pp: amelia

Tu con tutto il cuore ti spaventi

di aria che ti scuote e ti perde;

giù per le facciate analfabete

sprigionano i sogni, il sangue

in grosse gocce che tu conti

cadere a precipizio sulle mani

ritirate dall’angoscia di sapere

dov’è l’aria cosa muove perché

parla, di mali così annaffiati

da sembrare, tante cose insieme

ma non una che si scordi quel tuo

trascinare per immense giornate

notte e sangue.


- Amelia Rosselli, Serie Ospedaliera

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Amelia (Part 1 of 3)

MASTERLIST | Part 2

Pairing: Lin-Manuel x Reader

Summary: You technically met Amy first.

Note: Untitled Garbage Mystery Fic is no longer Untitled or a Mystery!

Okay, so this was initially gonna be a small thing and then it kinda got away from me so it’s a slightly less small thing? I basically needed to write something that wasn’t academic for once in my life and then this happened (with a great deal of help from @fragmentofmymind who is the greatest and listens to me every time I hit a metaphorical writing speed bump)

It’s far from the best thing I’ve ever written but I’ve had fun in this universe so far (and hope you do too). Thanks for being patient with me, my dudes. I LOVE YOU LOTS.

Word Count: 11,336 (shout out to slow burn lmao)


There’s a quiet power in wielding a camera, a strength in the ability to either capture the world in its purest truth or manipulate it into something brand new. You had learned this at a young age, stealing your grandmother’s Polaroid camera and discovering how different the image you could create would look in different types of light and more or less motion, even if you didn’t fully understand why it worked the way that it did.

It became a part of you, filling your heart with a curiosity for telling stories through images. The photo you caught of your mother as she laughed quietly to herself in the kitchen, a snapshot of your best friend right at the moment she caught you taking it, a poorly framed photo you accidentally took of yourself while trying to change the roll of film.

It was all magical to you, and it never really stopped feeling like you’d tricked the universe into allowing such beauty to exist every time you snapped a one-of-a-kind photograph.

A camera is built out of complicated technology. The mechanics of focus and aperture, f-stops and shutter speed were more than science and math to you–they were your doorway into a new world, the look of which you got to decide.

Your hands felt most comfortable when stabilizing a camera, your eye most at home behind a viewfinder, your fingers their most graceful as you pulled focus to a new subject–

“Are you even listening to me?”

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Amelia (Part 2 of 3)

MASTERLIST | Part 1

Pairing: Lin-Manuel x Reader

Summary: Meet Melissa.

Note: (I’m not sure what time it is for you guys but I need to go to class so I’m posting this early-ish? Sorry yo)

So..?? You guys have been crazy wonderful and supportive about part one and I’m stupid emotional about it?? I was low key terrified to post it bc I hadn’t posted any writing in so long but y’all are incredible and I don’t deserve you holy wow.

Anyway, here’s PART TWO uh oh here we go. I think it goes without saying that this wouldn’t exist without Taryn’s help but also like THIS WOULDN’T EXIST WITHOUT TARYN’S HELP.

enjoy the trash!

Word Count: about 12k whatever (I promise part 3 is less obnoxious)


Late nights working at the bar usually left you exhausted beyond belief, barely able to make it to your bed before you collapsed and passed out until the incessant buzzing of your alarm woke you up just a few hours later. You hated your job. You hated the low-cut uniform and the creepy men you had to serve with a smile. You hated the late hours and the shitty pay.

You hated it, and so you were trying to consistently sleep off the grimy film that shifts at the bar always left on your skin.

This night, however, was different. On this night, you barged back into your apartment after your shift ended at two in the morning with your mind already racing and fingers itching for a pen to start writing things down. You pulled out a crumpled wad of napkins that you’d started jotting ideas, facts and figures onto throughout the night and started transcribing them in more detail into a notebook on your desk– a notebook you hadn’t touched since the last time you had started planning a gallery display.

You stayed up all night, doing research and thinking through logistics and never tiring as you worked towards something for the first time in two years.

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