greifleaf - Tumblr blog

[greifleaf]

having a discussion ab slime gender presentation i will return with my findings soon

[greifleaf]

A loving hue

Love is an ocean, vast and deep,

In its embrace, I find and keep,

A world of hues, from teal to blue,

A canvas wide, a living hue.

In dawn’s first light, the waters gleam,

A golden dance, a waking dream,

The waves, they kiss the shore with grace,

Like tender hands upon my face.

The depths, they call with siren's song,

A pull so fierce, where I belong,

In sapphire swells, I lose my way,

To drift in love's eternal sway.

Emerald tides, they rise and fall,

A rhythm pure, a lover’s call,

In currents warm, I find my rest,

With every beat, my heart’s confessed.

The sunlit crests, they sparkle bright,

Reflecting joy, a pure delight,

Like love’s first bloom, a radiant flare,

In moments shared, beyond compare.

Yet in the twilight, colors shift,

To deeper blues where shadows drift,

A mystic realm, profound and wide,

Where love and mystery collide.

Beneath the waves, the coral's glow,

In vibrant shades, our secrets show,

In caverns deep, where few dare tread,

Our hearts entwine, our fears shed.

In storm’s embrace, the waters rage,

A tempest wild, a lover’s stage,

Yet even then, amidst the strife,

I feel the pulse, the beat of life.

The ocean's depths, they mirror love,

Both endless realms that draw above,

In quiet coves, in roaring seas,

In love’s vast ocean, I find my peace.

With every dip, with every swell,

In love's embrace, I rise and dwell,

An ocean vast, a love profound,

In its depths, forever bound.

[greifleaf]

“I think it’s beautiful the way you sparkle when you talk about the things you love.”

— Atticus

[greifleaf]

I want to grow old with someone and have them not grow tired of me

[greifleaf]

Writing advice from my uni teachers:

If your dialog feels flat, rewrite the scene pretending the characters cannot at any cost say exactly what they mean. No one says “I’m mad” but they can say it in 100 other ways.

Wrote a chapter but you dislike it? Rewrite it again from memory. That way you’re only remembering the main parts and can fill in extra details. My teacher who was a playwright literally writes every single script twice because of this.

Don’t overuse metaphors, or they lose their potency. Limit yourself.

Before you write your novel, write a page of anything from your characters POV so you can get their voice right. Do this for every main character introduced.

[greifleaf]

Uh Uh

[greifleaf]

There's nothing more intimate in life than simply being understood.

[greifleaf]

Artwork by @ungfio

[greifleaf]

… 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 ✩✰

[greifleaf]

Bird Brain

Every once in a while the raven speaks to me

He looks into my eyes

pulls my fears from my heart

Whispering every horror I could possibly imagine

I want so badly to ignore you

To pull away and retreat, leave you wanting me

The way I need you

And yet I know distance is your true love

You wine and dine long trips of solitude

My glass is overfilled,

Sloshing with each step I take

Something spills out with each breath

Tears, neat tequila, sea spray, or holy water

I pray sometimes

Not in a church, or to any god.

alone.

Oft through stinging eyes I look up

Hoping to see you there

While I’m on my knees

Nothing could be of more importance

Studying your every move,

Your lips and each sigh.

Tell me how good I’ve been.

Can you reward me for listening so well?

Wipe away my woes with your wings

Fly into the night with my memories

Leave only the trace of what I was

And in the morning I will be whole.

[greifleaf]

[greifleaf]

a friend said sales undertale instead of sans so i drew it.. undersale..

[greifleaf]

the intimacy of having your efforts reciprocated in the same intensity and with the same tenderness

[greifleaf]

[greifleaf]

Space Dogs

Last night I taught my dog about the moon.

Told her that there’s plenty of dogs on the moon,

that we sent so many up there that I’ve started

to lose count.

“Only the best dogs go to the moon.

…and the oldest”.

That part seems important to add,

or else she might run away tempted by the stars.

I picture her jumping across the crooked seam

deviating the dark and light sides of the moon.

Tongue flapping in the wind,

wild and crazy and

the best.

I’ve always found it cruel that one

cannot live on love alone.

I wish I could hold a hand so cosmically tight

that mortality becomes an old wives’ tale,

a scary story that you would tell at a campfire

under a sparkling canopy of stars.

Last night I showed my dog the moon.

I pointed up into the sky,

watched as her eyes, huge like dinner plates,

gazed at the glorious glowing globe above.

“Do you know how to howl?

…is that offensive?”

I asked her, hoping maybe she’d speak,

but as always she yawned, pawing at my hand.

I think about the cold vacuum of space

consuming the sound of your voice in it’s maw.

Tongue rendered useless,

silent and still and

speechless.

I want to pet all the dogs on the moon.

Fill their water bowls, scratch their bellies,

play a game of fetch with a shooting star

knowing that it’ll be all throw but no give backs.

I want to run with them off leash,

speed past the satellites orbiting the surface

Touch down just long enough

to carve a new crater, the biggest hole ever dug.

Last night I told my dog about the moon.

And as she licked my wounds I wept,

sobbing a stream for every hound in the stars

hoping they’d see the sparkle and know

how loved space dogs are.