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grace

@echofarandfaint.bsky.social
569 followers 460 following 3.3K posts

Rom-communist | a reylo, mostly | 30s | she/they | often nsfw archiveofourown.org/users/Echofaran… #gracessongoftheday #nsfwreyloprompt #reyloprompt #sapphicreylo

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grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 2h
Richie Hoffman
Allegory of Love

Love jerked me up by my hair and told me I was its slave.
It was 6 a. m., I didn’t even know.
Ouch, I said.
It pressed down on me.

I searched around to give it something.
My expensive shirt was on the floor.
But my mortal body was the only currency.
So we made love

the way other men subordinate beasts or submit
to tyranny. 
It held on to my wrists.
It didn’t let me shave.

I’m going to have you forever,
it told me.
You can have me for a while,
I said. 
020
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 14/10/2026
Sean Bonney
think of my friends as blackbirds
screeching from rooftops
murdered by rising rents
Exarchia Kreuzberg Hackney
we survive
at random. pissed out of our heads
in songs in squatted bars
there are those you beat to death in prison
with us it’s done with pills and needles
we never sleep we always dream
we wake in the same bed
with bedbugs
with trackmarks I love my friends
they are wires stretched from city to city
in borrowed dresses and migraines
interpreters commies thieves
they live in silence. they paint in black
they invent their language
yours is only good for spitting
and we live
at random. lines and bombs and wires
tight around your hands. your necks
you fascist shits. your necks
my friends are wires are blackbirds
030
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 14/10/2026
The new Padawan is curious, that’s all. “Answer her questions with patience,” Luke tells Ben. But how can he, when he feels her narrow fingers brush against the gland on his wrist? Rey looks up with wide eyes. “What happens if I press this?”
In a yellowish orange tinged light, two hands reach out and grasp a third, veined masculine looking hand
1259
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 13/10/2026
Safiya Sinclair
It’s true I put my head
into the mouth
          of the lion,
 
touched my tongue to the rough
of his tongue, slicked the dark
          underside of him,
 
unspooling what nature
demands
of my wanting.
 
Yes, I watched the false man prowl,
and begged as he starved my wicked
flame from me,
 
learning to breathe only when
he breathed, until my world was
 
his, each day was his. His silence
          I longed to set a fuse inside.
 
          Desire, my hunter.
          My hunger—Red witch roaming the scorched house
of fires I have been, fires I have built,
and nurtured, all my good days burnt
 
to guilt and bluster, his good skin stripping,
          that sinful itch.
 
          What is permanence?
 
These gashes will heal, eventually. Scratch
of madness teething love, be infinite. But who
          could endure this?
 
He roars, unblinking, but never releases
          me—
woman turning underpaw,
crushed as a straw doll under
 
          her longing.
 
I kiss the bruise. Dress my famished
wound, its heaving. I kneel, he opens.
His cruel mouth a humid snare.
 
God or devil. Annihilation.
Brute inferno of any feeling—
          I beg you.
 
          Devour me.
021
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 12/10/2026
June Jordan
I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED
GENOCIDE TO STOP
I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED AFFIRMATIVE
ACTION AND REACTION
I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED MUSIC
OUT THE WINDOWS
I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED
NOBODY THIRST AND NOBODY
NOBODY COLD
I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED I WANTED
JUSTICE UNDER MY NOSE
I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED
BOUNDARIES TO DISAPPEAR
020
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 12/10/2026
Ben Solo:
Tweet: do you wanna come to dinner with my parents and observe the unsaid lifelong dynamics that control every aspect of my life and unlock a new level of intimacy in our friendship or no
47021
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 11/10/2026
By Maya C Popa
I can’t undo all I have done unto myself,
what I have let an appetite for love do to me.

I have wanted all the world, its beauties
and its injuries; some days,
I think that is punishment enough.

Often, I received more than I’d asked,

which is how this works—you fish in open water
ready to be wounded on what you reel in.

Throwing it back was a nightmare.
Throwing it back and seeing my own face

as it disappeared into the dark water.

Catching my tongue suddenly on metal,
spitting the hook into my open palm.

Dear life: I feel that hook today most keenly.

Would you loosen the line—you’ll listen

if   I ask you,

if   you are the sort of  life I think you are.
021
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 10/10/2026
By Franny Choi
To answer your question, yes,
I find myself wanting less and less
to fuck the dead boy who was mine
before he was nothing.
He is nine years younger than me now—a boy
who still smokes blunts in his dorm room,
by which I mean he does none of that
because he is dead. Because his body
is no body now, but wet earth.
Meaning I should instead desire
the bellies of flies. Moth wings
unfolding wet from their shells.
Should hunger for the fish that ate
the fish that ate the plankton
that took his once-body dust
into its gullet. The boy whose body
was the first to enter mine is breathing
from too many mouths now.
He is gilled, wet leaves, coral,
all things that live but don’t know it,
don’t know they were once a boy
who peeled off my wet jeans,
kissed the insides of my knees
in his parents’ house, who came to me
love-addled one night, saying,
listen          no matter        listen
always                        i’ll never
370
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 10/10/2026
Working my way thru some 90s classics. Just watched State of Grace (1990) & once again must note how romance/sex was key even to a noir mob thriller - movies simply used to be hornier (in a good way)
Gary oldman, Robin Wright and Sean Penn in State of Grace (1990)
160
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 09/10/2026
Anne Carson
My mother forbade us to walk backwards. That is how the dead walk, she would say. Where did she get this idea? Perhaps from a bad translation. The dead after all, do not walk backwards but they do walk behind us. They have no lungs and cannot call out but would love for us to turn around. They are victims of love, many of them.
060
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 08/10/2026
Anne Carson
My personal poetry is a failure.
I do not want to be a person.
I want to be u bearable.
Lover to lover, the greeness of love.
Cool, cooling.

Earth bears no such plant.
Who does not end up 
A female impersonator?
Drink all the sex there is. 
Still die.
052
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 07/10/2026
By Saeed Jones
Skin Like Brick Dust

In bed, your back curved
to answer the heat of my holding
& Harlem was barely awake below us
when a half-broken building
gave in. First, a few loose bricks,
then decades crashed to the street
just as a bus pulled up. Passengers,
choking on dust, rushed
to escape the wrecked weight
of someone else’s memory.
Two blocks beyond gravity,
I pressed into you, into you & away
from all the breaking. I didn’t know
your name, so I kissed one
into your mouth. Told myself
he is my body but you
were already on your way
out into the sirens.
into your mouth. Told myself
he is my body but you
were already on your way
out into the sirens.
030
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 06/10/2026
So sorry for your loss, amp! Here’s Bonny, my 5 month old baby puppy and my cat, Cleo
A white dog with a brown spot cuddles with a brown tabby cat
160
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 06/10/2026
Fossils by K.M. Hanslik
Fossils
K.M. Hanslik

A wound the size of my first love opened
my chest one day and sprung flowers—

foxglove, star-aster, outlines sacred to deer
and other prey. It was carnivores, once,

in the eons before this, who first took for
granted the shape of a nesting ground,

the tenderness of an unbroken clavicle.
For love to be born, a great many things

had to perish. It is not surprising that
the first womb founded a thousand ways

to say I love you. Upon discovering such
a seed within myself, I might recount everyextinction: Permian, Cretaceous, Anthropocene—
if not for generations of prey animals behind me,

I might be so reckless as to believe every stone
holds an imprint, a whole life, and I’d press

myself down into that shape, gladly.
050
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 06/10/2026
This essay is wildly good on writing, sex and writing about sex
Even so, it is impossible to consider gratuitous anything that can explore such a wide range of human being. Sex manages to be a reckoning with the body, the self; with desire in myriad ways; a reckoning with the forbidden; with other people as adversaries and allies even when an encounter is consensual; and a reckoning with surrender. We are in a cultural moment that demands purity of characters, particularly characters in romantic narratives (whether the romantic storylines are primary or secondary). In book reviews, readers bemoan the “problematic,” and unequal power dynamics make them “uncomfortable.”[1] This insistence on only the most upstanding and unblemished unions erases all possibility of person-making, which is to say, growth and change. Instead, we end up with narrative corn syrup: an uncomplicated, saccharine meal that goes down fast but is, at the end of the day, unsatisfying.
0143
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 06/10/2026
Hux sits forlornly in the box office trying to read his dog-eared novel. Customers keep interrupting him to buy movie tickets. They’re all here for the Star Wars rerun, which is better, in his opinion, than most newer garbage. Even so, he prefers foreign cinema.
A couple in a dark cinema, their heads close together
1188
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 05/10/2026
No gifs available for this one somehow 😂 buts it’s Reds (1991)
The poster for Reds (1991) starring Warren Beatty, Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson
250
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 05/10/2026
Such a joy to spend some of this past weekend with @peculiargalaxies.bsky.social, baking cookies, adventuring around, going to bookstores & reading each other’s fic in person—the power of the reylo/fandom community!!
A black and white photograph of a blonde woman in a hair band reaching up to the top shelf of a bookstore to grab a book
2201
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 05/10/2026
Anna Akhmatova
You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

That day in Moscow, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.
030
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 05/10/2026
THEM
Chang Chen and Ziyi Zhang in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)
183
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 05/10/2026
San Francisco sights & sounds w @baybelletrist.bsky.social and @peculiargalaxies.bsky.social
The front window of the love potion library, our local romance bookstore and tea shop, with a copy of my dear Song Of Achilles I. The window A plastic tub full of platform shoes being given away for free in the Castro
1121
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 04/10/2026
My top 9
The departed, the godfather, the edukators, me without you, secretary, disobedience, the handmaiden, the dreamers, wings of desire
180
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 04/10/2026
#sapphicreylo They meet again at a mutual friend’s wedding. It’s been at least five years. Rey tells herself she won’t do it again, that her therapy is working this time. She’s manifesting abundance. She’s casting out limerance. Kyla is a thing of the past, a part she can let die.
Two blurry women on a dark red sheet, one looking down with dark hair, her face hidden. The other is beneath. With lighter hair and a hand over her face
2178
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 04/10/2026
By Michael Waters
Wedding dress 

That Halloween I wore your wedding dress,
our children spooked & wouldn’t speak for days.
I’d razored taut calves smooth, teased each blown tress,
then—lipsticked, mascaraed, & self-amazed—
shimmied like a starlet on the dance floor.
I’d never felt so sensual before—
Catholic schoolgirl & neighborhood whore.
In bed, dolled up, undone, we fantasized:
we clutched & fused, torn twins who’d been denied.
You were my shy groom. Love, I was your bride.
091
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 04/10/2026
When it’s 87 degrees in October there’s nothing for it but to:
My brown tabby cat sleeping
0130
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 03/10/2026
Sappho, translated by Anne Carson.
You will remember
For we in our youth
Did these things

Yes many and beautiful things
071
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 03/10/2026
This and @peculiargalaxies.bsky.social & @kalx58.bsky.social ❤️❤️❤️🙏🪬😇
A panoramic view of the bay framed by trees
2101
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 01/10/2026
By Isabella Correa
Women Talking

Tell me about living
In your body,
A house
With the numbers
Pried off,
Shadows
Of a 3
Or an 8
Ghosting
Old paint,
Because no one
Can hurt you
If no one
Can find you.
061
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 30/09/2026
I normally post someone else's poem but I've been thinking a lot about trauma and recovery today and so here's one of my old ones on exactly that theme - holding together/falling apart/what remains
maybe you lose nothing and become everything

maybe all the homes that were are still your home

maybe moving on is moving back around

maybe you can hold what is and always was


maybe all lost things are found together

maybe all lost things wanted to be lost

they found their way among the discarded

maybe you lost all that’s to your name


I dream there’s no destruction only change

I have lived a little time and all that is

seems so much to carry, what if I cannot hold

shedding selves like skins to pass through doors?


can I be everything and lose nothing? clasp

fist around those moments pinned to glass. 

I try to capture all but sand runs fast --

I’ve always loved what is already ruin
2150
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 30/09/2026
Not going to engage directly with this post bcos I actually hate drama but...being generous here, the worry is that TLH normalizes abusive dynamics in academic settings. As someone who has experienced that very thing, fiction is not the same as reality...
Skeets by Katie Mack: Thinking a lot lately about the men I know who are willfully ignorant about power dynamics and how I don’t *know* they’ve done anything specifically worse than be willfully ignorant about power dynamics but also if I had to guess which of my acquaintances had, I’d guess them first. 
1/2







Katie Mack
 @astrokatie.com
· 5h
I'm thinking about this partly because of the Cornell news but also partly because of The Love Hypothesis, which is being pitched as a cute romance but is personally horrifying to read / watch as a woman in STEM. (I know the author is also a woman in STEM and honestly I don't get that at all.) 
2/2
10519
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 29/09/2026
By Sophie Cabot Black
What I want

Your open legs a tree where I leave messages
Like a failed monk with new prayers 
Waiting it out in the small clearing
To stay in the wilderness without trembling
To lean into a covenant of branches
No one can redeem the part of lying awake
Near your offered wrist yet I might split you
With my tongue could separate lip from lip
Put a mouth down hard or a hand
Where you refuse to open this province
Of holy damage where we learn to address
From the edge of a tired forest the wonder

Of what I want being what I want 
Until you turn over breathless with news
030
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 28/09/2026
Adrienne Rich
Could you imagine a world of women only,
the interviewer asked. Can you imagine

a world where women are absent. (He believed
he was joking). Yet I have to imagine

at one and the same moment, both. Because
I live in both. Can you imagine,

the interviewer asked, a world of men?
(He thought he was joking). If so, then,

a world where men are absent?
Absently, wearily, I answered: Yes.
040
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 28/09/2026
Gideon the ninth with full face skull makeup and sunglasses
1183
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 27/09/2026
Doing a seasonal activity
Rows and rows of orange pumpkins at the pumpkin patch
2171
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 27/09/2026
Medical History by Nicole Sealey
I’ve been pregnant. I’ve had sex with a man who’s had sex with men. I can’t sleep. My mother has, my mother’s mother had, asthma. My father had a stroke. My father’s mother has high blood pressure. Both grandfathers died from diabetes. I drink. I don’t smoke. Xanax for flying. Propranolol for anxiety. My eyes are bad. I’m spooked by wind. Cousin Lilly died from an aneurysm. Aunt Hilda, a heart attack. Uncle Ken, wise as he was, was hit by a car as if to disprove whatever theory toward which I write. And, I understand, the stars in the sky are already dead.
0111
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 26/09/2026
Working on a Paper Tiger au // 1980s NYC // crooked cop Gary Pearl x Times Square stripper Rey
A screenshot from the poster for Paper Tiger, an illustration of Adam Driver’s half profile, his hair dissolving like smoke A woman wearing red stocking and suspenders lies on a bed in a green-tinged room, with a beaded lamp behind her. We only see her legs and one thigh In the dim crimson haze of the club floor, the man comes into focus. It only takes Rey a split-second to assess him, to check — as she always does— for danger. Even sitting, beer in his hand, he's a head taller than the others, with long, dark that curls at the back of his neck. Her trained eyes find the thick gold watch on his wrist that smacks of a heavy wallet. Pinky rings glint from each of his two little fingers and that tells her he's a man who likes the sound of his own voice, who'd prefer her to play dumb. Immediately, she puts on her best saccharine smile. But then he looks from the table and meets her eye and it stops Rey in her tracks. She is used to being looked at by desperate men, each part of her separated out and on display, like meat under a butcher's cleaver. She's used to being sold for parts, like the gold jewelery the old women hawk at the faded pawn brokers along Eight Avenue. What she's not used to is a look like this cop is giving her, one that seems to take all of her in at once, like a gaping jaw ready to swallow her whole. 

This man is not just a lamb to be fattened up and taken for all he's worth. This man is a wolf.
4219
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 26/09/2026
One of my favorite poems. By Muriel Rukeyser
I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
The news would pour out of various devices
Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.
I would call my friends on other devices;
They would be more or less mad for similar reasons.
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.
In the day I would be reminded of those men and women,
Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,
Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,
We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,
To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go the means, to wake.

I lived in the first century of these wars.
1111
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 25/09/2026
by Kim Addonizio
Look at you, sitting there being good.
After two years you're still dying for a cigarette.
And not drinking on weekdays, who thought that one up?
Don't you want to run to the corner right now
for a fifth of vodka and have it with cranberry juice
and a nice lemon slice, wouldn't the backyard
that you're so sick of staring out into
look better then, the tidy yard your landlord tends
day and night — the fence with its fresh coat of paint,
the ash-free barbeque, the patio swept clean of small twigs—
don't you want to mess it all up, to roll around
like a dog in his flowerbeds? Aren't you a dog anyway,
always groveling for love and begging to be petted?
You ought to get into the garbage and lick the insides
of the can, the greasy wrappers, the picked-over bones,
you ought to drive your snout into the coffee grounds.
Ah, coffee! Why not gulp some down with four cigarettes
and then blast naked into the streets, and leap on the first
beautiful man you find? The words ruin me, haven't they
been jailed in your throat for forty years, isn't it time
you set them loose in slutty dresses and torn fishnets
to totter around in five-inch heels and slutty mascara?
Sure it's time. You've rolled over long enough.
Forty, forty-one. At the end of all this
there's one lousy biscuit, and it tastes like dirt.
So get going. Listen: they're howling for you now:
up and down the block your neighbors' dogs
burst into frenzied barking and won't shut up
0102
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 25/09/2026
Nothing like taking the bus to a fancy dinner in the city while the sun is setting tangerine and pink
0140
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 24/09/2026
Jenny, no
Tweet reading:
The thing with the love hypothesis and id imagine most of the au reylo-fanfics-turned novels is that unlike a Fifty Shades, where entire plot outline have direct 1:1 equivalents, it mostly is just an ordinary romcom with a ship dynamic of “grouchy guy, nice woman.”
3231
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 24/09/2026
The top of hell by Natalie Shapiro

It’s weird that Hades, when he dropped,
Dropped only to the top of Hell. That he didn’t
Plunge all the way down. And that the first thing
He found in Hell was the sublime face 
Of atlas, who, with the world on his shoulder,
Had nowhere else to stand. That’s what it’s like 
To wake up and see your face each 
Morning. I could be falling so much farther.
You have no idea how much farther I could fall.
1215
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 23/09/2026
Margaret Atwood
you fit into me
Like a hook into an eye

A fish hook
An open eye
082
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 22/09/2026
Does it count if my cat and dog are inseparable?
Cleo, a brown tabby, in a death grip love hug with Bonny, a very by old girl white mutt with a brown and black eyepatch
4223
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 22/09/2026
By Joseph Fasano
What if, after years
of trial,
a love should come
and lay a hand upon you
and say,
this late,
your life is not a crime
0195
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 22/09/2026
Not to be insane but does it have omegaverse potential??
The new research finding shows that the human brain consists of two ancient nervous systems cleverly packaged together — a more primitive part that regulates our hearts’ beating, our breathing and other functions, and another that makes us distinctly human, capable of poetry, mathematics and wondering about our own origins.
160
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 21/09/2026
By Frank Bidart
then the voice in my head said

WHETHER YOU LOVE WHAT YOU LOVE

OR LIVE IN DIVIDED CEASELESS REVOLT AGAINST IT

WHAT YOU LOVE IS YOUR FATE
052
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 21/09/2026
Spotted this today…
The back of an old blue Mazda with a bumper sticker reading: the first rule of fight club is don’t accidentally kiss
1256
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 21/09/2026
Rare political plug from me - but it’s a great day to join the DSA 🌹
A blue button with an illustration of a cat wearing a pirate eye patch, beneath are two crossed red roses and it reads: feminist socialist/ democratic socialists of America
2140
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 21/09/2026
Got lucky at the Goodwill today
Leonora Carrington’s Down Below and Miranda July’s All Fours on a wooden table
080
grace @echofarandfaint.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
By June Jordan
If love and sex were easier
we would choose something else
to suffer.
073