augustsattic

[augustsattic]

i get the sense the folks at the atlantic were as annoyed as i was that only one single book of poetry made it onto the NYT list of the “best one hundred books of the 21st century.” so they made their own list of the best 25 books of poetry. give it a read!

[augustsattic]

do you relate to any of your ocs?

no i think they're all weird and strange. i am normal

[augustsattic]

this may just be me going into overanalysis mode but i feel like the choreography of spellcasting can tell you so much about a magic user. a snap of the fingers, for example, implies confidence, even arrogance, while hands thrust out and straining to the fingertips suggests desperation, throwing one's whole body into the spell as though hoping the physical effort will make a difference. rapid, jerky body language tells you that a spellcaster is passionate and reckless, while graceful, fluid movements demonstrate calm and concentration. some magic users may choose to stomp their feet or clap their hands when casting, channeling power through percussive motion, whilst others may see magic as a tool separate from the self, and focus it through objects like a wand or staff. a new spellcaster just coming into their power may be tentative and slow, but a practiced study of magic will be able to rely on muscle memory to guide them.

[augustsattic]

oughhh adaine and love

graveyard of good and evil // daddies & demons // fearful symmetry // fearful symmetry // spring break! i believe in you (part 1) // spring break! i believe in you (part 1)

[augustsattic]

IN WHICH I AM TOO TIRED TO GRIEVE POETICALLY

he loved the colour pink, so all pink sunrises remind me of him.  remind me of the fact that he is no longer here to enjoy them. remind me that joy in the face of impending death cannot be easy to swallow. i am reminded, often, in quiet moments spent alone, of his hope, of the reassurances and jokes he made - but also, of the fact that others have lived when he did not. grief has a tendency to do this awful thing - this horrible, selfish, angry, resentful thing, where i sometimes ache in a language i despise. where i lose my grip on my own morals - and i know he would hate me for this, i know. i know. and yet, the things i would give to let him see just one more sunrise. just to let him laugh one more time. there are no words for a grief grown old. i keep expecting him to walk through the door. 

[augustsattic]

so im writing a ttrpg based on a court of fey and flowers and im just wondering if there was a community for that sort of thing? do i need to get on reddit?

[augustsattic]

jason molina’s writing advice to matthew j barnhart via his blackberry in 2008 

[augustsattic]

personally (regarding this post) i find anger to be the most difficult emotion to express/sustain in poetry. but when someone gets on the page mad as hell… man it is so good

[augustsattic]

i love characters who have like…. an unreasonable amount of backstory. before they entered the time frame of the tv show they personally saved the life of four different foreign dignitaries, spent five years as a mountain hermit, have lived on every continent including antarctica, speak twelve languages, have studied every form of martial arts you can think of, are an expert vintner, were the subject of two separate famous works of art, and have been implicated in eighteen bank heists around the world. they’re 25 years old. no one questions this.

[augustsattic]

angels in america fic idea 3 years pre-epilogue prior gets sick again with literally just the flu but its still sort of terrifying and awful. louis does his stupid dance again and he's mostly taken care of by hannah pitt (who doesn't ask if she should and doesn't care to listen to prior's protests that she shouldn't). belize is wonderful + quietly grateful to hannah for letting him be able to sleep a little easier in his own apartment instead of having to explain to his partner (who does understand but you know. also wants belize to be taken care of) why he has to go and be around prior to make sure he doesn't die. prior doesn't actually see the angel again but is delirious + has to confront the fact that he sort of wants to. maybe hannah is out and he just hallucinates / has a delirium induced daydream that he's back in heaven and maybe reporting on his work as a prophet. understandably he's freaked out by this but can't figure out how to tell anyone because surely he should not be chasing that fear. but he had felt so alive.

[augustsattic]

twin poems :)

[augustsattic]

seven hills and seven seas: seven beans and seven peas. so much are these things worth, if man is born to die by his own hand! so much are these things worth, if we loveth not so our country that we revolteth not in shock, when by her sons she is made mock! once we were by great men led! plainly from us has greatness fled -- a tyrant rules, and is let live!

[augustsattic]

when you have a cerebral haemorrhage | original poem by me :)

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“Emotional abuse works like this: You are screamed at, and then, not knowing any better, you stand up for yourself. You think this is a way of being strong. You think this is a defense tactic.But this only provokes more screaming. Going silent provokes more screaming too, but usually it keeps the threats to the minimum. It keeps it just at screaming and not: a shove down the stairs, or order to pack your stuff and get out. So you learn how to go silent. How to play dead. How to cry without making a noise. How to swallow noise. How to wipe your cheeks, get out of the car, and go about your day. You learn. And when the screaming has stopped, when the two of you are in the car or out to dinner and they’re all smiles, all asking for favors, all questions, you are still hurt and annoyed and want to ask them, how? How can you speak to me like that? How can you pretend you did not say those things? How can you have forgotten? But you’ve learned. So you listen to, “Can I borrow your key”s and “how was your day”s and you play dead. You swallow the noise. And sometimes it doesn’t matter who is speaking to you, it doesn’t matter if they’re a friend, it doesn’t matter if their criticism is constructive, it doesn’t matter. You’ve learned. Any sort of speaking, any raising of the voice, any insult and you play dead.”

— Good Girl, Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)

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posting this here to keep me accountable o7 im really hoping to write more this year (this is also my way of saying i'll be asking for requests at some point :3)

[augustsattic]

unsure if i should put fic exploits on this blog as well as poetry ... actually what am i saying. it's my blog. i'll do what i want :)