reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader( No permanent pairing yet!)
* Bold is readers thoughts,  &  italics are memories. *


                                                       Chaper One
    The sound of constant beeping fills your ears . You finally open your eyes to take in your surroundings ;You see the clean white walls, the heart monitors next to you, and the IV pole that seems to be attached to you. Where the hell am I . How the fuck am I alive ? You think back to the last thing you remember . 


    You were standing besides Bucky , fighting off hydra agents. You two banter back and forth , about how this is out of you range. How you belong behind a desk back at the tower. He wasn’t wrong, up until 5 minutes ago you were just a lab tech/hacker  for the team, you were shy and kept to yourself mostly . You were good with computers, so they asked you for help on this mission to hack into a Hydra base’s security feed. One thing led to another, and the team ended up being  severely outnumbered. You grabbed a spare weapon out of the jet you  were hiding on , then made your way out to help Barnes. Everything went fine, until Steve came to you guys. You always had feelings for Steve Rogers, but your relationship was horribly platonic. You never bothered to act on your feelings, the fear of rejection stopping you every time.  Steve was leading you back to the jet, when you had an eerie feeling of being watched. You turned around spotting an agent on a low roof, his gun aiming right at Steve. Before you comprehend what you’re doing, you throw yourself in front of Steve, yelling out a warning. The agent made his move, releasing numerous shots but missing his main target. You feel intense pain  tingle through you, you look down , seeing several bullet holes through your abdomen.  You hit the ground next to Steve with a thud. Your hands fly to your wounds , you feel your blood coating them as you try to apply pressure. Steve is immediately at your side along with Bucky. Their words are barely registering in your head, you can feel the blood loss taking its toll . Steve has you cradled in his lap , hugging you to him asking you to hold on .

Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

You slowly lift your hand to cup his cheek, pulling his eyes to yours. “  I’d do it over again if I had to Steve. I -” he cuts you off.

“  Y/n, don’t you’re going to make it, the medical team is -”

“  I’m not going to make it , & that’s okay “ Your speech is slurring and your vision is fading to black . “ It’s okay because I Love You.” The blackness completely takes over your vision.



So how the hell am I alive? Please tell me Hydra didn’t frankenstein my body . Oh God i’m going to be sick . What if -

     Your thought are cut off by who you assume to be your doctor walking in , with a shield logo on his scrubs.

      “ You’re awake ! That’s great Miss Y/n, I thought it would take at least another month or two. You really are a fighter. “ he chuckles while scribbling something on a clipboard.

 “ Who the hell are you , and where the hell am I. How am I alive, this isn’t plausible -” 

 “ Miss , someone is coming to explain everything to you shortly now that you are awake. What I can tell you is that your are safe, in a SHIELD medical house that treats people with similar situations as yours.”  Similar situations? People that are suppose to be dead?

“ You mean people that died on duty ? What the hell kind of place -” You’re cut off by a new ,familiar voice. Son of a Bitch .

“ Stand down Miss Y/n , the doctor only did as he was ordered.

Originally posted by marvelheroes

“ Fury, you son of a bitch.” Anger boils in your body .

“ I dont think the Captain would like to hear such language coming out of a ladies mouth Y/n .” 

“ You sick son of a bitch , who the hell are you to play God ! I was dead, I shouldn’t be here . What the hell did you do to me ?!” You shout at him .

  “ Calm down Y/n, it was the same procedure we applied to other agents that ‘died’ . You just happen to wake up a hell of a lot sooner, seems your body wasn’t as willing to die as you were.”

 “ That’s not a good enough explanation Nick . This is going against Nature, i want -“

 " You cant just say thank you, can you? ” he sighs before adding ,“ You received the same procedure Coulson had.” he confesses.  Anger starts radiating through you , you were part of the research team on that procedure, T.A.H.I.T.I . It was barely out of the experimental phase the last time you saw it .     

 “  You didnt have permission to do this Nick, what if I didnt want this , huh? You unwillingly brought me back , with a program that was still considered experimental!  For all you know I could have been in fucking Heaven !” You growl . You rip out your IV , and try to stand. As soon as one of your feet hits the ground, you know you’re not stable enough.      

“ T.A.H.I.T.I  is safer than it was when you decided to leave the project. It’s not 100% fixed, but its a hell of a lot better than being dead. We had permission from your emergency contact , no one was ready to let you go yet .” He gives you a hard look . Your emergency contact was your bestfriend, Giana, she moved to New York a year after you did . You’ve been bestfriends almost your entire life, she ended up moving in with you when she came to New York .

 “ Oh my God,” She didnt even cross your mind since you’ve been awake.   

  “ She’s being called down here now. You’ve been out for a few months Y/n , Giana had to sign a confidentiality agreement, but she gave us the right to revive you .” Tears are freely flowing from your eyes, How could I not think of her . What the hell is wrong with me. Then the team crosses your mind, specifically Steve. Sure you got along with the entire team , but you spent more time with Steve, Bucky and Sam . 

 "Does the team know?” barely a whisper slides through your lips.

Fury nods his head no , “ There is time and place to tell them ,and it isn’t now. Giana should be here soon, and there’s a someone else you should meet after you speak with her. Be grateful Y/n, not everyone is given this second chance.” You almost wish that he’d say you weren’t allowed to tell them . Well , this is going to be one hell of an awkward reunion.

    He goes to leave, but you stop him .“ Why me, Nick? I’m not a superhero with powers, or even a real agent. I’m a lab technician, and barely that . I was an intern Stark took a lucky chance on .” It really doesn’t make sense to you , you weren’t anything special, just a regular girl.

 “ You fit all the criteria, and according to Stark , you are one hell of a lab tech . Maybe now you can be something more. T.A.H.I.T.I only exists in SHIELD because of the risks, you are required to stay with us for the time being. You’re a liability until we perform the remaining tests to check your stability. When you are in full health , you will be assessed& trained as what is deemed fit, whether it’s a field agent, or lab tech . Things are about to change, hopefully for the better.”

Originally posted by waverly-earp

    It was almost 2 hours before Giana shows up , you spent the time in between thinking through things .What did they tell my family about what happened to me? This is so fucking unnatural. Fucking SHIELD.

 The door flings open, revealing  a distraught Giana . Her eyes are red and still leaking tears. You don’t hold in yours, letting them stream down your face as you lock eyes with your bestfriend.

    “ Hey Gi.” You whisper, before you know it , shes bolting towards  you on the hospital bed. You wrap your arms around each other , just crying . Tears are still dripping from both of you , but the loud sobs quieted down.

She breaks the silence ,“ What the hell were you thinking ?”

Oh God, here comes the yelling. Her voice is laced with anger, confusion, & sadness. She pulls her head out of your neck to connect her eyes to yours.

     “ I wasn’t thinking, I just -”

“ OBVIOUSLY YOU WEREN’T FUCKING THINKING..” she yelled. You wince at the tone, and the fact that she’s right next to you , but yelling like you’re across a parking lot. A sob comes out of her and she buries herself in your neck again.

    “ You left me Y/n, you were gone. You left me alone, and I didnt know what to fucking do . “ Her voice is soft, what she says brings you back to tears. You embrace her tighter, laying your head on hers.

Originally posted by greysstillslays

    “ I’m so sorry , im so so so sorry . I can’t imagine what you went through. I didnt think ,i just automatically pushed Steve out of the way . I just , I dont know .” You feel her nod before she speaks up,

     “ You know, you told him you love him”

“ Thanks for reminding me ,dick .” You both let out a laugh , not breaking your embrace.   The rest of her visit consists of her telling your what’s been happening the past few months. You’ve spent 90% of your life together so far, the thought of being apart breaks you. Your heart breaks as she tells you how it was while she was alone. In your mind, you find your relationship with Giana to be as indestructible as Steve and Bucks.   She tells you that your parents were informed them that  you were sent on a trip to Europe, to take care of some business over there last minute. You didn’t even want to know what they were going to say if T.A.H.I.T.I ended up not working. You push the thought out of your mind. When she leaves, it’s a painful goodbye. You reassure her that you’ll be right here when she comes back for another visit. When the door shuts behind her , you sink back down into the bed .You sigh, feeling exhaustion over take you . You let your eyes flutter shut, pulling you into a deep sleep.   


   When you wake up, you see it’s still dark outside . The light from the tv was illuminating the room, making you squint your eyes. Weird , I didnt turn it on who di-

You’re cut off by a blur of blue ,followed by gust of wind entering your room. Your eyes widen , and look to the chair next to your bed. Your mouth drops open in disbelief .NO FUCKING WAY . 

   Your eyes land on a guy about your age, with platinum blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes. You recognize him immediately from the pictures in Wanda’s room .

 He sends you a smirk before speaking, “ Well good morning sleeping beauty , i’m Pie-”

 “ Pietro Maximoff ?” It comes out as a question, mainly because you can’t believe your eyes. Wanda’s clearly not dead brother was sitting in front you, with a sly grin on his face.

Well , Fury is just full of fucking surprises.

Originally posted by ranrightintomyheart

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