#like a mini poem

[august-writing]

"Not I," I said, "I love you."

Yet when blood was on your face I knew you not.

"Would you follow me, my child? Even in the dark?"

But when the light blew dim I fled.

You told me of the future, and of a joy to come 

You loved me and you taught me

"I know your heart, my child."

When you were weak and weary where was I to comfort?

When you cried out for the Father I hid my face.

I saw you. I saw your eyes and anguish.

O how it pierced me. How could I abandon you?

"Not I," I said, "I love you." But how could it be true?

I turned and left my lover.

Weak and twisted is the heart that claimed to live for you

How can it be, how can I live? I wish to love you.

Yet it is a dead heart that saw your face among the crowd.

A light flew across the distance. On the wings of your suffering.

O how it pierced me. My eyes have opened.

I don't deserve to be here, to sing and see the dawn

Lord let me live and love you

How I was meant to all along

[sparxyv]

About oc ask!

For Mousey 8, 10, 17

For Milena 1, 14, 20

Can you also add to them one random silly fact? Something no one expecting 🤭

YESS this is so fun, TY FOR THE ASK 🫶🫶

Mousey

8. What does he like to eat?

Despite his cautious nature, Mousey will almost always eat anything at least slightly 'edible'.

(This landed him in the hospital wing in 3rd year after the Sallow twins convinced him Lacewing Flies were edible and tasted something of candy.)

BUT Mousey's favorite food would be cheese, any type of cheese. 😋🧀

10. What is his fashion sense?

Outside of school uniforms, Mousey doesn't exactly have much of a choice but to wear any hand-me-down jumpers or patchy old trousers he can get his hands on.

The McGregors, despite being a long line of pureblood wizards, fall quite short in terms of income. Much like the Weasley's, the McGregors have a big family and lots of things like clothes are just reused.

It definitely wouldn't be until later in his adult life til Mousey gains any semblance of fashion sense.. and the experimental phase would be... interesting.

17. What are his ambitions?

As a Ravenclaw, Mousey obviously has a love for learning and a general curiosity for just about anything. But above all else, he is very fascinated by wandcraft.

Mousey wants to learn everything he can about how wands work, which is a big part of why he hangs around Ominis so much! (He wants to know how Ominis' wand works SO BAD)

Mousey strives to be one of the most well-known wandmakers in Scotland.

Fun Facts about Mousey 😼

Cats/Kneazles hate him.

Best friends with Anne Sallow, but not Sebastian Sallow.

Fluent in Scottish Gaelic.

Milena

What does her voice sound like?

Despite French being Milena's native language, and growing up in France, Milena chooses to cover up her French accent when at Hogwarts because she feels like it's polite.

She's spoken English for about her whole life, and she has a strange ability to speak in different accents with comfort and ease, so she doesn't mind the little front she puts up with the British accent.

The only time she really lets her French accent come out is with close friends!

(Game clip for example 😽)

14. How does she react to burning her tongue on food?

Milena most likely would have zero outwardly reactions, even if it DID hurt. After so many battles and duels, you definitely harden up.

However, perhaps her high pain tolerance ceases when it comes to a burnt tongue..

20. How would she react to a mystery love letter?

Milena would find it absolutely adorable - most likely read it multiple times just because..

Although, while finding it adorable, she'd also be VERY amused by it, because anonymous love letters are quite childish to her.

Milena would be much more curious as to why it was sent anonymously rather than up front, why they were interested in her in the first place, confused all around.. rather than wanting to know WHO sent it. But - she'd most likely forget about it completely after a few days.

Samantha Dale would be the first person to know.. and she'd be SO invested in it. Someone's smitten with her best friend? You best bet she's otw to crack the case.

(I'm sorry this made me giggle it's so stupid)

Fun Facts About Milena 😋

LOVES birds of all kinds. She knows everything there is about any type of bird, even magical ones. (Because of her love for birds, she was very pleasantly surprised when sorted into Ravenclaw 🥰)

Grew up as a Muggle, despite her mother being a witch.

Most things don't scare Milena, but Mooncalves.. 🙁

[pluggedintosaverockandroll]

Poetry from the Notes App: a mini zine

[sashi-ya]

𝐓𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝!

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐌𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐧𝐨 𝐋𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲! 0𝟻.0𝟻 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝙳. 𝙻𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢'𝚜 𝙱𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢

[to my sweet laughing sun, as warm as summer, as love itself... happy birthday, thank you for saving my life 🌞]

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

'' S̶A̶L̶T̶ ̶L̶I̶C̶K̶ ''

t̲r̲i̲u̲m̲p̲h̲ ̲r̲i̲n̲g̲s̲ ̲b̲e̲a̲u̲t̲y̲.̲

–

. . .

Akin to my personal salt lick,

I split open my tongue

On what I say.

Is it a revel?

I'll never use my verbal voice again.

My lips will never twitch,

Maybe only to crack a smile.

An inevitable smirk, a triumph

In the face of my enemies.

"Shut up!" they cry.

Never, I respond in kind.

I will leave behind my legacy

Of

Words.

I will be one with the immortal figures of history,

the Ones who Wrote,

Scribbled,

Scratched,

Typed,

Spoke.

I am no dog.

I won't be kicked aside.

I will break, over and over again until

I am unbreakable.

My throat will be slit,

My vocal chords shredded,

My tonsils removed by

The clawed hands of

Iniquity —

But my voice.

Oh, my beautiful,

Timeless,

Voice,

Will live on for the strongholds to come.

They will be carried by the winds of

My whistles and whispers.

Be strengthened by the

Gust of my Roars,

Sweetened, Charmed

By my serenades.

My heart was touched by an oath,

And a legend it will stand to be.

It probably couldn’t have been stopped, anyway.

Triumph.

Ring true for me.

Never, ever end.

[lilypixels]

Even if one is a creature of the dark and prefers to hide in the shadow's comforting embrace one cant help but be fascinated with the light and wonder if it might touch them too

[minatear]

little sketch thing i did of one of my plants. i like artists who use words in their art

[daydadahlias]

Honestly momma Jess sounds so sweet I hope you show her something and she loves it

Momma Jess is the best <3 and she loves my writing so I know that even if she doesn't like porn sdfghj she will still be happy to read it

[kutakunagasblog]

hiya I hope ur having a good day; I really like ur fnc art it's cute!! do u have any headcannons of them or even with jay to share? feel free to ignore this if not :]]

Oh my goodness I totally missed this for days but yeas I do!

I’m really into knigh mediaeval love poems, I headcanoned gillion love language as taking care of battle wounds and balancing chip during fights and training. ( gillion giving chip his last spell slot for a good night rest ep 39) This comes from his past in the undersea and in the early days he and chip fought about it because chip wouldn’t let gillion help him and gillion would feel sad because he didn’t know how to tell chip he cared about him.(same goes with chip who just wants to make Gill smile but he ends up with a big miss understanding)

And chip love language is touch ( chip fire touch and gillion cold skin,like a blacksmith shaping a cold metal sword ) and sharing jewellery, and he had the biggest gay panic when gillion gave him matching rings .

They are the unapologetic definition of “ to be loved is to be changed “( jay also ) ,“ you make me want to love you loudly “ , “ gillion fell first chip fell harder “

Because Gillion is very loud with his love and chip is very quiet and they balance each other nicely . Like the land and sea ( I’m a very big earth chip believer , because chip is the earth that fell in love with the sea and Gillion is the sea that fell in love with the earth )

But other than that I only have snippets of things I imagine them saying like :

“ I don’t know what my destiny is anymore , but the only thing I wanted was to come back to you , my land “

“ my sun and land you anchor me to you like no other “

[that-was-anticlimactic]

lol my student teaching supervisor sent me my feedback video because he observed me friday and it was twenty minutes long and he essentially said that he was disappointed in me and that i did a disservice to american poetry so i'm feeling pretty good about myself

[chacharcherry]

Why were they making me read phantom of the opera for my French mocks D:

[lohstandfound]

anyway "hellos, goodbyes, and things left unsaid" is one of my favourite mini poetry series i've written. i love them, they're some of my oldest poems

[tablemannor]

without//within

As I slink beneath the cracks in my consciousness

Submerged in the dark, the water fills my ears without sound

Flows over my chin

the lines of me blur, I forget where I end

And where it all begins

my head without a mind I float in, distantly

Without a body that is mine I sink, indistinctly

Wandering forever the infinite bliss, of nonexistence

Steps tailing in an indefinite trail along the tightrope

I am the knot, tied between body and mind

I fall without a body that is mine

Off

I drift off

Well below the fog

Who is there but me to exist as me

Being of me, shaped by my hand, and intrinsically

The fall is fleeting, the treatise is seeing

inescapably the future of me

being me being me

Being me

Its not me

Far below the fault line im on

Course corrected train of thought

Derailed in the mist

And the compartmentalized thing living

always breathing from the caboose

Finds its way from the trappings of that

Cursed caged wagon, its loose to the jungles of me

The wiry beast free to clamber through the hills and the cliffs

Rich with the decomposed bodies

In the shapeless spaces from my limbs

to the constituent body of root forming my soul

Folding, roiling in the soil my mind occupies

Of things forgotten

The water floods my nose, its pincers take hold my sinuses

The bliss washes off easily and I am again, just a body

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

'Don't stay up until 3 am, babygirl,'

he whispers through the phone

as I memorize him again.

But he doesn't understand.

His life is not like mine.

He gets calm, support.

He gets unconditional love

I have only wished for.

He will never know

what the twilight brings me.

Calm. Silence. Safety.

Only then can I breathe.

Only then can I finally feel whole.

[kylo-wrecked]

"You seriously think i could’ve done this?" Quiet hurt borrowing anger's coat makes her enunciate fully. She's all but quivering as she jabs a finger onto what's left of the newspaper and it's headline. "*Really*, Ben? Really?" {{Senator's Son Modern//Morbid Curiosity}}

If looks could kill, Beth would gut herself on the dirk of this one.

"I don't know," he repeats. Maybe this is the third or so time he's said it. That and 'you tell me.' Ben parrots these phrases back at her. For the most part, he glares at the headline quivering in Beth's hand. That's when he's not glowering at her, with his anger trapped in his eyes like hardened amber. Fire burning cold.

Does he seriously think she did this? Maybe he does. Maybe it's just her tone. His shame. Ben's attention drifts toward a panorama of the Etch-A-Sketch skyline. It's got so heated in Beth's Brooklyn apartment her window panes fog up, and the snow starts blowing away from the Verrazano as though to avoid them. 

When diminishing the enormity of his thoughts isn't enough, Beth adds the garnish, 'Really?' She says, 'Really?' The way his mother would say it. Something in him goes raw, then. Comes tumbling out covered in blood and gook, like a newborn goat. Comes screaming. Where he was once still, his every fiber now bristles. 

"I don't know!"

He's never heard himself like this, not aloud. He watched a car burst into flames on the Sungai Dohol bridge, and he wasn't like this.

"I don't know how it leaked, but—"  Ben slams his thermos on the kitchen island.

 "—Somebody," slam, "said," slam, "something. Somebody did a little fucking more than say something."

Ben yells, yells at Beth. His face contorts with anger, and it feels twisted and unjust, but it keeps coming, wave after wave of rapid breath and speech trawling him as the dam he built around himself over the last six months begins to split. This must be the breaking point his therapist has told him about, but why must it come now? 

"Fuck."

Why must it be so consuming? Relentless?

Ben gestures violently at the crumpled photospread on Beth's kitchen tiles, his voice about giving out. "Look! Look at the fucking pictures. Oh my God."

The halftone length of his arm still shows where the newspaper folds open, gesticulating at an impossible angle. Above that, the subhead, painfully forthright in its wording. That's when he starts shaking. Ben smooths his hands over his temples and then raises them like he's removing a crown from his head. They stay suspended there, marionettes. Suddenly his body becomes foreign to him. The legs below, massive. Automatons. 

"I have to go," he says faintly, in a voice that's like tin to his ears: he has to go into exile like his uncle. Where does that leave Ben? The Everglades? The mind tries to visualize palm trees, but the eyes see T.V. snow. The head throbs, the heart hammers.

Please don't let it be her. 

Please.

For a moment, he begins packing Beth's kitchen sundries into his canvas bag. It's unclear whether he understands the futility of the objects he holds—that they don't even belong to him—but it's only a beat or so until he abandons this, shuffling toward the blur of living room furniture. 

The legs drop and berth him against Beth's couch. Not on it, but beside it. Kneecaps crushing against denim, against Afghan weaving. The face finds respite in its arm, sinking into a cool, dark space. Breathing then not breathing. And the same thoughts play on a loop, alternating: Please, not her. I have to go. Please.

[toriliashine]

another thing that makes my eyes twitch

Raphael spoke in poem about how a bunch of people/beings in my path were stuck in some sort of stasis in the middle of doing something, if i walk in on them and 'awaken them' i will die and so will many others. easy

however the game insists that its all jibber jabber that i dont know and desperately need an explanation for but i do know! this wouldnt be an issue if it was purely a player knowing more than the characters bit but

my character! is! a ! SAGE!!!!! her background is literally being a nerd and a yapper and being able to dissect yapping for her use and the world's!! his poem shouldve been child's play or at least a sage/intelligence roll im so tiredddd of the backgrounds barely mattering in game like come on man