#poetry in practice

[irregularspace]

Healing cares nothing for what caused a wound… Its only desire it to recover, to repair the damage and rejoice in being unbroken…

[welcometogrouchland]

ANOTHER SKETCH DUMP! Featuring more of me playing with lineless art. Batman reborn era trio (dick, damian and steph) I miss you...when will you return from war. Also featuring Steph designs bc I've seen ppl dissatisfied w/ her current look, some good mom Talia, and Jason Todd poetry club. Duke is confused not that Jason would start a poetry club but that he'd have such mid poetry opinions. (ID in Alt)

[avicecaro]

i think it’s important everyone knows about the little roman girl who died at only five years and seven months old, and her grave reads "dum vixi, lusi" or "while i lived, i played"

[inkprilled]

Just before covid hit my brother and I at 15 and 19 found our selfs homeless. I had a choice, my brother would go into care or we could stay together, but only if I took responsibility for him and had somewhere to live. So I applyed for social housing, the guy that processed my case was sympathetic and at some points I was holding it together better than him, do you have any other family? No, Do you know where your mother is? I wish I did, how old is your brother? 15 are you in any fulltime education? Not anymore. He looked at me like I was something tragic and I suppose I was, there isn't a metaphor for what I looked like that works any better than just what his naked eyes saw; a girl abandoned by her mother, her life in a bag on her back completely thrown on how to deal with everything, and all he could do was fill out a form and send it and me off. it's going to be okay.

Somehow despite the odds we where given emergency accommodation and a year later a property to rent, I suspect we where pushed up the list because of my brothers age, we where lucky, some people wait years in hotels or streets all over the country, living out of suitcases and rucksacks.

As lucky as we where, luck didn't cover all the things I suddenly had to know. I had no idea how bills worked or paying my taxes, I didn't even really understand what "taxes" meant until the final notices where piling up in front of us. It's something they don't teach you in school or at least mine didn't. They never taught us how to survive in a world like this, they assume our parents would be there to explain or we'd be much older before it mattered. what's more useful in real life, how to formally address someone in an email or how to keep the lights on or how to find food when a tin of beans is too expensive.

Though I suppose the email ettique lesson was useful for something in the end,

To whomever it may concern, I'm writing to you regarding my payment plans and how I'm choosing to fork over alot of money and won't be buying enough food to live off this month. My regards.

[thatgaywizardoverthere]

Arthur “Disaster Bi” Pendragon learning about true loves kiss as a cure like:

Gwaine: For fuck’s sake, he’s not enchanted every time he smiles at someone else, Arthur! He was literally just laughing at my joke!

Arthur, aggressively frenching Merlin on the council room floor: YOU CAN NEVER BE TOO CAREFUL OKAY-

[thespilledquotes]

My darling girl, when are you going to understand that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.

Practical Magic

[lesbianshepard]

packing my winter stuff for the next project and i found the lyre i bought at a thrift store a few years back. considering taking it with me bc i'll definitely have free time for the next three weeks and i could probably teach myself the basics. i played viola badly in middle school, so i definitely still have muscle memory for string instruments from 15+ years ago that will carry me.

[philosophybits]

Our language is either — mechanical — atomistic — or dynamic. But true poetic language should be organically alive. How often one feels the poverty of words — to express several ideas all at once.

Novalis, Miscellaneous Observations

[meowkunas]

"Thank you." You say.

Atsumu doesn't say anything. He's still just staring at you, trying to figure out what you're thinking before he says something he might regret. It's easy for him. He knows you. He sees your stiff shoulders, and your hands clenching. Unclench. Clench.

Your face is still turned towards the floor, but he catches you swallowing.

You're nervous, he realises.

"Hey." He says quietly, stepping closer. "It's okay."

You swipe at some tears that still haven't fallen yet, pretending to scratch an itch on your cheek. His hands wrap around yours, pulling you into him and allowing one hand to automatically tangle in your hair. You mumble something he doesn't quite catch, but it sounds like another expression of gratitude.

So instead, he laughs. Not mean-spirited, nor awkward. It's Atsumu. And he's always known just what to say to anything you're feeling. And that's always been nice to know. Because if he really thought it wasn't important enough, he would tell you.

Atsumu doesn't mince his words, not even when it comes to you. But he's grown to understand it -- maybe it's not important enough for him to cry over, but it's important to you.

"Sorry." you say, sniffling. "I just forget sometimes. So, it's good that you're here." You wave your hand, still trying to hold up some nonchalance even through the fresh wave of tears in your eyes. "To remind me." You finish.

"And I will." Atsumu flashes you his signature grin.

You manage a half-smile, and Atsumu considers it a job well-done.

"I love you, okay?" He murmurs, hand patting the top of your head.

And it's Atsumu saying it, so of course you believe him.

[lirotation]

Went thru my old sketch book and saw this quote. I thought it really suits my Tav. This is a verse from "Love’s Philosophy" By Percy Bysshe Shelley

[gale-force-storm]

He refuses to fall for the first person to show him kindness. He may be feeling sorry for himself, but that's a bridge too far.

Even if they are beautiful. And kind to everyone, not just him. And brave. And clever. And strong. And they love animals, and reading. And they have a wry sense of humour that he adores.

He won't. He can't. Besides all else, this is decidedly not the time. A bomb in his chest and a worm in his head and a weight on his shoulders and a shame in his stomach and a shattered heart he's still trying to gather the pieces of. Desperately clinging to the cloak of his past, wrapping himself in his former confidence, pretending it hasn't been worn threadbare with time in isolation and eaten ragged by the moths of doubt and fear and past mistakes.

He fell from grace so far so fast, but he cannot beg affection off the first hand to offer him help up, even if it is the first time he's touched another person in months. Even if that hand did send a sudden warmth through him and feel so right in his own he could almost cry from it.

...This is getting out of hand.

He can just be friendly with them, surely. How does one make friends, again? Shared interests? He mostly just has the one, so he'll share what he can. They pick it up quickly, and the warm magic that surrounds them is a balm on his soul. Right up until they imagine kissing him, and his heart skips a beat. It can't be. It can't be. They can't want him back. It's not possible. And how, after it all, after everything, is he meant to resist the overwhelming temptation of being wanted?

They don't let up, either. Lingering glances. Warm smiles. All but propositioning him at the tiefling party. If there is a single positive thing to be said about his year of orb-imposed abstinence, it's that the willpower he had to build up and the practice denying himself were the only things that enabled him to decline their advances.

Well, that and the risk of blowing up the both of them, along with everyone else in or near the camp.

The warm smiles and lingering gazes and casual touches still continue, though.

This is fine. He's fine. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, someone cared for him like this, and he can't do a damn thing about it, but he's fine. Everything is fine. As fine as it can be, anyways, given everything else about the situation.

He supposes he should probably be more upset about Mystra's orders. At this point, though, it's hard to feel like it's anything besides a way out. A relief that he can be good for something. One more miserable experience, and then he's done with it, and all their problems are solved. There are worse things.

Except.

They're so angry about it. Everyone is, but them especially. Arguing with both him and Elminster the entire time, insisting there's another option. That they'll find or make one. Whatever they have to do to keep him around.

Gods help him, but he does want to stay with them. Stay for them.

He sleeps that night, and awakens with a jolt, a groan, and a realization. He's glad that prestidigitation exists to clean himself up without leaving his tent and risking the others' notice. His body had, apparently, caught up with certain implications before his brain. Though from what snippets of his dream he remembers, maybe it was only his waking mind that had been lagging behind.

He wants them, and he can finally have them. Can give them as much of himself as he's able, in the time he has left.

He had refused, at first, the idea of falling for the first person to show him kindness. And he hasn't. He's fallen for someone who is so much more that that. And he will not, cannot, die without letting them know. If he has to leave them, and he fears he will, then he will not leave them feeling unappreciated, or uncherished, or unloved. Not when he can finally embrace the full depth and breadth of what he feels for them. Has felt for them for what can't have been more than a tenday or two, but feels like a lifetime and a moment all at once.

He will not leave without showing them the full scope of his admiration and appreciation and sheer joy at their presence. The full scope of how impossibly deeply he already loves them. Not while he has any say in it.

[irregularspace]

Slow down, be patient…

Flourish in your heart…

[kiisuuumii]

Kaveh Akbar, from "Every Drunk Wants to Die Sober It's How We Beat the Game," in Calling a Wolf a Wolf

[artbyblastweave]

I’ve been vaguely following TF2 comics (I’ve read 6 and 7 and know a few plot beats and the general storyline) and from the outside it seems like Engineer and Pyro have gotten way less “screen time” than anyone else

Pyro makes sense, there’s only so much you can do with them but Engineer feels way to engaging to be left out like that

so am i wrong or is Engie just not shown to much, and if so why?

Engineer is noticeably out of focus in the comics, and there are two important throughlines in his characterization contributing to this.

The first is that out of the nine mercenaries he's always been the most plugged in to the backstory- the comic where we learned his real name is the one that introduced the backstory, he's the only one of the mercenaries to have actually canonically met one the Mann brothers, the only one who for sure knows what the gravel wars are ostensibly being fought over- and that level of involvement with the background plot, coupled with his genius, level-headedness and comparatively high empathy, makes him difficult to position front-and-center as a protagonist without breaking a bunch of things.

The second thing setting him apart from the rest of the mercenaries is that while he's enough of an eccentric to rise to the challenge of the setting's gonzo insanity, he's almost never the instigator of any of it. His Meet the Team video consists of him sitting and relaxing while his sentry guns mow down waves of assailants, monologuing about the measured practicality of his escalating response. His response to the teleporter tumor problem in Expiration Date is a grounded and practical approach to a ridiculous situation (that's exacerbated by Soldier.) He's minding his own business when a rocket full of space guns lands on his back acre on Christmas Eve, he spends the entirety of Loose Canon flummoxed by Blutarch's amoral insanity (though importantly, he's nonetheless willing to take the man's money for services rendered.) He's a fantastic straight man when the narrative needs such a figure, but his isn't a flashy insanity. He's not Soldier, he's not Medic, he's not even Heavy as far as out-of-pocket gag behavior goes. Almost all humor involving the Engineer has to do with his reaction (or lack thereof) to the bizarre carnage around him.

These factors are reflected in the role he ends up playing in TF comics 6 and 7. He's kept in the background of the plot in a reactive role, doing his professional best as an Engineer to maintain the Administrator's life extender- a frustated care-provider to a deeply unwell patient who doesn't always take his advice, a grounded, practical facilitator of what ultimately turns out to be the most deranged behavior of the entire story, seeing his contract out to the bitter end. And this is the way in which his apparent groundedness wraps back around into a distinct brand of crazy, no better than anyone else. The Administrator's real plan is something he's a reasonable enough person to disapprove of in the abstract. He's clearly aware something is rotten at the core of all this- he describes Miss Pauling actually managing to recover more Australium as her having created a problem rather than having solved one, he was on some level relieved to realize this was all drawing to a close. But none of this was something he was willing to break his professional obligations over and thus something he (and two generations of his family before him) deliberately kept themselves in the dark about so that they wouldn't have to reckon with it or make that call.

This passivity and level-headedness allow him to play an extremely important narrative role once everything is out in the open- he's the only member of the main cast who can present Miss Pauling with her Road-to-Damascus moment over what to do with the remaining Australium with any credible gravity. He's the only character left in the main cast besides Pauling herself who's plugged in enough that his analysis of her situation carries any weight. He's the only one of the Mercenaries from whom "If you keep it, I won't help you" means anything at all or is even a believable ultimatum- the rest of the mercs might have been freaked out by The Administrator specifically, but do you really think they wouldn't have just kept following their friend Miss Pauling if she kept signing their checks? He does what he's always done- he examines the situation, lays out the available options, and leaves the final call up to others. The only thing that changes- and, to some extent, a sign of his off-screen character development- is this time is that he finally draws a line in the sand as to what course of action he'll lend his expertise to. He threatens to finally, finally remove himself from the situation unless Pauling decides that she wants him to help her finally, finally solve the problem once and for all.

[perfectfeelings]

My darling girl, when are you going to understand that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.

Practical Magic

[raayllum]

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